Saints in a Chip

Albert's laugh rumbled through the camp, a deep, unsettling sound that bounced off the surrounding trees. The apes nearby stood stiff, their eyes darting nervously between Albert and Jude. They weren’t preparing to jump in, but their postures spoke volumes—like they were more scared of what Albert could do than the humans standing before them.

“Who’s next?” Albert’s voice boomed, pointing to Jude.

He raised his hand casually. “I’ll go, just... give me a second.” He bent down, feigning concern over his unlaced boot. As he crouched, his fingers moved swiftly, sliding his knife from his belt and tucking it under Lazaro, who lay motionless in the dirt, still unconscious from the earlier beating.

Jude straightened up, showing his boot. “All fixed,” he said, his tone almost too light for the tense atmosphere.

Jude stood up, brushing off his pants and flashing a grin. "Well, now that’s sorted," he said, nodding at his boot.

Albert narrowed his eyes. “Will you fight me or are you having second thoughts… like a coward roach?” The challenge dripped from his words, daring Jude to step forward.

Jude’s gaze drifted around the camp, landing on the landmark scanner in the distance. His mind raced. "What if," he started, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "we played another game?"

Albert’s eyes gleamed, a glint of interest sparking in the depths. “A game?” he echoed, the edges of his smile curling with malice.

"Ever heard of a stare contest?" Jude asked, casually stepping over the fence. He pointed to an empty patch of ground. "We sit there. You look into my eyes, and I look into yours. The first one to blink loses."

Albert tilted his head, a sceptical frown creasing his face. “Sounds like a child’s game.”

Jude smirked, keeping his tone light. "True, it was always my favourite game. I never lost. But I get it—a big, tough ape like you wouldn’t want to lose to a human, right? I don’t like losing, either. Never did."

As he spoke, flashes of memory flickered—of the snake that blinked just as he tried to lock eyes, of countless times he struggled to connect with the Eidolons, always slipping before he could hold focus. This was different. It had to be. "What do you say?"

Albert didn’t reply, but the tension in the air shifted. With a grunt, the ape lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs in silence. Jude’s smile widened. "That’s what I’m talking about." He sat down, crossing his legs and propping his chin on his knuckles, staring back at Albert.

Albert’s eyes were already wide open, blazing with an ember-like glow. The yellow flecks in his gaze reflected in Jude’s, and for a moment, Jude saw his own exhausted reflection staring back at him. Then, something clicked—he made the connection.

Carrots, he loved carrots.

Albert’s eyes lit up whenever she approached with a handful of carrots. The crunch of the bright orange veggie was satisfying, but what Albert lived for were her words. Her voice would lift into a singsong tone, and she’d say, “Oh my God, what a smart little ape you are, so, so, so smart! Albert solved the puzzle all by himself,” her lips curving into a smile as she handed him another piece.

It wasn’t just the treat. It was the way she said his name and praised him, making him feel like the centre of his small, sterile world.

Albert sat tall, chest puffed out with pride, feeling like royalty in his pristine, yellow room. The machines that surrounded him blinked and hummed with flashing lights, their purpose a mystery, but none of that mattered to him. What mattered were the games. He loved them—the puzzles, the challenges.

Every day, as soon as the first sliver of sunlight filtered into his cage, excitement buzzed through him. What game would they play today? Would it be tougher than the last? The harder the challenge, the more carrots he earned and the more praise he received.

The soft strokes of her hand, the gentle praise in her voice—those moments filled him with a warmth far greater than any treat. Her red lips would move, speaking words he no longer remembered, but he could picture them so clearly—those lips, the same red as his favourite carrots. What was her name? Did he forget such a beautiful name?

“Good morning, Dr. Cedar.”

Albert’s body tensed. The sound of that name sent a ripple of discomfort through him. Dr. Cedar never brought him carrots and never spoke to him kindly. Instead, the man’s presence meant only one thing—pain.

The man would restrain Albert's body, covered in wires, a cold metal hat strapped tightly to his head. He felt its weight pressing down. A sudden, sharp zap coursed through his body, muscles convulsing violently, his limbs jerking until his mouth hung open, tongue limp as the electricity held him captive. There were no carrots, never. No soft voice praising him. Just the searing pain, wave after wave, leaving him breathless.

“How are his vitals today?” Dr. Cedar’ asked.

