That was the way of Party training. They had warped the ideal of a wandering chivalrous warrior, wuxia, toward their own twisted ideals. Reo learned long ago, there was nothing gallant about the Party or the people who held the reins of power. Those in power would do anything to maintain the status quo.
His handler, whom he nicknamed Babushka, waited in the room on the far side of the glass. Citizen Petrova was Reo Ng’s handler’s proper name and title, but there was no fun in that. Besides, his talent at blocking unwanted mind probes needed practice. It proved beneficial to hide little secrets. Practicing on modest confidences made it much easier when the time came to hide a whopper from the prying of the Party’s psychics.
Secrets were the order of business in the ESPer Force. The existence of the illegal organization devoted to extra sensory powers went against several treaties. Seemed most people feared the magical abilities that sprang from a few gifted minds.
If the Eastern-Alliance hadn’t scooped him off the streets of Manila, he probably would have ended up in an institution, or chemically lobotomized. Governments hated readers. People hated readers, even the ESPers he worked with hated readers. The Party’s answer was to control the few with the ability to read. Or retire the readers the Force couldn’t bring to heel. The powers in charge focused the ESPers’ talents on enemies of the alliance, real and perceived.
Reo didn’t kid himself, ESPers, readers specifically, made everyone anxious. The idea of the thought police turned his stomach, but that was what Reo and a good portion of the Force had become. The jackboot of oppression for the Party elite who called the shots. Not the least bit chivalrous by any measure.
With little to do, Reo flipped through the only magazine available. Not really a magazine but glossy promotional material in the form of a manga. He’d been tasked to help create the propaganda.
Even covert organizations needed to recruit, and paper was still the best way to privately disclose information, short of inserting the knowledge into a person’s head. That was not cost-effective.
Filled with amazing images of fantasy heroes fighting dragons and such nonsense, Reo was impressed with the artwork. It touched a nerve in his soul. Laced with trigger words and euphemisms, the pamphlet was designed to bring emotions and latent gifts to the surface where a reader might sense a person’s unknown abilities.
It was a Party publication, indirectly and subtly espousing the need for the ESPer Force and everything it stood for. It would only be shown to prospective applicants before they agreed to the test.
A talented reader serving as a recruiter might sniff out the gifted, without even a test.
If the candidates refused testing, their short-term memory would be chemically wiped. If the aspirants failed to reach a certain level during testing, their short-term memory was wiped and, while sedated, a device implanted in their skulls to dampen the PEK waves. Essentially castrating their mind. If, after testing, the applicants failed to meet Party requirements, they would be reeducated or—in severe cases—retired.
Another useful euphemism, no one ever just left the Force. At the end of a lifetime of service, the best an agent might hope for was a Party-controlled retirement home, complete with electrified fences and armed guards with deadly force authorized. It was one more dirty secret scattered amongst the warehouses of filth the Party didn’t want anyone to learn.
Time to worry about that shit later. Reo’s end-of-life service remained decades away. Only the most powerful ESPers burned out before middle age.
Reo risked a glance past the glass and studied those in the room. From his vantage point, he only spotted two humans. The others in the room were hologram projections. They didn’t make it to Shanghai for the meeting. Reo assumed they were off world working for the Party at one of the many colonies.
Better not to study the group too intently. The headquarters were flooded with ESPer-blocking carrier waves that inhibited all but the strongest agents. Any sine waves over forty hertz messed with all but the strongest of abilities. There was no need to be labeled overtly inquisitive. In the Force, undue curiosity might prove fatal.
No matter the protections, people remained jittery around readers. Even ESPers didn’t truly understand the limits of a reader’s abilities. Most thought a reader could pull out a deeply hidden secret with a passing glance.
That was a bullshit story the Party pushed to keep people in line. The strongest reader needed time and contact to drag information out of a brain. Even then, the chances the memory remained truthful were marginal. People had a way of deluding themselves, always changing their memories to benefit the narrative they wanted to believe. The older the memory, the more distorted it became. Like a story passed down the generations, memories rarely held any truth.
Intentions, on the other hand, were easy. Nearly as easy as pushing a subject towards a desired action.
He had ways of making people trust him.
There were strategies to seek out the required information, but it took time. Little known tricks to keep secrets away from a reader. He’d been trained in them all.
Reo wasn’t strong. He barely measured average, nothing special about him. Even with the magic drug Blast, he only peaked in the midrange of PEK energy. His gift was using the tricks to get people to expose their hidden memories or artfully pushing others to get what he needed…
Reading a target’s thoughts should be a lot easier. Reo let out a silent sigh at the wait.
Despite the past fifty years of illegal research and development, little was understood about the PEK waves and the ESPers’ abilities, their limits, and their skills. ESPers kept the best of secrets, even from themselves.
Reo wished he had an alternative to working for the Force and the Party that pulled the strings, but his choice of employers remained limited. There were no help-wanted advertisements for ESPers. No one dared speak about the off-world opportunities, if they even existed. Even an innocent search of the highly regulated web risked the knock on the door from the black-suited secret police.
