First Child |
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Chapter 5 |
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| The Zebkrahn itself had long been moved from its original location. When the teknoguilders had first established themselves in the cave network, they had shifted the device, along with the mess of paraphernalia attached to it, into a small alcove that had eventually become a broom closet. Garth, the teknoguild master, had covertly blocked the machine's destruction order for ‘research purposes’. He had tinkered with it, and had even succeeded in bringing it whirring back to life. But he eventually lost interest when he realised the Ethics Committee would not allow him to experiment on live subjects. And so the Zebkrahn had lain forgotten, until a week ago when Flynn had discovered it in the broom cupboard while looking for a retractable toilet brush. ‘So this thing goes on your head,’ Flynn said. He fitted the oversized bowl-shaped apparatus onto Durp’s head. ‘And this bit goes under your chin, and we clip these bits together.’ He fastened the final strap and pulled it tight. Durp closed his eyes, feeling a shiver of anticipation. He had really taken to the whole idea, and had grown more and more excited at the prospect of finally being able to fit in. But Flynn, now seeing his friend strapped to the machine, had lost his airy confidence and had grown more and more doubtful. He had, in truth, heard the same stories about the Zebkrahn as Durp. ‘Has it started?’ Durp asked excitedly. ‘No. No, not yet,’ replied Flynn. He hesitated, then asked, ‘Are you sure you want to go through with this?’ ‘Yes!’ cried Durp. ‘Yes, yes, yes! I’m going to be normal. Yes.’ The last was fervent, prayer-like. Flynn bit his lip. ‘Well, here goes,’ he said, and flipped a random array of switches and levers. The machine began to thrum. ‘Is it working? I don’t feel anything!’ said Durp. Flynn twisted several dials, and the thrumming grew louder. ‘Ooooooh,’ said Durp. He was feeling a strong vibration in his head now, enough to set his teeth on edge. ‘I... think something... is... Ooooh I’m feeeeling it nowww,’ he stuttered. Flynn turned the dials further, then backed away in horror as sparks began to jump out from the machinery. ‘I... I... I...,’ spluttered Durp. His eyes were rolling in his head, and the smell of burning hair was blossoming in the air. The last thing Durp registered seeing was Flynn desperately trying to knock the helmet off his head with a toilet brush. |
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