The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Revised Apr. 21, 2021
Revised Apr. 24, 2021
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THE BOY IN THE GRAY COCOON

Edited by Christopher Leeson

Chapter 10

And this he always kept in mind
And formed a crooked knife
And ran about with bloody hands
To seek his mother's life.

William Blake
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“I sympathize,” Pinnacle said, “but there is always something else to worry about.”

“You’re reading my mind again?” I said.

“I’m your doctor. I get to do things like that. But as for problems, I’d say that they’re part and parcel for living. Or is my double back on your home world so much more optimistic than I am?”

“Not at all. You two are so much alike that it’s scary. But there's one important difference between you and your double.”

“What's that?”

“She's never opens up to me, especially about how much she's hurting -- not the way you have."

“I hope it means that she hurts a lot less than I do. But, that aside, this whole idea of the multiverse is fascinating. Oh, sure, I know the theory that goes with it, but meeting a person from another reality has really nailed things down for me. I wish I had time to research the phenomenon right now,” Penny said.

“I hope you make a study. But until then, I have a more urgent question. Why did Mantra have magical abilities as a disembodied spirit on the Soul Walk, but lost them as soon as she got back into her physical body?”

Pinnacle rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "The subject of magic is Greek to me; I’ve got only guesswork to go on. Like, maybe Mantra strained her magical potential by doing spells outside of her body. On the other hand -- Well, I’m not sure what, exactly, is on the other hand.

"It would be nice if you figured it out. Necromantra wouldn’t be so close to Canoga Park unless she intends to murder me and capture Evie. If draining my daughter of her potential for magic kills her, that bitch won’t give a damn."

“And that is the person who you used to think of as your best friend?”

“Thanasi has become a homicidal paranoid. I don’t understand it, but something made him snap."

"Well, how do we fortify you against a witch so powerful as that? You already know about those companies that specialize in turning big spenders into ultras. And I know that the science has been getting better and better. As I understand it, your own friend Wrath started out as an ordinary man until he was enhanced by Aladdin."

“Yes. They did it with nanites and serums. Wrath was made tougher, stronger, and faster. But I don’t think he’d be up to taking on Necromantra, not unless he knocked her silly with his first blow.”

That reminded me of the fact that Aladdin had recruited a new Wrath. I was able to get along with Thomas Hunter because he wasn’t a good company man. But if Aladdin had turned some amoral scoundrel into the "new Wrath," the odds were heavy that he’d be a piece of work that I'd have to be wary of.

Just then, my cell phone ran. The screen told me Dr. Sarn was calling. I didn’t trust the doctor just because she was a real company person, but I very much wanted to find out whether she had anything new to say about Gus.

"Blake," said Sarn, "your boy is awake again. He's.... Well, he's crying. The child psychologist hasn’t been able to settle him down. I’d think that a visit from his mother would do Gus a world of good right now. I recommend that you to come over immediately."

She then told me where my transportation to Alcatraz would be waiting.

"I'm on my way!" I said.

I turned to Pinnacle. “I got a call from the office.”

“I overheard.”

“Is this going to cause any problem -- for our planning, I mean?”

“Not really. I have enough to do for the next couple days. If you hear more about that recent power-surge from outer space, let me know.”

“Yeah, I’d like to learn about that, too. Maybe Aladdin has updated information. Whatever I find out, I'll pass on.”

“It's always great having a spy on the inside,” she said.

“Say, would you give me a lift to where my helicopter ride will be waiting?”

“No problem,” Pinnacle answered, “but I’m not going to let those bastards see me. They’ve got a thing for turning people into mind-controlled slaves, and I've already done enough slave-time over at NuWare.”

Just before she led me down to her car, I called my “mom,” letting her know that I’d been summoned into work to see Gus again. She said, “Fine. That’s one good thing about having someone with CIA clearance in the family, I suppose.”

I had never been free to tell her that I actually served with an outfit that was even worse than the CIA.

#

With dusk coming on, I arrived at my helicopter rendezvous. Pinnacle’s car was parked out of sight and I walked in alone. Our destination, as my officious pilot confirmed, was Alcatraz Island.

That name has made me wince ever since the Thirties. Archimage had put me into the body of a career criminal. In the course of things, I was arrested and judged guilty of breaking “my” parole. That meant doing time in Alcatraz. The wizard nixed the messy idea of a making a prison-break attempt and had his lawyer bring me a coded message. I was supposed to get myself out by committing suicide! God, I hated orders like that. No matter how many times I’ve died in the last 1500 years, the pain of it is always a bummer. I carried out my order in a stereotyped way, by hanging myself inside my lock up.

The guards working on “the Rock” were actually encouraged to be brutal. They were allowed to shoot to kill every real or suspected escapee at their own discretion. Besides the penitentiary's actual physical torture, Alcatraz was also custom-made for psychological torture. Many inmates were driven insane.

The prison was finally shut down by the Kennedy administration, in 1963, as a failed experiment and a national disgrace. That must have upset a lot of the Deep Staters in the Swamp. JFK was assassinated that same year. A coincidence?

After 1963, the island prison was kept as a tourist attraction. Then, suddenly, it was declared off-limits again. The media gave vague reasons why that was done and quickly dropped the subject. But the simple truth was that Alcatraz had been converted to be an Aladdin black site for the internment of ultras, some of them illegally kidnapped.

Eden Blake had visited Alcatraz on Saturday the 16th, shortly after her son had been incarcerated, but I didn’t know what she had learned. I would have to bluff my way along. If I did or said something wrong, I’d try to excuse my cluelessness by pretending to be distracted and distraught. Sarn knew that Blake was on medical leave, but I didn't want to act like a basket case unless I absolutely had to.

