by James T Wood
“We can walk, it’s just a few blocks away. Maybe a mile.”
“Let’s get on it then. We’ll be there early, but we don’t want to be around when Jones and Smith convince the cops of their story.”
“Good point.”
We headed east toward the mall.
Fat Head
Anka took my arm again and walked close to me as we headed away from the Burgerville. Even though we were fleeing fake FBI agents who wanted to kill us and looking for a mad scientist who had answers about the experiments that gave me special powers, this still felt like the most normal relationship moment of my life. Always before I messed something up. I tried too hard or I found something wrong with her or I found better things to do. But this moment felt beautiful and perfect. It was balanced between effort and ease, imperfection and wholeness, engagement and freedom. I smiled at the thought of what the future might hold, but I also smiled in enjoyment of this one moment.
“What are you thinking?” Anka asked.
How could I sum up all of that? How could I explain the depth of my feelings juxtaposed against my past experience? How could I tell her how much she made me grow and how happy that made me?
“I’m thinking that I really like you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s nice. I’m thinking that I really like you too.”
“That is nice.”
She squeezed my arm tighter and leaned her head against my shoulder as we walked.
“You know, I’m not supposed to do any of this.”
“What?”
“Well, disobeying my boss, helping a target and getting romantically involved with an asset.”
“I guess they probably frown on all that.”
We both laughed.
“So, what are you going to say to Grosskopf to get him to talk? You’re doing well at spotting lies, but you need to figure out what to say to trigger his statements.”
“And we’re back to business already.”
“I wish we didn’t have to, but the meeting is coming up and you need to be ready.”
“You’re right. I just wish we could keep walking down the street together instead of doing super-secret spy work.”
“Well, if Grosskopf is right, you’ll die if we don’t do this. So, I’d rather have more time to walk down the street with you later, if that’s okay with you.”
“I suppose so,” I smiled at her. “So I obviously need to ask him why I’m going to die and what I can do about it.”
“Obviously. You should probably find out if there’s another lab somewhere. I don’t think he’s done all his work at the OHSU facility.”
“Also, how did he get out of prison?”
“Good point. And who is he working for?”
“Speaking of which, who are you working for?”
“You heard a little bit in the car. I work for Dale Stephenson of the NSA. He’s the director over West Coast operations.”
“You’re going to have to help me out a bit, I don’t really know what that means.”
“Fair enough. The NSA is, ostensibly, in charge of monitoring foreign communication. We’re supposed to be in charge of decrypting information that is vital to national security. We got in trouble a while back for surveilling US citizens too.”
“So what put you in a doctor’s office?”
“Well, we also take a hand in development and research, so we’ll fund computer programmers who are working on new algorithms to decrypt code, for example. The Grosskopf mission was supposed to be two-fold: first I was to determine if his methods could be adapted to the gathering of information, and second I was to observe him for contact with any known terrorist organizations.”
“Well, that sounds perfectly legitimate for an NSA agent, I guess.”
“That’s what I thought too, but now that Director Stephenson is trying to kill me, I’m pretty sure that my mission was a sham.”
“Do you think he wanted Grosskopf to fail?”
“No, actually, I think he wanted Grosskopf to be successful but to look like a failure. With him getting arrested and then your death, it would appear that all his research was fruitless and no one would pursue it. Then Grosskopf could continue to work for the NSA in secret and no one else would know their agents had the mimicking ability.”
“Wow, that sounds just like the plot to a bad spy movie. Am I going to be the basis for the next Bourne Identity?”
Anka laughed and poked me in the ribs.
“Is that the mall up ahead?”
“Yeah, the Ice Chalet is right in the middle.”
“Hmmm, we should probably split up before we get to the mall in case people are watching. I don’t know if Grosskopf escaped from Stephenson or if he’s working for him now. Either way, we should be ready.”
“Um, yeah, we should. How can we be ready for that?”
“Well, if he’s escaped, he’ll probably need protection and a place to hide, just like we do. We’ll see if we can team up to stay safe from the NSA.”
“And if he’s working for your boss?”
“We run. As soon as you figure out which it is, you signal me.”
“Okay, how?”
“If he’s working for the NSA scratch the top of your head with your left hand. If he’s escaped, scratch your chin with your right hand. Got it?”
“Um, yeah.”
“So, what do you do if he’s escaped?”
“I scratch my chin.”
“With what hand?”
“Um…my…uh…”
“Right hand. So, we think he’s escaped. Correct, C—chin, O, R—right, R, E, C, T. If we’re wrong and he’s working for the NSA what do you do?”
“Left hand on my head…”
“Right, um, correct. It would be a laugh if he’s working for the NSA. Laugh, L—left, A, U, G, H—head.”
“Okay, so correct equals chin-right and laugh equals left-head. I think I can remember that.”
