Beast Machine (4 page)

Gora closed the door of the
Beast Machine and inserted a picture of Albert Einstein in a slit
on the side of the machine. It was, unbelievably, another real
picture of the scientist. Before sliding the picture into the Beast
Machine, Gora contemplated Einstein’s physical attributes. Einstein
wasn’t a particularly attractive man nor was he an ugly man. “Just
unique looking,” thought Gora.

Gora slammed her fist down
on the yellow button that began the entire process of combining an
animal body with a human mind. Now all that had to be done was to
wait. She clapped with glee and then stopped mid-clap when she was
interrupted by Hitbear.

“
How long did I ‘cook’
for?” asked Hitbear, now focused on the Beast Machine process. It
appeared relatively simple to him. Place an animal into triangular
opening, slide a picture into the small slot, input biographical
information, and let it cook for hour. Aside from actually building
the machine, it was easier than invading Poland.

“
About 10 hours, I think,”
replied Gora as she was cleaning up the now empty vials. She tossed
the useless vials into the corner of her lab with other useless
scientific runoff and trash. A trash monster surely lived in that
mess of a corner, as the stench became unbearably organic. There
wasn’t time to actively clean the laboratory when there was revenge
to be had, so Gora didn’t even think about cleaning up the rank
mess.

“
Why does
he
get to ‘cook’ for an
entire day? Is that going to affect him in any way that he will be
useless to us – to the cause?” Hitbear figured this was a perfectly
legitimate question.

“
No, no, no. Genius just
takes longer to create than a simple bear.” Gora laughed and winked
at Hitbear.

It apparently wasn’t funny
to the massive fur ball. He scowled aggressively at Gora from
afar.

Hitbear charged Gora and
wrapped his right paw around her throat. He growled fiercely at
her, showing his sharp teeth. “Do I look simple now?” spat Hitbear.
His saliva drenched the small brunette woman that brought him to
life. It dripped down her head, now covering her entire face –
except her eyes.

Gora, unaffected by the
saliva mask, kneed the giant Hitbear in the stomach and sliced off
his right paw with her unusually sharp knife that was stashed in
her left pants pocket. Gora was effortless in cutting off the
bear’s paw. She wiped the bear spit off her face with the sleeve of
her shirt.

“
WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?! IT
HURTS, IT HURTS!” cried Hitbear as he fell to the ground.
THUD!
Blood leaked from
Hitbear’s wrist and created a sizable puddle in mere
seconds.

“
Never – NEVER touch me
again, you filthy fucking animal,” replied Gora standing over the
writhing Hitbear. Her knife rested on his nose. The blade was four
inches long and made out of obsidian, but the sharp part of the
blade was a bright green and pulsing. It was pulsing as rapidly as
Hitbear’s heart.

“
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m
sorry – please, please. Just h-h-help me. Stop this pain and I will
fall in line. Please, please! Please, creator!” Tears of agony
spewed out of Hitbear’s eyes like geysers, mixing with the puddle
of blood. “I’ll be a good soldier, I’ll be a good soldier, I’ll be
a good soldier,” pleaded Hitbear. Gora removed her knife from his
nose and placed it back in her pocket.

Gora tossed gauze, peroxide
and other medical supplies at Hitbear. “Fix yourself up. If you
stay loyal, and do
not
touch me, I will help you grow back your paw – or give you an
attachment of sorts. You have to earn it.” Gora leaned close to
Hitbear, “I am not afraid to end you.”

Hitbear shuddered
frantically. Gora struck fear into him like no one ever had before
– the Russians, the Americans, the renegades under his command were
cupcakes compared to her. She wasn’t a large creature, but her
voice, her demeanor, her insanity made her quite intimidating, even
to a brown bear mixed with a humanoid capable of genocide. She was
daunting.

“
Thank you, thank you!”
Hitbear stitched himself up slowly and painfully over the course of
the next few hours. He knew he had overstepped his boundary and was
to toe the line; otherwise his existence would be extinguished,
once again.

