by Paul Teague
He is aware of his surroundings and he hears in the background the ‘getting to know you’ conversations of a team who are just getting used to their new environment. They don’t know what their mission is yet, but their workstations are familiar, just like it was in their training and orientation. It is almost as if certain memories, feelings or emotions are suppressed. As if a deft puppeteer were pulling his strings so subtly that you are barely aware that it is actually a toy before your eyes. So he just watches the life-forms on his screen and switches to camera. Just blackness. Night vision mode. Still blackness. Penetration mode. There they are! Two figures.
If he’d have looked a little closer, if the camera had given little more definition in that terrible, dark blackness - and particularly if that implant hadn’t been pulsing away madly, he might have realised that he already knew that woman whose face was currently taking up half of his screen.
Chapter Seven
News
I’m stunned by what Kate just told me. I’m a kid, how can I have a guest pass to this place?
‘What about the others?’ I ask. ‘Dad, Harriet and David, did they pass the biometrics thingy?’
Okay, I know that wasn’t the most eloquent way to express myself, but I was dealing with a lot of new information here.
‘Unfortunately not,’ replied Kate. There were two words in that short sentence, and I got an uneasy feeling that there might be a bit more information concealed by her brevity.
‘Where is Dad?’ I asked. I could hardly believe myself, such an obvious question, but if they were safe, why hadn’t I been reunited with my family yet? ‘Well, that’s where I do have a slightly less positive update for you Dan,’ Kate replied, I could see that she was gearing up to something. Like she was figuring out the best words to use to deliver bad news. ‘Your dad, brother and sister were not on the biometrics database. We can’t explain that. So they do not have authorisation to be here.’ Did I say ‘Bad news?’ I meant, terrible news.
‘Strictly speaking Dan, they were supposed to be outside when the sirens sounded. They got trapped in here when the bunker doors closed, they’re really not supposed to be here.’
This was getting worse. I had a feeling that so far, from her point of view, this was the easy bit that she was delivering. ‘Dan, your family have to stay contained during active operations as they do not have clearance to be here.’ ‘You are not subject to those same restrictions, but we can’t explain yet why you’re classed as Mission Critical, it may well be an error.’
‘In the meantime, although you have the freedom of the bunker, you are not yet permitted under bunker protocols to see the other members of your family.’
A Simple Mission
He knew that what he did was Top Secret work, he understood that. He knew that he couldn’t ask any questions and that orders had to be followed without question. That’s how these things work. If you can’t live with that, get a job at the local council offices. But this mission had troubled him. He was only supposed to have driven past those kids to get a real close video image of them. For face mapping or something like that, he wasn’t involved in what happened after his job was done.
It was simple enough for goodness sake. The black car that came with the job was military grade. It looked like a regular car, could even generate a random number plate to keep off the regular police records if need be. If you wanted to you could even have no number plate if you needed to be completely anonymous, and this thing was amazing to drive. In fact it drove itself if you had to take your hands off the wheel. A feature often required in really delicate operations. Like this one.
3-dimensional, biometric imaging. Whatever that means. He was a ‘hired hand’ not a scientist. He just gathered the data. And kept his mouth shut. And they gave him some great kit to do his job. So why had the car swerved itself at the last minute, killing that kid?
The Sirens
She approached the person sitting in the car, the faint, blue pulsing light beneath her skin working furiously. Whatever its function, it’s working overtime right now. Suppressing something very strong - an emotion, a thought, a connection. As she went to open the car door, a siren started to sound. She dismissed it at first, thinking it was part of the ‘tourist experience’ at the bunker.
It’s odd, even though that siren wail has been used since the Second World War, then adapted for the Cold War, there is still nothing that can come anywhere close to it when it comes to the sound of grim portent. You couldn’t replace it with a digital version for instance - there’s nothing that would come anywhere near to its gravity and sense of impending crisis. So when the siren continued to sound, the woman knew intuitively that something was up. It may have been prompted by that implant, but it fused her real thoughts, feelings and actions so seamlessly with those devised by her invisible puppeteer, that no observer would have been able to tell what part came from her real self and which part was artificially created.
