Giant explosion as the earth swallows a building, freight elevator hung in midair, unsure which direction to go, until gravity reasserts itself and the whole of the building is drawn deep past subway tunnels into a molten core. I see two boys approaching the sidewalk graveyard, pantsless, goose stepping forward, a hand on each other’s cocks. I follow the curve of their supple asses, I watch them make their inspection of where the building used to be. Voices drift up from the clockwork city. “Rosemarie, they’re doing it again. Pants off, hands there.” The boys are dragged toward the street corner and the hapless parents take turns scolding them while one throws extension cords over a street lamp.

“You boys have really gone too far now,” one father explains impatiently.

I’ve got the shakes from my proximity to the Baroline and I’m trying to eye the needle inconspicuously but Stevenson’s having none of that. He’s explaining a medical procedure to me. “You have to work within the confines of the hypothalamus gland,” he’s saying. “The pituitary can only do so much.”

I see that now the stage is set on the street below and the first of the boys is shackled with the extension cord noose and lifted into the air by the neck. His feet kick wildly and I see cum ooze from his little cock, the other boy rabidly licking it off the sidewalk while a parent slaps him across the ass with a shoe.

“Now that scene out there,” Stevenson says, “that must happen three times a week. Not even worth watching anymore because it always ends the same. What we have here is something a bit more sophisticated.”
Stevenson’s secretary walks in without knocking and exclaims, “Look at this one here,” pointing at me. “We’ll have to flea dip him before we can even think of vaccinating.”
“Not true,” Stevenson counters. “He’s the perfect subject.”
She immediately acquiesces to Stevenson’s expert medical opinion and asks, “Will you be seeing other patients today or has this man sapped your strength?”
This makes Stevenson very agitated and he starts yelling, “Where’s Cohen?! I need a good Jewish lawyer! Bring in Cohen!”
“He’s unavailable. His daughter’s reading at Brandeis.”
“Goldbricking Heb,” Stevenson says sadly. “Get me an American lawyer. I’m ready to take anything at this point.”

But at this point patients overpower the orderlies and begin pouring through the door. Many of them are horribly deformed, all of them clearly junk sick. Stevenson backs against the window and shouts, “Where are the orderlies? Who let this mob in here?”
“The orderlies are tapped, sir,” says the secretary.
“Bullplop,” Stevenson replies. “Bring me an orderly. I plan to make an example.”

The mob is advancing steadily on Stevenson. He removes a pistol and begins to fire wildly into the crowd, bored and distracted.

The mob was caught in junkie limbo, too sick to retreat from the gunfire, too scared to stay in the same spot. I decided to pitch in with the hopes of getting a nice M script, so I raised a broadsword from Stevenson’s collection on the wall and ran through a young pregnant girl. She immediately fell to the ground, the sword buried deep across the shoulder, and shit the fetus out of her cunt. It flopped on the floor, blood running from its eyes and nose and mouth, turning purple as it failed to breathe. Stevenson stopped firing and lifted the fetus above his head and proclaimed, “This is an affront to the Catholic church!”

This stalls the mob and the air hangs heavy for several seconds in some kind of stalemate. Then another doctor pokes his head in the door and calls, “Is there a rumpus in here?”
Stevenson replies, “We’ve dealt with the troublemakers. I’m sure it’ll break up in a few minutes.”
He’s reloading his pistol throughout. The mob breaks up and retreats one by one then by pairs.
“Thing like that,” Stevenson says, hefting a young boy’s body towards the window, “you just never know. But you get a feel for these things. Mob behavior is incendiary because there is no leader. This makes neutralization a rough prospect because you can’t just shoot the leader and watch it crumble. You have to treat each member as a threat. That was smart picking up the broadsword like that. I won that from a Malaysian in a poker game.”
He then tosses the body out the window and runs his hands through his hair.