“Good. Now, if he’s working for the NSA, you’ll need to get out of there quickly. Just walk away as soon as you give me the signal and I’ll come find you. Go to the closest store, walk directly into the back room and out the back door. You’ll be in the mall’s service hallway that connects all the stores. Run straight down the hall. If you get to a turn, always make a right. When you find an exit door, take it. Keep going straight out from the exit door at a natural walk. If you run into anything, like a street or building, make a right again. I’ll come find you.”
“I think I can remember that.”
“Good. You’ll do great.”
She pulled me down into a kiss that I thought was going to be a brief, encouragement-peck. I started to pull back, but her strong arms gripped my head and neck and held me close. Her lips parted mine and our tongues started fighting for space. My mind went blank. Sometime later, she pulled away, slightly breathless.
“Correct equals?”
“Uh,” I had to concentrate to remember, “chin-right.”
“And laugh?”
“Um,” my head still wouldn’t quite cooperate, “left-head.”
“Very good. Stay safe.”
She pushed me away and I started walking toward the mall. I wondered when the two of us could find a quiet place to continue our tongue-duel. That proposition was far more interesting to me than any meeting with a doctor at the mall, but the whole imminent death thing demanded attention.
My survival might depend on Doctor Manatee mouth-breathing his way to a cure for whatever he did to my brain. That did not engender much hope in my soul. But I still had to see this through. All things considered, this was probably the hardest I’d ever worked for fifty bucks.
The fluorescent stench of the mall accosted me as I walked in. There was a reason I hadn’t been here in years. I walked past the cheap shoes (made by children) and the cheap clothes (made by different children) and the cheap electronics (made by the parents of those children) and the cheap food (made
by robots in factories and warmed up by local children). Overall it wasn’t a pleasant experience. The miasmic cloud of perfume samples wafting from the entrance to Macy’s mixed with the intoxicating scent of Cinnabon to create, what I’m sure, is a chemical weapon of unparalleled destructive power.
A short ride down the escalator and I arrived at the Ice Chalet. I didn’t immediately see Grosskopf. I checked my phone and found that I still had about twenty minutes until our scheduled time. I stood there watching the skating. Some people obviously didn’t know which end of the skate to stand on, but I eventually found one girl who looked like she knew what was going on.
She had that weird little skirt thing on over her tights so that when she did spins and jumps it flared out. I watched her skate backward, forward and do all sorts of spins. She practiced fast spins where she grabbed her foot behind her and slower spins. My favorite was when she squatted on one leg and stuck her other foot out. I was rapt until Grosskopf tapped me on the shoulder.
“Enjoying the show?”
“Ah!” I jumped.
“Sorry for startling you. I should have known you’d be captivated. Let’s skate.”
“What? I don’t know how.”
Doctor Manatee just looked at me for a long moment until I caught up with him.
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh.”
He walked over to the counter and asked for two sets of skates. I gave my size when prompted and the girl gave us our skates. Grosskopf walked over to the bench, sat down and started putting on his skates. I followed and did the same. He didn’t say a word.
When we got out on the ice I almost immediately felt the movements of the aspiring figure skater flowing through my feet. I had to resist the urge to try a triple Salchow.
“Who’s helping you?” Grosskopf asked.
“No one. Who’s helping you?”
“Bullshit, you wouldn’t be alive if you didn’t have someone helping you. They sent people to kill all the other subjects. I know they sent people to kill you too. That’s why they arrested me, you know, because they killed off all my subjects and then blamed me for it.”
“No one’s helping me. You remember that you gave me the ability to learn anything.”
I did a single axel, skated backward around him and came up beside him again, just to prove my point.
“Fair enough. How did you escape then?”
“I picked up some MMA moves from YouTube.”
“Very good. But that doesn’t explain how you were able to evade the pursuit.”
“What pursuit?”
“The two men who were after you?”
“Oh, they weren’t that difficult to deal with.”
“Bah, why are you being so intransigent?”
“Because you zapped my brain and then people tried to kill me. I’m a little edgy.”
He chuckled, “Good point.”
“So, why did you contact me?”
“I want to help you, but you have to help me.”
“Why do I need your help? I’ve been getting along fine without you.”
“You don’t understand. That first treatment was only to activate the ability. It takes some time for your neural pathways to adjust to the new mirror neuron activity. The subsequent treatments are meant to stabilize your pathways and cement your ability.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, if you don’t undergo more treatments, your brain will destroy itself and you’ll die.”
“Oh.”
Michelle Kwan
I skated in silence for several moments digesting the words that portended my demise. I didn’t realize at first that I’d just accepted them as true. I’d forgotten to use the mirroring technique to test what Dr. Grosskopf said.
In mid-skate I corrected that oversight and imagined myself repeating the doctor’s pronouncement of my fate. It felt true, chillingly true. I held on to that knowledge for a time but soon realized that I was slowing on the ice and Grosskopf had passed me by. I moved to catch up but found my feet tangled. I fell to the ice and skidded to a halt at the wall.
The doctor skated around and helped me to my feet. He was still chuckling as I shakily started skating by his side.
“You can only mimic one thing at a time. These aren’t your skills. Not yet at least. You’re only borrowing them and you can’t borrow multiple skills at the same time.”
