WnW 3.b – Questions

I tilted my chair back precariously, playing with the balance just to keep myself from drifting off. The work felt unending. I put in twelve hours yesterday just to come in and find more paperwork on my desk, more fires to put out, more regulations on our actions being placed down from above that made it harder to deal with the fires.

My team was tracking fifteen different reports of Shaper sightings in the area. Each one required scrupulous attention to the facts of the case. The level of danger to the public would determine its priority, but it was so hard to tell. We couldn’t address Shapers directly unless we were sure they were going to be taken into H.E.S.P. custody. And even then there had to be coverups and legal hoops to jump through so that the public didn’t find out the whole truth. 

Aberrants were a whole different headache. Monsters with varying levels of intelligence, all bent on harming humans. There was one that had been picked up in the suburbs on camera, but it was somehow slipping through our fingers each time we got close. It was keeping me up at night, even when I was ‘done’ with work. Talking with Claire was the only way to calm my mind these days. She was a balm to my soul.

But I couldn’t call her while on the clock. So I had to just sit and stew in this interview room, waiting for this routine screening to finally start. My team was scrambling to help people while I sat and did nothing.

Boredom and stress mixed together to give me a recollection from my youth.

—

Winter felt different as a kid. It was a blanket of magic over the world, making breath look like smoke, it made my feet glide across the ground, and it made even normal looking streets change into pillowy snowscapes. The cold greeted me and stayed with me until my strict parents decided I’d spent enough time with it and could come back inside. Lights twinkled along eavestroughs, even in the more poverty stricken areas of Sillwood. It was the winter holidays. School was on break and I was on my way to toboggan with my friends.

I ran along, barely keeping my feet underneath me on the icy road, excited to tell my friends about the gift I was expecting this Christmas, a reward for getting top marks in my classes. My cheeks grew redder as I thought about the gift I’d already received from one of the girls in my class. A bracelet with silver stars and pink hearts. I didn’t have a crush on her but it made my heart beat faster regardless.

A puppy was playing in the snow up ahead and I smiled as I tried to wipe the fog from my glasses to see it better. Its head turned towards me, ears perked to the sound of my plastic sled dragging behind me. Then it bounded towards me.

My thumb slid across my glasses and the blurry form of the puppy turned into a much larger dog, drool slipping out between bared teeth, eyes wide as it let out a deep bark. It ran at me, hair raised on its back, barks turning into a rumbling growl. 

I froze, the cold snapping down around me as every thought of my future fled, leaving me alone. The dog leapt, mouth yawning open like a bear trap.

Someone came between us, their brown hair swishing into my face and I caught a whiff of sweet smelling smoke. There was a terrifying snarl as the person fell on top of the dog, their arm caught in its jaws. It was a boy my age with long hair, struggling with the dog. Fear pulled their eyes wide, yet they pushed forward, driving their arm down so that the dog was trapped underneath them. The dog thrashed and I saw blood, making my knees grow weak.

Suddenly the dog let out a yelp and released the boy, wriggling free and bounding away, tail between its legs. The boy watched it go.

The boy wasn’t wearing a jacket like mine, just a sweater, and I burst into tears the moment I saw his sleeve hanging by shreds flecked with blood.

“Why?” I sobbed. “My jacket would have protected me better.”

The boy looked at me with soft eyes that quickly dropped to his sneakers. He spoke in a whisper, “I knew what to do. My dad taught me. You give your arm and push forward. If you pull away it’ll just make it worse.”

I realized that I knew his face. He went to the same school as me, but we had never talked. He sat in the back, staying quiet even when we had free time.

Guilt immediately seized me. Why had he stepped in? I’d never even said hello to him. How had he been so brave? I had to know the answer, so I wiped my running nose on my sleeve and stuck out my hand. “I’m Mac. What’s your name?”

He took it and briefly met my eyes. “Nick.”

“Let’s go find an adult. But after, if it’s not too bad,” I said, pointing at his injury, “do you want to play video games at my place?”

Nick gave me a hesitant, hopeful nod.

—

The door to the interview room swung open and I was yanked back to the present. I sat up and smoothed my tie as a man stooped to enter through the doorway.

Of course it had to be him. Just my luck.

“Good morning, Conrad,” I said with a smile.

Conrad didn’t return the smile. “Good morning.”

