666 Looks Like the Tears from My Eyes

by Lotus Rose

 

666

     Dani Sin, former vocalist for the infamous black metal band, Path of Sin, walked up to the outer gates of his ex-wife's mansion.  He looked up as the security cameras swiveled and locked onto him.

     Even though Sheryl had said she'd allow him voice access for exactly one hour, he couldn't be certain until it happened.  He didn't trust Sheryl and she trusted him too much, he thought, as he nervously glanced at the laser knife he wore disguised as a wristwatch—an assassin's weapon.  He needed a hidden weapon in case he was searched before his visit to his daughter, Dedri, who he hadn't seen since she was seven-years-old.

     "Open," he commanded.  He was relieved as the gate clicked and began to roll open.  While he waited, he took the flask of cheap whisky out of his pocket, unscrewed the cap and took a sip.

     He was nervous because he knew the laser watch wouldn't withstand careful scrutiny, but the whisky he'd been drinking calmed his nerves somewhat.

     He slipped the flask back into his pocket, then took a few steps forward onto the driveway.  He stood waiting for a moment, but no guards approached him.  In fact, as he looked around the property, it looked abandoned.  Sheryl had said she couldn't stand the sight of him, so she wouldn't be here while he visited his daughter.  Sheryl said that the only reason she was even allowing this meeting was that Dedri had been insisting that she meet her father, and Sheryl didn't want her own daughter to hate her forever.

     A robotic two-wheeled transporter whirred up to him.  He stepped up onto it and grabbed the handle bar.  "To the mansion!" he proclaimed overdramatically, and the device began rolling along the driveway, toward the white mansion.  Dani sneered at the trappings of the rich—the carefully tended hedges and trees, the gaudy fountain.  He chuckled at the old-fashioned water fountain statues of the little boys peeing.  Sheryl still had a sense of humor at least.

     He stepped off the device and it whirred away.  He stood for a moment, looking around.  Then a young girl's voice surrounded him from various speakers organized around the courtyard:  "Come on in.  I've been expecting you.  I'm in the building in front of you, to the right."

     Dani nodded, then shouted out, "Okay!"  He walked toward the building.  It had a porch with pillars on it.  He walked up the steps of the porch, then opened the door and stepped inside.

     There, in front of a staircase, stood Dedri, a pleasant-looking seventeen-year-old girl, with long brown hair, a violet silk shirt, and pinstriped black pants.

     She smiled meekly, then looked down.  She still had one dimple on her left cheek.

     She'd been named in honor of "Dead," former lead vocalist of the black metal band, Mayhem, but the name didn't seem to fit the way she looked.

     Dani gazed around the large room while occasionally glancing at his daughter.  The room was filled with antique royal-red and gold couches, chairs and tables, and golden cherubs on a wooden floor.  Dedri was holding some sort of remote control in her hand.  Dani noticed that her hands trembled slightly.

     Dedri didn't approach, but remained standing about fifteen feet away.  She began to speak haltingly:  "It's nice to see you again.  You look a lot different from before, but I guess you have to."

     Despite his nervousness, Dani managed to grin.  "Good to see you too, babydoll."  That's what he had called her when she was a little girl.  When he would bounce her on his knee.

     Back then, he wore torn black clothes and lots of chains and he'd had his long hair dyed black.  He remembered Dedri's tiny hands braiding his hair while she sat in his lap.  She would scold him to stay still, while he took in long pulls of whisky.

     That was before the "moral cleansing" of the American Council of Moral Purity.  Before black metal had been outlawed as a "threat to society and the youth."  Before the government had begun implanting the brainchips into newborn babies.  Nowadays, any male caught with long hair was subject to immediate extermination by the assassitechs.

     It was the main reason he hadn't seen his daughter in ten years:  he was the leader of the underground revolution.  And he was risking his life by being here.

     He stared into the eyes he hadn't seen in ten years.  Her eyes were brown like her mother's.  Dedri met his gaze for a moment, then turned her head.

     In 2017, there had been a massive "moral cleansing movement" sweeping across the United States, driven by technology.  Religious leaders and government officials had blamed all social ills on the youth, and all the problems of the youth on drugs and alcohol and their music—and they meant black metal specifically.

