You would think that a man as well versed in the ways of the world as Mr Smith would surely have seen it all. Or at the very least, enough, not to feel surprised at the sight of something unfamiliar. After all, how likely would he find something so incomprehensible, so out of this world that it would force him to reevaluate every worldly assumption he ever made.
The answer is, as far as Mr Smith was concerned, a no. Yet, he couldn’t help but be left lost at the view in front of his eyes.
It didn’t feel real. Yes, they were in fact existent. Mr Smith didn’t for a moment think that the half painted brick walls around him or the beret-wearing man languidly smoking in front of him would just fall away. What he meant by it was how surreal everything felt. Not so much that it caused him to function any differently but enough to keep him off-kilter.
And the best part was, this was only the start of the string of oddities. He had very distinctively remembered himself bleeding out on a counter around a second ago worrying again and again about the mark and his survivability. But now where there was once a bullet hole there was, nothing. The bleeding, the bullet the wound all gone. He didn’t feel even an ounce of pain whenever he pulled at the skin. It was as if none of that had ever happened...?
His unease grew. The clock ticking continuously, its hands clicking obnoxiously every time it moved, unconcerned of its impact on him. He tried to suppress it all, purposely channelling the sound away and focusing on what other things like…like. He paused, stumped. His brain had, somehow, stalled. He tried again, this time funnelling every bit of mental energy into the task. Yet all he had to show for it was a sweaty forehead and a huge headache. Mental pathings he had laid down over his years of work had disappeared. Somewhere deep down alarm bells were starting to sound. In response he flung his hands at his head, hoping the reassuring feeling of holding would help him hold it all together. One problem, they were stuck. Someone, presumably chain-smoking man or one of his lackeys, had tied them to the chair, immobilising them.
He, of course, was not one to take obstacle like these lying down and tried, fruitlessly, to break his restraint by roughly moving his hands forwards then diagonally then whatever he felt like. Unsurprisingly, the binds refused to budge. Thus a very frustrated Mr Smith had no choice but to admit defeat. It was a setback no less, but a one he was willing to swallow if it meant winning the bigger war. A war which, by the looks of it, had scarcely begun.
“Madam Smith.” The man uttered, having finally snubbed out his cigarette. “I understand you must be confused why you are in this room.”
“Actually it’s Mr Smith and no, why would I? You caught me fair and square, your Providence lackey told me about you guys. Oh” Mr Smith gasped exaggeratedly “was that supposed to be a secret. Oh sorry the guy really didn’t get a chance to tell me, unfortunately. But,” He continued reassuringly. “don’t worry I won’t tell a soul, Scouts Honour.”
The man hearing this, turned silent. His face mashed together. An effort to squeeze enough brainpower to process what Mr Smith just said. A rush of emotions began to fill the cracks in him. Good. Let him contemplate. Let your speculations grow. If I already know the name of your organisation, what else could I know, hmm? Organisations? Structures? Feel the magnitude of my knowledge now? I know you must be shocked, angry even . How could the name of my organisation leak?!
Mr Smith was sure the seeds of doubt he had sowed were now firmly rooted within the man’s mind, slowly growing as each speculation fed into another further destabilising his psychic. He knew if he just nutured the seed within his mind with a few vague notions about Providence purpose here and an insinuation there, he might just be able to scare the man enough into cutting him a favourable enough deal and get himself out. Whatever the case, right this moment he had the upper hand…
“Is it Old World?”
What? Old World? Mr Smith stared back blankly at the man. Whenever did such a divide even matter? Mr Smith let the silence hang in the air, waiting for the man to elaborate his point. He didn’t. Hm if these were the questions he wanted to awnsered he would do his due diligence and answer them accordingly.
“No, it’s International.”
Again another long pause ensued. The lamp on top of them swung back and forth, every so often lighting up the man's face to reveal, confusion.
Confused? Now it was Mr Smith’s turn to be confused. This man represented the organisation. How was it possible that he didn’t know it’s reach? Or for that matter, existence? But huh… Mr Smith thought. Was it possible that the attack wasn’t conducted by just one organisation but instead two…
“Not to interrupt,” Mr Smith said in the most polite voice he could muster “But who do you represent?”
The guy looked over at Mr Smith with the same look as before, “Isn’t it obvious?” He said rather offhandedly, “You are being detained by the CRIN on the count for suspected subversive activities, Kraut.”
O…Okay, Okay. Mr Smith was left slightly speechless. Clearly it seems, North Korea was after the boy. His assessment was, however, immediately challenged the moment he more closely looked at the man. Never mind, North Korea probably doesn’t have a sizeable African Americans population. Uh-huh…
“Why so shocked, mademoiselle?” The man replied, seeing the words shock written all over his face “Did you really think we were your fantasy organisation Providence had caught you?”
