Manipulator (6 page)

“What happened in there?” Nick asked seriously, cutting down the light hearted conversation that Owen had started. He readjusted his black baseball cap that hid his short, cropped black hair, and put emphasis on his rough, yet intelligent face. “How does someone like that know about PRoGRaM and what it’s capable of?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Owen said honestly. “We found some disturbing things out in there. But there’s not much else we can do tonight. We need to think about this one, interrogate him face to face first, see what leads that brings up before we force him back into PRoGRaM.”

There were often cases in which Owen and his team would’ve had more than one memory to analyse or erase. That meant several trips through PRoGRaM. It also meant a longer operation. It wasn’t a matter of going in and out of PRoGRaM multiple times on the same day. Doing that could seriously overload anybody’s brain. In cases like these, Owen and his team had to stage the operation out over a longer period, usually over several weeks. The local NYPD Precinct was always happy to help keep a hold of some of their subjects in the downtime, even if they didn’t know what they were holding them for. Nobody dared argue with the FBI.

“Lets get him out of here,” Owen said. “Nick, if you and Kate could run him down to Kate’s precinct, that would be great. Kate will explain to them this is a FBI Special Projects issue. I’ll stick around here a little while and sort out the paperwork. I’ll send off the information to both HQ and the relevant people at the NYPD. Looks like tomorrow is going to be a slow one, so shall we all meet here in the office about ten?”

“Sounds good,” Nick said before turning to Kate. “Could you give me and Owen a minute please?”

She nodded and walked away, giving Nick the privacy that he wanted. “Owen,” he called out after his friend. “Can I have a word?”

“Sure," Owen replied. He noticed that Kate had headed off away from him and Nick, he knew what was coming. Today was his first day back on the job since the accident. It wouldn’t be unlike Nick to let that topic of conversation slide for the entire day, Owen knew that he was going to want to talk about what happened to Annie sooner or later.

“How you holding up?” Nick asked, quietly and seriously, addressing the elephant in the room, at least between the two of them. Kate had no idea of what was going on in Owen’s personal life. He wanted to keep it that way.

“I’ve been better,” Owen replied, vaguely, knowing exactly where Nick was going with his questions. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk openly about it. Not yet.

“It’s only been two weeks,” Nick said. “You sure you’re ready to get back into this game?”

Two weeks since the accident.
Owen thought.
The time has flown by.

“Yeah, Nick, I’m ready. It’s time to move on.”
 

“If you need more time…”

“It was an accident Nick,” Owen said bluntly, cutting him off, looking directly at him as he spoke. “There was nothing that I could have done.”

Annie.
It had been two weeks since his wife had died in a car accident. Two weeks of feeling empty inside. “Let’s just drop it for now, okay? Trust me Nick. I’m fine.”

“Well, you know where I am,” Nick said, knowing full well that there was no use trying to talk to Owen about something he wasn’t willing to. It would have been like talking to a brick wall.
He’ll come around in his own time.

On that note, the three of them all went their separate ways. Kate and Nick moved Eli, whilst Owen decided to call it a night and head on back to his apartment on the opposite side of the city.

For Owen, It felt like an incredibly long drive home that night, and he was getting exhausted. He took solace in the fact that at least now his team had nothing urgent on for a few days, except for the case with Eli, but that could end up being one of those slow-going jobs. Although saying that, every case that they worked was different, there was no telling how long they would end up working on Eli for. There were never any black and white defining set of rules for each and every job. Everything was a shade of grey, and you just had to take each job as it came, treat every situation differently.

It was late, just after midnight when Owen got back into his apartment. It had been one hell of a long day and he was tired. He realised that he hadn’t done any of the paperwork on Eli to send off to HQ, but at this point, he didn’t care. He collapsed backwards onto his bed and looked up at the ceiling. Then Owen let the world just drift away.

But little did Owen know, that world was about to be turned upside down.

Chapter Nine

Date: December 15th 2035 (Present Day)

Location: Unknown

“So there you have it,” Owen said, leaning back into his chair, satisfied. “PRoGRaM. Perception Recreation Geist-Reality Manipulator. The ability to enter memories. To simulate near enough any place in the world. To see what secrets people have been hiding. To erase specific memories from people’s minds altogether. I think that sums that up? Do you agree?” he asked.

“Yes,” Victoria said slowly, nodding her head and writing down some final notes. “You paint a rather vivid picture of this technology, Mr Archer. Now… onto the matter at hand. I need you to confirm that everything that took place regarding the events involving the three men known as Marcus Ortega, Alex Morgan and Ethan Darkes was done so personally, and that the United States Government, including the FBI, is in no way, shape, or form involved.”

Owen knew this bit was coming. He knew all along that this was the point of the interview that mattered the most to Victoria and the people that she worked for. To get him to denounce the role of the FBI in his actions, to confirm that he acted alone.

“I worked for a Special Projects Division of the FBI that owns one of the few working PRoGRaM machines. We were contracted to take people’s memories away from them, and to solve crimes by using people’s memories of past events. But business turned personal. The FBI’s Special Projects Division had nothing to do with what happened. I acted on my own. People died, and I went off the rails. But I did what I had to do to find out the truth.”

“And you realise that you broke a hell of a lot of laws in doing so? Which is why you’re here now?” Victoria said, reminding him of his current situation.

“I’m well aware of that,” Owen said emotionlessly.