It only took a single step for Conrad to cross over to the chair on the other side of the table and when he sat, he leaned over the table, still somehow remaining taller than me.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and placed a closed file on the table, keeping his hand rested on the top so I couldn’t read the name on it.

“This isn’t your first time being examined, Mr. North. I trust that you’re aware of how this conversation is being recorded and reviewed? If so, we can skip the preamble.”

I nodded and tapped my thumbs together. “Yeah, I’m pretty familiar with this room already. No need to be formal, everyone just calls me Mac.”

“Are you in contact with any family members, Mr. North?”

I blinked, struggling to remain composed. Jumping straight into things huh? I splayed the fingers on my left hand, finding the spot where my ring had rubbed the hairs off. “My wife?”

“Anyone else?”

“Claire’s parents drive in on some holidays. I call my parents and my brother occasionally. They live in Winnipeg. This is all in my file,” I said, gesturing to it.

Conrad’s lips became a thin line. “This is not your file, Mr. North.”

“Whose is it?” I tried to keep my tone light and conversational. Conrad wasn’t making it easy.

“What about friends?” He asked, ignoring me. “You’re a popular guy. H.E.S.P. members socializing outside of work is against policy, but you have other friends, don’t you?”

“I socialize on occasion,” I said, stretching my arms over my head. “Although I’m being worked to the bone right now. Not really time for friends,” I gave him another smile, “other than my wife, of course.”

“So you haven’t been in contact with any of your friends?”

“Not recently. You’re being kind of vague with this line of questioning. Can you tell me what you’re getting at? I don’t have anything to hide.”

Keeping childhood friends into adulthood is pretty rare, Mr. North.”

I kept my face still, but Conrad’s eyes went wide, seemingly taking what he needed from my hesitancy.

“You mean Nick,” I sighed. “Yes, I’ve spoken to Nick more recently. We had lunch together a few days ago.”

Conrad lifted his hand off the file, revealing the name: Nick Harte. “I’ve been reviewing all team member’s involvement in Operation Noise. Twenty-three civilian turned Cast casualties. Six survivors. All were interviewed and processed, except the baby of course. Does this sound correct, Mr. North?”

“Yes.”

“Now, I can’t imagine the stress that your squad members go through during operations like these. Would you agree that they might imagine seeing things?”

I spoke slowly, picking my words carefully, “It’s always possible. Contact 17 involved an Aberrant who emitted hallucinatory gas that made agents see memories of dead loved ones.”

Conrad tsked. “I’m aware of Contact 17. No agents reported any mind altering effects on their consciousness when they engaged hostiles at the farm. Do you agree with this?”

I examined Conrad’s face, so full of hostility for his own coworker. “Stress can make memories behave strangely,” I ventured.

“I need not remind you that we only employ those who have been thoroughly vetted for mental instabilities. Is there anyone on your team that you need to declare unfit for duty, Mr. North? Inaccurate debriefings will be the undoing of this organization. We need to be sure that our information is accurate.”

“No. That won’t be necessary.”

“Then why,” Conrad uttered as he leaned forward hungrily, “do I have five different recollections of a young man and woman being evacuated whose physical descriptors and injuries do not match any of those recorded in our logs?”

I laid a hand on the table. “Conrad. There is no need for you to try and trap me. We’re colleagues. I will help you in whatever way I can. Let’s be civil.”

Conrad frowned and flipped open the file. “One Nick Harte reported missing after being last seen at your wedding. You yourself were requested for an interview by the Sillwood PD. I deflected that request personally. The public is not asked for assistance in finding Mr. Harte and there is zero media coverage. The PD drops the case a week later when Mr. Harte is found. No further follow ups occur, despite that being standard procedure.”

I let out a sigh and rubbed my forehead. “Conrad, why are you doing this?”

Conrad flipped the page. “Eight days earlier a H.E.S.P. strike squad is dispatched into Old Town after Nick’s phone GPS is flagged by computers for unusual movement. Nick isn’t found, but a destroyed phone matching his model is found at the same location, as is an injured Aberrant. Convenient that he lost his tracker right before he went missing, no?”

He was trying to get a rise out of me. Can’t say it isn’t working. “I’m as worried about Nick as you are.”

