Forging the Nightmare

by J. J. Carlson

  Emily scribbled a note and set the pencil down. “That shouldn't be a problem. I'll run him through a few hundred scenarios and simulations. He should have combatives down before your next training session.”

  “You're telling me you're going to teach him how to fight before tomorrow?”

  “That's what I'm telling you.”

  “No way,” he said, “I'll believe that when I see it. That kind of proficiency takes years to develop.”

  “For you, maybe. Not for him. Not anymore.”

  Eugene shivered. “Well, don't teach him any counter-attacks yet. I'd rather not take a punch from him until I know I can trust him in a sparring session.”

  Emily smiled. “Valid point. I'll restrict it to defensive maneuvers for now.”

  Emily's claims were no exaggeration. The following day, Eugene couldn’t land a single punch, kick, elbow strike, or grab on Jarrad. He spent over an hour trying to get past his pupil’s defenses, but didn’t succeeded one time.

  Dr. Wagner entered the room and stepped gingerly onto the mat, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “How is he progressing?” Wagner called out.

  Drenched in sweat, Eugene welcomed the interruption. He grabbed a towel off the floor and trotted over to the surgeon. “I think that brain scanning thing Roberts did has made me obsolete.”

  “How so?”

  “Well,” Eugene said, wiping the sweat off his face, “I think it would have taken me two years to bring him up to the level he's at now, and he’s only had one session in that chair.”

  “Excellent,” Wagner responded, his eyes gleaming. “That’s precisely the result we hoped for. But don't worry about becoming obsolete, we have to quantify the results of everything he learns in Mental Conditioning. You may not have to teach him in the traditional sense, but we still need you to provide proof that it works in practice. Do you have any other thoughts on his progress?”

  “Honestly,” Eugene gestured toward Jarrod. “I feel like we're teaching a lion how to hunt a mouse. This guy is so strong, he could knock out a championship fighter with a single punch. Maybe even kill him. Most of these techniques are totally unnecessary when you have this guy’s speed and strength.”

  Wagner stared at Jarrod for a moment. “That's wonderful news. However, his training will continue as planned. Please, keep me apprised of his progress.”

  Eugene nodded, and Wagner turned to leave. When the gym door closed, Eugene turned and ran toward Jarrod, hoping to take him by surprise. He jumped toward Jarrod's hips, aiming for a low tackle. Jarrod turned at the last second and grabbed him by the arm, then used his momentum to send him sprawling out on the floor.

  Eugene jumped up. He shuffled forward and launched a flurry of strikes. Jarrod raised a leg to avoid a low kick, slipped his head to avoid a right cross, then swiveled his hips and deflected a knee strike. Eugene reset and feinted with his left hand before throwing a right uppercut. Jarrod ignored the feint, and rolled his right shoulder outward to avoid the uppercut completely. Eugene shuffled his feet toward Jarrod's left side, and started throwing short, rapid elbow and forearm strikes. The speed at which Jarrod leaned back, ducked, and slipped to the left and right to avoid the blows seemed impossible, but Eugene’s strikes connected with nothing but air.

  The sparring, which felt more like shadowboxing to Eugene, continued for another three minutes before he took a step back.

  “Alright,” he gasped. “I'm smoked. We're gonna have to move on to something else.”

  Jarrod brought his hands to his side in acknowledgment.

  With his hands on his knees and sweat dripping off his face, Eugene said, “In fact, why don't we move up your brain-training schedule. C'mon, I'll take you down to see Roberts.”

  13

  Emily Roberts, Eugene Carver, Santiago Torres, and Daron Keeler sat quietly in a small conference room on Sub-Level One. Wagner sat at the head of the table, scrolling through reports on his computer tablet. After several minutes, Santiago cleared his throat.

  “Sir, could we get started?” he asked. When Wagner looked up, San gave him a bright smile.

  “My apologies,” Wagner replied. “Thank you all for meeting with me. First, I'd like to discuss Mr. Keeler's expanded role in Jarrod's training.” He made eye contact with Eugene. “I assume you have met Mr. Keeler?”

