The Collector

by Luna, David

  “I chose to stick with it,” Neil says. “You failed out.”

  “Far from it,” Leon fires back, “but I guess I can’t blame you, living inside the machine of misinformation.”

  “How long were you following me?”

  “I didn’t follow you,” Leon responds. He nods out the side window towards the three prostitutes, specifically focusing on the young one. “Eyes and ears everywhere,” Neil thinks to himself. Frank from the slums was right.

  “What happened to you?” Neil asks.

  “Maybe if I would’ve gotten hit in the head more. Been unable to think and become a sheep, like you.”

  “Is what you do for the people or to get back at the Agency?” Neil asks.

  “What’s the difference? They’re killing our city.”

  “Some of us need to die. Otherwise, we all do.”

  “Don’t waste your breath on that propaganda,” Leon snaps, his voice rising more than intended. “If only you knew how deep it really goes, which side you’re on, you might consider me a friend.”

  “Collectors don’t have friends.”

  “What about partners?” Leon asks, purposely choosing to use that word.

  Leon finally looks to Neil, his eyes burning a hole through Neil like lasers. Neil does his best not to react. No facial twitch. No body movement. Not even a squeeze of his sweaty palms. He remains oblivious on the outside when all he really wants to do is prod further. Does Leon know?

  “No wonder you can pass evals. That stoic face. That monotone voice,” Leon says. “But you’re compromised. It’s only a matter of time before they find out.”

  Neil narrows his eyes, still trying to figure out exactly how much Leon knows.

  “Do I have to say it out loud?” Leon asks, seemingly reading Neil’s mind to confirm.

  “What do you want?”

  “The name of your Dispatcher.”

  Neil knows what this means. Adrianne is the Brigade’s next target, most surely because of her insider knowledge of assignments – Collection Due Dates, locations, assigned Collectors. Citizens can volunteer up to three weeks in advance, so this information could help the Brigade plant traps and ambushes on hundreds, potentially over a thousand, assignments. It would be catastrophic. Just whispering Adrianne’s name would be her death sentence, along with a guaranteed demise for a handful of his colleagues.

  “You think Mazer will believe the word of a traitor?” Neil challenges.

  “He listens to you, doesn’t he?” Leon responds. “Besides, if he won’t take my call, we have other ways to notify him.” He powers on his own PDA. “Turn around.”

  Neil hesitates. Leon motions with his hand, insisting. Finally, Neil rotates in his stool to face the rest of the diner. The only things noticeable are a set of dirty dishes at one table and Bearded Bum at the booth, until Neil’s search moves outside the diner window. He spots a bright digital display across the street at a SectorLink Bus Stop where the current ad – displaying a notice about water ration conservation – changes to a public service announcement to REPORT SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY. Neil furrows his brow. “Was that a coincidence?” he thinks, until he watches Leon type on his PDA and the digital ad changes again. This time it’s the Agency’s Anti-Breacher Campaign where the word BREACHER is covered with a red circle and diagonal slash, the universal symbol for prohibited. An anonymous contact number is listed in bold along the bottom.

  “This is just a bus stop. How ‘bout the signs in main square? The really big ones. I hear Mazer has a great view from his balcony.” Leon begins typing on his PDA and reading aloud, “N…e…i…l...”

  Neil brushes Leon’s hand away from the device and rotates back around, having seen enough to be convinced of Leon’s leverage. He sips his water, eyes glazed over as he considers his lack of options.

  “You’ve already taken one life for hers. Can you do it again?” Leon asks. He pats Neil’s shoulder, pausing on the 3-stripe arm badge Slayter shredded in half yet still manages to hang on by a thread. He shakes his head at the tattered symbol before slipping away.

  A creak in the floorboard causes Neil to bolt upright in bed, taking aim with a shock baton hidden beneath his pillow. It’s only Inna moving towards the bathroom.

  “Go back to sleep,” she whispers.

  Neil lowers the baton and rubs his eyes, unsure what time it is later that night. He grabs his sample device to take his own sample. Light from the PDA screen illuminates his face as he runs his blood against the database.