Conrad flipped the page again. “Even earlier, a deceased Aberrant is found a few blocks away from the bar where you were having your bachelor party. It is only discovered in the morning, but autopsy suggests it died while your party was ongoing. You were cleared of suspicion by other witnesses at the bar, yet Mr. Harte is again unaccounted for by anyone that night, including his parents.”

“As were a dozen other people who left early. Regardless, I understand what you are insinuating, Conrad.”

“Three of the last five Contacts have happened while Mr. Harte is in the area. The algorithms somehow haven’t flagged him, so much for the A.I. takeover. When I asked the Director for permission to interview such an obviously high priority individual, their response was, ‘Mac had already vetted him.’ Imagine my surprise when I find that Mr. Harte’s presence at Cathrow was acknowledged by you in a personal debriefing with the Director. In fact, I have my suspicions that you requisitioned H.E.S.P. resources for a personal search for Nick Harte under the guise of Aberrant tracking. The Director’s favoritism is showing.”

“And how did that tracker end up on Nick’s phone in the first place?” I challenged, feeling heat rise up my neck. Conrad only smirked. Don’t play into his game. I caught myself, then spoke in a more level tone. “I understand, Conrad. You require trust.”

“Trust has nothing to do with it. This organization is rife with people skirting the rules. It’s weakness, a lack of will and morality. I’m here to cut that weakness out.”

I leaned back and closed my eyes. “Let me tell you about Nick. I met him in middle school. He was quiet, thoughtful, and most importantly, he loved people.”

“I did not call you here for you to reminisce, Mr. North.”

I ignored him. He wouldn’t cut me off, not when I was talking. His superiors wouldn’t like him intentionally refusing information. And I know this’ll piss him off.

“He wasn’t a social butterfly though. He wasn’t good at making friends. For a while I wasn’t his friend either. I’ll admit, I was soaking in the fame of being at the top of my class in sports and academics. It went to my head. And I couldn’t understand why he was always in the dirt, you know? I would always find him talking to the bullies, the hermits, the problem children. The misunderstood.”

I felt that little wriggle of guilt that had always remained with me. These days I called it my conscience. “I didn’t have pure intentions when I befriended him. I wanted so badly to understand why he sought out the darkest parts of life, like he wanted to suffer. I wanted to ignore it but he couldn’t seem to help himself but look down those deep holes.”

I listened to Conrad’s long fingers tapping impatiently on the table and I frowned. “Children are ruthless, you know. They saw Nick’s attitude as weakness and attacked it like a pack of wolves. Hiding his shoes. Teasing him for being dirty all the time. For a long time, I didn’t defend him. I was unwilling to tarnish my reputation by association. But Nick doesn’t think like that. He struggles alone in the dark, because he doesn’t want anyone else to have to do it.”

Conrad spoke loudly, “Mr. North, I fail to see how this is anything but a sure sign that NIck is a volatile and high risk target.”

I opened my eyes and found a small smile at my lips. “I worry about that too. Nick is self-destructive. But the keyword here is self. I have faith that Nick will find people he can connect with. People who are like him, who can help him recognize his worth.” 

I met Conrad’s eyes and held them with certainty. “Leave Nick alone. He made me who I am today. If there is something wrong with my performance, then we can talk about my choice in friends. As I see it, you have nothing on him except being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Conrad stood abruptly, nearly hitting the hanging light with his head. He leaned across the table, becoming a shadow that wrapped its fingers around my edge of the table. “This was utterly meaningless. Keep your moral compass to yourself. Perhaps it can guide you in the field, but in this world, the one where money and influence are king, we can’t rely on feelings. Only the truth will suffice. We are at war, Mr. North. When I find out with whom, I will take great joy in stripping away their facade, layer by layer, until I find the truth next to their beating heart.” He relinquished his grip on the table and snatched up the file. 

“Thank you for your time,” Conrad said curtly, before leaving and slamming the door.

I breathed out the tension, massaging my neck. There was work to be done. As much as Conrad’s constant prying was bringing down morale, I understood it served a purpose. We still didn’t know the purpose of Contact 252, the one found at the Cathrow Farmstead. The regenerative properties had eventually caused the thing to wither away, leaving us with nothing useful to autopsy. Contacts were happening more and more frequently. Whoever was on the other side of this war was speeding up and we were frustratingly in the dark. Suspiciously so.

Godspeed, Conrad. Whoever is truly hindering us is being a lot more subtle than Nick.