DUTY
by Edward Rodosek © 2009
That evening, when I read the night schedule for my duty shift, I cursed my commissioner.
“What's eating you, Mac?” I heard the voice of Joe Clovis from behind me.
“What's eating me? You just look--that son of a bitch ordered you and me on night shift again!”
Joe shrugged. “That's Grumbler's right and you know that.”
“But we just came back from hunting rats two hours ago! We'll hardly have time for dinner and besides…”
Joe put his hand on my shoulder. “Take it easy, son. It seems I've taught you everything but patience. Come with me; I'm buying this time.”
We found two seats in the canteen. Joe beckoned to a waiter and he brought us two beers.
“Damned job,” I said after the first swig. “And don't tell me you disagree.”
Joe grinned. “Do you remember how enthusiastic you were three month ago when you joined EDSU? The glorious organization, the only defense of the entire world population against the colonists ?”
I nodded. “Yes, I do. My new title ‘Member of the Earth Defense Special Unit' sounded then fairly eminent. Even now I'm content with some of the benefits we have. We're more international then Interpol and when we ask for help our tasks have a higher priority.”
“Don't forget our salary,” added Joe, “the bonus for a dangerous job, double pay on Sundays and a special premium for each liquidated rat--sorry--colonist.”
“But this is all that's good,” I grumbled. “All the rest is shit. We're on duty all the time around the clock. My damned personal phone could call me on duty day and night, when I'm on vacation or even when I'm sick. Ninety-nine percentage of our working time nothing happens; we only waylay potential suspects and check up on innocent people. And all this only because of the remaining one percent, when we maybe--just maybe--could find a real rat.”
“Colonist,” Joe corrected me. “You better watch not to make such a slip of the tongue when the old Grumbler is present. Finish your mug; we better order something to eat. It'll be a long night.”
“Yes, I know. Another long, boring night as always.”
Then, I didn't have a clue how wrong I was.
***
Joe Clovis had been my first instructor when I took up my new job in the EDSU.
“Look, Mac,” he said, “I'm not keen on being your baby-sitter; but I need a new partner soon. So let's try to shorten your learning period as much as possible. Agreed?”
“Sure. I've already read the informative EDSU booklet from cover to cover.”
“Swell. Tell me what you know about colonists.”
“Well, they can enter unnoticed every human being and drive out his or her original personality without changing the person's appearance. Nobody can distinguish a colonist from a normal man or woman by looks or by X-ray; even a tissue analysis...”
“Hold on, lad,” Joe interrupted my lecture. “Let's get to the point: how is possible the whole human population hasn't been changed to colonists by now?”
“Because about three years ago, a young man, named Kendall, had invented an ingenious appliance, some special sort of–” I paused. “I've forgotten the scientific name of it, but I know everyone calls it simply kendall . With it one can measure the...well, the brain activity of a person, which in colonists is wholly different from us people.”
“Attaboy,” said Joe. “It seems you've done your homework. Don't bother about technical details. The only important thing is that you can use the kendall practically, for only this device can distinguish them from us . Have you seen it yet?”
“Only in pictures.”
Joe put some thin battery flashlamp on the table. “That's the transmitting part of the kendall; we call it the blowpipe.
Remember that you must put it in some imperceptible spot pointed at this second part.” He took out of the drawer some plate fastened to a small box. “And that's the receiving part--the target--which you have to install about a hundred feet or so in front of the blowpipe. That's all; any questions?”
I stared at him. “Of course I have questions; a lot of them. What happens when…”
“Oh, yes. Then the crowd can move between both parts without suspicion, and you have to start the dull, endless waiting--this we call jutting . I must admit jutting isn't amusing at all; but I was taught that this is my duty. And duty is the word I never dispute. I strongly advise you to have the same attitude, understand?”
I nodded, a bit confused, for everything was going much too fast for me.
“At the end of your shift,” continued Joe, grinning, “because usually nothing at all happens, you simply clear up both parts of the kendall again; then you drive home and take a drink or screw some woman--if you can get one.”
