by Thom Parsons
That's enough! Send it now! He shouted to himself as he hit send.
A huge crashing noise rang out behind him, forcing him to turn around fully and assess the situation. Ethan had kicked the door so hard that it had come clean off it’s hinges, leaving a huge gap, easily big enough to fit a man through!
Owen looked back at the display, pleading that the video would be ready to go. But he was shit out of luck. The video file was still rendering and preparing itself to send. Archer's heart dropped once he noticed how long it was going to take to complete it's render cycle.
[5 MINUTES UNTIL RENDERING COMPLETE.]
No no no no. Thats 5 minutes too long, this needs to be done now!
Owen looked back over his shoulder, only to see Ethan mid-climb over the makeshift desk barrier which he had put in place only minutes before. I can't hold him off for 5 minutes. This video needs to be sent NOW.
Owen couldn’t possibly wait for the video to render properly, and he couldn't let Ethan Darkes get to it either. It left him only one option. He had to force it to leave the system now.
Luckily, Archer knew exactly how to do that. But forcing this file to send now could cause any number of problems. For all he knew, the video file that would land at his work system on the day of his wedding anniversary may be unreadable, or even scrambled beyond repair.
But, Owen had no time to weigh the options in his head. This was his only chance to get a message out. I hope to God that works. It was the last thought that ran through Owens head. He felt a slight pinch at his back as a huge surge of electricity ran through him.
Seconds later darkness overpowered him.
Chapter Ninety Two
Date: December 15th 2035 (Present Day)
Location: Unknown
“So, you were involved with the conception of PRoGRaM all along?” Victoria asked slowly, trying to take in everything that Owen had just explained to her.
“Yes,” he replied. “I was a part of the original PRoGRaM Development team. I worked on the PRoGRaM device from its very conception almost two years ago.”
“And you had no idea?” she questioned, finding it hard to believe.
“None whatsoever. That night in November was wiped from my memory, as well as all my memories of ever being a part of the PRoGRaM Development team. The parts of my mind relating to PRoGRaM went back for years. Ethan must have put so much work into finding each and every one of those memories and wiping them from my mind.”
“Interesting,” Victoria stated. “Very interesting. But surely you would have noticed that huge gap in your memory? And what about that story that you fed me earlier? The one about how you were a detective turned private investigator, who got invited into the dream job of being involved in PRoGRaM?” she asked. It was clear that she still had so many questions. There were still so many things that just didn't make sense. Exactly how I've been feeling over this last week.
“All of that,” Owen began. “Was phase two of PRoGRaM.”
“So what’s phase two?” she asked impatiently. “I've heard it in your story, but you’ve never actually explained to me what it is.”
“We’re almost there,” Owen answered, holding both of his palms up to her, trying to get her to slow down with the questions. “Let me finish the story now. Then I’ll answer anything you don’t understand at the end.”
Victoria nodded back, agreeing to his terms. She was eager to find out just what was going on after all. “I’m listening.”
Chapter Ninety Three
Date: Unknown
Location: Unknown
How much time has passed? Owen thought as consciousness began to return. And where the hell am I?
It seemed like hours and hours had passed since he had blacked out. Wait. I didn't black out. I was attacked, remember? He kept his eyes closed, welcoming the comfort of the darkness into his life. An excruciating headache was setting in quickly, and the pain that was searing though his body was terrible, but it was the thirst that struck him the hardest. His entire body was dehydrated, and there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it.
He was lying down, his body rigidly horizontal. Slowly, he decided that it was about time that he opened his eyes, yet he was weary of what he might wake to see. Bracing himself for the worst, his eyes fluttered open.
But to Owen's surprise, there was nothing there. He was surrounded by nothing but more darkness. The only thing of note was a faint humming noise somewhere in the distance.
Am I in a dark room? Or is that…?
Owen began to move his head around, only to realise that something wasn't right. There was something there, something over his head, obstructing his vision. He tried to shake it off but it wouldn't budge. He wasn't sure exactly, but it felt like some kind of black bag, or maybe a balaclava. He tried to force himself upright so that he could get the mask off of his head, but only then did he realise that his hands and legs were both bound.
Panic started to set in. He was trapped with no means of escape. He was at the mercy of Marcus, Alex and Ethan. Dauntingly, he suddenly realised where he was.
PRoGRaM.
Like an itch he could’t scratch, Owen could feel them in his head, messing with his memories. Is this how it feels to be in the other persons shoes? He thought. Was this the pain and discomfort that he had been inflicting upon others when he was in their heads, erasing their memories? It was the first time that he had ever been on the other side of the gun. He just hoped that the feeling would pass once he got out of PRoGRaM.
What are they here to take? Owen asked himself as he went over the possibilities in his head, but he cut his thoughts short as he remembered his contingency plan. The one that he had put into play ready, just in case this exact scenario happened. The video. He remembered. I sent the video so that my future self could sort this mess out.
His entire body suddenly jerked slightly. Owen realised that he must have been lying down in the back of a moving vehicle all along, one which had just stopped moving. That's what that sound was earlier, that faint humming. It was the sound of the engine. Am I in the trunk of someone's car? Where am I? What the fuck are they going to do to me?
