The Old Reactor by David Ohle Page A

Home,” Salmonella began to weep.
    “I’m not going.”
    Moldenke took her by the hand and pulled her into the aisle. “This is our stop. We’re getting off.”
    She stiffened her body. “No!”
    “Yes!” Moldenke dragged her up the aisle and down three steps to the pavement. On each step she banged her knees. By the time Moldenke had pulled to the Home’s gate, streaks of blood ran down her legs and her kneecaps were shredded.
    There was a Sister of Comfort at a sentry post. “Just the one, sir?”
    “Yes. Abandoned by her father. I can’t look after her.”
    “He could. But he won’t, is the truth.”
    “What’s your name, dear?”
    Salmonella folded her arms and pouted. “Look at him. He needs my help. He can barely take care of himself. It’s crazy to put me in here. He’s as stupid as I thought he was when I met him.”
    “She calls herself Salmonella,” Moldenke said. “She’s about fourteen, fifteen. No one really knows—even her father.”
    “You can leave her with me,” the Sister said. “We’ll get those street clothes off, clean her up, and turn her loose on the commons.”
    “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “Just to clear something up, do the jellies in there have deformant?”
    “All weapons are allowed.”
    “Guns?”
    “Yes, guns. Knives, too. Anything, really. That’s part of what we try to drill into these young people, that pure freedom is just that: pure. Once we’re completely free in body and soul, we have no need of aggression. Everyone is safe, especially if they are armed. It keeps things in balance. It’s the way freedom is arrived at.”
    Moldenke asked if there were any medical facilities on the grounds.
    “A few of the kids know first aid,” the Sister said. “Most of the wounds we have in here are not life-threatening. They usually survive.”
    Salmonella scowled at Moldenke.
    “Sorry, girl…I’ll try to find your father.”
    As Moldenke backed away from the gate, he saw Salmonella kick the Sister in the shin. In turn, the Sister slapped Salmonella with the back of her hand and pulled her up the path by the hair.
    A comic book has nearly killed Brainerd Franklin, who didn’t read but ate it. The laughter wasn’t responsible for the damage, but part of the metal binding was. Wire staples found in the valuable jelly’s stomach and intestinal tract were cause of his nearly fatal bleeding. A gardener had seen him floating in his swimming pool and munching on the comic only hours before his collapse.
    Moldenke went down to the Free People’s Bar, the only bitters bar operating on the west side. He found Udo there, who had been drinking bitters most of the afternoon.
    “Where’s my daughter, Moldenke? I want her back.”
    “She’s in the Home. I left her there about a month ago.”
    “Tell me you didn’t diddle her?”
    “No, I took care of her. That’s all.”
    “If I ever find out you did diddled her, I’ll have your nuts for breakfast.”
    “It didn’t happen.”
    “You understand why I wonder. She’s mature for her age. Most of these freeborn girls are like that. They mate pretty young.”
    “If I mate at all, it will be with an older female. I couldn’t attract anyone else. Look at me.”
    Udo had a quick look at Moldenke head to toe. “I’ll take your word for it until I hear different. I guess I’ll go over to the Home and get her.”
    “Whatever you want, Udo.”
    The next morning, with his courage up, Udo drove his motor to the curb in front of the Home. The sun ogled. Asphalt in the drive bubbled as he walked toward the mudstone entry gate where a Sister stood watch. Her blue uniform shimmered in the sunlight. She was eating a green apple.
    “Good afternoon to you, Sister. I’ve come to get Salmonella. She was brought in by a man named Moldenke, oh, a few weeks ago. He’s usually in uniform, wears boots. Has a scruffy little beard, rotten teeth. Sometimes smells bad.”
    The Sister ventured up to the heavy wooden doors that