I grinned too. “That part of the lesson is the most understandable.”
***
After dinner I went into my room, took a shower and stretched on my bed. Although I was tired, I couldn't sleep. My thoughts wandered back to the time when I found out what I needed to know about my job.
Three years ago I was accepted in my current job without any problem. From the very beginning in the EDSU I realized that for the job it was important to understand what my duty was. And Joe Clovis and the other instructors told me about my duty extremely well.
Nobody knew for sure from which side of the universe these mysterious colonists had come. Yet, it was a fact the rats wanted absolute power; but we shouldn't have let them do this. Other people might be directed by hate for the rats--but we were guided only by duty.
Those damned rats caused a great fear among the population especially because they didn't have a material body of their own. They simply occupied human bodies and this was really infamous. How could an honest man live normally if he couldn't be sure whether he's talked, lived, ate or slept with a rat?
As a matter a fact, there was another distinguishable difference between them and us. The rats were providing themselves with energy in a totally different way to us, the people. Although the rats ate and drank normally, this meant nothing to them. They need to connect to an electrical current. This fact was detected a few years ago.
Some reputable chief executive was seen moaning in pleasure when he was holding a paper clip connected to an electrical socket. This had happened after working hours, and he would have remained undiscovered if his secretary hadn't come back for her forgotten umbrella. At first she'd got a wrong impression about the guttural voices she'd heard, so she'd entered quietly--and then she nearly fainted. When her chief attacked her, she screamed loudly until the guards hurried in.
The son of a bitch had only been accused of the physical and sexual violence. The testimony of his secretary about the paper clip and the electrical socket hadn't convinced the court there was anything more to it. The convict had been in jail some months and just before he was about to be let out, that spotty young man, Kendall, came around and measured the prisoner with his new, ingenious device.
In this way it was proved for the first time the colonists enjoyed a high electrical voltage, which would char a normal human being in only few moments. It was never published in which way this first discovered rat had been executed. Yet, I'm sure that it hadn't been by electrical shock.
After apprenticeship, I became Clovis' regularly partner and we cooperated with each other quite well. He was a good companion--at least when he didn't have a hangover. He was never late and I could always depend on him.
Clovis and I have discovered real rats during the day's routine checking or by chance. We got many false alarms about supposed rats every day. We got such accusations from all sorts of people--from a bored recluse whose neighbor seemed suspicious in someway, to a hysterical woman who hated her handsome tenant because he wouldn't court her, to impatient heirs who couldn't wait for their rich uncle to pass away and from all sorts of queer people. In about one and a half years, Joe and I had to examine more than a hundred such stigmatized suspects; but my kendall didn't make a single sound.
Still, this afternoon was completely different from the every day's routine. We checked an airport and suddenly our kendall uttered a piercing sound. Joe reacted much quicker than I, neutralizing two rats when they reached for their hidden pistols. This was the first time in three years the rats had appeared as a group and then had resisted us.
The professional part of our job always started at the moment of detecting the rat. Then the dullness was over and one needed all the knowledge with which he'd been filled during the special training. All of us in the EDSU have a thorough knowledge of two basic things:
a) The kendall is infallible, and
b) Kill the rat before it kills you.
You must shoot the rat with a specially cartridge from a thin blaster, which is fixed on your forearm under the sleeve.
You needn't do more then than to aim at the rat and squeeze the trigger in your palm.
The cartridge, fixed on a thin but strong plastic thread, enters the rat and blows up inside him. The cartridge is filled with a great number of tiny hooks and because of this you must aim at the rat's body. Neither skilful shots to the head nor gentlemanly shots to the limbs are allowed. The hooks spreads out nicely into the rat's flesh--just like you stuck him with many small umbrellas and then open them. Even a lousy shooter is certain to kill with that cartridge. Now you have the rat nicely secured and tranquil, you calmly wait for the special team, which then cremates the corpse in their closed van.
