The Lord of Opium

He looked through books on a shelf while he waited and discovered they were in an alphabet he didn’t even recognize. On the desk was a silver vase with a spray of purple orchids. That reminded him of the greenhouses between the hacienda and the deserted church. He hadn’t visited them for a long time. Herbs and vegetables for the kitchen were grown there, but the main attraction for him, as a small child, had been the flowers.

Perhaps Chacho would like to see the flowers. Someday. Matt shrank from a meeting so soon after last night’s disaster.

“What a pleasure to see you again, mi patrón,” said Dr. Kim, coming into the office. He was the man who had treated Listen when she had her night terrors. He moved with the grace of an athlete, and when he shook Matt’s hand, the boy felt a restrained power in his grip.

“The pleasure is mine as well,” Matt said formally. “The nurse said you were in the operating room. Have you found a way to remove microchips?”

“Only some,” the doctor said. “It’s early days, I’m afraid.”

“But you’ve had success,” Matt insisted.

“Not much,” Dr. Kim said. “I used a magnetic probe to take out perhaps two hundred chips from a subject, and yet the remaining number was so great it made no difference. The behavior of the subject before he was sacrificed was unchanged.”

“Sacrificed?” asked Matt, thinking, What are we talking about here? A pok-a-tok game?

“It’s a term scientists use when they terminate lab animals. After the operation, I removed the eejit’s brain and homogenized it to estimate the number of microchips.” The doctor might have been sharing a recipe for clam chowder.

“You’re talking about a human being.”

“We could use that term,” said Dr. Kim. “But let’s face it, he had the intellect of a lab rat.” The doctor rang a bell, and an eejit appeared with a tea tray and rice crackers. “I see you have a drink, mi patrón, but you might like to try my green tea. It’s imported from Korea and has an exquisite background flavor of ripe cherries.”

“No, thank you,” Matt said. “Why didn’t you send the eejit back to work when he’d recovered? Why did you have to kill him?”

Dr. Kim smiled in the same smooth way that Dr. Rivas did when he explained science to a layman. “We have to collect data, mi patrón. Other scientists would find our studies useless without verification of the results. In an ordinary experiment, no less than forty lab animals are necessary before a paper can be published.”

“I won’t let you kill forty eejits!” exploded Matt. “The whole point of the experiment is to save them. ¡Por Dios! How many have you slaughtered already?”

“Only five,” the doctor said, and then he seemed to realize he was arguing with the Lord of Opium, not just a teenage boy. “I thought you had given your approval. Dr. Rivas said—”

“Dr. Rivas is in serious danger of becoming a lab rat himself!” shouted Matt. “Where did you get the eejits? How were they selected?”

Dr. Kim wiped his face. “Believe me, they were close to their expiry dates. Nurse Fiona checked.”

“She’s not a damned nurse! She’s a fraud!” Matt promised to get Cienfuegos after her and lock her up, if there was such a thing as a jail in Opium. “I want this clearly understood, Dr. Kim. You are to sacrifice no more eejits. You will study them and you will cure them. I want results as soon as possible.”

Matt’s voice had changed. There was a power in it and an inflexible will that made Dr. Kim turn pale. It was El Patrón’s voice, full of the potential for extreme violence. “I’ll do anything you say,” bleated the doctor. “I’ll tell the other medical staff.”

The boy strode out of the office. You certainly showed him, said the old voice in Matt’s mind. Put a burr up his tail, didn’t you? I haven’t had so much fun in years.

“Go back to where you belong,” said Matt. “You’ve got a tomb full of servants and treasure to play with.”

They’re boring, complained El Patrón. There’s nothing like the living for entertainment.

“I refuse to listen to you.” The boy went to the hacienda and played the piano until a shimmering curtain of music stood between him and the voice. Then he went in search of Cienfuegos.

*  *  *

The jefe sent bodyguards to drag Fiona from the hospital. There were no jails in Opium, none being needed in a society where everyone was controlled. Doors had locks, but since theft did not occur, most of the keys had gone missing. “I could unperson her,” suggested Cienfuegos, jerking his hands as though snapping a twig.

“No!” said Matt.