Don't Worry About The Man Behind The Curtain

For such a low tech entry, Mephisto was the high tech masterpiece we’d all imagined. When the door opened, a curved glass wall stood before us. The short hall running left and right was stuffy and walled in brushed nickel.

Beyond the glass, arcs of electricity buzzed. Panels of honeycombed metal surrounded a strange machine. The machine was wired to a tesla coil which was doing the arcing. We advanced to the glass to get a better look at this macabre masterpiece.

A brain floated in a glass cylinder, a heart and lungs contained in an adjoining one. They were attached to tubes and wires, some running to backup ventilators and defibrilators, and some to walls of servers and panels of circuitry.

“Dad.” whispered Fetus. My head cleared. We were here to destroy, not to ogle.

“She is dying.” A voice startled us. Hands went to weapons. A man stepped out of a booth at the end. He raised his arms in surrender.

“You!” Fetus aimed at the man’s head.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” he taunted.

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