“Then what kind of leader takes his team on a stupid and deadly personal mission like the one that you recently undertook?” Victoria asked, the anger almost showing in her tone.

“They didn’t know what they were doing,” Owen lied. “They had no idea that they were acting on my own personal authority, and not under the authority of the United States Government or the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I take full responsibility for their actions.”

Owen and Victoria both sat in silence, starring at each other.

“Mr Archer. What kind of person are you?” Victoria asked, breaking the tension that hung in the atmosphere.

“You ask what kind of person I am? Well, if my job is anything to go by, and the way that everyone in my team looks up to me, only for me to lead them astray, then there’s only one kind of person that you can call me, isn’t there?” Owen said, almost spitting the words out as he said them.

“And that is?”

“A manipulator.”

PART TWO: ANNIE ARCHER

“There is no such thing as accident; it is fate misnamed.”

Napoleon Bonaparte

Chapter Ten

Date: December 9th 2035

Location: Unknown

I’m here again. Being fired through random events in my life by my own subconscious. I’ve been here so many times that I know I'm dreaming before anything even happens.

The feeling that surges through me tells me where I am.

Dreaming.

Dreaming again.

That stupid, recurring dream. I know how it goes, but I’m powerless to control myself. I'm powerless to wake up. Here I am, forced to sit and watch the action play out in front of me, like a soul trapped in a possessed body. Like a puppet with someone else pulling the strings.

I’m floating, surrounded by darkness and emptiness. My own eyes are forced shut by some unknown force controlling me. But even without my sight, I can feel the world around me coming to life. The immediate and incredible sound of metal scraping against metal forces itself into my ears. I begin to wake, expecting to find myself surrounded by machinery capable of making such noises.

But no.

The noise stops, and I open my eyes. Instead, I find myself inside a building in a small, peaceful office room. The source of the noise? Nowhere to be seen.

I’m sat behind a desk looking at a man I’ve never seen before in my life. “Welcome to Special Projects," the man tells me. “Welcome to the world of PRoGRaM.”

But in the blink of an eye, it’s gone. It’s all gone. The chair I was sitting in has turned into a wooden bench. The scenery all around me… changed.
 

I’m no longer inside, but instead I’m sat in the middle of a graveyard. I look over my shoulder to see a church nearby, its bell ringing, calling out. Calling to me.

“It’s time Owen," a female voice nearby calls out to me. I stand up, but I can’t look at her. I’m too lost in my own sadness to make eye contact, to see this woman's face. I walk a long, lonely road across the graveyard, towards a huge crowd of people standing out in the middle of the grassy area. The woman, the one who spoke to me only moments before is nowhere to be seen. There’s just me, walking alone in the blazing sun towards my destination.

“In the midst of life we are in death,” a deep voice calls out in the distance, coming from the centre of the huge crowd of people ahead of me. I make it to the edge of the group, but nobody seems to notice me. Nobody pays me any attention as I walk around the large group of people, trying to find a slot which I can squeeze through. I just want to see what’s happening… In the end, I find a space and push my way through to the front to see just what it is that’s happening here.

“Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust,” the man leading the recital calls out as he throws some dirt down onto a coffin. I look up, scanning the faces in the crowd, and lo and behold there I am. I see myself standing on the opposite side of the circle, looking down onto the coffin, saying goodbye.

Goodbye Annie.

A flash of lighting, a change of scene. Once again, the world dissolves from one reality and into another. Everything I was looking at moments before is gone, including the sun, only to be replaced by the moon.

It’s dark here now, wherever the hell 'here' is, and the rain is throwing itself down, soaking me through. I’m standing in the middle of a crossroads, seemingly in the middle of the city, with four endless roads stretching out into the infinite.

Redford Avenue.

And here, there’s one lonely building, sitting on the corner of the crossroads. No features, no colour. Nothing about this building stands out, except for one thing, and one thing only.

A red door.

I look down all four roads to see nothing and nobody nearby. The rain is still hammering down from above. The puppet master controlling me forces me to walk over to the nearby red door, only for me to find that it's locked. I rub my hand down the smooth red wood and over the metal numbers forty five, which are right in the middle of it.
 

I'm forced to walk around the windowless house, and inspect it closely, yet I see that there are no other entry points. After a full lap of the building, I end up back at the red door, but it doesn’t want me to go inside. Not yet.

I turn around and walk away from the house, until I reach the pavement. For some reason, I cannot step down onto the road. Instead, I perch on the edge, waiting.

The rain is still firing down, bouncing hard off the ground. I’m soaked through, but I don’t mind. For some reason I stand and wait.

Almost as if I’m waiting for something to happen.

It's true. I know that something is coming.

A creaking noise behind me brings my mind back from it’s emptiness. It came from the house. It came from the red door. I turn to see that it’s slowly opening. A slow creak releases as the door opens wider, but this time, I could have swore that it called my name.

Owen.

Owen Archer.

It’s calling to me.

The door stops moving, now fully open. Although, I cannot see what lies within. All that exists is a small ray of light coming from the open door and piercing the consistent darkness all around me.

It wants me to step inside.

Into the red door.

Into 45 Redford Avenue.

My body feels torn. Should I stay by the road, by the emptiness that surrounds me? For some reason, this body that I’m in feels compelled to stay here. Almost as if it know’s something is going to happen. Almost as if it’s afraid of what lies in wait behind the red door.

Or instead, do I turn away from this crossroads at which I stand, take a leap of faith and walk towards the light?