Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
“You know how they say dreams awaken your repressed thoughts?” I asked.
“Yes. That is a theory,” he said.
“For me, it’s more than a theory,” I said.
“I’ve been having the same recurring dream ever since Frederick died. I can never remember all of it but there’s this woman and a broken radio. She’s in trouble and I can’t help her. I want to but I just can’t.”
“Frederick’s death has upset you, Adam.”
“Yes, but the dreams have nothing to do with him. I feel close to that woman.”
“You’re making it more than it is. In time, the dreams will go away. Or, of course I can schedule you for Dead Sleep.”
I rarely express my true feelings. But when I do, why are they so often brushed aside? Is it because I have questions? Is it because I think for myself? I’m supposed to be one of the strongest members of the Society but often I feel like the weakest. The others are okay with accepting the purpose given to them with no questions. It’s for The Cause and for them, that’s all the explanation that is needed. But what’s wrong with asking questions? Most of the time I repress it, but the urge to get answers is growing stronger and stronger.
Dr. Peter Lithgo is my psychologist. All agents have one. The Society wants to be sure the work isn’t more than any of us can handle. If someone shows signs of mental trauma or stress or if a doctor even suspects any abnormalities, he or she is scheduled for Dead Sleep – a sleep where the brain’s activity is reduced to a dormant state for 48 hours. These sessions can be repeated indefinitely until the subject is “cured”. I will learn what these dreams mean and who that woman is. But I won’t be doing it here.
“No, that won’t be necessary, Dr. Lithgo. You’re right. I’m just making it more than it is,” I said.
“Alright. Let’s get back to your last assignment then,” Dr. Lithgo said. “You completed the mission in 2 minutes and 53 seconds. That’s a little slow for you.”
“He was a Hummer. He slowed me down a little. No big deal.”
“Yes, he put up a fight which is to be expected. But what isn’t expected is this.”
He clicks a remote and a video of my encounter with the alien Zine is shown. Only Zine’s image is shown since the video camera is hidden in my eye. One of few implants I, as well as every other agent, have subjected myself to with no questions.
“Do you know who I am?” the recorded me asked.
“I know who you work for. Honestly, I thought we’d meet sooner,” Zine said.
“I’ve been on vacation. What’s your business here?”
The video pauses, freezing Zine’s contorted face and the words ready to leave it.
Dr. Lithgo gives me a look of disapproval.
“It is not your job to engage in conversation. And it is certainly not your job to find out what the enemy is doing here. It is only your job to kill him. You are an agent. That is your purpose. That is your only purpose.”
“Yes! You were trained for that. You were chosen to protect humankind and the Society in your purpose. The only way you can do that is to focus on your purpose and nothing else. Do you understand?”
I hate lying.
He moves in closer. “Do you understand, A47?”
“Good. You may go. I have all I need for my report.”
“You’ll fill it with sweet nothings I hope.”
“Yes, but I hope it will stay that way in the future.”
He never gets my jokes.
Posted by D.C. Robinson at 6:30 PM