by Thom Parsons
Owen walked in silence for a few seconds, then he pushed himself out in front of Nick and Kate and began to walk backwards at a pace that matched theirs.
“Well,” he countered with a sly smile forming on his face. “I think I know someone who can help us with that.”
“There’s something else as well,” Nick butted in, holding his small tablet computer in one hand and tapping at the screen. Owen and Kate looked at Nick as he looked up from his screen, turning it to show the two of them a picture of a man.
“I’ve found Alex.”
Chapter Thirty Three
Date: December 9th 2035
Location: New York Streets
This time, it was easier to talk. Not being stuck in a cramped space with others helped them to feel more comfortable about calling their contact. They walked along the busy New York City streets, blending in easily with the crowd that surrounded them. Certain that they weren’t being followed, they casually pulled out their disposable mobile phone for the second time in one day. As they walked, they kept one hand inside a pocket of their long winter coat, and used their other hand to punch the memorised number sequence into the phone.
They hit the call key and brought the phone up to their ear. It stopped ringing after a few seconds. Somebody has answered. They thought, but once again, the recipient was waiting for the caller to make the first move.
“Marcus is dead,” they said quietly as they walked in amongst the crowd. “You did well.”
“Good.” The man on the other end of the phone spoke slowly, thinking about his words before they left his mouth. “Did Owen see my face?”
“No, he didn’t. He would have told us if he had seen anything.”
“This is good news,” the man replied, sounding obviously relieved. “I take it that this investigation is now over?”
They sighed as they walked along the street, keeping a keen eye out on their surroundings. You could never be too careful in this game. “No. Owen apparently knows how to get another PRoGRaM device. He needs my help to get to it though. We’ve been cut off by all branches of the FBI. Do you want me to block him and stop him from getting it?”
The voice on the other end of the line didn’t reply. They were thinking. It certainly is an interesting development.
“I’ll call you back,” The man said without so much as waiting for a goodbye.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
They slipped the phone back into their pocket and continued to walk down the New York City streets, keeping their hand on the mobile, waiting for him to call back. Maybe they just needed to talk to their boss about it?
Even though they had met with the man on the other end of the phone in person before, neither of them had met their boss. The boss was seriously elusive and secretive. Whoever they were, they funded PRoGRaM from the very beginning, before selling the designs to the FBI. They were the ones pulling the strings of this secretive operation.
They felt the phone buzz in their pocket. They took it out, and decided to reverse the roles. This time, they waited for the man on the other end of the phone to speak first.
“About our situation,” the mans voice said slowly. “it will look too suspicious if you try and block Owen from obtaining another PRoGRaM device. I’ve just spoken to our benefactor, and they quite like where this is going. It certainly is very interesting. Give Owen what he wants. Let him wear himself out.”
“Why ask me to help Owen then?” they asked, confused by the logic.
“That all a part of the experiment now, isn't it?”
His words hung between them. Satisfied that the man had finished talking, they decided to change the topic of conversation. “There’s something else,” they said as they quickly glanced around, double checking once again that there was nobody following them.
“Go on.”
“Owen has found Alex Morgan.”
The man on the other end of the phone laughed a little. “Alex Morgan was moved out of the way a few weeks ago. We put him somewhere that we thought Owen would never find him. But it looks like we've really underestimated Owen and his sidekick.”
There was a long pause as this last statement sunk in. There was something in the voice of the man on the other end of the phone. It sounds like fear… They continued to walk along, phone to their ear before they decided to speak. “Are you scared?”
“Why would I be scared Kate?” the voice spat back at her. They used my real name over the phone. They must be scared of something.
“Well...” she said. “They’ve found Marcus. They’ve found Alex. How long is it until they find you, Ethan?”
PART FOUR: ALEX MORGAN
“I’ll do as I please. My mind is not to be imprisoned.”
Pramoedya Ananta Toer
Chapter Thirty Four
Date: December 10th 2035
Location: Unknown
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?
I see the next part before I hear it. Some lights appear, far, far away in the distance. They're to my left, down one of the four endless roads. Gradually, sound begins to accompany it. A rumbling noise building up, slowly getting louder. I stand still, watching, mesmerised by the lights coming towards me, seemingly unable to move myself. I realise that I’m staring at a car coming at full speed down the road.
