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Rocket Fall

by David Prill

THE RISE OF THE PAINSHIPS

Rocket Fall …

Welcome children of the night to the darkest hours of Rocket Fall. Rocket Fall, when green turns to

brown, when all that is living becomes dead. Rocket Fall, when the psychic exhaust is so lethal that

anything caught in its wake is driven insane. Rocket Fall, when the Painships are rolled into place at the

launch umbilical towers, their translucent cords stretching from the terrible gantries to the human fuels

below …

· · · · ·

Augmented target docking adapter shrouds attached?

Check.

Ethereal demon detectors withdrawn from their inner anticoincidence mantle?

Check.

Torturnauts in their psychic isolation garments?

Check.

· · · · ·

"While we're waiting for the countdown to begin, let's send it over to one of our correspondents, Larry

Klaus, the man on the scene down at the fuel cells. Larry?"

"That's right, Walter, I'm talking to you from the fuel cells, where the guards have just begun to open the

cell doors and release the tormented souls. As you know, these are the sorry folks who are actually going

to provide the propulsion for the Painships once they reach the Other Realms. Here come the Ethyls

now, a more disconsolate group of individuals you'd be hard-pressed to find—they're really looking

tormented today, Walter! I'll see if I can interview one of them now. Ma'am, ma'am, just a quick question

or two, I know you're busy. So, where do you call home?"

"I hurt inside."

"I bet you're from the village, most of you are. Now, how does it feel to be part of this grand and may I

say noble endeavor, rescuing our Baron's bride from the clutches of all Eternity?"

"I hurt inside."

"Well, I'm sure you do. Don't we all! And how long have you been in the fuel cells? … Don't remember?

Well, they always say memory is the first thing to go. Any last words before you embark to the Other

Worlds?"

"I hurt inside."

"Back to you, Walter!"

"Swell interview, Larry. Now we head to Stan Stein, who is over in Pain Management. Stan?"

"That's right, Walter. I'm here up close and personal with Otto Jedermann, Fear Engineer First Class,

one of the top sadists in his field. He's outfitted in the traditional leather mask, cat-o'-nine-tails, and

pocket protector. Otto, I imagine the nerves are a little jumpy this evening."

"You always get butterflies at a time like this, Stan. I'm just trying to stay within myself, stay focused."

"That's a very modest assessment of your talents, Otto. Folks, I can tell you that Otto Jedermann has all

the tools, he's been around since the first test frights began, and is arguably the most versatile of the

Engineers of Fear. The Rack of Loneliness, The Iron Maiden of Broken Dreams, The Garrote of

Regrets, The Brank of Shame, it doesn't matter: if it hurts, he's had a hand in it, usually up to the elbow.

Otto, could you explain in layman's terms exactly how the whole sadistic schematic works?"

"My pleasure, Stan. It's a simple calculus of fear. Pain is the surest pathway to send soul energy to the

Other Realms. The Baron has conducted double-blind, triple-amputee studies that have demonstrated

this fact. Pain is introduced to the volunteers, although it's not always simple physical pain. It could be

psychic pain, spiritual pain, the pain of never-ending nightmares, simple daily degradations, it really varies

from person to person. That energy is then accumulated and introduced into the Painships through a

transsacrum injection. Of course, for the launch itself, an immense amount of energy is required, so some

of the Ethyls are actually part of the gantry apparatus, hooked up to the Painships to provide adequate

power for lift-off. The remainder ride in the fuel coffins within the Painships themselves."

"Fascinating, Otto. Now about …"

"Sorry to interrupt, Stan, but Roderick Armstrong is walking past our booth … Mr. Armstrong do you

have a minute, sir? Yes, folks, it's Roderick Armstrong, Baron Armstrong himself, inventor of the

Painships. ( lowers voice ) As you all know, the Baron's wife, Madeline, died suddenly three years ago at

the tender age of twenty-three. Her body has been preserved in a nitrogen-cooled casket in the

catacombs of the castle, awaiting the return of her immortal soul … Baron, sir, how are things looking

this dark night?"

"All is prepared. I eagerly await the return of my beloved."

"I think I can speak for our captive audience when I say we all wish for the very same thing! Thanks for

stopping by … Hang on, my producer is trying to tell me something … There's been a delay in the

countdown? Eva Struber? Are you there?"

"I'm here, Walter."

"Let's go to Eva Struber, who's with Fritz Himmel, director of Project Painship."

"Thanks, Walter. Director Himmel, what can you tell us about the delay?"

"Just a minor technical malfunction—one of the Ethyls was discovered to be contaminated with happy

thoughts. We'll have a replacement installed shortly, and the countdown should resume at that time."

"Happy thoughts. That sounds dangerous."

"It is very dangerous."

"So do you expect the Painships to launch on time?"

"The screaming should begin soon, God willing."

"Back to you, Walter."

"Thanks for that fine report, Eva. While we're waiting for the countdown to resume, let's take a look at a

documentary we prepared earlier on the Making of a Torturnaut. We'll cut into the report if necessary to

bring you breaking news …"

· · · · ·

It all begins in this room …

This is the Shock Generator, Type ZLB, manufactured by the Milgram Instrument Company, Waltham,

Massachusetts. The ZLB sports a series of switches, thirty in all, marked from 15 volts to 450 volts.

Wires lead under the table to a volunteer seated behind a partition.

This is Bob.

Bob is a trainee.

(Bob watches as the head of his training team asks the volunteer to memorize a series of words, but

unfortunately the volunteer doesn't seem to have a very good memory.)

"That's an incorrect answer."

(Bob depresses the switch.)

(A light on the generator glows bright red; an electric buzzing is heard. A blue light, labeled "voltage

energizer," flashes; the dial on the voltage meter swings to the right.)

"Ow, what are you doing, that hurts."

After each wrong answer, the voltage is increased by 15 volts.

"Wrong answer."

Fifty volts.

"Oh, sorry."

One hundred volts.

"You are incorrect, sir."

Bob is worried. "I can't do this anymore. That man is hurting. I'm hurting him."

"Please go on."

One hundred fifty volts.

"MY GOD IT HURTS!

"Listen to him …"

Bob should know better by this point.

"For the sake of science and progress of mankind, you must continue," says the scientist.

Two hundred volts.

Major shrieking from volunteerland.

"I can't …"

"It's absolutely essential that you do, Bob. I'll take all responsibility for the safety of our volunteer."

Three hundred volts.

No answer.

Still none.

None at all!

"I think that man is in real trouble!"

Hang in there, Bob!

When the 450-volt threshold is reached … it's graduation day! Congratulations, Bob, you've just

become a certified—

· · · · ·

"Sorry to interrupt, folks, but the technical difficulties have been fixed, and the countdown has resumed.

Larry Klaus, you have some news on the Painships?"

"Yes, Walter. Everything is looking A-OK. The glitch was on the My Life Has No Meaning and I Wish

I Was Dead, but the problem fuel coffin has been refitted with a backup tormented soul—redundancy is

everything, you know—and all systems are go."

"What about the other ships, the He Never Called Back, and the Junior High Locker Room Shower

Humiliation? "

"They're all looking ready for launch, Walter."

"Okay, here we go. The final countdown has begun, folks. Let's count along."

T-minus 10 …

Aiaieeeee!

Nine …

Yaaarrgh!

Eight …

Eeoowww!

Seven …

Yiiiieeeeeeeeee!

Six …

Ahhhhheeeee!

Five …

Eeaaaaaaa!

David Prill - Rocket Fall.pdf

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