by Jacob Gowans
The door opened and she strode in very much like a queen, took the empty chair, crossed her legs, and smirked at him. “Diego … Feels like I haven’t seen you in years. Ugly as ever, I see. Why is it so quiet here? Where are our brothers?”
“On assignment,” Diego answered in a growl. “What is so urgent that the fox has sent you to interrupt me?”
“The fox is busy too. I haven’t seen him in days. But I got the call, and I go where I’m asked to go. Send your questions his way.”
“I don’t answer to you!” Diego screamed and jumped at the Queen.
An invisible force slammed into him, and before he knew it, his butt was back in his chair, sliding until he banged into a panel. “You—how—you—you can’t blast!”
“Times are changing, Diego.”
“The fox hasn’t alerted me of this. Why hasn’t—Does he know? How long has it been since you last saw him?”
The Queen waved the questions away like they were flies. “I don’t keep a calendar. Nor do I impose information about myself upon the fox without his invitation. His mind is absorbed in the war.”
“Then what’s your purpose here?”
“The extraction program.”
Diego suppressed a smile. All this time he’d thought she knew about the program, but she didn’t have a clue. “What about it?”
“Everything. He wants me to know everything about it.”
“I wonder why he didn’t just send you to the extraction site …” Diego kept his voice neutral so she wouldn’t hear his suspicion. “Seems much easier.”
“I don’t question him.”
Something was wrong. The fox didn’t operate like this. Was someone impersonating him? Did the Queen know about it or was she also being fooled by the imposter? Diego’s lips twitched again before he spoke. “I don’t know everything about it. Perhaps you should have gone there instead of wasting my time.”
“I don’t know where the extraction site is.”
Diego narrowed his eyes on the Queen, watching her closely. “So the fox sent you to me to tell you its location. And that doesn’t strike you as odd?”
The Queen’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Either tell me or don’t, but you can take up whatever concerns you have regarding the fox’s behavior with him.”
“You want to go there today?”
“Now.” She sniffed the air with disgust. “This place stinks like a cripple.”
Diego couldn’t help but note her beauty. He hated looking at her face because it served as a constant reminder of his own hideousness. Every scar and disfigurement burned in the presence of her magnificence, and suddenly he hated Emerald with the heat of a blitzer.
Focus, Trapper said. Stop thinking about the girl who gave us the scars.
Diego snarled and then remembered the Queen. He had to give her information.
You don’t have to give her anything! The fox probably didn’t even endorse this.
But the idea of ignoring Trapper’s advice made Diego grin inside.
“The extraction program …” He searched his memory for everything he could tell her. “It was created side-by-side with the citizen surveillance initiative: the fox’s brainchild. Round up as many anomalies as possible by encouraging CAG citizens to be on the lookout for suspicious behavior. The theory was to get on-the-ground, real-time feedback, and identify anomalies faster than the NWG. The idea worked. People were willing to comply. They still are. Identified individuals go to cells for triage, and those chosen for extraction go to … the extraction site.”
“Get to the point, Diego. Where is it?”
“What was the first major catastrophe the fox orchestrated to implicate the NWG in terrorist acts against the CAG?”
“The Mexico City bombing.”
Diego tapped what was left of his nose to tell her she was right. “That wasn’t chosen randomly. The contract to rebuild the site into a memorial was given to Murrolems Construction Group, a subsidiary of N Corp. An underground facility exists there called the Extraction/Implantation Project.”
The Queen snorted and rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a dental clinic.”
“Every anomaly under the age of eighteen is sent there for extraction and implantation.”
“And those eighteen and over?”
“Incinerators.”
The Queen’s lips formed a tight grin. Diego wished he could read her better. Before another word was said, she stood up and paced around the room, running her hand over the consoles and operating boards as she moved. Diego watched her closely.
“What do they do there?” was her next question.
“I don’t know. It was never within my scope of oversight.”
She laughed and paused, her hands gripped the edge of one console, her face turned toward him. He still could not read her perfect face. “If I go to this site today, will they let me in or does the fox need to grant me access?”
“The fox will need to call ahead and let them know you are coming,” Diego lied. The truth was that both Diego and the fox could authorize visits to the site.
The Queen didn’t respond. “I’ll ask him to take care of it.” Then she left, and Diego sat in his chair, stewing over what had just taken place.
Someone is impersonating the fox, Trapper said.
“And the Queen …” Diego mused. “Something strange about her too.”
She can blast now. How did that happen?
“I have no idea.”
Perhaps it is all connected. But what can you do? You are on an island.
Diego had no answer for Trapper. It was wrong. Wrong. All wrong! He paced the room, scratching at his head, rubbing the face that Emerald had mangled years ago. “Why do people have to mess things up? Why can’t I just be left alone?”
You mean why can’t we be left alone?
“SHUT UP!” Diego had no one to go to for help. No one who understood. For years it had been only he and the fox. When he needed assistance, when rare bouts of loneliness hit him, or when he saw something that worried him, he called the fox.
Sammy, Trapper suggested. You need Sammy.