“Stable, even after… yesterday's experiment, think--,” the woman replied, her voice softer, more familiar. “I was thinking of starting him on basic math, just to switch things up. He’s already fluent in ASL and BSL. I thought maybe I’d introduce FSL next.”

Dr. Cedar’s tone was sharp, almost mocking. "You want to teach a monkey to speak French?"

"Ape, sir, he is an ape. " The woman shifted uncomfortably, her voice softening as she tried to explain. "And... well, not me exactly. I spoke with Dr. Troy, and she said she’d be willing to teach him. He already knows two languages, so—"

“You contacted Helena without my permission?” Dr. Cedar’s question sliced through her words.

Her voice faltered. "She offered, sir..."

Albert could sense her distress and instinctively moved closer, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.

Dr. Cedar scoffed, his face twisting in disdain. "What nonsense. Women in labs always act like mums. You’re a scientist, not a babysitter! I want that monkey ready for the pod."

"Ape... he is an ape..." The woman’s voice wavered. "But Dr. Troy said—"

"Don’t make me repeat myself," Dr. Cedar snapped, cutting her off. "I can find any pretty face to wear a white coat. You’re not special, Elisa."

The warmth of the carrots vanished forever, replaced by cold, suffocating darkness. Albert found himself trapped in a cramped pod, his fur soaked by thick, viscous liquid that clung to him like a second skin. Panic surged through him. His fists pounded against the small window. He screamed, he cried, but no one heard—or cared.

"Let me out! Let me out!" His voice cracked, raw with fear, but the silence outside the pod remained unbroken.

The liquid seeped deeper into his fur, heavy and choking. Albert’s heart raced as the reality of his prison settled in. But the worst wasn’t the darkness or the cold. The worst was yet to come.

Albert jolted awake, the rough pull of a leash cutting into his neck. The blistering heat of the desert seared his bare feet with every agonising step. Soldiers, faceless behind their helmets, yanked him forward until they finally released him.

His legs trembled, but stopping wasn't an option. He could feel their guns trained on him, waiting. If he didn’t keep moving, they would shoot.

So he walked and walked.

Then, he felt it—a slight shift beneath his foot. His body froze, fear crashing over him. Beneath him, something dangerous lurked. If he lifted his foot, he knew what would come next. His chest tightened, and with wide, pleading eyes, he turned to the soldiers, silently begging them not to force him to take another step.

But their faces gave nothing away. His silent plea met nothing but cold indifference.

Without a word, one of the soldiers raised his firearm and aimed at Albert’s foot. The shot rang out, sudden and deafening, the sharp pain ripping through Albert’s leg as the bullet tore into his flesh. Instinctively, he shifted his weight, and that’s when he heard it—a quiet, fatal click beneath him.

The explosion followed a violent, thunderous bang that shattered the world around him. His vision blurred, and his body was weightless for a split second before everything went black.

When Albert came to, the familiar cold and suffocating dark of the pod greeted him again. His heart raced, dread creeping back in as he lay motionless in the viscous liquid. He knew it wasn’t over. Soon, they’d pull him back on again. The leash. The desert. The pain. And no matter how many times they killed him, he always woke back here, trapped in an unending loop. There was no escape from this hell. There were no carrots.

A storm raged inside Albert, a constant surge of hate, pain, and loss churning beneath the surface. The intensity was suffocating, a swirling mass of fury that consumed everything in its path. There was no light in Albert’s eyes, no hint of peace or resolution, just an endless hunger for vengeance. The rage gnawed at him, festering in a pit so deep it seemed bottomless, pulling him further into the abyss with every passing moment. Revenge burned in every fibre of his being, not just against one but against all.

Yet, it was more than suffering; it was a hollow that would never be filled, a wound that could never heal—a hollow space where something vital had been ripped away, leaving nothing but emptiness. Jude could sense it, feel the depth of Albert’s torment like the sharp edge of an iceberg barely breaking the surface. What he touched and felt was only a sliver of the overwhelming pain beneath. The wound was too deep, raw, and uncurable.

Jude could feel the pull of his own power, the magnetic tug urging him deeper into Albert's fractured mind. He knew how far he could go, how easily he could unravel every twisted corner of the ape’s psyche, peeling back the layers of torment until nothing was left. But he also knew the danger. One stray thought, one wrong impulse, and Albert could become a puppet, his actions bound only by Jude's imagination. The line between control and destruction was razor-thin. Jude’s mind raced, knowing that if he lost focus, if even one careless idea slipped through, he could push Albert into unspeakable horrors, turning the ape’s trauma into a walk in the park in comparison.