  The screen locks onto Neil’s profile, nothing out of the ordinary. Leon hasn’t outed him just yet for what he’s done to deceive the Agency.

  Neil remains hunched over as he dwells on the decision before him. He considers calling Leon’s bluff, but then reminds himself of what he witnessed on the bus stop digital display. Leon could literally write anything he wanted and post it for the entire city to see. It’s like the power and influence of Quado, but stronger and more malicious. Before he works himself up with anxiety, he considers the alternative to try to convince himself how this could play out in his favor. Mazer is too smart to fall for a ploy by the Brigade, and he would undoubtedly recognize the accusations as a blatant attack aimed to divide the Agency from within when now is the time the Agency needs to be unified the most. For all he knows Mazer might even get a laugh out of it. He might celebrate in the Brigade’s desperation as they are forced to stoop to outrageous slander, and he might use this desperation to motivate the other Collectors as proof that the Brigade is on the defensive and the Agency is close to victory. For the slightest moment, Neil actually convinces himself of this outcome. He starts to relax and his breathing regulates until the sight of the needle mark in his forearm whisks the dream away and reality takes hold. Because of Wade and the other turmoil within the Agency, Mazer would still assign a young office administrator to look into the matter because even if he recognized it as a slander tactic and didn’t himself believe it, Mazer still has to appease the Board of Directors and prove his due diligence. The last thing Neil needs is some young intern digging into the Collection Records and somehow discovering that a sixteen-year-old girl from the slums was submitted to the tunnels in place of Inna Klein, the same girl Mazer saw Neil dance with at the gala and the same girl previously partnered with the man who helped the Brigade blow up Neil’s truck. There are too many interconnected pieces at play. Neil knows he was careful, but he also knows one can never be too careful.

  As his breathing begins to quicken again, Inna crawls across the sheets and places her chin to his shoulder. He turns to kiss her, his hand on her cheek. The softness of her lips takes him back to the first time they touched, the feeling of hope renewed. As she rubs her fingers through his hair, he concludes that in order to hold onto what he has with Inna, he needs to keep the focus off of him and on the Brigade while he continues to track them down and eliminate them. But to do that he needs time, and right now there is only one way he knows how to buy that time.

  In that moment, under the moonlight piercing through the blinds, the same white orb surely washing over Adrianne’s face as she sleeps unsuspectingly, Neil knows what he must do.

  Mazer addresses a crowd of two dozen fresh recruits inside the legendary Academy with Neil beside him. While both Mazer and Neil have been aged by the weight of the job, the recruits are young and hungry – baby-faced outcasts longing for the chance to feel like they belong.

  Most of the infrastructure in the city has deteriorated beyond recognition over the years. However, the Academy is newly renovated – an old three-story bread factory converted into a hands-on training center. A plethora of knobs, buttons, switches, and monitors line the panels surrounding the group inside of a control room. It’s quite similar to the engineer’s control panel over at the Public Access TV Station in Sector A.

  Neil struggles to pay attention to Mazer as he’s distracted with his own thoughts, specifically recalling Leon’s blackmail threat. On the
drive over, Neil casually suggested to Mazer about providing SEO protection to a handful of Agency employees. Not to everyone, but to those with important access levels. Mazer quickly rejected the notion, citing that the Brigade has no history of attacking Agency employees in non-authoritative roles and that they haven’t received any intelligence to suggest otherwise. Neil found himself suspiciously silent for the remainder of the ride as he did have the intelligence to suggest otherwise, but wasn’t willing to sacrifice himself in order to share it.

  While Neil fails to focus on the presentation, one of the recruits is the complete opposite. It’s Zack, part of the newest batch, his face shaven, hair trimmed, and clothes ironed. Taking this opportunity very seriously, Zack stations himself front and center where he hangs on Mazer’s every word, barely glancing over to Neil off to the side.

  “The choice to become a Collector should not be taken lightly,” Mazer states. “It’s a strict regimen of physical discipline, mental fortitude, and emotional solitude. To put it bluntly: you will be alone. Be honest with yourself. Can you handle that?” Mazer pauses to allow the question to sink in.