He’d thought about striking out on his own, hanging out a shingle as a freelance reader. But without the support of an organization, the chance of being discovered and picked up by the men in black suits proved too great for Reo. Given the current circumstances, there was no way out.
Fifty, perhaps as little as twenty, years ago, if the world had opened up the study of ESPer abilities, Reo was confident huge strides would have been made in the field. His assumptions were all conjecture. Reo wasn’t a scientist. He was destined to remain a mere tiny cog in the huge Party machine.
He turned his attention back to the colorful book he held in his hand.
A new history for anyone who might believe it. Bright, flashy pictures of happy adults and teens going about the work of the Party, defeating evil. All races and genders, all smiles and perfect teeth. Nowhere, not even the fine print, discussed the downside of the Force.
No one who had a working brain cell ever discussed the downsides. A dearest friend might instantly turn into an informant. According to the pamphlet, everyone in the Force remained the best of buddies, all shit-eating grins. That was one of the largest lies.
The way of the ESPer Force proved a lonely path. No friends, no long-term relationships. There were lovers… Being a reader offered several advantages when seeking a certain companionship for the short-term.
A wicked memory forced a smile across his face. Better to redirect his thoughts.
Reo was never trained for marketing. He had no real skills or desires to sell the lies the Force needed to push on unsuspecting children. Just one more injustice thrust upon his person, in a long line of slights.
His proved a more subtle skillset. In the grand scheme of things, he had little to complain about. Given his low level of abilities, he’d been tasked with trolling the bars and local haunts known to be frequented by locals and foreign nationals alike, all in order to sniff for any information. Shanghai remained an international city. Alcoh
ol and certain other pleasures did wonders at bringing secrets bubbling to the forebrain, where Reo might have better access to them.
Anything he learned would be put into a report and sent to his handler, Citizen Petrova. After the information was submitted, the file was no longer his concern. For all he knew, his words only served to fill the yottabytes of data the Party maintained on everyone and everything.
He’d been taken out of the field for some needed time behind a desk. The Force called it grounding. The slightest indiscretion could be cause for grounding. Reo’s offense: an error in judgment.
At least he wasn’t sent for reeducation or retired.
Movement beyond the glass drew his attention. The panels the holograms projected into slipped back into the ceiling.
Reo stood and straightened his thin black tie. With nervous hands, he removed unseen wrinkles from the black suit jacket.
Babushka opened the door without a word.
No invitation was needed.
Despite having no idea why he was called, Reo was fairly certain it wasn’t bad news. He’d kept his nose clean since the incident that landed him behind a desk to begin with.
His handler spoke with a thick Russian accent. “I’m glad you showed up on time.”
Reo risked a small joke while marching into the room. “Good morning to you too.”
The woman’s face didn’t flinch. Her emotions were perpetually hidden behind her stone-etched expression.
The statuesque blonde stood out in the building. She towered over Reo and most of the men walking the streets of Shanghai. It would have been hard for her to blend in with most crowds. Passing unseen wasn’t an option for her.
No wonder she quickly rose to a management position, despite her non-Chinese heritage. Fieldwork would have been extremely challenging for the Russian woman.
“Do you know why you have been called?” she asked.
Not sure if it was a test or not, Reo answered, “I’m certain I don’t.”
“Good.” With the snap of her fingers, a screen lit on the wall. A map of the solar system glowed brightly.
Anyone above agent level kept their abilities a secret. However, management knew an agent’s abilities and levels. Babushka might have been a level ten pyrokinetic for all Reo knew, able to set a person ablaze with the slightest thought. More than likely, she was a low-level telekinetic, powerful enough to bend paperclips at parties.
Babushka spoke slowly. “An anomaly has been discovered.”
Reo forced himself to not snicker at the way she pronounced an anomaly.
“A strong blast of PEK waves has been detected past the orbit of our research station orbiting Pluto.”
The realization of this news hit Reo hard. “What was the source?”
“We don’t know.”
“Was it a weapons test?”
“We don’t know. There is some speculation in the Party that it could be an extraterrestrial origin.”
The pronunciation of terrestrial was epic. If not for the location, he would have burst into laughter. Her words nearly knocked Reo off his feet. “Wait… of all the possibilities… everything that might have caused it, and the Party jumps to a cause outside our solar system? Any number of human causes could be attributed to this.”
“I concur…” She zoomed the map closer to the Kuiper belt, where the anomaly took place. “Problem is, we have not seen any ships out that far. We have no reports of any corporate activity in the source area. It is way past human expansion. Outside normal planet orbits.”
Reo didn’t want to argue, but something felt off about this. The entire planet had been searching for other-than-Earth life for nearly one hundred and fifty years without a peep. ET wasn’t calling anyone. Aliens obviously didn’t want to talk.
Most people came to believe humankind was the first in the universe, or at least the first intelligent life in our local neighborhood. Humankind remained an arrogant lot. Why would aliens pop in and blast PEK waves now? “Anyone else know about this?”