‘Come with me,’ she demanded of the figure in the car, holding out her hand in a manner that showed that this was not up for discussion. It didn’t matter what this person was doing in her car, why they had her laptop open and how they even got in there in the first place. She knew with all the certainty that she’d ever had in her life that taking shelter in the bunker was the best - the only - thing to do.
Crazy how the device was able to suppress and hide her most powerful maternal emotions, yet seemed to miss the thing that landed them in so much jeopardy. ‘Dan’s phone!’ she exclaimed, halfway across the car park.
Ridiculous that she would risk losing time to retrieve a mobile phone. Like the animal owner who leaps into the river to save their dog, only to perish while the dog swims happily to the river bank. Crazy actions at crazy times. If it wasn’t for the seconds that she’d lost retrieving Dan’s phone, they’d have made it to the blast doors. If it wasn’t for those lost, precious moments she might have had time to glance to her right where a distinctive, black car was parked. Unusually, it had no number plate.
Chapter Eight
Uncertainty
I can’t say that I really understand the meaning of the word ‘Protocols’ but I certainly got the sense of Kate’s last sentence. ‘You mean I can’t see them at all?’ I queried. Kate’s eyes narrowed. ‘The viper?’ I wondered. ‘Dan, I’m sorry, but until we receive a full mission definition, we have to observe the protocols.’ That word again. And she’s using my name again. That’s wearing a bit thin now. I can hear the words coming out of your mouth, I can hear you trying to get some rapport going here, but what you’re telling me is not making me happy.
‘What’s mission definition?’ I think to myself. I’m learning a lot today. I didn’t hear the words ‘mission definition’ very often when Dad and I were laughing at YouTube videos of cats as part of my home education. In fact, there wasn’t much ‘mission definition’ in my life at all until I started talking to Kate. I decided to focus on what’s important. ‘So, where does that leave me?’ I asked. ‘You have the freedom of the bunker, and you may access all Green Zone areas,’ she replied, ‘But Red Zone areas are out of bounds to you.’
Funny how I can find myself in the most hi-tech place you’ve ever been, yet you can’t beat the colours red and green to tell you what you can - and can’t - do.
‘I also need to give you a tour of the bunker, I’m guessing it looks pretty different since you last saw it?’ A bit of an understatement that Kate. She’s got me at it now, I’m using her name in my sentences. It helps to build rapport you know. ‘What about Mum?’ I ask again. I’m not sure what I mean about Mum, I just want some sort of action plan. Some ‘mission definition’. ‘As part of standard, start-up schemata, we sweep the perimeters to check for life forms outside the bunker gates,’ Kate answered. ‘That process will be underway as I speak to you now, it’s a basic security measure, but in this case we’ll be looking for your mum.’ ‘Schemata’. Another new word to add to my vocabulary. ‘If I hear anythin
g, I’ll let you know straight away.’
Quiet
Had he recognised that face on the screen, he might have moved with more urgency. He certainly would have been very surprised to see that particular person on the screen in front of him. They were connected. It was some years ago and at the time it was very significant to both of them.
For the person who’d engineered this reunion, it couldn’t have had any more significance. Like a puppeteer working through the script in a performance, each step carefully devised and planned. To make sure it moves carefully to the crescendo, the plotted course, the final outcome. It was no random thing that they happened to be in this place at this time. But when they’d first met, neither of them had a family, it had genuinely felt like a random meeting back then. He now had Trudie and the kids. She had Mike, David, Harriet, Dan and Nat … Not Nat. Nat had died. But it was almost a lifetime ago for both of them. So much was different since then. So much water under the bridge, so many changes.
