A story about love

Written by Handsome Ron

"At last!" came an insane howl through the thick murk of the city night.

The sound of the rough voice was like a wild vine growing from an unlikely foothold as the man's laughter floated down from a three story tenement and flowed over the broken bricks that made up a ruined alleyway far below.

"At last!" came the distant voice again.

Inside a man squirmed and twitched in spasms of frantic laughter. In a small cramped apartment a thin man was surrounded with a scrape yard assortment of gadgetry and electronics whose multi-colored wiring spilled out like piles of fine whale bones sprouting out of a beach head. His form, such as his arms and legs, was hard to distinguish among the sea of broken and partially working electronics that filled the room.

His "work area" if you'd like to refer to it as such - was a chaotic impromptu storm of half-soldered circuits and melted plastic. Over the long years of isolation and late hours of work the man had sort of built himself into a corner, you see? What began as a bit of loose, unused wiring grew, seemingly of it's own violation, into enormous hillsides of discarded materials. Giant mounds of motherboards, brass screws and monitors arose from floor to ceiling in teetering, terrifying heights.

Closest to the man's body, the part that was still semi-visible, clung a badly worn lab jacket that twisted around his frame covered in a halo of grease and grime. He was eternally tearing his jacket against the mountains of discarded machinery.

As a complete anomaly, in the middle of the chaos in a perfectly clear radius, picked clean of silvery circuitry and red and green wiring, sat a rather innocuous looking cylinder.

"It's complete!" the man said to no one at all - although one could get the impression he was speaking directly to the silver cylinder.

The man's cackles began anew and continued as unseen neighbors began yelling a choice selection of profanity laced tirades through the paper thin walls that separated them from each other.

"Shutcher fuggin' hole!!!" a burly man belched from his roach infested apartment directly below.

Taking no notice the man kept laughing.

"I'm callin' da cops, you dirty rat-fucker!" squeaked a tiny woman who stood in the alley clutching a ragged brown robe close to herself.

The man did not really hear them. To him, they were "s.h.it". At this point, Gentle Reader, it should be noted, do not get the wrong idea about the man. He was by no means an egomaniac. His classification of those around him was strictly a time saving measure. To the man, "s.h.it" was a kind of mental short-hand for any and all that he encountered outside of his tiny city apartment.

She, He and It became simplified into "s.h.it". This was done in order to preserve the inner workings of the man's higher brain instead of wasting precious brain power. By this method, he took the ceaseless noise pollution and constant verbal misfires of his environment and lumped them into this all inclusive acronym and most useful pronoun: "s.h.it".

"The s.h.it is really hitting the fan down there tonight." the man said to no one in particular.

And that was the very last thing he thought about the ceaseless sounds from the world outside of his own.

A manic glee continued to ripple through the man as he examined the silver cylinder.

"It's all here!" he said aloud. "All of it!"

A series of video monitors flickered from their perches high on the mounds of discarded circuitry. The screens crackled with roiling static and badly soldered circuits. Like broken crystal balls from some forgotten age the monitors flickered in senseless patterns.

The man's eye's gravitated to their ethereal glow. The images on the cracked monitors individually cleared, hummed and presented the grotesque shape of small squirming mammals. At first, the creatures looked like piles of living fur coats twisting in a shapeless pile. A man's hand dropped a small cylindrical object into the furry, squirming pile and the change was immediate.

What could only be described as overgrown rats (or baby possums?) shrieked soundless screams from the flickering monitors. In sheer terror, they began to tear at the communal pile. As the animal panic grew in intensity they ripped out eyes, ears, noses, hands, tails and tore wombs open - spilling their dark black contents onto the glass cage that they were firmly held in.

As the carnage grew more murderous the monitors went to white.

Footage of a second experiment (if it can be called that) rolled across the screens. This video showed a fairly normal looking rat, although terribly bloated in the center due to either starvation or pregnancy. As soon as the cylinder was introduced the rat, that was indeed and definitely pregnant, began violently chewing small and bloody rat fetuses out of it's own stomach. No mater how deep it clawed into itself it would not stop. It tossed the red little pre-rats in horrendous piles…until it too lay still and silent.

The man smiled up towards the small and bloody fetuses. A glazed over dreamy look plastered on his face.

"I will call you the Judas Effect." the man said to the cylinder. He spoke the words with love and compassion - the way a man would address an infant with a bright future.

The man opened his mouth again and said: "Young women will suffocate their own new born babies as they scream for mercy! Old women will knife strangers in the throats! Husbands will sew their wives mouths shut with barbed wire! Dogs will turn on their masters and eat them alive!"

"With you I will make people kill what they love the most - and enjoy it!" the man said with an menacing finality.

During his vile exclamation, the man did not notice a large black cockroach inch it's way over to the cylinder. Quite accidentally, the filthy insect nudged the device just enough to trigger the machine. The man did not notice - after all it was just more s.h.it.

As day broke, a burly man in boxers and a wife beater with a mangy looking woman were pressing a police woman forward towards the apartment building and over the broken brick alleyway. They each screamed and complained and pointed to the cop. The officer allowed herself to be prodded towards the mysterious noisy man's door.

When they finally made entry, and pushed past the years of garbage that filled the tiny apartment, they found the man's body - dead. In his mouth were bits of circuitry, motherboards, solder and silvery metal shards. You see, the man died, having killed what he loved the most.

THE END