by Craig Boldy
She asked me the usual questions; how I felt, were there any issues with the technology and if everything had gone ok. I told her about the delay in accessing Grigory’s memories, and she made a note on her tablet, mumbling about increasing the gain as Wilson topped the stairs.
“Well done. I hope you are not too tired, we’ve got to debrief the Director before she flies back to Washington.”
“That’s fine. Do I need to go like this or can I move over to Hanson?” I secretly hoped he said, Hanson. It was so much easier in his body than in mine.
“Dealers choice, but I assume you’re going to move over” I smiled and jumped into Hanson without even thinking. It was so easy now; I didn’t even have to use the mental exercises.
Someone had found some padding for the table, for which I was grateful. I didn’t have to spend the first few minutes trying to rub the numb feeling out of my shoulders and backside.
I opened the door to find Wilson stood the other side, checking his emails on his phone again. He smiled at me and waved me along as we walked towards the meeting room.
It turned out to be the same room we had used for the previous briefing, although now with a lot fewer people. Filch and Sutton were sat next to each other, bent close as if discussing something, whatever it was, it looked a little heated. They were attending to make sure the tech had performed as expected.
Wilson stepped over to the Director, who was halfway through an inch thick file. She looked up as Wilson greeted her, looked at me once and beckoned us to sit.
She hadn’t changed much from the day she had given me the award. I wondered if she remembered me, although I was wearing a different face today.
We spent some time with Wilson giving an overview of the mission specifics. I hadn’t noticed at first, but a clerk was sat in the corner and was dutifully taking everything down on one of those tiny typewriters you see in courtrooms; a stenograph I think they are called.
Once the overview was finished, we had a few minutes to sit while the Director finished reading the file. Everyone in the room took the opportunity to get a drink from the usual steaming pots of coffee in the centre of the table, one decaf and one fully caffeinated.
Wilson poured a drink for the Director and then another for himself. The others poured for their own, adding sugar or cream to their personal tastes. I refrained. I'd decided coffee just wasn’t Hanson's drink without the copious amounts of milk and sugar needed to make it palatable. I would eventually get around to asking for some fruit tea. Every time I saw one of the cafeteria employees, it completely slipped my mind.
Once the Director finished the file, we continued with Filch and Sutton asking various questions about how quickly I had been able to control the host and how the interface between the host’s body and my own brain had felt. I told them I had been able to control him almost as easily as I could Hanson, and told them about the delay in memory retrieval.
I did ask them not give vodka to a prospective target; they looked glum when I told them about the hangover and how debilitating the initial few minutes had been. They began talking to each other, almost as if nobody else were there, about feedback and interfaces. During a momentary break in their discussion, they thanked me for the information and, after being excused by the Director, left the room, still deep in conversation as they walked out.
Almost as soon as the door closed, Wilson refilled both his and the Director's cups and asked me to provide detailed information on the mission. I gave them a blow-by-blow account of my devious plot. Wilson was obviously impressed, giving out a small chuckle when I told him about leaving the whole ship defenceless. The Director was utterly stone-faced. She didn’t smile or frown once during the entire debriefing.
I was wrapping up my account when a knock came at the door. The Director shouted "Come" and a short bald man entered with a file in his hand.
"The Intel you asked for, Director." He said and placed the file in her hand. The Director thanked him, and the clerk turned and left the room without acknowledging either Wilson or me.
We sat in silence for a few minutes while she reviewed the Intel. Suddenly she said "Preliminary Intel from the Coastguard takedown of the ship you infiltrated. The captain reported attending a fishing trawler in distress on their patrol route. When they attempted to render assistance, they came under fire.
Apparently, someone shot out one of the bridge windows. They responded with warning shots and found the vessel dead in the water with smoke coming from their engine room. When they boarded the ship, they found that all the crew were armed but mysteriously none had any ammunition in their weapons and, even stranger, one of the crew had sealed himself in the weapons room, preventing anyone from rearming." I was glad that the shots I heard had been the warning shots of the Coastguard and not some holdout trying to warn them off. "The report also states they were let into the weapons room quite readily by the occupant who then, let me read this verbatim, 'became a different person, attempted to attack the officers in the room with his bare hands and then proceeded to claim he had no memory of the day up until that point'.
I have to say that you did some excellent work. They arrested the entire crew on weapons smuggling charges, recovered all of the weapons and ammunition and seized the ship. We also have a lead on the customs official they have been bribing to let them dock."
Wilson and I looked at each other; pride in our faces.
"Let me tell you, I was sceptical of this project at the start. However, you managed this without any loss of life, and barely an injury, overall a good first mission. Let's see if we can keep up the success. Dismissed."
∆∆∆
Chapter Seven
We walked out of the room beaming and went to get something to eat. We sat in the cafeteria and ate the special of the day; grilled cheeseburgers and fries with a side of coleslaw, and I went over everything again.
