Lock It

Bright lights blinded Usman. Clamps held his eyes open, preventing respite. He heard footsteps behind him, and a voice.

“Tell us what we need to know and it ends Mr. Bello. Tell us who was there with you. Daniel? Koffi?”

Before he could say anything a stab of electricity doubled him over. He cried out, to tell them again. He wasn’t there. He didn’t know. But they kept demanding.

“Tell us Mr. Bello. Was it Mr. Mensah? Who supplied you?”

Usman gathered his breath. “I have told you and told you. I say again, I am not a member of Night Shade. I don’t know anything about Night Shade. I don’t –“

Another bolt attacked him. His skin ran but could not escape, and Usman felt his nerves burn, He passed out. The men left the room, turned off the lights. It was pitch dark, and Usman dreamt he was dead.

It was a beautiful dream, a relief from life, surrounded by loved ones. His wife was there, and his daughter. Usman's family welcomed him with tears of joy, and he fell to his feet. They were in a sunny field, at a picnic. The one where he had lost them, a lifetime past. His wife smiled at him as only she could, the heart shaped locket he had given her when they met dangled from her neck.

Hey Martty, check this out. This is a good one.

After some time had passed, Usman awoke. The clamps had fallen off his eyes at some point, and the sleep had been real. He didn't know how long it had been before that since he had truly slept. Days, at least. Perhaps weeks. Waking was cruel.

At some point while he slept, his captors had removed everything from the room. All that remained was the chair, and him strapped to it. He knew there was no hope of escape, and that he would never be released. Even though Usman had nothing to do with Night Shade, he did have secrets. Usman Bello had many secrets. He could name names, and if he wasn't careful he would break.

Usman knew he couldn't take any more. He drew a deep breath and began to recite the mnemonics which would lock his memories away even from himself. He saw the faces, heard the names, chanted as his mentor had taught him, and forgot. Every memory had to be locked away, to be sure. Every name. There was only one image he could spare.

You have to admire Mr. Bello. He wiped his own mind to protect his secrets.

Yeah? Well what's so special about that? He was a spy, that's what they're trained to do under interrogation.

He wiped away all memory of his family too. It was all he had left, and he forgot it. It took him a decade to rebuild his life after they released him. And look how far he made it!

Ambassador? Yeah, I guess that's pretty good.

Cass Maarten was finishing his dinner. He was a frugal man, but had indulged and ordered the lobster. He had also taken a glass of wine, the most expensive on the menu, and a chocolate desert that he had decided last minute not to eat. He left a hefty tip and stood up from his table.

"Cass my friend! Is that you I see!"

Ambassador Bello called out from across the room. Cass hid a scowl. The Nigerian Ambassor was a good man, and a good friend, but Cass was in no mood for friendship this night. Tomorrow was to be a terrible day, he was certain. Tonight was a night to indulge, alone, and wallow in self pity.

"Ah Usman. It's good to see you old chap. Yes, really good. Unfortunately I am just on my way out. Have to review for the vote, you know how it goes."

"Nonsense my friend!" Usman waved Cass over as he was trying to make for the door. "Join us! As you know, tomorrow may be the end of the world, right? If we can't pull off the impossible! But there's nothing to review that can change anything now. Everyone's minds will be made up tonight."

Cass Maarten sighed and strode over to the Ambassador's table. Three others were sat with him. He recognized Laura Beckinsdale and Ben Castro, the ambassadors from Canada and Israel respectively. A third woman sat along with them. He thought she looked familiar but couldn't put a name to the face.

"So my dear Cass. I was just saying to our friends that I actually feel very optimistic. I spoke with Armond and Michelle before I headed over here, and they have decided to vote West! That puts us down only three, and I have very good cause to suspect others are falling our way!"

Ambassador Castro took a long, slow sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. "Your optimism is inspiring Mr. Bello, but I am not convinced. I think Jane's speach earlier today is going to push several of the fencers East. The margin is too thin."

"Perhaps, but don't forget that -"

Ambassador Bello dropped his fork and his eyes went wide.

"Cass, what is that you are wearing around your neck? It looks so familiar to me. I can't -" Usman trailed off, his eyes glued to Cass Maarten's neck. Cass looked down, surprised to see himself wearing a golden locket.

"How did this get here? I don't know what this is!"

Look at the graph here. Yep, check out the vid! The memories are blending together. It happens a lot with these original specimens.

Well, they're supposed to. This is some great experience the central processor is getting.

I know, but it always amazes me. Think about it! When we first started the experience program these were all individual simulations. Now that we've linked them together the processor's capacity has skyrocketed.

They're it's neurons. Their dreams keep this bunker together. Keep the air conditioners running, the generator producing.

It amazes me. Oh hey, it's noon. We need to wake them up for feeding time.

General Castro rolled his wheel chair through the experience ward. It was a who's - who of the mid 21st century United Nations amassador corps. His former friend's time twisted bodies lay strapped inside coffin like tubes as thin wires explored their skulls. He shuddered at the similarity between these devices and that which allowed him to control the simulacrum which explored the Earth's surface while he rested here, miles below.

"So if I understand correctly, these people were allowed to live out their lives for decades before being placed into this...system. Was I also connected to this network while I was frozen?"

"Oh no, not at all General!" Dr. Miral Ghaniya assured the old man. "Your case was...different."

"And these screens actually show what they are dreaming?"

"They do! There's a bit of a delay, maybe half a minute, while the system translates the neuro-activity into something visual like this. It really is incredible though, and a lot of this is new. When we went underground we didn't have anything like this at all."

General Castro squinted at the screen. He saw Diarmat Bath, a former military companion of his, being chased down a long hallway, firing back over his shoulders at an unseen enemy.

"I see Bath here, Bath Senior that is. Is he in the system as well? I was told he escaped the project years before I was awakened; that he made his way back to the surface."

Miral shook her head. "Those are rumors I am sure. He was certainly never in the experience network. It's a shame too. Say what you want about the man, but he had integrity. The Central Processor would benefit greatly from his personality! This is probably a memory of his wife. She's in the system and dreaming now."

"Oh really? I didn't see her. I knew her well in life. Or, back before I was frozen I mean. Which brings to my mind; what happens when these people die? Are their minds somehow preserved in the system?"

"No, we don't have that technology yet. They have to be here sleeping. Once they die, they're gone, but the lessons they taught the processor live on."

Ben rolled his wheelchair closer to the video screen and squinted. "That locket that Bath is wearing. It's very familiar, isn't it?"