“Huh?”
“You obviously don’t know how to skate on your own. You can mimic what you saw of skating or you can do something else. You tried to do something else for a moment and forgot how to skate.”
“Oh,” he didn’t say anything about what he thought I was doing, so maybe he didn’t know that I’d been practicing lie detection. Of course I couldn’t verify that without falling on my ass.
“So, I was saying that you need more treatments if you want to keep your mind intact.”
“Yeah. I’m in favor of my brain continuing to work. I’m kind of attached to it.”
“Heh,” It was almost a courtesy laugh, “I have a lab we can use, but I’ll need your help getting there.”
“How do I know it’ll be safe?”
“You don’t really. But it’s not safe to stay away from my lab either.”
“Touché. How soon do I need a treatment?”
“It needs to be within a week of the initial activation. So, in about five days.”
I waited for the straight on the rink, locked my feet in place and switched over to test his statement. It also checked out as true. I noticed I had to imagine the young figure skater again to re-engage the ice skating skill.
“Who are you working for?”
“Heh,” another courtesy laugh, but I didn’t think I’d made a joke, “Who am I not working for? My main paycheck comes from the NSA, but I’ve also been working with the FBI and, through the Cubans, the Chinese government.”
I desperately wanted to check that statement, but we were rounding the curve and navigating through a crowd of people. Grosskopf went on before I could catch up.
“But mostly I’m working for myself. I want to develop this technology any way I can. Most legitimate research grants won’t touch something like this that remaps the human brain. Even though I’ve had successful trials on mice and primates, they all balked at performing clinicals on humans. But government organizations are happy to offer money for an advantage in spying.”
It felt like the doctor was speeding up so I had to concentrate on my skating just to keep up with him. Wily bastard.
“Corey, you are the only surviving subject of my life’s work. If I can stabilize your brain, and I’m sure I can, then I can prove to all the naysayers that I’m a legitimate scientist. I could win the Nobel Prize for this.”
“Wait, you want to do all this just for the glory of it?”
“That and the money. You get a cash prize from the Nobel foundation. It’s ten million Swedish kronor!”
“Is that a lot?”
“It’s about one-point-five million dollars.”
“Oh.”
“But it’s mostly for the glory.”
“So what do we do next? Where’s your lab?”
“Ah, right. Well, it’s complicated.”
“How’s that?”
“Um, my other lab is at the NSA headquarters in Seattle.”
“Oh.”
It appeared that Grosskopf slowed down to give me some time. I switched over and checked out his last statement. It was true. I skipped over the Nobel stuff and scanned back through the rest. I verified that he was, indeed, working for the NSA, FBI and Chinese. Then it was time to skate again.
“So, I need your help to get into the NSA headquarters and to my lab so I can give you another treatment. If we don’t get there in the next five days your brain will start to break down and you’ll eventually die.”
“Great. Best fifty bucks ever.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
I trie
d to determine if we could trust him. Everything he’d said so far had been the truth, but the truth didn’t really inspire me. I thought for a few moments but Grosskopf interrupted me.
“Aren’t those NSA agents? I think they were the ones who arrested me.”
He pointed to agents Smith and Jones walking by the entrance to Macy’s. Crap.
“Crap.”
“We should probably get out of here before they see us.”
“Do you have a way to get up to Seattle?”
“I was going to take the train. Do you have a better idea?”
“Not right now.”
I hastily scratched my chin with my right hand. I kept doing it for as long as possible, but Agent Smith spotted me and called out. Double-crap.
We were exposed on the ice, but so were they. They couldn’t kill us in public, but we couldn’t get away.
“Just keep skating for now,” I told the doctor.
“Why, what do you have in mind?”
“I don’t know yet, but for now this is the safest place for us.”
Smith and Jones stepped up to the side of the rink and stared at us as we skated by. They too were trying to figure out how to navigate this situation. My one advantage was that Anka was out there somewhere. I just hoped she saw Jones and Smith too. I decided to make sure of it.
Instead of the slow pace we’d been taking, I sped up and zoomed around the rink. By this time the agents were standing by the rail watching us. I made one circuit and then another, building my speed. Then I skated right at the two suited men. At the last instant I stepped sideways and skidded to a stop on the edge of my skates showering them in a blizzard of ice. I stood there, face to face with men who wanted me dead. Slowly and deliberately I put my hands on the railing, leaned forward and smiled at them.
“So, how’s the weather?”
I saw Jones reach inside his jacket; I assumed it was for a gun. Smith put his hand out to stop him. He stepped forward to regain the step he’d lost when I came straight at them. He placed his hand next to mine and leaned into my face. In a gravelly whisper he spoke.
“All I need to complete my mission is your head.”
Triple-crap. I hoped that he didn’t notice my knees nearly buckle at the image of being decapitated by an angry man in a cheap suit. I plastered a smile on my face. It felt weak and forced. About this time Grosskopf skated up beside me.