I know that car! I
realise as it gets closer. I know that driver! It’s Annie’s car! It’s me! And Annie, she’s there too, she’s the one driving.
But why are we out here? Why are we driving in the middle of nowhere?
As I look on in confusion, the car gets closer. It’s thirty feet away now, and I can see Annie in the drivers seat. But she doesn’t notice me. She can’t see me standing on the side of the road waving my arms at her, trying to signal her to stop the car. She has to stop, because I know what happens next.
I’ve been here too many times already.
All around me, time begins to slow down. Not to a total stop, but to a tantalisingly slow pace. The raindrops falling from above begin to slow in their descent, and the speed of Annie’s car seems to drop slowly.
But I know how fast she’s driving in reality.
As for me? For some reason, I’m not affected by the change in the flow of time. Whoever is controlling me seems to be able to move my body completely freely and unhindered. I can’t pretend to understand the rules of this world. I just have to abide by them.
The next part is the part I hate. The part that I want to change so badly. I stand on the side of the road unable to move, forced to just stand and watch. There I am, wanting to shout out her name to try and get her to notice me. To try and change fate. To change what I know is going to happen.
But it's too late.
Opposite me, on the other sidewalk is something which I hadn’t noticed before. There's a man standing there, wearing all dark clothes. From where I am standing, I cannot see his face. He has a man next to him, with a black bag over his head. He’s down on his knee’s with his hands tied up behind his back. This dark figure looming above him is pointing a gun at the back of the bound man’s head.
Suddenly, a huge white van materialises out onto the road just behind of me at the crossroads, mere meters away from the drivers side of Annie’s car. I know what this part of the dream is. I just wish I didn’t have to see it. Especially not here. I don't want to remember her like this.
Her head moves in slow motion, looking in the direction of the huge van as she realises it’s too late. I watch her face change in slow motion, and just as it’s about to hit… that screeching noise that woke me. The sound of metal upon metal. It’s not a workshop full of machinery.
Beep.
It’s the noise of the impact in slow motion.
Beep. Beep.
Make it stop. Make it stop.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep
MAKE THE NOISE STOP.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Owen shot to life, jumping up in his bed, covered in a cold sweat, hearing his phone ringing and buzzing nearby. He didn’t make a move for it immediately. He just sat there, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath before having the energy to reach over for it.
“Archer,” he said answering the phone, trying to sound as normal as possible. He was trying not to give away the fact that he was completely flustered.
“Owen,” a familiar voice said to him, instantly calming him down. “It’s Nick. I’m here.”
“Hold on,” Owen said, hanging up the phone as he got up out of bed and looked over at the clock nearby. It was just after nine in the morning. It was time to get to work. Time to get into the memories of the next person on his list.
Alex Morgan
Chapter Thirty Five
Date: December 15th 2035 (Present Day)
Location: Unknown
“Did you order Nick to continue work on your personal mission?” Victoria asked, deciding that it was time to throw in a few questions over Owen’s story. He needed to be reminded who was in control here.
“Order him?” Owen questioned her back, confused.
“That’s right,” she said emotionlessly. “I’m trying to appropriate blame to your actions here. I need to know whether or not it was Nick’s conscious choice to help you, or if you ordered him into doing so.”
“Well. The answer is neither of those,” Owen said calmly.
“Then why don’t you tell me what the answer is?” she asked, raising a nearby glass of water to her lips.
“He’s my friend. He wanted to help me.”
Victoria sighed as she put the glass back down on the table. “Why didn’t you shut it down Mr Archer? You could have stopped him getting involved in all of this right there and then. Why didn’t you?”
“Because I wanted answers. And he wanted to help. That’s what friends do.”
Victoria nodded at his answer. Owen was comfortable calling Nick his friend rather than his colleague. These two guys were closer than the FBI realised. “You realise that by providing this statement, that you are indemnifying Nick’s actions?” she asked him as she twirled her pen between two fingers, trying to catch Owen out with her difficult questions. She was trying to get him to throw his friend to the sharks.
“He wouldn’t have it any other way,” Owen said, smiling as he spoke, surprising Victoria.
“And Kate?”
