Originally posted: ZogBlog::road less traveled, on October 30th, 12:01p EST.
Vacation?
There I was hiking over some rock formations in Colorado with my girlfriend (already you can tell its a dream). The feel of the sun, and the light breeze were intoxicating. Even though I'm looking out over a beautiful landscape and a spectacularly orange sunset, I can't seem to get my eyes off of her. I study her face... nose, cheekbones, ears, and I even see the hint of a smile line forming.
Screech!!! Snapping out of the daydream, the metro train screeches to a halt. Monday mornings are always difficult for me, and seeing her now as we stand waiting to reach our stop - makes it even more difficult. I remember our vacation as if it was yesterday, which is pretty close - because we just flew back to DC yesterday. Continuing to take her in, I remember fondly how romantic and relaxing it was.
I close my eyes, in part because I'm tired... but also to savor the memories. Standing so close to her now it's as if we were still there. I open my eyes and once again look at her. We've been together for some time, and she has become very important to me. What's odd is that her hair is dark brown - almost black... even though I've always dated blondes. I never thought this was on purpose, and always said that I preferred brunettes. It just never worked out that way.
I close my eyes again, thinking of her hair... and it takes me back to the sunset, and then on to that hole in the wall hotel. As we had waited for our keys, I remembered looking around... and then just out of the corner of my eye, my memory zooms in on a reflection in the rounded mirror right above her head. Her hair is blonde in the reflection. Huh? That's not right. Perhaps my mind is playing tricks on me. Her hair has always been dark-brown or black. So why do I remember a blonde reflection?
There isn't much time to ponder it, because we have arrived at our stop. Somehow, I'm deeply disturbed by this memory... I'm not sure why, because it had to be a trick of my memory. Yeah, that's it.
Back to Work
Getting in to work is like getting in to Fort Knox. There are 3 checkpoints - each requiring different credentials, cyphers, or remote monitoring facial recognition. For some reason, after the initial guard desk my coworkers and I have to take stairs down below ground level to reach the first cipher. On the way there are (3) baseball-sized hoverbots that identify us using a fairly sophisticated facial recognition algorithm (if this is failed, we are cut down by the hoverbots' high powered lasers. Once we punch the number into the cipher (15135), we are greeted with another winding hallway that leads to a turnstyle requiring a badge-reader, and the 2nd guard desk.
At work all day I can't help but think about her hair. Why do I remember her reflection as blonde, even though her hair has always been brunette?
Gradual Dawning
Various inconsistencies start to appear in more of my memories. Some thing's are just not adding up - and I need answers. Somehow talking to my girlfriend doesn't feel right. So I begin to talk to my friends, some of whom have experienced the same things - bits and pieces that just don't seem to add up. We're not sure what it is, but the general consensus is that it's related to our job somehow. Our jobs just happen to be silly-stupid-high secret research into memories. Specifically enhancing/extracting memories that can be stored and played back. Ostensibly this is for determining who a murdered persons' killer was... we just extract the memory, play it back, and bingo! There's your killer.
We're all very concerned that our research may have somehow been turned against us, so we decide to enter work after hours to get to the bottom of it. The front-desk guard could care less, but the hoverbots will identify us and call the guards, (vs. kill us because we already work there)... so we'll have to avoid them somehow. Perhaps a little stealth and shadow walking? The bots are not to sensitive to light, and the lights are normally out at night. Unfortunately, they are sensitive to sound. Finally, the second guard is always a pain in the ass and will be our biggest challenge. How do we get around him? Someone mentions a solution - though I can't remember the specifics (social engineering perhaps?) - and we decide the time is right to get our answers. So off into the night we go.
Answers Lead to Discovery
The first guard barely notices us as we walk past. [It sounded like he was taking a nap.] The hoverbots appear to be stored in their respective alcoves with the hall lights mostly off. As we begin to sneak past them, one of them notices me and begins to power up and extricate itself from the alcove. My three compatriots recognize the sounds and begin to sprint for the stairs, sliding down the long metal ladder-like column down all 3 floors to the cypher locked door.
I begin to make a sprint, but think wiser as more sound will surely gather the attention of the hoverbot. So I take the to the shadows and slowly, quietly make my way to the stairs. Miraculously, I make it to the stairs. Sliding down the ladder identifies my location and with hoverbot on the way I plead to my friends to open the cypher locked door; and naturally they are so nervous they keep screwing up the cypher.
WIthin seconds of being identified, and shortly before the hoverbot would have called the guards... they finally enter the cipher, and we rush through the door.
Phew! That was close. Now the really hard part. Convincing the second guard that we must be allowed into to continue our research - despite the late hour.
I wish I could say we were successful. As my friends were hauled off to places unknown, the lead guard sets me aside. He informs me that he was quite aware of my memory discrepancies - as I have shown an amazing propensity in the past to break through the false memories. My eyes bulged... in the past... they've done this to me before.
The guard continues with the story of my blonde beauty who, unfortunately had to be terminated due to my last mission failure. Terminated? My blood wasn't boiling over the blonde because I could hardly recall her - she was nothing more than mists of my mind now. A vague, scattering of memories among the stronger ones implanted about my love for the brunette. I should be upset over her loss, but my mind fixated on one very important detail. My last mission.
I'm not an agent. I'm not even particularly big, or well trained in martial arts (if you've seen me, you know that my 5'8" frame is nowhere close to intimidating). How could they have felt that I was the man for the job... let alone thought I could accomplish it? Failure should have been an assumption, but I had little time to mull this over as he continued to offer me a deal.
Because of my incredibly strong mind (the traditional memories don't work), the company must motivate me through other means. Turns out I'm a romantic, and that has been my hook.
He offers the hook again. The brunettes life, or I accomplish the mission. Strained, tired, and feeling like a trapped rat. I accept the mission. As long as this is for her...
The Mission
It turns out that the mission is murder. Kill a General that works for the president, or lose my girlfriend. The mission is a blur, but somehow I find myself outside the general's limo pulling a neo-esque ass-whooping on his guards, and ultimately twisting the general's neck until I here a slight popping sound. Mission accomplished. The getaway is less elegant, but I escape nonetheless.
The Future
They trapped me to do their bidding. I have no idea who that general was, or for what purpose I was forced to terminate him. For now, my girlfriend is safe.
But for how long? Fade to black.
posted @ Thursday, November 18, 2004 3:28 PM