“It’s Mr ” Mr Smith said, mildly frustrated at the man mistake, “Mr Smith and Providence is a very real very international organisation I can assure you that.”
The man scoffed, “So Ms Smith you are telling me that the CRIN has no knowledge of an international organisation operating on CSA’s soil?? Come on you can’t seriously believe that?”
“Ohhh sir I do very much believe that,” Mr Smith said insistently, ”and I don’t think you heard me right but it’s “Mr Smith.”
The man smirk faded from his face, replace with thin straight line “Ms Smith as much as I enjoy hearing you make up fantasy organisation and feigning ignorance to clear undeniable facts, you’ve gone too far. You see I really really despise all you far lefts espousing all your New Thinking crap about LGBT rights and whatever. If you are born a woman, you stay a woman. No two ways about it. Oh, still unconvinced? Let me prove it to you, ” He said before reaching over to grab Mr Smith’s chest.
Mr Smith well aware of the arm approaching him didn’t even bother to flinch. What was there to fear anyways. His modesty? He was very certain that his chest needed no such protection. Yet the man hands stopped short of his chest even though he could feel the man's touch. Confused, Mr Smith looked down and to his horror saw right where there should only be a runway, two lumps protruding out of it. No no no no how is this even possible?! This..this has to be a dream, there was no way he could have changed gender overnight! He looked down once again hoping his eyes had been mistaken yet the evidence on his chest was unmistakable. He..he had turned but..but how??
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
He scrounged through his mind, tearing through every reason every logic every memory trying to find some explanation, some reason that to could explain all this. He did find one eventually, a snippet that could help explain what was going on, but he immediately threw it aside. It couldn’t be possible… could it? Surely it’s just a coincidence right? Coincidence Yea, coincidence, for sure, a…another figment of his over speculative mind. Going this path was just wasting his precious time anyways better to move on and search for some better answ… But He had to know. Huh? Nahhhh asking would just derail the conversation and put him in a less favourable spot why would he do… But he had to know had to know. Why so insistent? It’s not like knowing would make things any better, he wasn’t scared or anything but He had to know, he wasn’t scared he wasn’t scared he had to merely placate himself from speculating the impossibility… impossibility…
“What exactly does CRA mean?” He asked, carefully, trying his best to put a leash on the panic overflowing from him.
“Ah I see you finally woke up.” the man said, stretching his hand out before placing it on his waist and giving him a small bow “Welcome mademoiselles to Redmarsh, home of the Central Revolution Agency.”
All of a sudden, everything just came flooding back to him, the man, the dreams, his failure, clinton csa, everything just snapped back into place.
He…he was dreaming? Logically speaking this was impossible. He was very much awake and stuck to a chair, unfortunately. So this was real? Yet again he found himself at odds. The things, the circumstances just didn’t line up. It was as though he was living in something in a product his mind had conjured up. Still very much authenticity of it all, Mr Smith decided to just put it all aside for the time being and get on with his interrogation. Hopefully, this avenue might be more effective in understanding this world around him than bouncing around arguments in his head.
“So,” Mr Smith responds, more shakily than he intended to, “What exactly does the Central Revolutionary Intelligence want with a farming gal like me?”
“Well Ms Smith I’m glad you asked,” He said, smiling , “Being a representative of the Combined Syndicates of America, we understand your family has very strong German ties, so strong in fact, you even have relatives still living in The German Empire proper and chiefly for our story,” He pointed to a map “Singapur. The Jewel of German Ostein, if it wasn’t fraught with so much turmoil .” He paused, letting Mr Smith truly process what he just said before continuing,
"Last week this turmoil reached a climax with the nuclear attack on the Millennium Dome. While the impact of the blast was minimal thanks to a timely tip off, politically the impact has been massive. 3 years of non-stop factional violence ceased virtually overnight. For the time being, we do not know who was responsible for the attack and it seems, neither do they and are waiting for the other to take credit for it. But intelligence suggests that given time one would and when they do, it’s likely the sunny island would burn red once again. This is why Washington has tasked the CRA to restore order to the beleaguered island and prevent it from falling into bloody civil war like our nation had to endure, preferably with the syndicalist on top. This is where you come in"
He smiled "I am sure I do not need to remind you that as a citizen of the New World, you have a patriotic duty to stand up to injustice everywhere, especially those committed by the monarchs of the Old World. Singapur, as you know, is the captial of Desuche Ostein, a colonial state directly under the thumb of the Kaiser and as the title of captial suggest, it is the heart of the highly rigid caste system it perpetuates. National minorities, many lived there even longer than they have, are facing systemic oppression in their own home. The very Government meant to serve them waging an open Kulturkampf against them, breaking their communities, destroying their culture, assimilating their language, all to build a new national identity for the island. Tch, more like national oppression. I think you would agree this is unacceptable and with your help we can put a stop to it all. All I need you to do is to agree.”