     So the government had developed a microchip, to be inserted into the brain of every newborn—the procedure had to be done almost immediately after birth so the chip wouldn't be rejected.  His daughter was in the first group of newborns to get the B-chip implants.

     The chip worked by crude methods, and could only do a limited number of things—it acted by creating severe nausea when any one of three "triggers" was detected.  It could recognize numbers heard by the person with the chip implant, like the number "666," which was a popular number in many black metal songs at that time.  It also detected the alcohol level in the blood, causing nausea if it went above a certain level.  And finally, it could measure the drum rate of music—it could recognize the ultra-fast drumming, known as "blast beats," which was a distinctive feature of black metal—anything past 180 beats per minute would cause a violent sickness.

     He felt a need to break the awkward silence, so he said, "Your mother said you'd be alone."

     "Yes, it's just me and the robots.  Mama doesn't seem to like you very much.  Besides, she had one of her numerous parties to attend.  It's hard work being a supermodel and the former wife of the most infamous black metal singer in America.  She has to pay the bills for all of this after all," she said while awkwardly moving her arm slightly.  "She sleeps with a lot of famous movie stars, I think, though she won't admit it."

     "Yeah, I'm glad I'm not famous anymore—well, I'm glad I'm not semi-famous anymore.  And I'm not rich either—can't even afford a car.  There doesn't seem to be much money in black metal nowadays.  By the way, are we being watched?"

     "Nope."

     "Taped?"

     "Well, yes, of course.  Mama insisted.  I think she also wanted to see what you look like nowadays, though she wouldn't admit it."

     "What I look like?  I look like everybody else," he said, referring to his plain faded blue jeans and white t-shirt.

     She bit her lip nervously, then said, "I listen to your songs all the time—at least the intros.  They're pretty.  I have to turn them off before they get heavy though, because of the chip."

     "But the government destroyed all our songs, unless you get them from the black market.…"

     "Yes, I do.  In fact, I cued up one of my favorite songs of yours, 'Men, as Beasts, Trampling the Garden.'"  She pressed a button on the remote she held.  Dani tried to remember the song.  Then he remembered that it was off their third album called, And Mankind Was a Blight Upon the Earth.

     The album was epic in scale, following the rise of man and his downfall at the hands of a woman of prophesy, the Nubile Temptress.  It was all a product of Dani's imagination:  an alternate mythology.

     The music on the album was a contrast of the beautiful and the brutal, as was typical of their particular brand of symphonic black metal—yin and yang, beauty and the beast, darkness and the light—he had always thought it was a much more honest portrayal of life.

     The song began to play.  The intro was a symphonic piece, using a 40-piece orchestra and 32-voice choir from Budapest.  The strings and choir sounded soft and majestic, but the song was about to get much heavier.

     They listened for a few moments as the music surrounded them, then Dedri frowned, then said, "Because of the chip, I always have to turn the next part off."

     "Pause it," Dani said.

     "You have the code?"

     "Yes."

     Early on, when the chip was still experimental, there had been an override code given to the parents of chipkids.  It was a series of numbers that when spoken aloud, disengaged the chip until it was reinstated.  Back then, Sheryl had completely forsaken her past and refused to learn the code.  But the surgeon had told Dani, and he still remembered after all these years.

     He rattled off the override code, a series of nine random numbers.

     He felt a warm feeling as he was watching his beautiful daughter grin.  She was indeed an angel.  She was the beauty and he, the beast.  He shyly approached her.  He slipped his hand into his back pocket and brought out the flask of whisky.  He unscrewed the cap and took a gulp.  "Here," he said, his voice  faltering slightly as he held it out to her—she should at least be happy in her last moments, he thought.

     With a trembling hand, she took it, then said, "You sure the chip is turned off?  I can usually only drink two shots before the chip makes me sick."

     He grinned, then said, "Only one way to find out.  Take three."

     She did so, taking one gulp, then two and three.  She grinned and coughed while smacking her chest with her palm.

     "Wooooo," she said, while breathing out.    

     The override code still worked.  An oversight of the government.  The code hadn't been disabled.  Not yet.

     "Looks good," he said.  "Now, I haven't heard this song in quite a while.  Let's enjoy it, babydoll."  He smiled.