That was when the faint, distant noise of the engine stopped. Owen's ears retuned themselves. Now, all that he could hear instead, was the sound of the rain pouring heavily down on the outside of the vehicle. A few seconds passed before he heard a door nearby sliding open. I'm not in the trunk of a car. Owen realised. I'm in the back of a van!
Through the black mask that covered his face, Archer could see a small amount of light come through, despite the clearly terrible weather outside. Those traces of light in his limited field of vision flickered. Somebody was nearby. Somebody was coming for him.
The van rocked ever so slightly as somebody stepped in through the now open door and walked towards where Owen lay. The footsteps came to a halt mere centimetres away from him, and through the mask, Archer watched as a dark figure crouched down. Whoever it was, they were crouching so close to him that he could clearly hear their heavy breathing. Suddenly, Owen felt a cold, wet hand grab one of his legs and hold it down tightly. The dark figure cut the leg restraints that had kept his legs bound together.
Roughly, they grabbed him by his arm and pulled him up to his feet. As much as he wanted to, Owen just couldn't fight back. His arms were still bound behind his back and he had no way of seeing where he was going with this dark black mask covering his face. He had no choice but to follow the unknown man's lead as he was pushed forwards, made to walk towards an uncertain future.
“Watch your step,” a voice said to him in a dark tone. A voice and a tone that sounded nothing like its owner anymore. The voice of Marcus Ortega. He sounded worn out, beaten, darker and more gritty than usual.
Owen edged forwards slowly, padding the ground with his left foot before taking any steps, carefully trying to find where the flooring of the van ended. His foot hit thin air, so he carefully stepped down onto the pavement outside, o
nly to be greeted by the heavy rain that he had heard earlier. It instantly drenched the hood and the clothes that he was wearing.
He was marched forwards by Marcus, being prodded in the centre of his back with what felt like the barrel of a pistol. Owen followed the mans silent instruction without question. I'll make you pay for this. I'll make you pay for whatever you're about to take from me…
Marcus kicked out Owen, catching him off-guard by striking him in the back of the legs, forcing him to fall haphazardly forwards down onto his knees. He felt the cold, metal barrel of the gun against the back of his head, keeping him still where he had landed.
“Whatever you’re taking from me,” Owen began to shout to Marcus over the noise of the rain. “I’ll take worse from you when this is all over. From all three of you! I heard you all talking at the house! I have a contingency plan, and I’m going to make sure you bastards have nothing left after Im done with you! I knew what I was getting myself into, but bringing Annie into this just showed me that you bastards have no decency, no respect for our work. That’s why when all this is over, I’m going to use PRoGRaM against you. I promise you that.”
Despite not being able to see anything, Owen could hear what was going on around him perfectly. The two of them were somewhere quiet, somewhere in which there wasn't much going on. What could they be taking from me?
Over the sound of the rain slamming into the floor, Owen heard a car drive past quickly. Just seconds later, there was a squeal of brakes and an incredibly loud crash, quickly followed by the screeching sound of metal upon metal. The sound of two cars colliding with powerful force.
It caused Owen to flinch, but it wasn't quite over yet. Once the noises of the huge crash seemed to have settled down, there was a final squeal of tyres as somebody was seemingly speeding away from the scene of devastation. And just as soon as it had began, it ended.
“I’m sorry Owen,” Marcus whispered behind him. It was the last sound he heard, as the following gunshot that rang out sealed the fate of his memories.
But little did Owen know… They weren’t taking memories away from him.
They were creating new ones.
Phase Two.
Chapter Ninety Four
Date: Unknown
Location: Unknown
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
A calming sound, a relaxing sound.
But not the beeping sound that Owen was used to… not the one that told him he was leaving PRoGRaM. It was the other sort beeping sound. The bad one. The one that came from those life support machines in hospitals.
Am I alive?
What the hell happened?
Where am I?
Why don’t I remember anything about this?
So many questions were running through his mind, but for the life of him he just couldn't come up with any of the answers. The last thing that he remembered was… the crash. Annie!
He suddenly remembered what had happened, what had brought him to this point. Owen tried to move his body but was only met with searing pain throughout his entire nervous system.
“Mr Archer, you can’t do that! You can’t move!”
Owen froze, unaware that anyone else was even inside the hospital room with him. Blinking away the pain that was shooting through his skull, he slowly looked around the room. His eyes quickly found a man at his bedside, yet Owen hadn't noticed him before now. Clearly, his brain wasn't ready to work with him yet.
“Mr Archer, how are you feeling?” a deep voice nearby asked him.
Owen opened his mouth and tried to talk, but his entire body ached, right down to his vocal chords. He lay there with his eyes closed in a room filled with silence. Gradually, he summoned the strength from deep within him to say just one word.
He moved his head to face the direction that the deep voice had spoken to him from. “Annie,” he whispered back, hurting all over as he said this one word. The vibration from his vocal chord sent a shockwave of pain which rippled through his body, forcing him to open his eyes.