An apparent chance meeting that had been working up to this reunion all these years later. What could have made this event so important, that it was so crucial right now? It made no difference to either of them at this moment.. He was unable to recognise her because of the device implanted in his neck. She was unaware in the terrible darkness beyond the bunker blast gates that she and her young companion were even being watched.
Yet what was it that linked these two people so inextricably that it should be crucial to world beyond the bunker that they met once again at this place, inside this bunker? If they had met each other again under normal circumstances, they would have worked it out straight away. It was those terrible events that they got caught up in whilst they were both serving in the Army.
Global
Ordinary people for an extraordinary job. The future of humanity no less. The problem with the ‘high achievers’ is that they tend to be too good brilliant - at only one thing. They spend hours, days, months and years honing their skills, ridiculous amounts of time mastering every element of their profession and they become masters. But in becoming exemplary at one thing, they lose their focus and skills in many other areas. And that’s what he needs right now, for this mission.
Sure, these recruits need to be fit, bright, sharp and intelligent. But they also need to be average. Not just any kind of average though. They need to be the very best at being average. Being average means that you can do many things to an average standard. One minute you can be fit, the next you can be intelligent. You can pivot from that to being an average problem solver, an average technical operator or an average work colleague. Yes, in this scenario average at all things is exactly what he needs.
Because this mission has never been thought of before, let alone attempted, and even he cannot anticipate what skills, challenges and problems lie ahead. So in this scenario, average is about as good as it’s going to get.
Sadness
He was used to being pretty impartial about his work. He knew it had to be done, most of the time it was just surveillance or moving people from one place to another. But this was something else. He had not been responsible for the car swerving. His hands were off the wheel, the car took over the minute that was detected by the sensors. The car’s internal computer knew to adjust speed, maintain distance from kerb, scan for all life forms and ‘anticipate’ other vehicles. It could ‘recognise’ double yellow lines, ‘Stop’ signs, ‘Give Way’ road markings and even a school crossing attendant. And this was a military grade vehicle.
While commercial organisations made a big deal about driverless cars and how they were ‘the future’, they were wasting their time, the Military had been onto this concept for many years. If it works with drones, it works with cars. ‘Military’ might not be the right word to use though. It was definitely ‘Military-like’, it felt governmental and it was definitely top secret. But he wasn’t quite sure who he worked for. And that didn’t matter to him before he - before his car - hit that child. But it’s all he’d thought about since then. He was no killer.
He had no instructions to kill on that day. He’d been unable to stop it, just forced to look into the eyes of one of the children and watch it happen. The only way it could have happened is because of computer error. Unlikely. He hesitated to say ‘impossible’, but it really was pretty well impossible. As impossible as anything could be. No, he was pretty sure it had something to do with the man who’d distracted the mother as he’d just driven by. The face that he recognised straight away, even though he was completely out of place. He should not have been at that place at that time. It was his boss, Dr Pierce.
Chapter Nine
Last Moments
She rushed past the black car, failing not only to notice its familiarity but also the very obvious fact that something was not quite right. It had no registration plate. Had this been anything other than a desperate race to get back to her family, she might have glanced back.
Something out of place might have registered with her. Had she glanced back, she would have seen that number plate change before her eyes. From being totally blank, to generating a random registration number. Something that the police would never be able to trace. Had she noticed what was going on, she might have wondered ‘What kind of car can do that?’
And if the device in her neck wasn’t doing its job quite so well, she might possibly have realised that she’d been travelling in that very car only a few days earlier.
Tour
It seemed on the surface that I was talking to the most pleasant person on the Earth. She even used my name regularly in her sentences. To build rapport. Why did I get an uneasy feeling whenever Kate spoke to me?
She appeared to be helping me, giving me the information that I was asking for. I wanted this, I wanted these answers and this information. So why did it all seem to be bad news? Everything she said seemed to be a block - a ‘No’ - yet the way that she said sounded like it was a positive thing.