“Highly unlikely. Our operative had the good fortune of being in the right place at the right time to pick up the spike in energy. It was a localized beam more than a general expanding wave.”
“It could have been a natural phenomenon… No need to think little green men…” Reo gripped at straws. The thought of humans creating the weapon described was nearly disturbing as the thought of a spaceship with stealth capabilities delivering the device to target. Such a craft offered a first-strike capability that terrified Reo. It would upset the delicate balance of power in the solar system.
A woman’s soft voice called from the far side of the room. “Just because it is not of Earth, don’t assume it is alien… You know there are many factions in our solar system that hold no allegiance to any government or combine on Earth. For all we know, it could be the belters, Mars, or any of the other colonies or corporations.” The Chinese woman who spoke was short. If the chair had not been adjusted to the extreme upper limit, Reo doubted she could see over the table. As it was, her feet dangled several centimeters off the floor. “If a hostile organization developed a new weapon, it would present an escalation… I don’t need to tell you what a first-strike weapon with extreme power in the wrong hands might mean for the Eastern-Alliance.”
Reo nodded. The hair stood on the back of his neck. Now was not the time for questions or jokes. The woman’s demeanor screamed influence. The reader turned back to face the screen. “What is my mission?”
“For once, a sensible question.” Citizen Petrova pulled up an employee ID picture from the FlyRight Corporation. “You’ll meet Doctor Abe from Pluto Station on Ceres. After contact, you will give her any help she might require. Together, you will work to discover the source of the PEK waves and report back to me.”
His heart sank. It can’t be possible. The orders made no sense to Reo. This was not his type of mission. This was so far out of his normal scope of assignments, he needed to ask. “I hate to question the Party’s decisions, but are you sure you have the correct agent for this assignment? If there is a possibility of other-than-sol contact… isn’t there someone much more… qualified for this task?”
“You must trust the Party…” Babushka murmured.
The tiny woman at the far end of the table finished the sentence. “The Party knows best.”
“See HR for your travel documents and contact information. You leave tonight for the alliance space elevator. Arrangements have been made for your trip… and your rendezvous on Ceres Station.” Reo swore the bitch Babushka grinned while she spoke. The first time he’d spotted any spark of emotion from her stony face.
With great effort, the reader kept his voice calm, his mannerisms compliant. “For how long?”
The tiny woman was too quick with her answer. “For as long as it takes.” She gave him a smile like a crocodile. “Don’t think of it as a job. It will be an adventure.”
Babushka added, “All the details will be relayed to you by HR.”
With no choice left to him, Reo clicked his heels, saluted, and turned for the exit. Thank the cosmos for the inhibitor waves. All Reo could think was Bullshit. He fought the urge to scream at the top of his lungs once alone in the elevator. The glowing red eye of the camera stared down at him. The cameras were always watching in the Eastern-Alliance.
Why send a low-level reader? Why not use a remote viewer? A myriad of questions swirled around his mind. A storm of concerns threatened to break his concentration.
He was headed out into space if he liked it or not. All on some crazy orders to chase down some Foo Fighter—ET bullshit.
He was certain this was punishment for his slight indiscretion. He should have guessed being grounded behind a desk wouldn’t be the only punishment for his lapse of judgment.
Now he was destined to travel into space. Reo had been fortunate to miss out on that life experience. He wasn’t too fond of traveling the far side of the city.
Damn it all, if they are goin
g to send me to space, they will pay for everything. He thought to himself. Not like he had any belongings suitable for the rigors of working off-planet.
Leaving Earth would surely upset his delicate constitution. This was going to be a miserable trip.
That was the thought he focused on, his misery, while he gathered his envelope stuffed full of his need-to-know information. Paper remained unhackable. Now wasn’t the time to study the thick file. There would be plenty of time on the trip to Ceres.
If anyone was powerful enough to read his thoughts, Reo couldn’t afford to let his true feelings be known. His steady scowl was his best defense, as it screamed, “Stay away.”
His deeper emotions would surely get him disappeared or retired into some Party gulag.
The first leg of the trip was via high-speed pressurized train to the Eastern-Alliance space elevator located on a manmade island off the friendly coast of Indonesia. Even on Earth, there were experiences too inhospitable for humans. The train to the elevator proved people were not cut out for travel to space—and it never left the ground.
Early in the twenty-first century, China wrapped the Asian countries in concrete and steel. Controlling neighbors with technology they could never hold with force. Now the Eastern-Alliance benefited from the far-reaching investment in infrastructure.
Only the first leg in the miserable journey to come, Reo wanted only to drink, but he was certain he’d picked up a tail outside the building. Leave it to the Force to ensure their wayward reader didn’t get lost on the way to his destiny.
Screw adventure, all he wanted was the safety and normalcy of Shanghai.
Alone on the train, he broke the seal on his packet. At least I can see who my contact is.
One look at the familiar unsmiling face that stared out from the Party photo and his heart sank. Babushka is one sick bitch. His face remained stoic while his thoughts screamed, FUCK ME.
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