Gora sat meditatively in a
small chair during the next twenty four hours staring at her kiln
of creation. She was not going to miss this ‘birth’ with a lengthy
nap like she did with Hitbear. She would not let Owlstein become
argumentative and violent; even though she knew deep down that it
was Hitbear’s animalistic side that wanted to rip her limb from
limb more so than the human side. Or at least she hoped.

Nonetheless, Gora began to
hash out her plans quietly in her mind. She knew that once Hitbear
and Owlstein are found out, that they may be terminated or used
against her. She needed to find a way to prevent that, or prevent
either from revealing any secrets about the Beast Machine. She
hated her constant worriment about things that may never happen.
“I’ll never let them be used by others,” she thought.
“Never.”

Ding.

Ding.

Diiiiiiiiiing
.

It was complete. The moment
of Owlstein’s birth was upon them.

“
Hitbear, wake
up.”

Rolling over slowly,
Hitbear yawned, “What? Is that cliché done baking or what?” He
rubbed his eyes and picked at his ears. His drowsiness made him
forget to cool it on the smarminess.

“
Yes. And he should be
greeting us any moment. Come close, child. Witness this with me,”
said Gora in a motherly tone. She had mostly forgiven Hitbear for
his rash choice to grab her by the throat, albeit not verbally. It
was not in her to become hateful of something she loved, regardless
of what transpired.

Hitbear lumbered over to
Gora and plopped down on his furry rear-end, while Gora remained in
her chair. He rubbed his stump arm wrapped in gauze with a grimace
running across his face. In this moment, he wanted his paw back
more than anything he had wanted throughout either life. More than
his human existence. More than Poland. More than England. More than
all of Russia.

The door to the Beast
Machine slowly began to open and a small amount of smoke was
released. “Did smoke appear when you were created?” asked Gora.
“No, I don’t think so,” replied Hitbear. The fluttering of wings
could be heard and the fog began to dissipate. Gora and Hitbear
rose to their feet, waiting anxiously. Gora clutched Hitbear’s left
paw tightly.

An unusually large barn owl
emerged with a shit-eating-grin on its face. It fluttered over to
the pair still clutching hands waiting for the barn owl genius to
speak, if it could. The owl cocked its head to the right, examining
the bear and woman.

The owl clicked his beak
several times before speaking.

Tick, clack, tick, clack,
tick, clack.

“
Hallo! I am Owlbert
Einstein! Hehe!”

“
Owlbert?” scoffed
Gora.

“
Ja?” smiled
Owlbert.

“
Don’t you mean Albert
Owlstein?” questioned Gora.

“
Nein, my dear; Owlstein
detracts too much from mein original existence.”

Gora examined the roughly
three foot tall Owlbert Einstein. He was massive for a barn owl and
owl in general. She gingerly gripped each of his wings and looked
close. She plucked a feather from her newest creation.

“
That hurts!” barked
Owlbert playfully.

“
My apologies, friend. I’m
just stunned at another one of my creations – your owl body is
remarkable! It has a perfect mixture of the majestic owl and
brilliant Albert Einstein!” giggled Gora as she looked at
Hitbear.

Hitbear looked away, mildly
hurt, and sat down near the map collection – he was determined to
prove his brilliance over Owlbert. He would show Gora that strategy
trumps science.

“
I’m so glad you decided
your name and did not let me decide it for you! Shows your
independence and brilliance!” said Gora. Hitbear, too, had decided
his own name, yet Gora neglected to heap praise upon his
brilliance
. The lumbering
bear was genuinely hurt by Gora’s intrigue in Owlbert over him, the
great strategist!

“
Oh, bitte jungen kind. I
am merely your servant since this ist mein second chance at life
und clearly du brought me here for ein reason, nein?” questioned
Owlbert. “Vhy vould I be brought back to life – in ein sense – if I
vere not to serve du in some vay?”

Tick, clack, tick, clack,
tick, clack.