  Eugene nodded. Daron was the head of security for the entire compound, and was therefore extremely busy. But Daron had processed Eugene's access privileges when he arrived, and had given him a tour of the facility. They got along well from the get-go. It turned out that they had both served on Marine Recon teams, and they had more stories to swap than they had time for.

  “Good,” Wagner continued. “I have asked Mr. Keeler to assist you in certain aspects of subject Four-Seven-Charlie’s training. He will join you full-time when you move into the training block for infiltration and sabotage and remain with you from then on. Now, if there aren't any questions in this matter, I'm sure Mr. Keeler has things to attend to.”

  No one had any, so Daron pushed his chair back, gave Eugene a nod, and excused himself from the room.

  Wagner tapped his tablet a couple of times. “The next order of business concerns you, Doctor Torres.”

  Santiago Torres was in charge of the physical therapy wing in the main clinic, and had only been to the basement a handful of times in the past month. He was an expert in modular prosthetic limbs, and had been helping to develop the technology behind Nerium since the project’s inception. However, most of his contributions had been completed several months prior, and he had no idea why Wagner would still need him.

  “I have tasked engineering with creating an additional neural command unit. I want it completed before we move into Phase Three. I’ve been told this device will ensure complete control of the subject.” Wagner paused for a moment. “Engineering requested your assistance specifically, and we are on a tight schedule. I want you to put your focus on this full-time.”

  Santiago sighed. “Alright. I'll have someone fill in for me upstairs.”

  “Very good,” Wagner replied. He looked back down at his tablet. “You're dismissed.”

  Eugene and Emily exchanged glances as Santiago left the room. Dr. Wagner waited for the door to close before speaking. “Now I'd like to discuss the failures you two have experienced so far in phase two.”

  “Failures?” Emily gaffed. “Jarrod's performance has exceeded anyone's wildest expectations. If you look at our reports, you'll see that—”

  “I have read your reports, Dr. Roberts,” Wagner interrupted. “And my point stands.”

  He sighed, and scrolled down on his tablet. “It has been nearly two weeks since you began conditioning the subject. You have reported exceptional performance in all areas of training except for one. It appears that he refuses to participate in any offensive actions whatsoever against a human trainer. Why do you suppose that is?”

  Emily gave him an I-told-you-so smile. “Have you considered that you might have caused this problem when you pulverized his emotional response? Jarrod is only motivated by self-preservation right now. He won't do what he doesn't think is necessary, and he won’t do anything that might put him in danger.”

  Eugene nodded in agreement.

  Wagner looked back and forth between them. “We need to produce quantifiable results,” he said. “We are being paid to produce a weapon, and we cannot claim success until we can prove its use in combat. I don't care how you do it, but I need you to make him willing to fight.”

  Wagner drummed his fingers on the desk, then said, “What about the mental conditioning? Can we use that to make him more aggressive?”

  Emily shook her head. “I don't think so. It's an instructional machine, it won't restore the emotional centers in his brain.”

  Wagner leaned back in his chair and studied the ceiling. “This man has faced combat in the past. Certainly he has killed before, or at least faced physical confrontation. There are also the quest
ionable circumstances surrounding his time as a consultant with the State Department.” He paused. “I am sure he has retained some of his more violent instincts, we just need to find a way to bring them to the surface.”

  Emily furrowed her brow, then shivered.

  “Dr. Roberts, do you have something you'd like to share?” Wagner asked, leaning forward.

  “It's nothing.”

  Wagner pressed her. “I am considering all options. Please, don’t withhold anything.”

  Emily hesitated. “We might be able to work something up with the mental conditioning system, but I would need a couple of days and a simulation mapping team.”

  “Done.” Wagner responded. “Anything else?”

  Emily’s eyes were glassy, distant. She shook her head.

  “Excellent. You are dismissed. Let me know when you have some made some tangible progress.”

  Emily and Eugene left the room. When they were out of earshot, Eugene said, “You look stressed. What’s your idea?”

  “I’d rather not say just yet. It’s something I never imagined doing to someone in my care. But I might be able to make something good come from it. I'll let you know when I've got everything together.”