"I wish I could have seen the look on Grigory's face when you left him, and he woke up to find a room full of fully armed Coastguard officers and no weapons," Wilson said, wiping the last of his fries around his plate to mop up the errant globs of melted cheese.
"Are we going to get the credit for this? As far as the Coastguard is concerned, it must have just looked like a happy accident."
"I suppose the higher-ups will know what's going on. With the size of the seizure, the captain of the Coastguard vessel will probably get a commendation and be in the news for a bit. We're an off the books section of a generally covert organisation, at least for now. At the moment every success is going towards keeping the lights on around here."
We spent the rest of the day chatting and sharing old stories of our days as field agents. Wilson seemed to open up a little more than he was willing to previously. Talking about the old days was bittersweet. It was a life I had put behind me until coming to this complex and reminded me of some of the things the accident had taken from me.
It wasn’t until one of the cafeteria staff asked if we would leave so they could close up we realised the sun had gone down and the hour was late. We cleared away our plates and went our separate ways. I went back to the medical section to give Hanson's body a break, I’d been spending more and more time in his body, and the medical staff, including Sutton and Filch, were itching to run tests to make sure everything was optimal. As much as Hanson gave me the opportunity for a little freedom, I didn’t want to spend a day in his body, laid on a bed and strapped into an EEG or wirelessly hooked up to Filches diagnostic tablet, so I changed back into my own body and wheeled myself back to my room. I wasn’t tired enough to get the nurses to put me to bed quite yet, so I reviewed the information on the project one last time, going over some of the candidate selection files. I read my own and smiled at the assessments given. I was so engrossed I didn’t realise the time, and it wasn’t until my head started to buzz from the overconcentration I finally gave in and called for the nurses.
It didn’t take long for them to undress, wash and redress me, there wa
s a slight issue with my catheter bag, but they replaced it. I barely remember them leaving; I was asleep before the lights went out.
The next day I woke to the sound of a closing door. One of the nurses must have been in to check on me and closed the door a little heavily. I was a light sleeper at the best of times but must have needed the sleep as I almost drifted back off. I decided to let my body sleep on its own for a while and started the process of moving over to Hansen.
I started my usual mental exercises, but the corridor refused to form. I tried again, but still no luck. I was about to try a third time when I promptly fell back asleep. I woke a little time later and tried again, but the same result.
I called for the nurses and Filch came at the same time. At one point, I would have been a little embarrassed to let anyone see me in such a private and compromising position, but I felt at ease with Filch in the room. She too seemed at ease with me, not even batting an eyelid as the nurses dressed me and put me in my chair.
I asked her what was going on, a little more directly than I had intended. They were taking the amplifier down for the day to investigate the power surge the previous day which had prevented me from moving into my target.
I have to admit, I was not in the best of moods when I realised I would be confined to my own body. This was made worse by the fact the cafeteria were serving my favourite meal, spinach and ricotta cannelloni. I was not capable of eating it myself, and I refused to let anyone feed me, even though plenty offered, even Wilson and Filch asked if I wanted help.
I didn’t want someone to do it for me. I wanted to do it myself. I immediately took all offers of assistance as pity. I know they were asking as friends, but I was too proud to let anyone help.
Fed up with my day, I decided to go to bed early, eager for the day to end. I was secretly hoping a full day in my own body would be exhausting enough to let me sleep all the way through the evening and into the next morning. Unfortunately, this was not to be; had I been able to, I would have spent the night tossing and turning, as it was I spent it staring up at the ceiling trying to make myself sleep by sheer force of will.
The next morning came slowly, agonisingly slowly. The nurses came at their usual time, and I was wide-awake waiting for them. The moment I was settled in my chair I wheeled myself out and over to the amplifier room.
I found the room almost empty. Filch was up on the platform running the last of the diagnostic checks as I got there. I chatted to her for a while as she divided her attention between the system, her tablet and me. She could have probably finished earlier if I had not been distracting her but I had to wait another hour before everything was back up and running.
The whole previous day and this morning I’d felt like a prisoner, counting the minutes to release. Except, that is, for the hour I spent talking to Filch. She was so easy to talk to and continuously made me feel at ease. I made a mental note to ask her out for a coffee before immediately squashing it. I very much doubt she would want to spend any more time with me than necessary.
I heard the hum of the generators ramp up and wheeled back to my room. I moved over to Hanson's body the moment my corridor would form. Unfortunately, this was before they could get him ready and I spent the first few minutes coughing and choking after I pulled the breathing tube back out of his throat.
I took the opportunity of the downtime to go swimming. I always loved the way the water felt as I glide through it. I swam lengths until I started to tire and then just floated on the surface, bobbing in the tiny waves I had created. I closed my eyes and listened to the gurgle of the water in my ears, happy to be free.
I floated there for a while until I heard a splash and water hit my face. I righted myself in the water and looked around. There was a dark shape under the water kicking towards the far wall. I watched for a second as Filch emerged from the water, droplets cascading from her long slick hair. She looked at me and smiled as she dipped her head backwards, into the water, gathering it together into a band she had around one wrist and securing it into a ponytail.
