[Interview: L4-5]
Background: Arnold Strauss was the technical support specialist for Recovery and Stabilization Team Lambda-Four, which was present at Ground Zero of Merge Prime. He and his team scrambled from Victoria Headquarters and arrived at West End High School in Albert Head within fifteen minutes of the merge triplet’s detection.
Interview Subject: Sergeant Arnold Strauss
Interviewer: Researcher Francine Barnes
Researcher Barnes: Interview with L4-Five, Sergeant Arnold Strauss. The time is 20:35, May 23. Interview conducted in Victoria Headquarters. Sergeant, tell me what you saw when you arrived at Ground Zero, Albert Head.
Sergeant Strauss: Graphic details or strictly professional, Doc?
Researcher Barnes: Professional, please.
Sergeant Strauss: Okay. The truck pulled up outside the high school, and we piled out. It looked like a typical merge, with the transparent wall between us and them—that’s what they’d told us on the way over, and that’s all we’d had time to prep for: standard merge, standard go-bag equipment.
We hustled out, and I planted the mini-anchor. While I was working on that, I saw the first Incomp. It was just on the other side, staring at me. I stared back for a minute, then signaled the rest of the team that we had hostiles inside.
Researcher Barnes: Isn’t it typical to assume there’s something dangerous inside a merge?
Sergeant Strauss: Yes. But it’s also standard to tell the team what to expect, even if it’s an Incomp. L4-One called it in, and HQ informed us that backup wasn’t coming and we were weapons-free. I triggered the mini-anchor to breach, and everything went to shit.
Researcher Barnes: Describe what happened, Sergeant.
Sergeant Strauss: You’ve seen the footage, right?
Researcher Barnes: Yes. For the record.
Sergeant Strauss: Fuck. The mini-anchor popped, an entry point opened, and we tried to rush the Incomp. But we couldn’t get through. It could, though. We unloaded everything we had on it, but the bullets wouldn’t go in, either. Then the merge zone started expanding as it rushed us, almost like the zone was shielding it.
Researcher Barnes: Doctrinally, the correct move was to—
Sergeant Strauss: Doc, sometimes doctrine’s wrong. We could have rushed it, but the other Incomps were moving toward us inside. L4-3 went down—the screams were unbelievable until the merge covered her. I did what I had to do.
Researcher Barnes: What did you do?
Sergeant Strauss: I shot out the mini-anchor. That stopped the growth and reversed it so we could kill the Incomp. L4-1 checked L4-3, but she was already dead. Then we sat around and waited for something to happen. We couldn’t get in, the Incomps couldn’t get out, and it was staying that way without a bigger door-knocker.
Researcher Barnes: So when the merge barrier dropped? What happened then?
Sergeant Strauss: Mop-up. Incomps are easy to kill when they’re not indestructible. We cleared the soccer field—I don’t envy the clean-up teams—and hit the front door. I detected an active URA in the office, where I found the POI. I took her into custody while L4-1, L4-2, and L4-4 cleared the other Incomps and waited for an amnestics team.
The POI was unconscious, with some pretty nasty wounds to her arms, legs, and face. I put in a secure medical chamber request. On-site first-aid seemed viable to keep her alive, and we needed her to tell us about the Object she found since I couldn’t take it from her. It was only after we got her to base that we realized she’d also been fully infected with the Beta info—
Researcher Barnes: Thank you, Sergeant. We’ll debrief you on Beta separately. This interview is focused only on your experiences with Alpha.
Sergeant Strauss: Understood. Sorry. So, once I had the POI back with the medical team and heading back to [REDACTED], I regrouped with 1, 2, and 4. We paired up. 1 and 2 were stuck with evacuations and helping the amnestic team, and me and 4 checked out the URA. Something went wrong with the URA, but neither of us know enough about how those damn things work to say what. They’ve been my go-to tool for three years, and I still have no idea what McGovern was thinking when she invented them.
I’ve recommended it be pulled for inspection. Any news on that?
Researcher Barnes: The director says no. We’re hurting bad, and we can’t pull any URAs off the line. Sorry, Arnold.
Sergeant Strauss: It’s fine, Frannie. Anything else?
Researcher Barnes: If you have no further additions…No? Alright, end of interview between Researcher Francine Barnes and Sergeant Arnold Strauss.