“She volunteered to help me as well,” he answered, trying to suppress the anger in his tone. I wish I had seen through her from the start.
“I see. You don’t have to speak up for her you know. She can do that for herself. We have a lot of questions that we need to ask her. Just as soon as we find her.”
Chapter Thirty Six
Date: December 10th 2035
Location: Owen’s Apartment, New York
“You’re still not sleeping are you?” Nick asked, the concern evident in his voice as Owen let him into his apartment. He watched Owen mope over towards the kitchen whilst he made himself comfortable on one of the sofas nearby.
“Not since the accident," Owen admitted loudly from the kitchen so that Nick could hear him, completely unashamed of the way he was. “Not properly anyway. Still suffering from those nightmares.”
“Ever thought about seeing someone about them?” Nick asked. Owen gave him a funny look from across the open spaced common room between them. “Someone professional I mean,” he clarified.
“Not really,” Owen replied. “The dreams… they come and go. Some nights, they’re all I see. Other nights they don’t bother me at all. I guess my head’s still working itself out. In time they’ll just go away, I hope. It's only been a few weeks since Annie’s death.”
Owen grabbed a mug out of a cupboard nearby and began to make some coffee. “So. Tell me then?” he said to Nick as he waited on his coffee machine. “Where’s Alex?”
Nick waited a few seconds and didn’t answer, causing Owen to look over to him from the kitchen. It was one of those moments where you hesitate before delivering the bad news, and Nick wanted to look Owen in the eye when he told him. “He’s in the PRoGRaM Prison System…”
Owen stood quietly for a few seconds, leaning on the kitchen counter before responding, thinking about the information that Nick had just told him.
“Shit.”
“I know,” Nick said, feeling Owen’s frustration. “From what I could find out, he’s a part of a trial into the system. I dug up Alex’s file and read through it before we got cut off from the FBI. Apparently, the man is certifiably insane and is only inside the Prison System for his own protection.”
Owen nodded at this new information as he walked back into the common room with a hot cup of coffee in his hand, realising that he hadn’t even offered Nick a cup. “I’ve only heard bits of information about the Prison System that they implemented based in PRoGRaM. What do you know about it? Is it accessible from our world which we boot into?” Owen asked, trying to come up with possibilities and plans on how he could possibly get to Alex.
“There’s no access from our PRoGRaM world,” Nick explained. “The PRoGRaM Prison System is on a completely separate server to the main PRoGRaM world. We can’t just jump into that Prison directly, or even access it," he said.
“But there’s a way in?”
“There’s always a way in,” Nick replied confidently
, nodding his head. “We just have to find it. Why?” he changed his tone, directing the questions back at Owen. “What are you thinking?”
Owen took a sip of his coffee in an attempt to wake himself up a bit. “Well, Marcus had memories locked deep inside of the old PRoGRaM headquarters, right?” he asked. Nick nodded, seeing exactly where Owen’s trail of thought was going. “So, I’m willing to bet that Alex has too,” he continued. “I want to get Alex out of the PRoGRaM Prison System and take him to the PRoGRaM headquarters.”
Nick let out a long, deep sigh as he thought about the ramifications. “It’s not impossible,” he conceded. “But that’s no easy thing to do. In fact, it’s impossible now that we no longer have a PRoGRaM device.”
“Actually. I thought about that last night and came up with an idea,” Owen replied. “I’ve got someone coming over shortly. Someone who is going to get us a PRoGRaM device so that we can carry on with this investigation.”
Right there and then, there were a few knocks in succession at the door to his apartment. Right on time.
“Hold onto that thought, Nick, because I think they’re here,” Owen said as he stood up, coffee still in hand. “Let me just get the door. It should be Kate.”
“Kate’s getting us a PRoGRaM device?” Nick asked, slightly confused by what was happening.
“To some extent," Owen finished saying as he reached the front door to his apartment. He looked through the peephole to confirm who it was, and then opened the door to let them in.
“Hey,” Owen said to Kate as he opened the door and turned to walk back into the front room.
“Kate’s not exactly getting us a PRoGRaM device,” Owen said to Nick, who was sat on the sofa with his head turned around to look towards the entrance. Owen turned and pointed at the man following Kate into the apartment, before finishing speaking. “But he is.”