As we hovered over one of the most evil sites on Earth, my pilot called in our arrival. A voice “welcomed” us to the “Alactraz Ultra Confinement Center.” Upon setting down, I recognized Sarn on the tarmac. Tall, Teutonic, blonde, and hard-bodied, Sarn had quite a rack, too. Though pushing forty, she looked to be in excellent physical shape. Rumor had it that she’d started out as a sizzling “honey-trap” agent during her early intelligence days. That was before she’d been recruited into Aladdin. I wondered how Sarn could have convincingly pulled off the seductress role. I always saw here as cold and calculating – all business, all the time.

I stepped outside the whirlybird and she came up close, curtly instructing me to follow her. I looked about. Things had changed a lot in the look of the place since my lock-up days. As Sarn led me along, I did my utmost to memorize everything I was seeing. If I couldn’t get Gus out of there peacefully, I might very well need to to mastermind a prison-break from Alcatraz Island.

The doctor led me along, until we paused before a sealed portal as formidable as a bank vault. Gaining entry required Sarn to provide both a thumb-print and an eye scan. Once we got into Aladdin’s inner sanctum, we proceeded down a corridor past a long row of cells. I saw prisoners, captive ultras, probably. Then I recognized a face I knew.

The sight of Blythe Ashwin as an inmate of Alcatraz slammed me with memories, some of them guilty. We were coincidental doubles, and due to her disappearance on assignment, I’d been drafted into a scam that involved impersonating her. While living her life, I’d learned that she had been involved in some illegal dealings. I had felt justified in exposing the woman, while doing myself a bonus favor by leaving false evidence that she was me – that is, that she was Mantra.

Ashwin was looking overwhelmed and beaten up. She didn’t seem to have energy enough even to get angry at the sight of me, the person who had done so much to ruin her life. Clearly, the woman was being driven to her breaking point, which bothered me, since she had seemed as hard as nails when I'd known her. I had already been having second thoughts about what I had done and now felt sorry for her. Also, her fate gave me an appalling preview of my own would be if I were ever found out to be an enemy of Aladdin.

My supervisor continued leading along bleak corridors, until we at last paused at a heavily barred door. Sarn moved aside, allowing me to peer within. I saw armed guards and a medical team that was directing its attention toward a large cocoon-like capsule. It looked partially metallic and partially organic. Sarn swiped a key-card in the security lock and punched in a short code, causing the door to swing open. Several faces turned our way.

"Doctor, how's the prisoner been?" my top-brass guide addressed one of the medics.

"He was awake and very distraught a half hour ago," answered a white-clad middle-aged man. "Then he lapsed back into sleep."

“Go to your boy,” Dr. Sarn told me.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped through the cluster of people until I stood next to the machine, looking down at the patient's face.

It was hard not to react to Gus's changed appearance. His radically different look jolted me.

He was utterly unrecognizable, not just as August Blake, Jr., but not even as a little boy. Only his head and shoulders were left unhidden by the capsule, but the prisoner looked like a hardened adult criminal. His brow was overdeveloped, his nose and chin angular, making him more resemble a movie dwarf’s than a child. Corded muscles made his neck thick and his hair was a blue-black shag. If on a street, his look would have caused people to move aside. It must have been hell for a child to have to be so repulsive in public. No wonder Gus doubted that even his own family still loved him. He must have been riding on the edge of an emotional breakdown for months by now.

I knew that Aladdin had ultra power-draining technology and, clearly, this capsule was part of that. The boy had was forced to wear some sort of helmet with a conduit extending into the ceiling. What was its purpose? To read his thoughts? To place new thoughts into his mind?

This was hard sight for a parent to take in, but it was logical from Aladdin's POV. Gus had gone toe to toe with a prepared tactical team in Canoga Park and only failed to rout them due to his lack of combat experience.

Suddenly, the lad stirred.

Gus was trying to move, but his straps only allowed him to turn his head from side to side. My quiet indignation was at the explosion point, but I knew that Aladdin had secured him excessively because they didn't dare do less. Gus was, if truth be told, a frightening being. He had god-like powers, powers that he’d abused with thoughtless malevolence. He had attempted murder, too, and had nearly succeeded.

But, despite all, this was still Gus, a twelve year old boy.

"I think I should talk to him alone," I told Sarn flatly.

"Are you sure?" asked the spy chief.

"I won't try to free him, if that's what you're worried about. It's safe to touch the capsule, isn't it?"

Sarn glanced at her chief physician. The doctor shrugged. Sarn said to me, “Go ahead, Blake, try to perk him up. We'll be waiting outside."

The doctors, medics, and guards all followed her out. Even with the door shut and the staff out of sight, I still felt spied-upon. And of course I was. Aladdin’s surveillance protocols were over the top. I'd have to be careful about every move I made and every word that I said. My emotions just then were as tight as a bowstring. Why, I asked Heaven, had all these terrible things happened? Why should the Blake family have to endure so much tragedy?

The boy pivoted his head to looked squarely at me.

"No..." he murmured. "It's not you!" Tears filled his eyes.

I leaned closer, resting my hands on his gray capsule. "Are you in pain, Gus?"

"Go away! You're not real!"

That voice sounded deep and harsh, but also weak and rasping.

I swallowed hard. "I'm here to visit you, Gus. Why don't you believe that I'm real?"

"I k-killed you!" he replied.

His flowing tears were large ones.

Was the boy weeping in remorse? But if so, was it for what he'd tried to do, or was it only for having been caught and punished?

“You're dead!" he said.

"Gus! Stop thinking like that! I am alive. You didn't hurt me. You've never hurt anyone. You've been having terrible nightmares, that's all. I'm here because I love you!"

He shook his head. "No, you're part of the nightmare!"

He was right about that much. I was part of this nightmare.

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TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 11