“Mr Archer? What do you remember?” the deep voice asked him. This time, Owen could see the man who was speaking to him. He was a forty year old man with a solid jawline and short cropped black hair. The eyes that were hidden behind the man’s thin glasses were terrifying, and were studying Owen intently from the foot of the bed. He wore a long white doctors coat and around his neck hung a stethoscope. He looked nothing like a Doctor, but Owen didn’t judge on appearances. Regardless of how this man looked, this was the guy that was trying to save his life.
Mentally, he tried to will together his most recent memories, but even this caused him agony. “In the car,” Archer started to say, speaking in slow, short sentences, feeling pain every time he opened his mouth. “Annie was driving. There was a man. At the side of the road. He had a gun. A hostage. An Execution. I saw him. He had a black mask or bag over his head, and there was a man behind him, but he had his hood up… holding a gun…”
Consciousness left him. He was pushing himself too far, too fast.
Darkness surrounded Owen. How much time has passed now? His eyes flickered. Archer could feel himself slipping to and fro, in and out of consciousness, hearing voices talking around him echo in his head. He felt like he was floating, stuck inside a void in his own mind. He finally managed to open his eyes once again, only to see the same doctor that had been treating him earlier looking over some charts from the bottom of his hospital bed.
“Mr Archer?” the doctor asked, assessing whether or not he was conscious. As Owen locked looked up, he locked his eyes with the doctor’s, giving the man the answer that he was looking for. He walked around the bed to Owen and then sat himself down at the side of him. Suddenly, Owen was aware for the first time that he was completely and fully conscious. His eyes were open, ears were wide, and brain was sharp. Owen was feeling a lot better than he could remember ever having felt whilst being stuck in this room, aside from the minor headache that was pulsing through the back of his brain.
“I believe you have suffered some kind of… psychotic break from your accident,” the doctor explained to him slowly. “The police interviewed several people from the scene of the crash and not one of them report seeing a man with any sort of weapon. Do you understand me Mr Archer?”
This time, Owen didn’t try and reply with words. Instead, he just nodded his head, attempting to save his own strength.
“Now. I'm going to run some tests on you, to make sure that the crash didn’t cause any permanent brain damage. You’re going to be here for a while, Mr Archer, so get comfortable. We have a lot of questions we need to ask you.”
Owen understood everything that he was hearing, but at the moment, all he could think about was Annie. Why haven't they told me how she's doing? Why are we not sharing a private room together?
“Annie,” Owen managed to say, speaking just that one word, letting the doctor know that he desperate for an answer.
“Mr Archer… Your wife…” the doctor said slowly, as he sat still at the side of Owen's bed. “I don’t know how to tell you this sir.” He started to shake his head from side to side slowly, before looking Owen dead in the eye. “She didn’t make it.”
Somewhere deep down, Owen already knew the answer. It took just somebody else to tell him for him to realise the truth.
Annie was dead. Gone. The victim.
Did they get the guy driving the van? Owen questioned himself. I hope so, because otherwise that fucker won’t know what hit him when I get a hold of him.
As he stared outwards into oblivion, Owen felt a single tear run down the side of his face. He hadn’t cried in a long time… Longer than he could remember.
The doctor took this as a sign and decided it was time to leave, knowing that Owen really needed to be alone. Gently, he stood up from the mans bedside and walked towards the exit with the clipboard in his hand. But as he opened the private room's door and prepared to leave, he first turned back to speak to Owen.
“I’ll
be back shortly to check up on you,” he said softly yet clearly from the doorway. “But for now… I think you need some time to yourself.” On that note, he finally turned away and headed out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Then, Ethan Darkes walked down the unfamiliar corridors of this PRoGRaM world's hospital, and into an adjacent room to meet his colleagues.
“So?” Marcus Ortega asked, standing up anxiously to meet Ethan as he entered the room. “Did it work?”
“He didn’t even recognise me,” Ethan said proudly as a malicious smile creeped across his face. “Gentlemen. Phase Two is a success. The memories that we implanted are a success. He doesn’t remember a thing."
Marcus and Alex both beamed in response to Ethan's announcement. Collectively, the three of them began to shake each others hands and exchange congratulations. This was an achievement to be proud of. This was the start of something new. This was Phase Two.
"What do we do now?" Alex asked Ethan as the excitement began to die down.
"Now?" Ethan answered, pondering his response. "Now it’s time to force a few more fake memories in there.”
Marcus nodded. It's a shame that this had to happen to Owen… But memory creation! This is what it's all about. This is what we've been working towards from the very beginning. Complete control of the mind.
"What other memories do you propose?" Marcus asked.
"Well," Ethan said, sitting down in a nearby chair whilst he thought about the question. "We've already put the fatal car crash in. I suppose we can throw a few more memories in there before we throw him out onto the street."
"Why not put a funeral for Annie in there?" Alex suggested quickly off the top of his head. "Also, why not change some of Owen's history around? Try and implant a memory that's not as exciting as a car crash. See how that works out?"