Prophet of ConFree (The Prophet of ConFree) by Marshall S. Thomas Page A
Authors: Marshall S. Thomas
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evidently awaiting us, grimly eyeballing us and cracking their knuckles. The black ConFree flag hung limply from a huge flagpole in front of the building. I looked around. Long columns of khaki-clad volunteers were converging on this building from several wide, intersecting personnel roads. It evidently wasn't just Eugarat folks who were showing up here today. The other columns revealed a diversity of ethnic types and a goodly number of females as well as males.
"Now walk up the stairs and say hello to the nice men," Doggie said. "This squad is hereby disbanded. I will remember you all with great fondness. Any questions? Good! Now get up there." And he turned and walked away.
Δ
" NOW! NOW! NOW! Whattaya, deaf dumb AND stupid? MOVE IT!"
The blackies, as I thought of them, had swarmed over us like attacking pirates and hustled us into the building and along a grand corridor while doing their best to terrify us into submission. We were instantly torn into smaller groups, and then into individual bodies, each beset by two or three blackies shouting contradictory things into our faces. Arie disappeared. Finally I was shoved into a line that led into a room with a sign that proclaimed MEDICAL EXAMINATIONS .
" STRIP! Off with your boots, off with your clothes, off with your shorts and tees and socks, the beltpak too, drop everything into the bins on your left, pick up a pack from the counter on your right, put on the shorts and tops, then move on." I danced around doing what they wanted. I noted that the females had evidently been diverted to another room, too bad. The new shorts and sleeveless tops were khaki, too.
"Out the door. Go, go, keep moving!" The blackies shoved me into the next room. Two medical types in white approached me, one male, one female. They gently pushed me up against a giant machine, evidently some type of body scanner, guided my head into the proper slot, and pushed my arms and shoulders into place.
"All right, don't move." Several blinding flashes later, they sent me on my way with white hot spots dancing before my eyes. The blackies harried me into the next room.
"Waddaya, blind? Stand in line!" We shuffled slowly forward towards some white-clad medics on both sides of the line. An icy breeze rippled over my right arm and one of the medics shot me in the arm with a little needlegun, then made an adjustment and did it again. My left arm then got cold and somebody else zapped me a few times over there. Then another injection in the left biceps. Both arms felt numb. I was pushed sideways and my left arm guided into a device extending from the wall. It closed over my arm.
"Don't move," a medic said. I felt another needle sliding into a vein. They were taking blood. When it released my arm, there was a little bandage on it.
We were forced into another room, a latrine, with urinals lining one wall.
"Right face! Open the container with your name on it, pee into it, then close the container and place it on the upper shelf. Do NOT piss on the floor! NOW , bodies!" Pee on command, fine, it was the first chance they'd given us this morning so it wasn't a problem. My bottle was right there before me. I guess that meant their program was well thought out.
Δ
"Sit down. Don't move!" It was haircut time. We plopped down into a long line of barber chairs and the barbers poised over us with their instruments.
"How would you like your cut, sir?" my barber asked.
"Could you make it a bit longer on top, please?" I said.
"It will be my pleasure, sir." He whisked over my head with an airlaser and quickly annihilated what little hair I had left.
"Is that satisfactory, sir?" He showed me the result in a mirror – completely bald.
"Excellent, thank you," I replied.
"Move it, bodies! Quit screwing around!" I was hustled into the corridor with a gang of other victims.
Δ
"One moment please. Open your mouth." In the next room an anonymous medic in white, a female, poked something into my mouth while a second
"Now walk up the stairs and say hello to the nice men," Doggie said. "This squad is hereby disbanded. I will remember you all with great fondness. Any questions? Good! Now get up there." And he turned and walked away.
Δ
" NOW! NOW! NOW! Whattaya, deaf dumb AND stupid? MOVE IT!"
The blackies, as I thought of them, had swarmed over us like attacking pirates and hustled us into the building and along a grand corridor while doing their best to terrify us into submission. We were instantly torn into smaller groups, and then into individual bodies, each beset by two or three blackies shouting contradictory things into our faces. Arie disappeared. Finally I was shoved into a line that led into a room with a sign that proclaimed MEDICAL EXAMINATIONS .
" STRIP! Off with your boots, off with your clothes, off with your shorts and tees and socks, the beltpak too, drop everything into the bins on your left, pick up a pack from the counter on your right, put on the shorts and tops, then move on." I danced around doing what they wanted. I noted that the females had evidently been diverted to another room, too bad. The new shorts and sleeveless tops were khaki, too.
"Out the door. Go, go, keep moving!" The blackies shoved me into the next room. Two medical types in white approached me, one male, one female. They gently pushed me up against a giant machine, evidently some type of body scanner, guided my head into the proper slot, and pushed my arms and shoulders into place.
"All right, don't move." Several blinding flashes later, they sent me on my way with white hot spots dancing before my eyes. The blackies harried me into the next room.
"Waddaya, blind? Stand in line!" We shuffled slowly forward towards some white-clad medics on both sides of the line. An icy breeze rippled over my right arm and one of the medics shot me in the arm with a little needlegun, then made an adjustment and did it again. My left arm then got cold and somebody else zapped me a few times over there. Then another injection in the left biceps. Both arms felt numb. I was pushed sideways and my left arm guided into a device extending from the wall. It closed over my arm.
"Don't move," a medic said. I felt another needle sliding into a vein. They were taking blood. When it released my arm, there was a little bandage on it.
We were forced into another room, a latrine, with urinals lining one wall.
"Right face! Open the container with your name on it, pee into it, then close the container and place it on the upper shelf. Do NOT piss on the floor! NOW , bodies!" Pee on command, fine, it was the first chance they'd given us this morning so it wasn't a problem. My bottle was right there before me. I guess that meant their program was well thought out.
Δ
"Sit down. Don't move!" It was haircut time. We plopped down into a long line of barber chairs and the barbers poised over us with their instruments.
"How would you like your cut, sir?" my barber asked.
"Could you make it a bit longer on top, please?" I said.
"It will be my pleasure, sir." He whisked over my head with an airlaser and quickly annihilated what little hair I had left.
"Is that satisfactory, sir?" He showed me the result in a mirror – completely bald.
"Excellent, thank you," I replied.
"Move it, bodies! Quit screwing around!" I was hustled into the corridor with a gang of other victims.
Δ
"One moment please. Open your mouth." In the next room an anonymous medic in white, a female, poked something into my mouth while a second
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