Chapter 71
Thursday, October 2, 2059
14 days to Armageddon
The Director
The two agents sat in uncomfortable chairs in a cramped office, trying to conceal their nervousness as they waited for the director to notice them.
Eventually, the older woman looked up from her paperwork. “Lady. Gentleman. We have a problem. Or more accurately, I have a problem, which means you have bigger problems.”
There was silence. The two agents waited for her to continue.
“The humans running Bio-Blessed,” the director continued. “Note. I'm under strict orders to call the aliens running Bio-Blessed, humans. Those humans sent notices to a number of powerful people, including those in charge of this agency, in which they used the phrase 'contract violation'. As the phrase 'contract violation' means they may not get their Bio-Blessed injection next month, these powerful people are scared, and therefore extremely dangerous, to us, in particular.”
More silence.
“What did the humans want, Madam Director?” Special Agent Jones asked.
“They are concerned about the inhumane way we're treating suspected implant-wearers. Rather ironic considering the source. As a result, the intensified interrogation and/or execution of suspected implant-wearers has ended as of now. We may incarcerate implant-wearers under humane conditions, and we may perform amputations under humane conditions. That's it. On a related note, what's the story on Leo Edwards?”
“We believe Leo has implant-related schizophrenia and is completely useless regarding our investigation of Mr. Oliver Osmond,” Special Agent Jones responded. “It's possible Leo's responsible for the October 16th end-of-the-world rumors going around. Leo believes he lived through this end of the world in a previous life.”
“On a related note, our informant backed up Leo's claim of predicting the Body-Booster stock crash,” Special Agent Lopez said. “Note. Our informant doesn't believe Leo's the source of this prediction, but that's what Osmond has been going with.”
“Obviously, Osmond isn't going to tell the truth to someone he barely knows,” Special Agent Jones said. “We told the informant to keep working on him.”
“Osmond came forward and took a lie detector test,” the director said, “claiming to be neither an implant-wearer nor in contact with anyone currently wearing an implant. He claims he's working on a mathematical equation that lets him track the behavior of certain stocks. And he passed the lie detector test with flying colors.”
“So you believe he's innocent?” Special Agent Jones asked.
The director shook her head. “I'm certain he's guilty as shit. And he's definitely in contact with The Professor. If I thought the humans and my bosses wouldn't object, I'd bring him in and beat the truth out of him.”
“So, what's our next move?” Special Agent Jones asked.
The director sighed. “Oh. Before I forget. Any news on the Leo-Trent connection?”
“Nothing much,” Special Agent Jones said. “Trent confides in one of our undercover agents at his cult/church. That agent is certain Trent has had no contact with Mr. Osmond or The Professor. Since Leo told Trent the world is going to end, Trent has managed to convince most of his cult/church, and the congregation has spent over one hundred thousand dollars on weapons and survival equipment. They've been peaceful so far, but we're keeping an eye on them.”
“A simple no would have sufficed,” the director said. “Leo Edwards. How dangerous is he?”
“Leo killed an old lady,” Special Agent Lopez said. “We believe his implant told him to kill her because she was a cannibal. If he's released, he will probably kill again.”
The director sighed again. “That's unfortunate. I have orders that Leo be released, unharmed. Please tell me you haven't done him any permanent damage.”
“No. Madam Director,” Special Agent Lopez responded.
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“Thank god,” the director responded. “You will be permitted to continue living.”
“Thank you, Madam Director,” Special Agent Lopez responded, looking bored.
Madam Director nodded. “Indeed. Special Agent Jones. You are to observe Leo and his companions, but not to interfere with them in any way without orders from me. The two of you should probably be aware the kill team we've been using to take care of troublesome implant-wearers has been recently terminated. And when I say terminated, I do not mean they lost their jobs.”
The two agents winced.
“I don't suppose you know if the humans have anything to say about the end of the world rumors that are going around?” Special Agent Jones asked.
Special Agent Lopez snorted.
“Sorry,” Special Agent Jones said defensively. “With all the end-of-the-world predictions going around, I can't help wondering.”
“Believe it or not, there are people looking into that,” the director responded. “Special Agent Jones, I'm assigning you a new partner, and you will be continuing the Osmond/Professor investigation. Special Agent Lopez, please stay behind. We need to talk.”
***
Leo struggled to remember what happened during the time they'd drugged him. “Imp. I thought I showed them my implant, but they kept acting like I didn't.”
“Correct. You were in an altered state of consciousness, so I shut down some of my features for your protection.”
“I think you saved my arm. Thanks.”
“It would seem I'm not completely useless.”
“Sorry,” Leo responded, realizing he'd hurt Imp's feelings earlier. “I'm worried about what's coming and I'm frustrated that I can't do anything about it. I know it's not your fault.”
“I'm limited in what I can do, Leo. I wish I could do more.”
A large guard walked up to the cell. “Leo, you're up and about. Would you like some breakfast?”
“That depends. Is it drugged?” Leo responded.
The guard was large, male, and stereotypical as a guard, in that he was built like a tank and had no neck. “We prefer to administer drugs in the form of injections. If you want drugs, the doctor should be in to see you soon.”
“You can keep your doctor, but I would like some breakfast.” Leo was starving.
“I thought you might. I was told to bring you as much as you wanted as long as you behave yourself. Don't make my job hard, and I won't make your life miserable.”
“Yes, sir.”
Leo was working on his second bowl of oatmeal when the doctor showed up, an unshaven older man in a bulky lab coat with a medical bag, who looked like he was taking his own medications. “Why isn't this kid in restraints?”
It was definitely the unknown voice from the previous night.
“I don't need a doctor. I'm fine,” Leo responded.
“Orders are no restraints, as long as he behaves. And you'd better behave, Leo.” The guard looked down at Leo sternly.
“I don't need a doctor and I don't want to be injected with anything.”
“I don't want to be here either,” the doctor responded. “I'm required to perform your post-detainment physical.”
“Post-detainment?”
“Unfortunately,” the doctor said tiredly. “If it was up to me, you'd be going to the nuthouse, but we've been told to let you go. Now please extend your right arm through the bars. I need to take your blood pressure.”
Leo wasn't sure if this was some kind of ploy to make him lower his guard. “Fine.” Leo extended his arm through the bars. “But if you try to inject me with anything, I'll try to kick your ass.”
“I want you next to me,” the doctor said to the guard. “This kid gives me the creeps. I don't want him thinking I'm a cannibal or a tentacled alien.”
“I just think you're an asshole,” Leo responded.
The guard stood a few feet away, as the doctor took Leo's blood pressure and then had Leo put his chest up to the bars so he could listen to Leo's heart and breathing with his stethoscope. “Now your left arm.”
Leo did what he was told. The doctor examined Leo's broken finger. “Looks like a clean break. I'm going to put it in a finger splint. I want you to keep the splint on for the next three weeks.” The doctor proceeded to put Leo's finger in a finger splint and wrap it with tape. “Your vitals are good, considering the circumstances. If you want, I can give you Tylenol, aspirin, Percocet.”
“No, thanks.”
“More for me then. Eat, and get plenty of fluids. Don't eat or drink too quickly after your extended fast. You'll make yourself sick. My work here is done.” The doctor stepped away from the cell.
“Thanks for not cutting my arm off,” Leo said.
“I didn't not do that for you,” the doctor responded. “If I'd amputated your left forearm, your parents would get upset, your school would get upset, and without visual, photographic confirmation of your implant, I could lose my job.”
“I see.”
The doctor walked away.