     She pressed a button on the remote and the song resumed again, just in time for the blast beats to start.  The machine gun drums and harsh guitar was like an assault to the soul, as Dani's distorted voice screamed and shrieked, still as fresh as two decades ago.  It chilled his spine to hear it again.  It had been so long since he had played in the band, and had written songs.  In fact, half of his fellow band members had been exterminated since the song had been recorded.

     His mind followed along as his voice spit out the lyrics of the song:

 

          The men have come,

          To walk again!

          Flowers bent upon their stem,

          And now the beast has skewered men!

 

     A grin of pure joy sprouted on Dedri's face.

     Dani was enthralled as he watched her, as the sound of his contempt-filled voice surrounded them and punched its way through them.  She took another gulp of whisky and swayed to the music.

 

          Manbeasts unveil,

          Their feet reveal!

          Their world will desecrate thee,

          But thieves will never penetrate the

seeeeallll!!!!

 

     Dedri stumbled a little and grasped the railing of the stairway to steady herself.  Dani felt oddly protective—he supposed it was the whole biological father-daughter thing.  But Dedri regained her balance and whooped as the guitar got heavier and the drums continued their relentless blast beat. 

 

          The stems I have tramped,

          Are so far, lovely contemplations.

          And stomping on those stems,

          My footsteps mark the newfound nation!

 

     She smiled big at him and pumped her whisky-holding fist in the air and whooped out loud, as his voice continued its screechy singing around them, bouncing off the walls of that posh mansion.  She then flashed the devil horns at him with her left hand, which was an illegal gesture, punishable by up to two years in prison.  She forgot she was holding the remote control, which fell to the floor.

     Dani grinned at her, but refrained from making the gesture back to her.

     The remote control must have landed on a button, because the next song on the album began to play.  It was called, "666, the Number of 18 (Apocalyptic Cunt)."  It was one of the slower ballads on the album that turned heavy at the end.  He used to joke that it was their version of a power ballad.

     She probably had never heard this song all the way through before.  Had never been allowed.  For her own good, the number 666 had been banned during the moral cleansing—anyone speaking or singing it was subject to immediate assassination by the assassitechs.

     The song began with keyboard playing in the background, then he began speaking the intro in an altered, super-deep voice:

     Know ye, that there existed another great book.  A book suppressed and forgotten.  And this tome contained a passage, from the Book of Revelry, Chapter 13, Verse 18, known by scholars as the Nubile Verse:

     Let him that hath understanding count the number of the Temptress of Man:  for it is the number of a nubile girl; and her number is the sum of six and six and six.

     Then the slow harpsichord and violin began, making him feel the urge to hug her, because she looked receptive and drunk—they both were.  He approached her and she grinned goofily at him, then slurred out, "I dropped the remote.…"

     He nodded, then gently took the flask from her hand and swallowed a long pull, then put it back in her hand.  She took a gulp as well.

     His recorded voice started slowly screaming the song lyrics:

 

          O, my sweetest divine!

          Your lips do mine, encompass!

          We shall tear down the swine,

          Through their lust, my temptress!

 

     He reached out and began to run his fingers through her hair and she smiled and let him.  The laser knife watch was right by her head.  Now was the time to kill her.

     In 2035, the true plan behind the brainchips was unveiled.  A betrayal of the government:  the chips were utilized for mind control.  Governments always need soldiers to fight their wars, and not enough young people were volunteering to serve in the army.  But when a certain dormant feature of the B-chips was switched on, usually right about the age of 18, chipkids would develop the sudden urge to enlist, where they'd be quickly converted into assassitechs, which were cyborg soldiers disguised to look like ordinary people.  They'd be surgically "upgraded" with cybernetic devices and weaponry—they'd even have their heart torn out and replaced by a mechanical one, then they'd be shipped out to fight the nation's wars, or kept home to police its own citizens.

     He wrapped his arms around her.  This was his daughter.  He drew his head back and gazed at her.  He couldn't take his eyes off of her. 

     And he was thinking, now was the time to kill her, as his recorded voice sweetly sang, "My sweet six six sixxxx.  Oh my sweet six six sixxxx."  His laser knife was designed to fire when he made the devil horn sign with his hand—his hand was right by her head … when he made the sign, it would fire its laser for two seconds, burning right through her skull.

