Whispers From The Abyss Read Free

people. But even if we surmounted all that, we’d still have a decent chance of just melting Dae-Hyun—no great loss to humankind, but I’d catch a strict punishment for sure.
    Plan three is the Godzilla option, then. We optimize ruthlessness and hunger and muscle mass acquisition, implant it in one of the Korean girls (and damn, I hope those poor bitches are getting TWO extra rice bowls a day, maybe even a fucking radish or something), wait for it to chest-burst itself out like that Ridley Scott movie, and escape in the confusion. But the problem with making a monster is that you can’t turn it off when you want it to stop knocking over buildings.
    So I guess it’s number four. One of us becomes… it. Whatever those things are that the iden-inshi came from.
     
    4/20/13
    Kiro is balking. We flipped a coin to decide who was going to be transformed, and I lost. I’d hoped I’d win and he’d honor it, but no way am I going to change into some kind of sea-monster. He can’t proceed without me.
    Stalemate.
     
    4/21/13
    Kiro and I have agreed to work on the project together, on the assumption that when it’s ready, one of us will take it and help the other escape. It’s going to be him. I see those dissolving girls in my nightmares. My bruises are mostly gone, though it’s still hard to take a deep breath… they gave us a Korean doctor who said I had cracked ribs, nothing to do but wrap them. I asked for painkillers and they said I need to keep my head clear. They’ll regret that.
     
    4/23/13
    Kiro coughs up little dots of blood. My bargaining position with him just got a lot stronger.
    (later)
    Oh, and I should mention that we’re still inserting and implanting with the old material. It’s going great. We’re doing it one at a time, examining the subdivision to ensure that it’s as human as possible, then letting it gestate in a petri dish before implantation. Those cells still terrify me. They suck up as much agar as we can give them.
    Once they’re implanted in the host mother, we no longer get to know what happens. I hope they get two bowls of rice, radishes, and a whole chicken.
     
    5/5/13
    Happy Cinquo de Mayo . The serum is ready. I asked Kiro if he’d heard anything about his daughter. He hadn’t. I pointed out that he’s old and I’m young. He coughed blood. He caved.
    Tomorrow, I infect him. We’re going to make it look accidental.
     
    5/6/13
    Six hours after injection, and no change yet. The ‘genetic therapy’ Kiro received is iden-inshi with the brake-lines cut. My guess is he’ll eat everything in sight, turning it into muscle mass with the efficiency of imaginary nanites. Maybe develop gills. Maybe an embolus—he said some of the attack victims on that island showed signs of being attacked with something like a biological syringe, like those Israeli spiders that bypass the normal reproductive gear entirely by stabbing straight through the abdomens of their mates.
     
    5/8/13
    Kiro collapsed in the lab, feverish and delirious. Mierda .
     
    5/9/13
    They won’t say anything about Kiro. Mierda .
     
    5/10/13
    The chief biologists, Eun-Mi and Chung-Hee, are acting like there was never anyone named Kiro, like no one has ever been named Kiro, like Japan is as imaginary as Narnia. Mierda, mierda, mierda .
     
    5/13/13
    The procedures for extracting tissue, isolating dead dictator DNA, reviving it, inserting it into ova, reviewing its subdivision and gestating it in vitro are all formalized. I’m starting to feel obsolete. I better get my game face on for those immortality treatments… or city-clearing bio-weapons.
    Toilet paper. You throw it away when you’re done with it. I need them to not be done with me.
     
    5/14/13
    Kiro’s back! Says he just had a fever… he’s different though. He looks weaker, paler, puffy, but at the same time he’s moving better. Before, he was stiff and formal, an old man keeping his body together. Now he’s like an engine. I’m not the only one who’s