Notes: In light of their inadequate intelligence briefing heading into the Albert Head merge, Lambda-Four has been declared not responsible for the doctrinal breaches that resulted in the death of L4-3, Patricia Flemming. RST L-4 is being remobilized to help slow down merges in the Victoria area and keep panic from spreading, potentially in conjunction with the Gutenberg protocol.
[Back]
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Location Unknown, Date Unknown, Time Unknown
- - - - -
My eyes spring open. It’s bright in my cell, but breakfast isn’t here. I blink at a pair of black-ish blobs and reach for my glasses. When I finally get them on, I’m staring down two rifles from my hospital bed.
“Subject - 573-V-1/IO Alpha, stay seated. No sudden moves,” one of the soldiers—in black body armor and looking more like they’re attacking a terrorist base than menacing a high-school girl—says. “The director will—“
“L4-5, stand down,” a new voice says, and I freeze up. It’s the same slick, talk-down-to-the-kid voice as the intercom yesterday. Doctor Smith. My therapist. And he’s in the same room as me. “We don’t need to worry about Clarice. You can wait outside. You too, L4-2. If she causes trouble, I’m sure I can handle it.”
Doctor Smith is shorter and grayer than I remember him. He still smells the same: cheap cologne, cigarettes, and sweat. I almost ask him for a smoke. He’s not wearing a lab coat this time, though the stupid blue bow tie hasn’t changed. Now he’s wearing a suit, and at his hip sits a revolver. Not the Revolver. I recognize it, but I’m not sure what kind—a big one.
The hairs on my neck stand up as the two soldiers leave. A moment later, Doctor Smith takes out a lighter, flicks it—idiocy in a hospital, but fine in a cell—and lights a cigarette. The smoke filters out of the room through the vent, sucked straight up as fans rev more and more. I’m envious. That should be mine. I could really use it right now. But as he brings the cigarette to his lips, I realize the truth.
Doctor Smith is nervous, just like me.
Now that I know where to look, it’s obvious. His eye twitches behind his too-round glasses, and he can’t keep his free hand off his short but poorly-maintained beard. The bags under his eyes give me a clue why. He hasn’t slept in a while.
He clears his throat the moment the soldiers step out, reaches into his coat pocket, and pulls out a little device. He presses a few buttons, and the blast shield slides over the window, sealing us inside my cell. “Clarice Alora Pendleton, I’ve cut all monitoring from the outside except for this recording device, which is transmitting our conversation to my office. I need a verbal acknowledgment that what I’m telling you is privileged information and is not to be shared with anyone else. I, Director Adam Smith of the Victoria/Vancouver Island Control Zone, am sharing it in the interest of SHOCKS, at my discretion.”
I roll my eyes and press my lips together. There’s no way I’m giving Doctor—Director—Smith anything, even if he says he needs it. If Alice is a liar, this guy’s worse. I know why she lies. This guy lives it.
“Clarice, SHOCKS needs—“
“Claire.”
“Claire, then. SHOCKS needs you to acknowledge that—“
“Why?”
“I don’t have time for this shit,” Director Smith says. “Claire, I have exactly nine minutes, fifty-three seconds before my next meeting. I’m supposed to keep ground zero of a Qishi-Danger apocalypse from worsening, and I don’t have communications with anyone outside this building. You’re a registered anomaly, and I’m only giving you the courtesy of knowing what’s happening outside your cell because I don’t have many other options. Now, will you acknowledge that what I’m telling you is—“
“I heard you the first time.” Getting confirmation that I’m a science experiment cuts deep. I have so many questions about that, but he won’t have any real answers, and that’s the Truth. A truth. Keeping the Halcyon System and the Truth Club separate is gonna be a pain in the ass.
I cross my arms, careful not to jerk on the IV, and glare at him from my bed, but I’m clammed up, just like I was as a five-year-old. He can’t make me talk. Nothing he says can do that.
“Thank you,” he says. “We have three minutes. If you have questions afterward, Doctor Ramirez will answer what you’re cleared for. Short briefing: you were at the center of what we’re calling Merge Prime. At this point, it’s expanded across western Canada and the northwestern United States, and it’s not stopping. Lots of merges and lots of anomalies, mostly centered on Victoria. I’m the Victoria/Vancouver Island Control Zone’s director, so I’m supposed to be stopping this disaster.”