Diego laughed. It was a garbled, hoarse thing that reminded him of a toilet not flushing properly. He’d always liked its sound. But the laugh died when something caught his eye. A bump. A protrusion where there shouldn’t be. An aberration. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled across the floor, staring at it. His eye twitched the closer he drew.
When he stopped crawling, his nose and eye were nearly pressed up against the underside of his console where a small flat device stuck magnetically to the metal. Instinctively, he reached out to grab it, but his hand froze less than a centimeter away when Trapper yelled, Don’t! You don’t know what it is.
“She planted it,” Diego told the pest.
Exactly. To spy on us.
“To spy on me.”
If it has an accelerometer, she’ll know you moved it.
Gently, slowly, carefully, and more gently, Diego slid it until the magnet had nothing left to hold. It took him an hour to take the device apart, but when he finished he knew exactly what the thing could do.
“She’ll know everything I do,” he told Trapper. “Every call, every keystroke.”
The fox will, too, if she’s working with him.
“The fox trusts me.” Diego licked his four lips with a dry tongue. “This is your fault! Yours! You wouldn’t let me call him. You made me hide the evidence. What if they found out about Sammy and the girl and—”
Something has happened. You need to contact Sammy. He’s the only way we can get out of this mess.
Diego shook his head, but what if Trapper was right? “I don’t even know how.”
You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.
* * * * *
“Welcome to the Extraction/Implantation Project,” a pretty woman in her early thirties said to the Queen as she met her at the door. She had bleach-blonde hair and walked with short, tight steps. “I only learned
of your impending arrival ten minutes ago. My name is Judy. The Project Director has asked me to show you around and answer all your questions. He said you are to be given full access and security clearance.”
“Thank you,” said the Queen smugly. Her ability to impersonate the fox gave her access to any door she wanted open. “I want to know everything, so don’t stop talking unless I tell you to or interrupt you with a question.”
They were in an underground world of pristine chrome and glass. Ultra-security to get in and out. A place so perfectly quiet that it was obvious something horribly imperfect was happening. A sickly thrill ran down the Queen’s body, starting at the muscles on the back of her skull and stopping at the very base of her spine.
How could the fox have kept this place a secret from me?
Judy led the Queen to her office. A chrome door with the words Project Director – Assistant carved into the metal paneling with a laser. The door shut behind them with a hiss. The office was not very homey. Spartan, modern furnishings decorated it: a simple desk, three chairs, and a computer. No pictures, plants, or personal items proudly displayed. Nothing to give the Queen any idea regarding Judy’s interests, background, hobbies, or home life. Judy must have noticed the Queen’s curiosity because she smiled plainly and said, “I’m married to my work. I can assure you, we all are here. That’s why we were chosen. Depressing, huh?”
She wore a lab coat, and underneath it a fitted gray sweater and stylish khaki-colored pants. Her long blonde hair was pulled back, a black barrette held it all in place. Her legs were crossed, right over left. At least once every five minutes, the holo-screen on her com turned on and displayed an alert, only to disappear seconds later. From what the Queen could tell, Judy read and processed each message.
“The Project has been in existence for twelve years. The same year the Safety Laws were passed by Congress. Budgetary earmarks to the Safety Laws have kept the project well-funded ever since. All candidates for the training come from Aegis interrogation units based independently in the Thirteen cells. Over the last twelve years, our protocol has evolved. Each subject endures two rigorous programs. If they fail the first, they do not proceed to the second. We have a 75% failure rate in the first program, but that’s quite an improvement from our earlier years. It used to be as high as 90%. Fortunately our success rate in the second program is 100%.”
“Tell me more about these programs.”
“I’ll show them to you. The first program is called H.A.M.M.E.R. Habitual Acquiescence, Memory Modification, Education Reconstruction. The name is self-explanatory. Success in this program is vital to the second. All the subjects in H.A.M.M.E.R. are kept in the main facility.”
“Both programs are located here?” the Queen asked. “The building doesn’t seem that large.”
“The second program is located much deeper underground. They all want to reach the second level, I assure you. It’s one of the first things we condition into them.”
“Which anomalies go through this training?”
“Eleven, Fourteen, and Fifteen. Not Thirteen. Training for Thirteens and Aegis takes place in individual Thirteen cells. Once an Eleven, Fourteen, or Fifteen completes H.A.M.M.E.R., he or she is sent to S.H.I.E.L.D.
“S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for: Skill Honing, Intelligence Enhancement, Learning Development. Our aim is to create operative teams that exceed what the Alpha program of the NWG has produced. I think we are on the verge of success. We hope to do test deployments in real battle situations in the next four to six weeks.”
“What happens to those who fail H.A.M.M.E.R.?”
Judy smiled and re-crossed her legs, her eyes staring off to the side. “They are released from the program as efficiently as possible. We have a release scheduled today. Possibly two.” Judy’s smile grew and she wasted no time getting to her feet. “Let’s begin the tour.”
First Judy showed the Queen the offices of the project directors, staff psychiatrists, nutritionists, and other laborers. These offices were separated from the H.A.M.M.E.R. facility via a metal door nearly a meter thick.