  Eugene didn’t like the secrecy, but he trusted Emily’s instincts. “Do what you gotta do,” he said.

  She gave him a shaky nod and hurried away.

  Eugene watched the woman he so admired until she turned the corner, and tried not to picture her as one of the mad scientists that seemed to be so common at Hillcrest.

  14

  Emily never mentioned where she was going, but Jarrod's training routine continued as usual in her absence. Eugene trained with him in the morning, and Santiago took over the mental conditioning sessions in the afternoon.

  Eugene began a block of instruction on the art of silent movement. He set up a make-shift obstacle course designed to trick his student into making noise. He installed custom sensors that would trigger an alarm if Jarrod placed too much pressure on any one point. He also scattered gravel, glass, sand, crumpled newspapers, and bubble wrap throughout the gym.

  When it was time to begin, Eugene sat in the center of the room with his eyes closed while Jarrod maneuvered through the course. Within a few hours, Jarrod was able to get within inches of Eugene without him noticing. This made the guards uncomfortable, especially when they watched how quickly he could move without making a sound, even in complete darkness.

  In the morning of the second day, Daron Keeler stopped by Sub-Level Four. Eugene didn't notice him come in, so Daron called out to him from the edge of the gym.

  “So this is the prodigy that's going to save the world, or at least pad the pockets of a few big-wigs on the security council?”

  Eugene smiled, and then beckoned for Jarrod to follow him. The pair jogged over to the edge of the mat.

  “Jeeze,” Daron said, looking Jarrod up and down. “Guy's built like a tank.”

  “Built being the key word,” Eugene added. “Daron, this is Jarrod. Jarrod, this is Daron. He'll be joining us as an instructor in a little while.”

  Daron extended his hand, and Eugene frowned when Jarrod reached out and shook it. “That's new.” he said.

  Daron looked at him. “What's new?”

  “Well, Jarrod doesn't normally care for pleasantries. I still haven't heard him speak, and I've been with him every day for weeks. I'm kind of shocked he shook your hand. Heck, I’m surprised that he knew he was supposed to.”

  “Maybe your lessons are paying off.” Daron Grinned. “Or maybe it's just my irresistible charm.”

  Eugene looked over at Jarrod, then back at Daron. “Definitely the lessons. Speaking of which, do you want to try taking a swing at this guy? I promise he won't hit back.”

  Daron tilted his head back and squinted. “I'm not as young as I once was, but I might still be able to teach this guy a thing or two.” He took his jacket off, revealing a muscular frame and a round, powerful stomach. His dark skin was tattooed from his under his t-shirt sleeves to just above his wrists. He followed Eugene and Jarrod out to the center of the mat, and Eugene handed him a pair of sparring gloves. Daron strapped them on and squared up in front of Jarrod. He began to bounce from side to side, but Jarrod's didn’t move. He feinted with his left, then with his right, but Jarrod didn't react. He made one more feint with his left, then delivered a swift shin-kick to the outside of Jarrod thigh.

  “Yowch!” Daron complained, stepping back and rubbing the front of his shin. “What've you been feeding this guy? Rocks?”

  Eugene was confused. He didn't understand how Daron was able to make contact. Then it dawned on him. “Sorry. I forgot to mention something. Doctor Wagner thinks Jarrod has an aggression problem. Specifically that he doesn't have any.”

  Eugene turned to address Jarrod. “The next time Daron tries to hit you, don't let him touch you. Block or dodge all of his strikes.”

  Daron tightened up and approached again. This time, Jarrod responded by setting his feet in a fighting stance. Daron threw a right cross, aiming for Jarrod's sternum, and then tried to drive a heel strike into Jarrod's shin. Jarrod slipped left and pushed Daron's arm to the side, then rotated his knee inward so Daron's kick harmlessly pushed against the outside of his calf. Daron reset and then lunged forward to grab Jarrod's waste. Jarrod leapt backwards and sprawled his feet out, making Daron lose his balance and fall on his face.