  No one flinches – no doubt, no reservations – exactly as expected.

  “Each of you has been selected for a reason. Your skills. Your talent. Your drive,” Mazer continues. “But look around you. Most here will fail. Few will earn the stripes needed from the Academy to graduate and become a Collector, and even then for those who do, not all will be able to rise to the challenge.”

  Zack glances around and grins at his competition. There’s no doubt in his mind he will succeed, a combination of silent confidence and foolish cockiness.

  “I want to invite one of our success stories to say a few words. Someone who I found in the same reform school many of you came from. Let’s all welcome Neil Vaughn,” he introduces.

  Neil’s palms are uncomfortably sweaty. He’s usually asked to spring to action, not say words in public.

  “Everything said so far is true,” he begins as he steps forward. “This is an elite team. Only the toughest, strongest, and brightest are selected. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. And why shouldn’t you? You have a direct choice in your success, in your happiness. We all have a choice in our happiness. That’s what I’ve come to learn during my tenure here. The things you will see. The things you will encounter. They will test you. Hold onto whatever it is that drives you to stand here today because if you forget that, you just might forget why you signed up in the first place.”

  Many recruits furrow their brows, confused regarding Neil’s motivation tactics. Even Mazer cocks his head. Neil notices, self-conscious that his words were unintentionally revealing. He brings his speech around with stock material he’s heard numerous times by past speakers over the years.

  “Truth. Honor. Service. That is what you represent. The future of this city. The Agency thanks you for your upcoming service,” Neil concludes.

  Mazer shifts gears in the presentation. “If you turn around I’d like to demonstrate an example of the new types of courses currently in development.” He points behind a glass window leading to the Virtual Training Simulator, currently a vacant grey room with blue grid lines. With the press of a button, the room begins to digitally transform as a computer-generated setpiece washes over the grid. In mere seconds, the dull space morphs into a virtual tavern – wooden, aged, a dive – where stock photos line the walls and an Agency infomercial plays on a TV in the corner. Besides a burning cigarette in an ash tray at the bar top, the only thing of relevance is a lifelike figure sitting alone at a table with a half empty drink in front of him. The simulation technology is impressive.

  “To set the scenario, this is a volunteer who reached his Collection Date and his Collector is now on his way for transport,” Mazer explains. “Throughout a career, a Collector will encounter a wide array of environments unique to each assignment. Can anyone properly assess this situation?”

  A Baby-faced Recruit squints as he scans the 3D setpiece. “Based on the look, I’d say it’s Sector A. Rustic.”

  “And crumbling,” adds another recruit.

  “Good. Knowing your city inside and out is important,” Mazer says. He works a keyboard on the control panel to initiate the first stage of the training module.

  Within moments, a Collector enters the tavern. If it weren’t for the brighter than usual gleam reflecting off his sleek black combat uniform or the hollow void hidden beneath his digital eyes, the figure could pass for a real human. The Collector approaches the volunteer at his table. Their nodding heads mimic a brief conversation before the Collector takes a blood sample and runs it against the database.

  “What else?” Mazer asks. “Would you expect to just walk in without following the proper precautions?”

  Silence, as the Collector confirms the volunteer’s identity and slides over a folded black flag.

  “Pay attention to the details,” Mazer says as he places the tutorial on pause. “Neil, what can you tell us?”

  It doesn’t take long for Neil to examine the scenario, a veteran who has seen it all. “Something’s not right,” he says. “The infomercial.” The recruits cock their heads, not seeing what Neil sees. “You have to read the situation. If this is his Collection Date, that’s the last thing he’ll be watching. He’ll be with a loved one, a partner, a friend – and if none are alive, he’d at least be remembering them in silence. Maybe with some sort of trinket.”

  Mazer nods satisfied, then turns back to the recruits. “Anything else?” he asks, still getting no response. “Congratulations. Your first lesson and you already failed.”

  “The cigarette,” Zack chimes in.

  “What about it?” Mazer asks.