Because we in EDSU have to do shocking activities, we developed a special jargon among us that helps us with a bizarre humor. The raid we call inventory , the central computer at our headquarters is named uncle , our chief commissioner we entitle Grumbler , the blaster is butler , and a member of the cremating team has the nickname cook.
***
Our daily routine was simple. First my partner and I have to read the schedule of patrol duties for the next twenty-four hours. Then we knocked on the Grumbler's door and got a sealed envelope, which we may open only when we were sitting in our patrol car. There we found the places for that day's jutting and inventories, which uncle has drawn for us by lot. Then we drove to the first of the defined locations. That could be any place where many people were passing by--a corner of some crowded street, an entrance into the subway, an escalator in some department store, a public lavatory or a sports stadium.
One of those places has been always earmarked for an inventory--for instance a factory, a farm, a school, or a multistory office building. There we simply showed our EDSU badges and everybody there turned humble and obeyed you without many words. Then each employee had to pass by the blowpipe one after another, and if he was clean he returned to his work. Objections are extremely rare; they usually only happen when uncle occasionally chose the same spot several times, one after another.
When Clovis and I opened tonight's envelope there was written as follows:
1. Reciprocal checking of both partners 0 h 00' – 0 h 15'
2. Raid after the performance in Royal Port Theatre 0 h 30' – 1 h 15'
3. The corner of Third Avenue and 24 th Street 1 h 30' – 5 h 30'
4. The exit of discotheque Flamingo 6 h 00' – 7 h 30'
After we checked ourselves with our kendall, Clovis and I began an inventory in the lobby of this theatre, and I must say that wasn't dull at all. Most of the ladies had a low décolletages and fantastic hairstyles and some of them were very beautiful. One of them was called ‘grandma' by some teenager, but I could go to bed with her without any hesitation. Yes, today's beauty parlors could work real miracles.
Then came a long and dull jutting at the crossroad. Clovis chose the first two hours of our duty so the second two hours remained for me. By the book this was a disciplinary offence. Yet, every patrolman crew does the same, even on the daily shifts, and their superiors pretend to know nothing about it.
We'd parked our patrol car of that under the branches of a red oak and I stretched myself on the backseat and then I slipped my cap over my eyes. I thought that a nap would do me good after all the efforts of that day.
Joe aimed the dish-like kendall target towards the street corner and then he slowly and negligently mixed himself among the other pedestrians. I knew he'd ask somebody for matches and take a gulp of whiskey out of plastic flask that he always carries in his jacket pocket. He had a real pimp's face so nobody thought he'd be a member or EDSU. After a while he'd put the kendall's blowpipe unnoticed in some proper place--for instance on some window ledge or on an advertising board or on some doorjamb--and then he'd slowly walk back to our car.
I'd swear I'd just closed my eyes for a moment when I felt a hand shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes and when I saw Joe, I intended to scold him, but then he showed me his watch. Two hours had gone by and now it was my turn. I stood up and yawned and glanced at the peaceful green kendall light.
We could afford to take a break and have a modest snack. Joe smoked a cigarette before his nap, and I poured myself another cup of coffee from the thermos flask. Across the street were only a few late pedestrians and suddenly it seemed to me that our jutting was a foolish thing. As usual, nothing would happen so we might as well spend the rest of the night at home. Then I chased away these improper thoughts because that would be a rough violation of our duty.
And at that very moment I got a shock.
When Joe Clovis came up to the car bonnet to clear away the paper plates, he passed by the kendall's target for the first time--and then suddenly a shrill siren sounded and instead of the green light, the red one began to flash.
I stiffened for just a moment and Joe, with paper plates in hand, stood frozen too. But a second later my reflexes returned, which had been imparted to me in uncountable hours of our training. My hand aimed at Clovis, the rat; my forefinger squeezed the trigger of my butler--and at the exact moment when he made a movement of protest the cartridge hit him in his stomach. He stood still for endless long seconds and then he slowly and gently slipped to the ground.