“This type of impenetrable reinforcement surrounds the entire complex,” Judy noted proudly. “An amalgam of seven different metals. It’s impossible for Anomaly Fourteens to even dent. A couple even had the chance to try. It was … interesting.” She ran her fingers along the metal with a lover’s touch. “The stories I could tell you …”
Once through the door, they came to a room with Aegis guards watching a host of monitors. To their right stood a stack of weapons, including the new mini-blitzers that the Queen had heard about. The small surveillance room had four doors placed symmetrically around the room: the one Judy had brought the Queen through, one directly ahead, and ones to the left and right. The letters H.A.M.M.E.R. were scored into the floor with a massive mallet emblazoned in the background.
“Cells to the right, testing rooms straight ahead, and to the left … classrooms. Which would you like to see first? All are fascinating, I assure you.”
The Queen chose the cells, knowing they would be the most boring. She was wrong. Only half of the two hundred cells were occupied. “How long does the H.A.M.M.E.R. program take to complete?” she asked Judy.
“It all depends on the candidate. Some have completed it in less than a year, others take several. After the age of twenty-one, the chance that a candidate will succeed drops precipitously. To conserve our efforts on more worthy investments, we consider those candidates hopeless, and we release them.”
“Efficiently,” the Queen added.
“Assuredly.”
The Queen observed a few dozen cells. All the ones she peered into had occupants. They had metal walls, carpeted floors, beds attached to the walls. Some had more luxuries and comforts, others were bare.
“We have full control over the rooms. Candidates who behave badly see their privileges removed. The bed will lock into the wall so they have to sleep on the carpet, which can retract into the floor. Sometimes we soak the carpet in ammonia-scented water to make them miserable and cold. The walls can expand or shrink to disorient them or make them feel claustrophobic. Dozens of discomforts and rewards are at our disposal to modify or encourage certain behaviors. All tailored to the individual. That’s why our psych team is so important.”
“They keep the candidates from killing themselves?”
Judy smiled. “That rarely happens. Normally they breakdown—and very rapidly, be assured.” She pointed down the hall to one door in particular.
The Queen looked inside and saw it was empty, but the walls were covered in filth, brown and red.
“That candidate turned into an animal. Chewing on his fingers till they bled. Playing in his feces. Once they get to that point, they’re hopeless for moving to the next level. He was immediately released.”
Memories of her solitary prison cell in the Wyoming Ultramax Facility awoke in the Queen’s brain, followed by revulsion and anger. She had nearly gone mad, imagining herself to be a goddess—a phoenix—until the fox rescued her. For a moment, so strong was her indignation at the torment these children were experiencing, her fingers began to ache and throb as though she had chewed on them. She wanted to tear down the H.A.M.M.E.R. facility piece by piece. Hate twisted her stomach like a wrench.
The Queen yearned for her creams to help her control the pain and emotion.
“I’ve seen enough,” she said in a strained voice. “Take me to the other areas.”
The next area was the testing center. The Queen asked, “What sort of tests are they given?”
“Obedience,” Judy answered. “Obedience is key. To graduate from H.A.M.M.E.R. means we are absolutely sure the candidate will follow orders and be loyal to the CAG. We have a graduation test today for one of our most promising candidates. Would you care to observe it?”
“I would.”
“Very good.” Judy nodded and adjusted her barrette as they entered another hallway. “In the meantime, let me walk you through and familiarize you
with the testing process in general. We use a mix of several schools of psychology to mentally and behaviorally condition our candidates. Some methods are hundreds of years old, others are far more recent, fine-tuned by some of the brightest minds in psychology today. For example, here, look …”
The women peered through a window to see a small room of five youth, none older than fifteen, standing behind desks. Each desk had several objects on it placed in different locations. A teacher stood at the front of the room, a whistle in his mouth. He blew it once, no one moved except one girl, who barely flinched. The teacher walked up to her and touched her with a black stick. A blue spark shot from the stick, and the girl jumped. Then the teacher returned to his original position and again blew the whistle once. This time the girl did not move.
The whistle blew twice, signaling a flurry of action. Each of the students assembled the pieces with extraordinary precision. It was like watching an Aegis assemble a firearm from its various parts. One boy’s hand slipped as he moved to finish his assembly. The plastic piece dropped from his desk onto the floor, clattering loudly. None of the other students turned at the incident. They finished the assembly without mistakes. The teacher calmly walked up to the boy and administered a shock, much longer than the one the girl received. The boy’s body twitched for almost five seconds. The Queen’s hand traveled up to her neck as she observed, remembering perfectly her own shocks delivered via a collar. A strong electric tingle ran up and down her spine causing the hairs on her neck to rise and her skin to crawl uncomfortably.
“A simple test,” Judy explained. “All beginners. Let’s look at a more advanced trial … we should have two going on down the hall. I believe one is a desensitizing—yes, here we go. Observe this one.”
This group was larger and composed of older trainees than the previous one, most candidates were fifteen or sixteen years old. About ten students stood behind similar desks, scalpels in hand as they worked. Each wore a white apron and a face shield. On each desk was a clear glass bowl filled with water, empty otherwise. Next to the bowl were dissection trays, all with large goldfish laying on them. The fish were in various stages of dissection, some still twitching even as their organs were removed.