F Paul Wilson - Sims 05 (19 page)

 
          
As
sirens began to wail outside, he wanted to ask Ellis Sinclair where they went
from here, but the rhythmic smacking of Portero’s head against the wet carpet
was turning his stomach.

 
          
“Kek!
Stop! Please!” But the mandrilla ignored him. “Can’t
somebody stop him?”

 
          
“Let
him be,” Romy said in a flat tone without looking up. “Let him take as long as
he wants.”

 
          
“I
still can’t believe it,” Abel Voss said.

 
          
“Neither
can
I
,” Ellis replied.

 
          
The
two of them sat in Mercer’s old office. Less than a week now since death had
filled this space. Ellis had ordered the carpets cleaned, but the removal of
the bloodstains had been only partially successful. He’d expected that, and had
declined to order new carpet.
Just as he’d declined to repair
the cracked picture window.
He didn’t want to help anyone, especially
himself, forget what had happened here.

 
          
He’d
attended funerals of two brothers since that day. At Mercer’s he was part of a
huge throng of mourners, none of whom shed a tear. At Zero’s he stood among a
few select members of the organization—Dr. Cannon and Reverend Eckert among them—all
weeping openly. He’d been a central figure at the first; he’d had to invite
himself to the second, his presence tolerated only because he claimed a blood
relationship.

 
          
“Then
again,” Voss said, “when you think about it, who else was he gonna leave it
to?”

 
          
Mercer’s
personal attorney had read his will this morning. He’d left all his stock to
Ellis, who was still in shock.

 
          
“It
was an old will,” Ellis said. “If he’d had the slightest inkling he was going
to die, I’m sure he would have changed it. But Merce thought he’d go on
forever. Or damn near.”

 
          
“So
now that you’re the absolute head honcho, what’s your first step?”

 
          
“I’ve
already taken it,” Ellis said, rising and moving to the window. “I’m shutting
down the natal centers. No new sim embryos implanted, all unborns aborted.”

 
          
Killing
unborn
sims…
the idea sickened him. But it had to stop
now.

 
          
Voss
grunted. “That leaves us a company without a product. But I guess you’re just
stayin ahead of the curve, seein as how the government will pretty soon be
gettin around to forcin us to do just that.”

 
          
How
true. News networks around the world had picked up the film of Meerm’s
delivery; repeated broadcasts had raised a firestorm of protest: if
sims
and humans can interbreed, then sims should be members
of the human genus.

 
          
If they only knew.

 
          
But
they never would. Romy and Patrick had struck a deal: they would never reveal
what they knew if Ellis never revealed that Romy would
be
raising Meerm’s baby, who she’d named Una. She wanted the child—
mother
a sim, father a pervert—to grow up out of the
limelight without ever knowing her origins.

 
          
Fair
enough. Una and her mother had already done enough to further the sim cause.
Ellis would do the rest.

 
          
“Okay,”
Voss said.
“So no new sims.
What
about all the others out there already?”

 
          
“I’m
going to start recalling them. I want you to get the ball rolling on building
dorms for them on our
Arizona
land. I want them built as fast as possible. As soon as a block is
ready for habitation, I’ll cancel enough leases to fill it. That’s the way
we’ll do it: a rolling recall until every living sim is out of the workforce
and assured of freedom and comfort for the rest of their lives.”

 
          
Voss
swallowed. “At least they don’t live too long, but even so, you’re gonna
bankrupt the company, son!”

 
          
“Most likely.”
He looked out at the gleaming buildings of
the main campus, and the rolling hills beyond. “But we’ve got lots of hard
assets. We’ll sell them all.”

 
          
And
when that’s not enough, he thought, I’ll use my own funds, every last penny if
necessary.

 
          
Ellis
Sinclair figured he was long overdue to become his brothers’ keeper.