During the creation
process, a small amount of data is uploaded into the minds of the
beasts. This data included information on new cultural trends,
inventions that have helped mankind progress along into the modern
era and important dates in human history. A small message
concerning loyalty to Gora was relayed to them several times before
they were allowed out of the Beast Machine. It was brainwashing,
but a brainwashing that Gora wanted of her beasts. Gora didn’t
expect the uploaded data to help them adjust as well as this. She
thought there would be hand holding at their beginning of their
existences. Hitbear had caused her trouble already,
however.

Gora looked down at her
feet. She had to tell him.

“
I need you, Owlbert, and
Hitbear to –“

“
Hitbear? He really went
with that name?!” laughed Owlbert in an annoyingly loud way in an
attempt to ruffle Hitbear’s feathers. “Vas he do? Just hit
peoples?”

Hitbear did not hear the
laughter as he was fully involved into his strategy to help Gora
defeat her tormentors. He was mostly doing it for himself, though,
as he wanted to return to the greatness – as he put it in his own
mind – of his past life.

“
Yes, he chose Hitbear.”
Gora’s eyes went cross-eyed momentarily at Owlbert’s reprisal of
Hitbear’s name. She quite liked the name Hitbear. “Anyhow, the
reason you and Hitbear are here is that you both were alive during
the most trying times of humanity.” She walked closer to Owlbert.
“Sure, Hitbear was a large reason why those times were difficult,
but shouldn’t we hold our friends close and our enemies
closer?”

Owlbert blinked slowly
several times. He clicked his beak several times again.

Tick, clack, tick, clack,
tick, clack.

Gora stared at Owlbert
realizing he may not have fully understood what she meant. “He
helped kill millions of people – it was fucking disgusting what he
did, and what he tried to do to even more people, but we need a
monster to help defeat greater monsters that have risen up –
monsters that have tormented me, and monsters that have the ability
to torment ninety percent of civilization! – if they wanted to at
least. I am not happy I resorted to resurrecting one of the most
notorious human beings of all time, but I will be damned if I don’t
make him useful and make him be an agent of good this time
around.”

Owlbert cheeped, “A vise
girl indeed! I vill do anything that ist necessary to help du –
even to vork vith the vicious beast that pores over your maps. Eh,
vat else do I have to do in this world, frau, uh?” Owlbert laughed
uncomfortably.

“
Gora; call me
Gora.”

“
I am yours, Frau Gora,”
smiled Owlbert.

Hitbear coughed in the
distance and rubbed his stub arm. Victory was the only thing on his
mind.

Chapter 5

Why Us?

It had been a quiet few
days for the beasts and their creator, Gora. Tensions were still
being worked out amongst the two creatures being brought into the
world, but they dropped most of their animosity that may have had
during their past lives toward one another. Albeit, they were still
trying to sort out their past lives and the extra information Gora
had forcefully pumped into them.

Little fights occasionally
broke out.

“
You fucking gypsy bird – a
militaristic strategy will do us better than some scientific
experiment that will take up more time and probably won’t work!”
Hitbear snarled loudly at Owlbert. “Strategy over science, strategy
over science, strategy over science,” thought Hitbear. “We need
something for the HERE and NOW! Make haste, bird!”

“
Du misunderstands zee
importance of science, bear!” said Owlbert with a precise tongue
but strong accent. “Du are alive now because of science! Not some
daft… some daft strategy!”

“
I understand science – I
even love it, I think - but I love military action more because it
will help us win our missions
now
. Not later. Not after some
bullshit science experimenting, all the science to create us has
been completed already. E = MC-who-cares?” Hitbear mocked Owlbert
by pretending to be a dainty bird flocking its feathers, which made
him look more foolish than mockful of Owlbert.

The beasts growled at one
another. An owl growling is a peculiar sound that is reminiscent of
a fat man snoring.

Gora, her face in a book
covering the topic of the aerodynamics of flightless birds
titled
Dodos, Ostriches, Penguins and Other
Flightless Birds That Can Be Successful
,
finally decided to step between the two beast men and their petty
argument.