"I..I don't know" Mr Smith said feigning uncertainty. Mentally he had more or less managed to put a lid on all of his emotions but knew better than to act all confident all of sudden. The less they knew about his true identity, he thought, the better.
"Of course, you could choose to decline our offer but may I remind you that the CRIN can be very persuasive especially when it comes to such matters of the state." His face unchanged "We wouldn’t need to send over some brothers to your commune to do some convincing do we, mademoiselle?
"Please.. no anything but that!" Mr Smith screeched, making a point to shiver uncontrollably. "I'll do as you say, just please stay away from my family."
The man smirked, “Very well, if that is what you seek, I assume then you are on board with our suggestion, though before we officially initiate another patriot to our family, I need to ask. What exactly is Providence.”
“It’s a…a,” Mr Smith stammered. Ok now what should he tell him?? Uh… “an illegal racketeering ring back in my local commune.”
“Oh the” the man paused, letting her words run through his brain for a sec “and it’s international…?”
“Uh ah sorta… yes…yes it is. An international corn racketeering ring specifically.” He blurted out without much thought. His brain was still unfortunately fetching memories of the endless field of corn he had dreamt, hence resulting in the odd choices of words.
The man’s eyebrows scrunched up “You are telling me the CRIN, the CSA’s domestic affairs unit, has no knowledge of an international corn racketeering ring stationed on Americas Soil?”
“Yes…Yes indeed,” Mr Smith said more assertive now, “Us folks thought them as just mere ruffins looking for some extra food. It’s only when they rolled up in their 5 tonners did we figure they were something else. Apparently, they say biofuel is a big thing these days, or sort ever. I’m just a farming gal, don’t really have a clue what they want for it, honestly. I just know they want corn they damn well gonna fight to get them, so us folks usually don’t ask no questions ay. Though they’ve been escalating their antics lately cause of the shortage down south, so I thought you might be one of them.”
“Ah…, I’m glad to know better now. The CRA, despite our past reputation, is a changing organisation heck I frankly wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Burham’s reforms. Similarly, the new 1st Presodioum Clinton has ordered the CRA to use a softer touch on our detainees, unless absolutely necessary.” He said, glancing momentarily at Mr Smith’s bonds before looking back, “Rest assured we will be sending a team over to investigate and crack down on these, as you put it, antics, as a sign of goodwill.” He smiled reciprocatively
“Thank you.” Mr Smith meekly replied, doing his best to sound as appreciative as possible.
“Now,” The man said, his smile fading away, “Let’s get down to business, shall we. As you probably guessed, we need you to fully infiltrate the colony of Singapur. That means we need you to bed the colonial elite, syndicalist groups, minority parties and whatever miscellaneous groups you chance upon. Reason being the better we understand them, the better we can bring about the glorious revolution to the island. We however also understand that this is quite a tall order for an inexperienced, therefore we have prepared some agents to help you. Think of them as your…advisors. You would still the face of the operation, with them the brains behind it. Both you and them are crucial to the sucess of this operation so we need you to work together in tandem like in human body because without one the other cannot exist, don’t you agree Ms Smith.” He said, rhetorically
Internally, Mr Smith was a little ticked off. Bloody bastards, they are making me a puppet god damnit, a bloody vessel for their crooked agents to act through! Angry as he was, he kept his mouth shut, uttering not a word. He knew better than to complain and squander his only chance at freedom. A flawed freedom yes, but one which is certainly better than none at all, he supposed.
Sensing his tacit acceptance, the man continued "Now in conclusion, the CRIN would like to officially welcome you as our newest recruit.” He began clapping “Oh come can't you clap?” Mr Smith growled but kept it at that, choosing not to take the bait “Pftt all you Kraut too uptight. Whatever, you may leave now.”
With a click of the button, his metal chain slackened. He was free! But was he really? He ran his right hand through the marks left by the chains. Ugly stinking marks. He could feel resentment build in him. He wasn’t going to forget this transgression anytime soon, oh not in a long shot. He was angry but he was weak. Those frail little things he called arms were a far cry from his old ones, toned over his years of relentless training. If he was ever going to stand a chance against these men, he'd better up his game. And we would with due time. Obsatcles like these would be overcomed like he had done before and before and before and before....
No matter the cost.