He sucks on his cigarette, not aware that it’s gone out. “There aren’t enough resources in the Control Zone to solve it, so we’ve been trying to slow things down so other Zones can get a hold on things. But I’m playing against a rigged deck here. Recovery and stabilization team Lambda-Four is down a member, so they’re out of the fight when we need them most. Lambda-Five needs to be pulled off the line, but I can’t deploy an undermanned team and expect them to be effective.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
As I try to parse all the information he’s throwing at me, it gradually sinks in that he hasn’t lied yet. That means a big one’s coming. He’s leaving a lot out, too—enough that it could count as a lie on its own—and what he is saying, I can’t put into my equation. The math becomes unsolvable every time I try.
“I don’t—“ I start to say.
“No. No questions,” Director Smith interrupts. “You’re not cleared for any answers unless you accept, and I don’t have time. Doctor Ramirez will fill you in later. Two minutes. Before we lost communications yesterday, Global activated the Gutenberg Protocol. It authorizes me to make deals with anomalies like you in emergencies. If you accept, I can get you Level A clearance, time out of your little box, and whatever else you need.”
“I want—“
“Within reason,” he interrupts me again, and I glare at him. I was going to say I want to go home, but I doubt he’d accept that, and even if he said he would, it’d be a lie. “I have a minute and a half, so I can’t negotiate with you. We’ll leave that to Doctor Ramirez. I’ll stop by when I have a moment to complete the paperwork. You’ll be in uniform and serving with Lambda-Four tomorrow.”
He clicks the button on his little recording device, and just like that, the blast shields go up. He leaves—flicking his cigarette into my trash can and leaving a fresh one behind on his chair—and one of the black-armored soldiers falls in behind him.
He was always abrupt when flustered, and if he’s in charge of a worldwide disaster, he probably is. That wasn’t a minute and a half. I add a new question to my Inquiries, though.
{Inquiry: What is Merge Prime?}
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My first instinct is to stay clammed up.
The guy who’s supposed to be answering my questions doesn’t seem to be a talker, either. That’s fine. I have a lot on my mind.
My first instinct is to tell the sweaty, twitchy boogeyman standing near my cell door to fuck off. Dad would be pissed, but he’s the least of my worries right now, and I doubt this guy’s got any power in SHOCKS. But on the other hand, I might be able to use this. I whisper, “Inquiries” to myself.
My aug activates at the same time Doctor Twitchy jumps. “What’d you say?”
►Inquiries (2/5)
►Where am I? What does SHOCKS want with me?
►What is Merge Prime?
I ignore him. I bet anything SHOCKS knows partial answers to both of these. I’m at 6/10 Stability, so if the answers reduce it by two each time, I can learn two more Truths. It’s like the Truth Club, but instead of learning Truths by talking to my friends, I need to do some digging, and I can’t do that while I’m locked in a plexiglass box pretending to be a hospital room. But it sounds like I’ll be allowed out if I play along.
That’s my sister’s lie, not my truth, but right now, it gets me closer to my goals. To leaving and finding Sora, Dad, Keith, and Alice.
“Doctor Twitchy, before I say yes or no, I want to know some things.”
Doctor Twitchy blinks at me. His mouth opens and closes like a goldfish’s. Then he clears his throat and, with what I’m sure he thinks is a brave face, looks me in the eye. “What?” He croaks.
“What is Merge Prime? Where am I? Are my family and Sora and Keith alright? What happened at my school?” I want to shut up, but I can’t stop the wave of questions now that it’s started. “Am I still a person? What’s happening outside? Is Duncan Towers safe? What about the basic living apartments—you know, at Ten-Mile Point? I need to know!”
“Uh, classified, classified, I’m not sure, classified, yes and no, classified, no, and no,” Doctor Twitchy rattles off. It takes me a minute to pick apart his rapid-fire answer. When I finally do, the only things he’s told me are that he doesn’t know if my friends and family are okay and that whatever’s going on, Duncan Towers and the Ten-Mile basic living apartments where we live are in the thick of it.
I can’t help it. I tear up.
“I can’t tell you any of the answers, but I know them,” Doctor Twitchy says. “If you agree to service as a Level A SHOCKS employee, I’m supposed to tell you what I can.”
I almost say yes right there, just to know the truth about some of this. But Doctor—Director—Smith’s stress and sleeplessness made him tell me more than he ever did when he explained thinnings and merges to me as a kid, and I know I can ask for a lot here. Doctor Twitchy’s probably been told to give me whatever I want as long as it doesn’t break a few rules.