  Daron didn't get up right away. Rolling onto his back, he said, “Alright, the kid has some skill. But before you start running your mouth, remember that it would be very easy for me to revoke your security access and leave you locked in a broom closet somewhere.”

  Eugene smiled and reached down to help Daron up. “Hey, you did just as well as I have.”

  Daron tucked his t-shirt back into his pants, then reached up to give Jarrod a slap on the side of the arm. “Alright, I'll leave you gents to it. Go easy on him, Jarrod.”

  When Eugene escorted Jarrod to Mental Conditioning the following afternoon, Emily was standing in the center of the room, wearing a pair of wide glasses.

  “Welcome back” Eugene piped up as he walked in behind Jarrod. “How was your trip?”

  “Productive,” Emily said, taking the glasses off and setting them down. Her eyes were red and her face was drawn.

  “Is everything alright?”

  “Yes…” She sighed. “No. I have to show you something. Do you mind if we step out?”

  “Sure.” Eugene nodded toward her computer. “As long as you trust Jarrod not to surf dirty websites while we're gone.”

  Emily grabbed the glasses and walked toward the door. “He'll be fine.” She walked a few steps out of the room and stopped when the door slid shut.

  Holding the glasses up, she said, “Put these on.”

  “Okay...” Eugene slipped the broad spectacles onto his face. “What are they for?”

  “They'll display a virtual reconstruction of the location I visited with the simulation mapping team.”

  “Alright, yeah, I see it. Nice place.”

  “It is nice. It's also Jarrod's house. He lived there with his wife and son before they died.”

  Eugene took the glasses off slowly and looked at Emily with a mortified expression. “And you built a simulation for it?”

  Emily looked ashamed. “Yes, but I can explain. When Wagner was talking about drawing Jarrod's killer instinct back to the surface, I tried to figure out how it could be done. I thought an emotional scenario might trigger a response, but I couldn't figure out how to incite emotions with Jarrod in his apathetic state. Then I realized we might be able to get something out of him if we exposed him to a realistic spatial memory and tied it to an emotional event. That’s why I took the mapping team to his house.”

  Eugene looked worried. “And what's the emotional event?”

  Emily bit her lip and looked away. “His son...will be in the house. Standard enemy simulations will be armed, and.—”

  “And what?
”

  “And they’ll shoot his son right before he enters the house,” Emily replied, biting off each word.

  Eugene shoved both of his hands into his hair and turned away. He paced for a full minute before coming to rest against the wall. “And how is this supposed to help him?”

  “It may serve to elevate his aggression, which is what Wagner wants. But I think it may shock him out of a purely survivalist state. It might trigger a relapse of his previous mental conditions, but that okay—it would end his participation in Nerium. And that's a win, in my opinion. None of his prior mental health concerns were untreatable, but I can’t treat him as long as he’s in the program.”

  Eugene rubbed the red button on the side of his watch with his thumb. It served to activate the electro-shock band on Jarrod's head in an emergency. “I sure hope you're right.”

  “Me too.”

  They returned to the room, and Emily prepped Jarrod for the simulation. She entered a command into the computer, immersing Jarrod in virtual reality. Emily pointed to the glasses in Eugene's hand. “I've synced the glasses to the feed. You can see what he sees.”

  Eugene shuddered and raised the glasses up to his face. The simulation was incredibly realistic. Jarrod seemed to be strolling casually down a tree-lined road. As Eugene watched, Jarrod looked around, then bolted into the dense forest.

  Eugene lifted the glasses for a moment. “Is he armed?”

  Emily shook her head. “No.”

  Eugene dropped the glasses back down. “But his opponents will be? That doesn't make sense.”

  “It's for political reasons. Research and Development has a lot of weapons prototypes that we could give him in the simulations, but we've trained Jarrod primarily for unarmed combat. In dire situations, he’s been taught to remove an enemy's weapon and use it. They're trying to make him a deadly weapon, but they also want to avoid international humanitarian law disputes.”

  Eugene furrowed his brow. “You mean like using excessive force in armed conflict. Seems dangerous, for Jarrod, I mean. Having his hands tied like that could leave him vulnerable.”