I knew what Dad meant about that guy in HR now. ‘A viper’. He must have felt the same thing when he left his job. I didn’t feel that I was much further forward. What did I know? Mum was missing, but was probably okay.
They were looking for her. I couldn’t progress that, I was in their hands on that one. Dad, Harriet and David were safe. I hadn’t seen them with my own eyes, and even though I was unsure of Kate, I did believe her that they were okay at least. They might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The worst that could happen would be that they were restricted to a certain area. The Red Zone probably.
And what about me? How did I get lucky? And why am I on the ‘biometric database’ or whatever she called it? I know I’ve joined a lot of random web sites but I’m pretty sure they’re no more sinister than Minecraft or Runescape. I’m certain I didn’t get myself onto any biometric database. I really must read the terms and conditions more carefully next time I register. I decide to focus on the facts. Dad, Harriet and David are alive and fine. Mum is alive - and I hope she’s fine. I’m certainly feeling much better after my time in the MedLab - or whatever it was that Kate called it - and the burger and chips that I just ate seem to have had amazing recuperative powers. ‘Am I okay to take a look around?’ I ask Kate, ‘Get a feel for the place?’
‘No problem!’ Kate replies, pleased to get away from the tricky and troublesome topics I suspect. Actually, she looks pretty relieved that I’m changing the subject. ‘Kate,’ I ask, remembering that there’s one more thing that I want to ask her right now. ‘How did this place change like this, from the old bunker that we saw? It seems incredible, it’s like it’s a different place.’ Clearly happy to move to other topics, Kate introduced me to yet another new word. Who needs home-ed when you get to spend the day in a hi-tech, space age military-style bunker? It was doing wonders for my vocabulary.
‘Transmogrification,’ Kate declared. It sounded like something unpleasant that might happen to a cat. ‘Transformation using nanotechnology,’ Kate continued, ‘A techn
ological based process that completely changes the interior of the building. It’s not like technology that I’ve ever seen before, I think I’m probably as amazed as you are.’
‘How does it happen while we’re right in the middle of it?’ I wondered.
‘When the sirens went, everybody inside the bunker went to the Holding Area. The bunker staff recruited for this mission had been briefed to do that, and our first role was to move any civilians who were in the vicinity into the Holding Area with us - pending formal clearance to leave and assume our duties.’
‘We got to your Dad and brother and sister just in time to secure them with us in the Holding Area.’’
‘The change process happened while the lights were out,’ she paused as if considering whether to tell me something, ‘We’re still not quite sure why there was such a long delay with the lights coming back on.’ ‘How come I got away with it, as I wasn’t inside the safe room with you?’ I ask, genuinely intrigued by this conversation now.
‘You got lucky,’ Kate replies, ‘The entrance is only a superficial transformation, if furniture, fixtures and fittings are involved I’m guessing it gets a bit messy!’
Whatever is was, it was pretty incredible. This place has been completely transformed. I know it’s the same building, the shape and layout is the same, but it’s like the team from that old Changing Rooms show on TV have been let loose on the pace after drinking way too much coffee. ‘How come you came to get me in those anti-virus suits too?’ I asked, squeezing out one last question.
‘We hadn’t had time to ascertain if the corridor was 100% free of any external contamination at that time, so protocols state that until we’ve completed that process, we have to use the suits … sorry if we frightened you!’ she added in, remembering that she is talking to a youngster rather than an adult.
I ask Kate if it’s okay if I take a look around on my own. For someone who just spent 24 on his own in the dark, I’m feeling quite plucky now. Burgers and sleep are amazing things, they can completely restore me. ‘Fine,’ she says, you’re on surveillance wherever you go and your biometrics will only give you access where you have clearance.’ I wasn’t sure if this was useful information or a warning. As in ‘Don’t go anywhere you’re not supposed to.’ ‘No problem’ I said and I was on my way. Fuelled by a space age burger.