tales-from-the-trenches-2019-07-12
The inquisitional investigation aide moved onto the next room.
His job was simple. He was to investigate the offices and work spaces
of the heretics of Vraks. Someone had to look for information that
might lead to other heretics. it was possible to gleam all sorts of
useful intelligence from documents. There was one problem.
Chaos Corruption.
So the solution was simple. Take a normal human being, remove his
memories. Keep everything else, and replace his memories with
mechanicus created memory banks. The investigation aide could read as
much chaotic information as he could take, spit out the useful
information, and then purge his memory. True, he basically no longer
existed as a personality, but there was simply no way for memetic
infection to take hold in such a mind.
So. New room. Freshly wiped mind. Time to get to work.
This was a minor officer's office. Out of the way. It had survived the
assault and there were quite a number of over turned file cabinets.
This would take a while.
So, slowly, the aide picked up, read, analyzed, and filed a copy of
everything in his databanks. Nothing of value here. But during the
final search, he pulled out one of the drawers and tossed it across
the room. Out of the corner of his eyes he spotted something. On the
underside was taped a small packet of folded paper.
Thinking it could be useful, he opened up and started to read.
~~~
Today my cat has died.
I have him in my lap. I have kept him alive for over 13 years now.
Originally I kept him in my barracks, but when the reinforcements
arrived, I moved into my office and brought my cat with me.
Cats keep the rats in line. That's why they are on the planet. Rats
get everywhere. They are universal. Where man goes, the rat goes.
But this was MY cat.
I think he got exposed to radiation. Or a chemical attack. He went
blind. His teeth fell out. His poo started becoming liquid. But he
never slowed down. He was always a fighter. He wanted to live, so I
fought to keep him alive.
I would hold him and say, "If you don't give up, I won't give up."
I kept him in my private bathroom. At the end, he was constantly
crapping himself. He couldn't use the litter box anymore. When I got
hit with a surprise inspection, they almost confiscated the cat, but
fortunately the floor was filthy with his shit. He had taken up pacing
constantly and when he poo'd on the floor, he'd walk through it over
and over. I had to constantly mop the floor with the toilet water.
I hadn't cleaned it that morning. I told the inspectors that it was a
shrine to Nurgle and if they had a problem with it, I would bring it
up with the plague marines.
The investigator backed down.
My cat was always hungry. I don't think he absorbed much food with his
constant diarrhea. I had to go hungry sometimes to get him his food.
Getting meat for a cat wasn't easy. I took up trapping rats, but even
those got scarce in the end.
One day I walked in and he was just lying on the tile, head half under
the blanket. He ate a little, then he just... fell over.
There was a sore on his head. He'd had it for weeks. I had to bathe
him constantly to keep him clean, but the sore on his head wouldn't
heal. There was a bump under it. I think it was a tumor.
He just... stopped being him.
I held him for hours. All night. As the dawn approached he started...
running. Just, lying there and his legs would try to run. He couldn't
stand. He just ran and ran and ran and I couldn't do anything. His
breathing became labored. I had an oxygen tank that I stole from a
corpse to use instead of a gas mask in case of a chemical attack. I
knew I'd never get it recharged again, but I didn't care. I put the
hose over his mouth and the pure oxygen seemed to make it easier for
him to breathe.
I prayed to Nurgle.
Nothing happened.
I prayed to all the chaos gods.
Nothing happened.
I prayed to the god-emperor.
Nothing happened.
I prayed to any demon, to any creature of the warp that I would commit
any crime, any abomination, any horror, achieve any goal, sell every
part of myself, if you but showed up and saved my cat.
Nothing happened.
He died.
He is dead.
He is in my lap right now as I write this.
I should toss him in the trash and get back to work. I should move on.
I have duties. I have responsibilities. I need to do my duty.
I tell Granite that if he doesn't give up, I won't give up.
I ask him to get up. Please. Just get up.
He doesn't get up.
My cat died today.
~~~
The investigator looks over the paper one more time. He turned to look
to the bathroom. It takes a great deal of work to force the door open.
The smell tells him everything he needs to know. He notes the one
human corpse and the animal carcass. A quick sweep reveals nothing of
importance except a pistol. Nearby there is a single spent shell on
the floor.
He walks out and stands in the hallway. He looks at the paper and for
a brief moment, feels a pang of regret. His chest feels tight. There
is a moment of sadness and the beginning of an up-welling of pity.
On the cybernetic memory bank sticking out of his skull, a red light
turns on. A robotic voice states, "Emotional response detected!
Emergency information purge initiated!"
The inquisitional investigation aide stood motionless for 38 seconds
before he heard three beeps followed by a chiming voice, "Purge
Complete! Proceed to next room!"
The aide pauses to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. He stares
at it curiously on his finger tip, then shrugs and rubs it off on his
sleeve.
The inquisitional investigation aide moves onto the next room.