  “It’s at the bar while the volunteer is at a table. It’s still lit. Half smoked. This man is not alone,” Zack explains. The recruits focus in unison on the burning cigarette as Zack continues, “Barring any sort of transfusion procedure, we know he’s a legitimate volunteer since he checked out in the database. So that means this is an ambush.”

  Mazer smirks, highly impressed. As he resumes the tutorial, the Collector motions for the volunteer to rise to leave. Suddenly, a computer-generated aggressor leaps out from behind the bar and attacks the Collector. One step ahead, the Collector whirls around and shocks the aggressor with his baton. The volunteer reveals a hidden knife and flails wildly, but the Collector evades before disarming him. The Collector binds the volunteer’s hands and drags both he and the aggressor away.

  Just then the 3D digital setpiece dissipates, leaving only the generic grey and blue gridded simulation room that constitutes the virtual training simulator.

  “Very good. You survived your first Brigade trap,” Mazer acknowledges.

  Zack assured Neil he wouldn’t disappoint him again after the mishap at the Wall, and he assuredly kept his promise. He and Neil exchange glances before the recruits interrupt and congratulate him, everyone all smiles and impressed with the Academy.

  Neil slides over to Mazer. “You’re training them to be bounty hunters?” he asks in concern.

  “Times have changed since you went through the program,” Mazer says. “I’m trying to protect them.”

  At the same time the demonstration at the Academy concludes, Adrianne is just leaving Agency Headquarters after a long day in the Dispatch Department. Her favorite pair of worn heels click against the pavement as she treks across the second floor of the Agency parking structure where the green fluorescent hue from flickering lights creates dancing shadows in the corners.

  Adrianne’s mind races faster than her legs, her thoughts elsewhere, which cause her to be oblivious to the white van parked alone just a couple spots ahead. Neil would immediately recognize this van as the getaway vehicle in the Brigade’s attack at the gala, but Adrianne doesn’t even hear its engine suspiciously in idle.

  As she passes behind the purring vehicle, the taillights flash red and the van speeds out in reverse.
Adrianne recoils to avoid being hit just as the brakes squeal to a stop.

  “I’m so sorry,” the driver says as he hops out and apologizes profusely. “Blind spot.” But the driver is Leon, purposely babbling and flailing his arms just enough to distract Adrianne while Chelsea leaps from the shadows and ties a burlap sack over her head. Adrianne’s muffled shrieks barely penetrate the burlap sack as Leon yanks open the van’s side door and Chelsea shoves her inside the cargo bay. The two Brigade members both hop back inside and peel off, the van’s tires screeching throughout the cement structure.

  It becomes clear why Neil was so quiet at the Academy. It wasn’t so much his nerves from public speaking; it was his guilty conscience weighing down on him. Because of him and the choice he made, Adrianne is gone.

  ******

  Outbreak

  I heard some people recently got sick with a nasty flu. They claim they fell ill soon after being stopped for a random identification check. This is a gross thought, but do Collectors and SEOs clean their sample devices between uses or should we all be worried about some sort of new blood disease?!?

  -Quado

  18

  It’s chaos at Agency Headquarters in the wake of Adrianne’s kidnapping. Office workers answer phones and bang away on keyboards as a News Reporter repeats the same few details on every TV and computer screen stationed on the fourteenth floor. She announces a tip line and link to an Agency sponsored website for any information leads.

  Mazer zones out the hysteria as he crosses by, the burden of responsibility crushing him from the inside. Ultimately he is Director of the Agency and accountable for all that occurs on his watch. He knows his Collectors are targets and at risk, which is why he ensures they are properly trained to respond to the Brigade’s evolving methods. That’s the reason behind the revamped virtual training simulations at the Academy. But he never considered the Brigade would stoop to this level. He recalls Neil mentioning it, but never once did he think innocent civilians were in danger. There is no way he can protect every worker or train every employee at the Agency – all of who he has to now consider as targets. The only way he knows how to provide a blanket of protection and get Adrianne back is to eliminate the Brigade once and for all.