     She rested her head on his shoulder.  He had to go through with the assassination—it was why he had come here.  He remembered when he had been writing this song, he had been struck by the idea of how much 666 looks like three tear drops.  He'd always wanted to write a song about it, but he'd never gotten the chance. 

     Her murder was a calculated strike, designed to launch the revolution.  The video would surely be distributed, fueling the movement:  "Dani Sin assassinates his own daughter for the cause," would be the tagline.  He had to do this.  And he had to do it now, because once the chip was turned on and she became an assassitech, it would be too late to get this close to her again.

     They rocked gently from side to side as the choir softly sang.  She felt warm and soft.

     She was one of the millions of chip kids.  Once the government turned those chips on, they would all become assassitechs—murderous slaves of the government.  Like a ticking time bomb, they were all growing closer to the age of 18.  There was no "cure" for these kids—the chips were buried so deep in their brains, it would kill them to remove them.  They had to be exterminated.

     All he had to do was make the motion with his hand.…

     His recorded voice was singing the number 666 in a whispery voice.  "666, the number of the beast.  Oh, how I love you, 666, my sweet."

     "That's pretty," Dedri murmured.

     He felt her head on his shoulder.

     They listened for some more moments to the song.  The song rested on the whisper, "I love you, 666." 

     "I love you, Dedri," he whispered.

     He stepped away from her, then turned to leave, because the bombastic end of the song was about to start, and that would have been the soundtrack of a murder, not of a gentle exit.

     He wouldn't kill her.  He felt overwhelmed with emotion, with tears welling up in his eyes, and he didn't want Dedri to see him like that.

     Dedri's eyes opened wide and she waved her hand at him.  "No no!" she said as she clumsily sat on the ground in front of the staircase.  "I have to talk to you!"  She sloppily pawed at the remote, smacked at it until she hit the right button to turn the music off.  Dani turned to face her.  Dedri sat unsteadily on the floor with her elbow resting on a step.  She peered up at him with one eye closed, then said, "I wanted to thank you … oh man, I think I'm gonna pass out … wait!  I want to thank you!"

     "What for?"

     "Thank you for not killing me!  With your watch."

     "You knew?"

     She lolled her head to the side, then pointed toward her forehead.  "I can see it.  I have the eye.…"

     Dani felt his breath quicken.  A cybernetic eye that gave assassitechs x-ray vision.  She had already been converted.  She probably had various cybernetic weapons hidden away on her body as well.

     He stammered, "When I was running my hand through your hair … why did you let me?"

     She stared into his eyes, then said, "You're my daddy."

     Dani tried to hide the emotion that was welling up inside of him.  "Well, it seems I should be thanking you too, for not killing me."

     She shrugged.  "No problem, Daddy.  But you turned the chip off.  If you hadn't, I would have killed you.  I wouldn't have been able to control myself."

     "I know."

     "Mom will make sure to turn the chip back on when she gets back."

     "I figured."

     She glanced at his face, then answered the unspoken question:  "I can't go back with you.  I'm too spoiled.  I like my rich life.  But I'm so glad I got to see you again … Daddy.  Maybe we'll meet again on a battlefield somewhere.  I've really got to go to sleep now."  She dropped backward, then slid on the floor until her head rested on the first step.  She smiled at him, then closed her eyes.

     He watched her—she looked so serene and still—like a machine that had been turned off.  She still grasped the open bottle of whisky in her hand.  It was still a quarter full.

     Lovingly, he picked the cap up off the floor and screwed it back on for her.  Her hand looked so small and delicate.

     He'd forgotten how good his music was and wondered if maybe he should start writing again.

     He felt his mind beginning to compose the lyrics of a new ballad.

 

          And 666,

          Is the tears in my eyes,

          Cascading into dreams,

          And turning into lies.

          Tearing out your heart,

          Breaking us apart.

          That's why the 6 is three tears in my eyes.

     While his daughter lay upon the floor, he could see in his mind how she had looked when she was seven.  He knew that he might never see her again, so he watched her for a few more moments, then he let himself out.

666