“What can’t I have?” I ask.
Doctor Twitchy pulls out a card and skims it. The back of it has a yellow triangle with three arrows pointing out from a circle in the middle. “You can’t have access to the Joint Enhancement System except when you’re actively on a mission with Lambda-Four or training with them. You can’t have unsupervised time outside of your cell. You can’t leave the SHOCKS VVI facility unless you’re escorted by either Lambda-Four or a Director-appointed agent. And you can only have read access to the network’s Level A-cleared documentation and outside internet—not that it matters, since all internal systems are air-gapped for the foreseeable future.”
“Can I contact my family?”
“Not directly, but we’re willing to allow you to shoot a video message of no more than one minute, pre-scripted, to let them know you’re safe.”
That’s a lie. The way he reaches up to scratch his neck tells me it is. I narrow my eyes, and his face pales. “I mean, we’ll record it, then decide if it’s something we can pass on to the public. But I can’t commit to it. Sorry.”
“Fine. I want a different room.”
“Of course,” Doctor Twitchy says almost too quickly. My eyes narrow even more. I see him reach for a button on a lanyard around his neck, and his eyes flick to the plexiglass—and the soldier behind it.
For the first time, I really look at Doctor Twitchy. He’s balding, with a thin black beard coming in, and he looks even more tired than my ex-therapist. He’s wearing a white lab coat, a lanyard with a button and a key card hanging from it, and no-slip shoes. His eyes dart to the window again, and I realize I’m in control. I can ask for whatever I want if I don’t make him nervous enough to push his panic button.
“I want a new room—one with walls, not windows. Three meals a day, and real people clothes. I don’t care what they are, as long as there’s enough that I’m not wearing hospital gowns.” I start small. I want to see what he can do. He nods, and I keep going. “I want free access to the rest of this place.”
“Supervised and as appropriate for Level A personnel,” he says immediately. “Procedure, sorry.”
“Whatever. A computer or aug access to the internet and your internal network, and some books. Something interesting.”
“You’ve got it.”
“I want you to help my dad and sister, and I want to see Sora Ito,” I say, pushing for the big one. If I can get this, I can get anything.
“The first part we can do. It’ll take some work, but I think we can find a way to help them. The second part is denied.”
“Why?”
Doctor Twitchy looks at the guard again, and I realize I’m glaring. “Officially, you’re missing. You’re not the only missing person after your high school merged, so it’s not being questioned. If we get through this and sever your connection to your anomaly, we’ll ‘find’ you in a hospital, but if your friend saw you, we’d need a new explanation for where you are. As of May Twenty-Second, at 12:27, you entered SHOCKS custody. You’re a registered anomaly, and we can’t risk losing hold of you until we’ve figured out your properties or unbonded you from Object 573-V-1—“
I hold up a hand, tearing up again, and Doctor Twitchy stops talking. I need a minute to think, because the Truth, with a capital T, is that as long as I’m here, I’m a prisoner. It’s been fun to pretend to deny it, but I’m in the boogeyman’s prison, and even if they do move me to a new room, let me see people, or give me access to their files, I’m not going anywhere—not really. And that Truth, while not something I can use to answer an Inquiry, tells me a lot about my situation. “Do I have a file or registration?” I ask.
“Tw—yes. Do you want access to it?” Doctor Twitchy asks.
“Yes.” Whatever he’s going to give me won’t be the whole file.
“Does that mean you’ll work with Lambda-Four?”
I think for a minute. Then I nod. “I’m Claire Pendleton,” I say, holding my hand to shake.
He does not shake my hand. “Doctor Ramirez. I’m the head researcher on the 573-V-1/IO anomaly. You’re my project. I’ll…I’ll get someone from containment to work on your requests.”
He opens the door, and the guard stiffens and readies his rifle. I clear my throat. “Oh, and I don’t want to be an experiment.”
“I’ll…see what I can do.” That’s a lie. He won’t try, but he’s out the door, and my cell’s sealed before I can say anything else.
I flop onto the bed. There’s one more thing, but I’ve got a feeling they’ll give it to me without asking.