“Think. Think. Think,” Jude urged himself, wrestling with the control he knew he needed before releasing. He needed a plan—something that played by the rules but still gave him the upper hand.

But, the connection snapped suddenly, and Jude was thrust back into the harsh reality of the camp. The stench of blood and decaying corpses hit him full force, the air thick with death. Blinking, he found himself no longer inside Albert's tortured mind but sitting in front of the ape. His eyes fell on Lazaro, crouched behind Albert, the glint of a knife catching the dim light as it slashed across the primate’s throat.

Warm blood sprayed the ground, painting it crimson, and for a moment, the world seemed to be still. Jude’s stomach twisted, thoughts spinning in unwanted directions—ape flesh. Would it be bitter? Could it be cooked? Was there some ritual, some horrific tradition tied to what they had just done? How would you eat the dead?

“Jude?” Lazaro’s voice cut through the fog, snapping him back to the present. Jude blinked, his clothes speckled with blood, realising there was no turning back now. The rules had been broken.

The smell of blood—sticky, fresh, and so distinctive. The coppery scent filled his nose, mingling with the foul air of the camp. When his eyes lifted, they met the sight of more apes closing in, their dark shapes encircling them. It would seem that the fight wasn’t over.

A tight knot formed in Jude’s stomach, twisting violently until the nausea overwhelmed him. His body heaved, and he doubled over, retching, his stomach emptying onto the blood-soaked ground. The sight of his vomit mixing with the gore only made the nausea worse.

Lazaro glanced at him sideways, “You good?”

Jude wiped his mouth with his sleeve, still reeling. "I’m fine," he muttered. “I’m fine.”

"You’ve never seen blood before?"

Jude didn’t answer, his eyes distant. He’d seen far too much of it.

An ape finally broke from the group, its posture calm yet commanding as it approached. Lazaro tensed, instinctively shifting into a defensive stance, eyes narrowing in anticipation. The ape, unclothed but clutching a book in one hand, stopped a few steps away.

"War is peace, freedom is slavery, and ignorance is strength," the ape declared, its voice eerily measured as though reciting. He glanced between them. “What a beautiful lie, don’t you think?”

Lazaro’s rigid stance softened just slightly. Jude, however, scrutinised the ape's expression, trying to gauge the situation.

The ape stepped closer, his grip tightening on the worn book 1984. “It’s extraordinary, isn’t it? The power of fear. How ignorance becomes a shield and violence an old habit. We knew the rules. We knew them too well, and we knew we broke them. We accepted what would come.”

His eyes hardened as they bore into Jude and then Lazaro, his words settling in the space between them. “But you shall not taste our sins,” he spoke calmly, pointing toward the landmark scanner. No one—no one—should dictate freedom. This is our cage, not yours.”

Jude’s gaze followed the ape’s outstretched hand, locking onto the landmark scanner. He moved toward it slowly, his steps careful, ready for anything. He was well aware that one of the apes could lunge at him at any moment.

His eyes drifted to the grim arrangement of branches and skulls draped around the kiosk, a macabre decoration that made the device feel more like a shrine than a technological asset.

With a grimace, he pushed the debris aside, clearing a path to the screen. His hands, sticky with blood, left smudges as he wiped them on his already-stained jeans. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out toward the scanner.

Just as Jude’s fingertips grazed the scanner's surface, it responded with a faint hiss. The screen slid down, retreating into its container as if alive, slipping out of sight. A low, mechanical rumble followed, the earth beneath his feet vibrating as the kiosk vanished completely, swallowed by the ground.

He stared at the empty space where the device had been, disbelief twisting in his gut. The soft thud of the earth settling seemed to mock them.

“What the—!” Jude snapped, his frustration spilling out.

Lazaro let out a low groan, his hand running through his hair as he muttered, "Shit."

“The garden punishes those who don’t follow the rules,” the ape declared. “But we will fix it. We’ll feast on Albert and the rottens. This will cleanse you in the eyes of the garden. This will be our payment for our liberation of the chains of a raged ape.”

Lazaro stepped forward, alarm flashing across his face. “Wait!” he interrupted. “You can’t eat rotten flesh. You’ll get sick, maybe die.”

The ape’s eyes didn’t waver. “Death is an illusion,” he said simply. “We will return. Die and return. There will never be an end until the Earth swallows us all.”

Jude, trying to process the madness of it all, asked, “What’s your name?”