A dark, nearly black jet of blood flowed down from the corner of his lip. I was horrified by his open eyes so I covered his face with my jacket. Then I called the cook's van that was on duty that night. My legs trembled slightly so I leaned against the car and tried to concentrate.
How on the earth had the rats succeeded in outwitting him?
Joe Clovis was a cautious man. But despite that, one of the unsuspicious idlers probably snuck up behind his back. We don't have the slightest idea of how the rats invaded a human, not even how long they needed for this procedure. But it seemed impossible to do this just in passing and in an open place. Maybe somebody hugged him in a friendly way, simultaneously giving him an injection with the drug and then helped him into a car that one of his accomplices drove by.
I mouthed a mean oath and resolved to get avenge on those damned rats at all costs. I was astonished, bewildered and angry. I felt a cold sweat on my forehead and my stomach was clenched with bitterness. Then I remembered today's inventory at the airport when poor Joe had made a remark about the serious danger of the rats for they were arriving not singly any more, but in groups.
As always, the cook's crematory van arrived discreetly and silently. The driver and his partner were dressed in black, tight overalls, with black hoods and black gloves. Without a word they unrolled a large plastic sack on the ground and went to pick up the corpse. They had to pass by the car's bonnet--and at that moment the red light flashed from the target and the shrill sound of the alarm ripped the night silence once again.
This time I wasn't unprepared. Two more cartridges left my butler and entered the cooks' dark bodies. The first of them fell instantly, but the other one turned around with a vacant look in his eyes grabbing his left side with his hand. I had to exterminate him with another shot.
Then I felt weak and I nearly panicked. Obviously the rats had begun an extensive offensive aimed especially against us, in EDSU, the organization with its enormous fighting efficiency, which was evidently most dangerous for them.
The street was dark and empty but the three corpses surrounded me and that was more than inconvenient. If single pedestrian should come close enough I would be in big trouble. My only thought was to tell the old Grumbler about the rat's invasion right away and ask him urgently for help.
With difficulty I squeezed the dead body of Joe Clovis into a sack. Then, somehow, I managed to lift it on the backseat of our patrol car. Then I dragged both cooks' corpses by their legs up to their van. I couldn't open the door so I simply hid both corpses under the van.
When I stopped gasping and wiped away the sweat from my forehead I went to find a hidden blowpipe. I spent much time and I had to stop searching three or four times because of late pedestrians, who were passing by. Finally, I managed to find the blowpipe. It was stuck between two bars of a fence in a spot I'd earlier searched twice already.
Then I phoned Grumbler at headquarters and tried to report to him–as shortly and objectively as possible--about all that had happened to me this odd night. He was in his office as usual. He was strangely quiet as he listened to my report. Then he impressed on me I mustn't tell anybody about all that had happened but come to him at once.
I drove carefully, and under the speed limit all the way. During the drive I was in doubt if my phone call to Grumbler was the proper way to report to him. Maybe he would think I was insane. Anyway it would have been much better if I'd explained to him everything person-to-person.
Our headquarters are situated in the last building of the quiet blind alley. When I stopped before the building entrance I was astonished to notice the old Grumbler in person was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, accompanied by two cooks. Obviously he had enough time to inform them about the rats among the EDSU staff.
I switched off the engine and the lights of the patrol car but not the kendall target. It must be on, day and night, even during the time when the car is parked on the street or in the garage. Grumbler, that always-gloomy old man, who avoids even a simple handshake with anybody, patted me in a friendly way on the shoulder and politely asked me to enter. My head buzzed with some unclear warning, maybe because of his instant politeness, or because I'd been through so many strange experiences that night. So I turned round on the doorstep with the blowpipe in my hand and made a fast half-circled movement. The target in the patrol car gave a loud shriek three times in succession, and at nearly the same time I fired my butler three times.