Instead, I rerun the numbers. Doctor Ramirez can’t be trusted. None of the boogeymen can. But he did tell me one important thing. He and Smith both said I’m an experiment. That means…
{Truth Learned: Where am I? What does SHOCKS want with me?}
{Active Skill Learned: Slither - Worm your way out of danger—or past it}
{Stability 4/10}
I can’t lie to myself anymore. It’s been nice to hold on to the hope that they’re trying to cure me of some disease, but I’m not sick. I’m fine. Better than fine. And they know it. My head swims and blurs as the Truth settles in. I’m in a lab or research base, not a prison or a hospital. That’s good. I can find answers in a lab. And maybe my new powers can help.
I settle down and wait. If Doctor Ramirez does his job right, I’ll move somewhere else soon. Hopefully, it’s somewhere with more answers, not less.
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My augs reboot over and over as Doctor Ramirez and some other labcoat-clad researcher fiddle with them until, at last, the words ‘Read Mode Only’ flicker into my vision, replacing the ‘Offline’ that’s been there. “You can get up now and open your other eye,” Doctor Ramirez says. My vision swims for a minute as ‘Read Only Mode’ fades, and I can finally take in my room.
I refuse to call it a cell, even though that’s the truth.
I have an airlock-style door that doesn’t open from the inside, with a pair of plexiglass windows so I can see the hall on the other side. The bedroom is a little bigger than the basic living apartment’s cramped living room and includes a bed and desk that almost look like they could be a fifteen-year-old’s but feel a little too ‘government agency.’ A computer sits on the desk. And, just as I suspected, the Revolver sits in its own chamber, embedded into the wall next to my door.
Ramirez—Doctor Twitchy, even now—and the other doctor, Bettis or something, leave, and I wander around in my hospital gown until I find a closet. Plain white T-shirts and cargo pants; someone’s looked me up. I grab one of everything—and an off-white hoodie—and slip into the bathroom.
When I’m out, dressed, and feeling less like a lab rat and more like a human, Smith is waiting for me. With a contract. “Clarice—“
“Claire.”
“Claire, signing this authorizes us to deploy you with the Lambda-Four Recovery and Stabilization Team as a possible combatant in abnormal situations. By signing this, you acknowledge that your status as an anomalous human overrides your Canadian citizenship rights. You also acknowledge the receipt of the perks and concessions within the contract.” Smith doesn’t look any less stressed. If anything, he’s more tired, more irritable, and less patient.
So, even though I hate it, I flip through every page, trying to make sense of legalese and check that all my conditions are inside. There’s text about some sort of help for Dad and Alice, but not until the current Qishi-Danger event is over. I raise my eyebrow, and Smith snatches the contract out of my hands. He reads for a second. “Best we can do. Every SHOCKS resource in the Victoria/Vancouver Island Control Zone is going into solving Merge Prime, maintaining containment on our Xuduo and Qishi anomalies, and keeping the public from panicking. We’re failing on all fronts, so tomorrow, you’ll meet Lambda-Four, get a crash course on working with them, and get to work.”
“Fine.” It feels like I’ve been saying that a lot today. I read through the rest of the contract, which includes phrases like ‘heretofore will comply with’ and ‘henceforth will be under the employment of,’ and then sign my name. My full name—Clarice Alora Pendleton—even though I hate it.
“Thank you for your future service, Clarice,” Smith says, once again ignoring my name. He grabs the contract back and starts walking to the door. “Doctor Ramirez will be by to introduce you to Lambda-Four tomorrow.”
I spend some time fiddling with my aug, trying to see what Level A clearance with SHOCKS gives me. It turns out it’s not much. There’s a list of Danger Levels for anomalies—Anquan, Geren, Xuduo, and Qishi. Anquan anomalies aren’t really dangerous to someone who’s ready for them, while Qishi could be province or world-ending. Geren and Xuduo fall in between.
Thinlings are probably Geren, then? They seemed pretty dangerous. Maybe lower? I’m not sure, so I keep digging. There’s no more information, though. What did James call them? I can’t remember.
I can also access a list of over one hundred anomalies in containment at this facility—which, I notice, has its name blacked out. Most of them are just quick descriptions and blacked-out text. So much blacked-out text. I also find my person of interest file. As I read through it, I can’t help but smile to myself. I was right. The playground, the bus stop, and basic living? They were watching the whole time.
Claire -
Just before I go to sleep—these lights don’t turn out unless I want them to—I spot two additions to the room. One, the security cameras in the corners, is unwelcome but expected. I didn’t ask for the other, but almost as much as the clothes, it convinces me I’ve made the right choice for now.
It’s a digital alarm clock, and it’s 10:53 pm.