Free E.N.D.A.Y.S. by Lee Isserow Page B

the door over and over, resonating deep through the hallways. At the click of the latch, his hand fell to his side. The meek bespectacled brunette staring at him with horror. He had forgotten that his face was still in tatters from the blast and bloody landing.
    “I need to see your boss.” he said, barging past her.
    “Are... are you ok?” she stammered, frozen in position.
    “Will be.” he said, already making his way up the stairs.
    Arriving at the fourth floor, Hayes pushed the double doors open with all his strength. They squealed in surprise at the force, launching round on their hinges with a howl, bouncing off the walls and whimpering back to slam shut, sealing Hayes in with the professor.
    “My God!” said the old man, turning to Hayes. “Are you ok?”
    “Why is that always everyone's first question when I get been blown up?”
    “What... should the first question be..?” the professor inquired.
    “Do you want a drink.” Hayes said, smiling with what was left of his lips.
    “Of course, one moment...” The professor pulled himself up from the seat at his workstation and entered an adjacent room. Hayes heard him pottering around, clinking and jangling, until returning with a bottle of whisky and a glass. He poured a healthy measure into the glass and presented it to Hayes, who looked at him incredulously until the old man filled the glass to the brim.
    Hayes knocked it back, the whisky burning the raw meat that used to be his mouth. “Thank you.” he said. The professor didn't reply, watching in awe as the torn blood vessels around Hayes's mouth started repairing themselves, muscle stitching itself back together, skin slowly rebuilding around the edges of the wounds.
    “Amazing.” rasped the old man.
    “Yeah. It's a fucking miracle.” Hayes said, rolling his eyes. “Listen, you work with nanotech, right?”
    The professor didn't respond, hypnotised by the accelerated healing process.
    “Doc?” Hayes clicked his fingers in front of the professor's face. “Need you with me on this...”
    “Right, yes.” Parry sputtered, his eyes still transfixed. “What is... Is that what...”
    “I'm gonna level with you, kay? I'm not from round here.”
    “You're... an alien?!” the professor squeaked, his stare diverting from the wounds to Hayes's eyes.
    “What? No. Aliens aren't real. I'm from a alternate dimension.” said Hayes.
    “Parallel realities are... real?”
    “Alternate, not parallel.” Hayes corrected. “Parallels are near-identical and fucking boring, alternates are way-different, and generally not as fucking mundane as this one.”
    “Right, yes, of course.” said the old man, scrambling for a pad and pen to note Hayes's statements down.
    “What the fuck are you doing?” Hayes asked.
    “I'm, well, you're providing insight into --”
    “I'm not here to provide insight .” Hayes interjected. “I'm here because I need your help.”
    “Oh...” Parry said, confused. “My help? But surely, you have advanced technology. Nanotechnology! What could I possibly do..?”
    “Something's fucked up. My lens is screwing about, I need --”
    “Lens?” the professor inquired.
    “Eye implant, gives me thought control over, well, everything.” Hayes explained. “But it's fucked, I need you to talk to my nanos, get them working on fixing it. They'll do the physical stuff on autopilot, but the lens is tech, that's not their job, unless someone makes it their job.”
    “Right...” Parry said, still wrapping his head around the concept.
    “You know nanotech, right?”
    “Well... our nanotechnology isn't as... advanced.”
    “How not-advanced...?” Hayes asked, sceptically.
    “Very?” said Parry, almost embarrassed at having to say so. “Very basic, that is. Nothing along these lines.”
    “Fucking great.” Hayes spat.
    “But...” the professor started.
    “But? I like a but, what have you got?”
    “How does your... do your 'nanos', as you call them, do they understand, or