At such a short distance even a child couldn't have missed. But the larger of the cooks, a real gorilla, even with the cartridge in his stomach, drew out his blaster and fired at me. I jumped clear of him but I entangled myself in the web of wires from my butler. Luckily, the six foot long jet of yellow flame missed me by a hairbreadth, scorching only the doorjamb. Fortunately, the next moment the flame went out because the big fellow collapsed on the floor.
Totally exhausted and mindless I staggered through the rooms of the headquarters without knowing why I did this. There was nobody there from the morning shift yet. I shivered at the mere thought of the possibly that they all might be rats as well.
Where should I go? What should I do now? What could I do at all? In a single hour my safe world had collapsed and vanished, probably for once and all. The alien monsters were occupying our world.
I needed to hide myself in some safe place, to think over my situation. I had to listen to the news on TV or radio; I had to find out what was happening elsewhere. Had the rats invaded only the EDSU? Or had they, in some mysterious way, wholly dominated our town by now? Or maybe they were ruling the whole country already--or even the whole planet! Who could I trust at all for now on?
Suddenly, one more thought occurred to me.
The thought was so frightening, so horrible, that I wasn't able to finish it at all. For some endless minutes I was standing motionless in the dark silence of the office. Then I shuddered from cold because all my body was covered with sweat. I gulped heavily and with trembling knees headed out of the headquarters. In front of the entrance I turned around hesitatingly with my back towards my car. Then I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth and aimed the blowpipe toward my own stomach. Then, seized with a horrible expectation of the fatal alarm sound, I palmed the trigger.
Kendall remained silent. I saw through the windscreen of my car the green light on the target that glittered calmly and comfortingly. I've never seen a more beautiful light in all my life. I sighed deeply, put the blowpipe into my jacket pocket again and took a deep breath of the fresh morning air and my lungs filled. Then I felt pain while I dragged the corpses of all three rats into the lobby.
After this enormous positive result, I felt something else. I was hungry. Usually I never feel a need to eat so early in the morning; it was still two hours before my usual breakfast time. But that night was extraordinary, so I broke my habit. I felt I had to have something to eat, urgently. Naturally, I could visit one of the many pubs, which were open all nightlong; the nearest was only three blocks away. But now I couldn't bear a smoky bar with the bad odor of rancid fat and the company of exhausted drinkers.
Then I pressed seven well-known numbers on the phone buttons, and after a while I heard Ella's sleepy voice. I had to flatter her a lot and tell her a few of the newest jokes before she invited me to her home for breakfast. She made marvelous pancakes and her coffee was delicious.
When I arrived at Ella's apartment she was still a bit sulky. I listened patiently to the usual woman's lamentation about my permanent neglect of her needs. Still, some time later she–dressed only in seductive pink underwear--began to fry delicious pancakes. I greedily kept eating them one after another and gulped down a lot of her famous coffee. Ella gazed with astonishment at my enormous hunger and finally her flour ran out. She didn't want to hear my proposition about any new supplies from a nearby store. Because I didn't pay any attention to the meaningful open door of her bedroom, she became visibly offended. She dressed herself, went out and stood outside the door significantly rattling her keys.
I belched because of my overfilled stomach so I had to loosen the belt on my trousers. I was astonished that despite everything my hunger hadn't disappeared at all. I felt like I was filled with air like some toy balloon. Unwillingly I got up and tottered out of her apartment and Ella locked the door after us.
She made three or four steps in the front lane and I followed her slowly. Suddenly the siren's sharp wail pierced the morning silence, and the target in my car began to emit flashing red signals through the windscreen.
Ella turned around in amazement, and her questioning eyes were wide open. My hand flitted to my weapon automatically and aimed at her but I didn't squeeze the trigger of my butler. No-this was impossible! Not Ella! Oh, my God, that could mean... But the screeching howl of the alarm persuaded me I was a common sissy, easily imposed on a rat masked as a seductive woman--a classical case of camouflage for suckers. But I still hesitated.
Then Ella made a mistake. Maybe she couldn't stand the alarm any more or maybe she wanted to tell me something--in short, she opened her mouth and stepped toward me.