“You look surprised to see me. It’s not your own private pool, you know.” She smiled again and ducked underwater to kick off from the side of the pool, coming up about a third of the way down and transitioning straight into front crawl. I watched as she did an Olympic turn at the other end and sped back towards the far wall.
I swam towards her and held onto the side as she re-tied her hair. Satisfied, she ducked under and kicked off again. I followed, and we swam side by side for a few lengths before she started to speed up. A race then, was it? I sped up to match her, and we hit the turn in unison. I was a little in the lead as we breached the surface and she sped up again. I managed three or four more laps and called it quits. She continued relentlessly up and down the pool without slowing for a few more lengths and then stopped at the far end of the pool.
“Good race. Maybe next time.” She turned and lifted herself out in one smooth action. I watched as her body emerged from the pool and cascades of water ran off her swimsuit and down her muscular calves.
I realised I had been watching her a little longer than was polite at the same time as she looked behind her to see me staring. She smiled and said goodbye as she grabbed a towel and walked off into the changing rooms, wrapping the towel around her shoulders as she walked. I sank into the water, resisting the urge to watch her walk away and feeling embarrassed to have stared.
I stayed in the pool for a little while longer, floating and chastising myself. I decided I would wait a while before getting out and apologising and closed my eyes once more. The water was soothing even if the lack of sensation was a little like being in my own body,
I opened my eyes to see the grey walls of my room. Confused I looked around. I was back in my own body, which meant Hanson was still in the pool. I panicked, closed my eyes and immediately jumped back into Hanson. I opened my eyes underwater, my lungs burned as I fought my way to the surface. I erupted from the water and clambered out as best I could. I flopped onto my knees and elbows, choking and spluttering the water from my lungs.
What had happened? Had it become so easy to move between us that I had done it without thinking? I decided to keep this slight error in judgement to myself and staggered out into the changing rooms to get dressed. I would have to be more careful in the future.
A week went by without much happening. Sutton spent his time devising and putting me through various tests. He was making sure continual use of the amplifier wasn’t having any ill effects on either of us. I made sure to do everything he asked as carefully as possible and avoided talking about my lapse. As the lead physician for the project, he had the authority to suspend it if he thought it was having an adverse effect on the participants. Once he was satisfied and had submitted his report and the tests ended, I spent my time concentrating on the gym equipment, steering clear of the pool. I told myself it was due to the accident, but I would be lying to myself if I thought it wasn’t at least partly to avoid Filch in her swimsuit. I still hadn’t worked up the courage to talk to her properly, and I didn’t want to have the conversation on the poolside.
Before long, we received details for another mission. The day of the briefing was another bad day for me. They had taken the amplifier down again for diagnostics, and I spent the previous day confined to my own body followed by another long night staring at the ceiling of my room, so I wasn’t feeling the best as we all filed into the room.
I half listened to the Agent speak, lost in my own thoughts. By the time I ghosted the target, I would already have access to more information than the agency could provide, so I just sat and thought. After the last mission, I had realised I didn’t actually need to return to my own body. The corridor was my minds way of making sense of the data fed into it from the tech and the network. The doors without handles I had seen were my brain's way of telling me there were other access points, even if the firewalls prevented me from accessing them.
I could have moved right from Grigory
into Hanson and bypassed my own body altogether, but I was too eager to give the information I had to my colleagues, too worried a change of brain would dissipate the memory faster.
I felt the mood in the room change and looked up from my empty coffee cup to realise the briefing was ending. It had become an odd little habit of mine to hold a cup in my hand just for the pleasure of being able to, even though I never actually had any coffee. I stretched my legs a little under the table before I stood up; after so long immobile I had developed a need to remind myself I could move my own limbs.
Everyone filed out of the room as soon as the briefing was over; I assumed they were eager to get back to whatever tasks they had postponed for the meeting. I was just about to step over the threshold when a voice stopped me.
"Do you mind if I keep you a few minutes?" I turned and nodded, stepping back into the room and closing the door. The Director waved me into a seat and sat on the table just off to my side. I figured she was doing the classic powerful body language all senior agents seem to learn; maintaining a height advantage to try to make them more commanding while sitting on the table to reflect a more relaxed meeting. For once, her face displayed more than just the blank, stern expression to which I’d grown accustomed. When she smiled, I half expected the sides of her face to crack.
"Firstly let me say that Project Puppeteer seems to be progressing well. You have taken to this as the proverbial duck to water." She smiled, and I sensed a 'but' coming, "But I have to tell you, this thing is expensive. We are burning millions of dollars just keeping the lights on around here. Your first mission was a great success, and I have to say if you keep pulling results like that, then this project is undoubtedly justified.
However, an unwritten graph maps these kinds of projects, success versus allowable operational expense. In short, if you stop succeeding, the project is deemed too expensive and is shut down. If that happens, you go back to your own body. Permanently."