I swear my brain couldn't send any command at all. But my fingers obeyed the reflexes that had been imparted to me in the endless hours of my drill and automatically squeezed the trigger. The cartridge entered Ella's white throat, only three feet in front of me. In a fragment of a second her astonished eyes became glassy and she slowly fell on the pavement, her motionless eyes gazing at me accusingly.
Later I couldn't remember how I had run from that place. Also I couldn't remember if I had maybe left her body lying on the lane, where it would be discovered in a short time. My puzzled thoughts first became clearer when I was somehow back in my car again, mechanically driving through more and more dense traffic. After some time I realized I was driving out of the city toward the airport, where we'd done our successful raid the day before.
I still wasn't aware of why I was heading in that direction. I was totally confused, and in some way empty, just a hollow shell of a former brilliant EDSU warrior. I knew only that I must persist in doing my duty. I had to keep on liquidating those hateful rats, no matter how they had multiplied until now.
I firmly decided to continue killing rats without any hesitation. I'd kill them when the kendall warned me with its sound. I'd exterminate all beings that were different from us. This had been my sacred duty--and this duty would now become the only purpose for the rest of my life.
I was inspired by the fresh morning air and concentrated on driving without choosing any defined course. I had an infallible feeling I was driving in the right direction, and when I drove to a big crossroads I knew I had to turn to the left on Macadam Road and through a dense oak wood. I stepped on the accelerator because my hunger gripped me again with doubled strength. It was digging into my guts; my stomach ached and my throat was dry.
Then, suddenly, the wood ended, and from the top of the hill a majestic view opened. Macadam Road led along the perimeter of an enormous electrical plant complex. The high pillars, adorned with garlands of brown and green isolators sprouted from the ground. The power lines spread out from the electrical plant in all directions, and the long rows of them disappeared in the hazy distance.
My heart was beating madly in my chest. I felt without doubt the moment of truth would occur here and now.
I was in the right place, on the spot, which was my final goal. I was sure that here my hunger would stop. The painful emptiness inside me would vanish, and I'd grow so strong that I'd be able to move even the mountains.
Some odd instinct was telling me my doings. I fastened my seat belt, put my cap on my head, and stepped firmly on the accelerator. The engine roared and rushed forward in a big cloud of dust, and I saw the wire fence was moving unbelievably fast towards me. Indistinctively I saw the little figure of some guard leaping out of his cabin and waving his arms--and a moment later my car burst through the fence.
I braked violently close by the transformer building; the guard was running towards me with his gun in his hand. I fired my butler into the rat a moment before my kendall uttered the alarm sound again. Then I began to climb hastily up the iron steps equipped with the lightning signs, skulls and warnings about the danger of high-voltage. All around me I heard the slight buzzing of the ionized air. When I'd climbed high enough, I stretched both my arms high above my head and firmly grasped a thick, nonisolated cable.
An enormous, violent ecstasy filled me.
All my former pleasures seemed trivial shadows; nothing compared with this feeling. During the pleasant, crackling sparkling the waves of worm bliss flooded my entire body. Energy flowed through my limbs, filling me with nobleness in every nook and cranny inside me. I stood still with my eyes closed, and I knew I was now ready for the hardest test and for the worst conflicts.
Only now the final revelation came. Now I knew who I really was.
In my mind I blessed that unknown but ingenious compatriot of mine, who had had a brilliant idea that undoubtedly would bring us the final victory. Namely, infinitely easier than trying slowly to colonize billions of people on Earth was inverting the polarity of several thousand kendalls. They'd distinguish between them and us, and signal that with the alarm.
The only difference was that now the kendalls were serving us , the future rulers of this planet and of this Galaxy. From now on everything would be just a question of time; and we have plenty of it.
I made an elegant jump of sixty feet downwards, and landed softly. Then I sat in my car and drove out of the electrical plant, enthusiastic and impatient to start fulfilling my duty.