The “Milli-Cochrane Caper” {Prologue}

Posted on Sat 3rd Oct, 2020 @ 11:29am by Renato Solis

1,082 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Denouement
Location: Undisclosed labratory- Alpha Quadrant
Timeline: One month ago

-Start-

{Unknown Interior location}

Theophilus Boule had never known such pain. Strapped as he was to the biobed, restraints effortlessly holding him down with invisible forces, he could only squirm under the relentless assault to his nerves. To torture a man is no small feat, the sin of purposefully shattering mind and body broke holes in the world, and misery was infectious. Light in his eyes kept him from seeing anything useful. He had only known one moment of existence as he normally lived, working in a lab, and the next saw him transported into restraints, no option to even struggle.

He was livid, screaming and cursing, scared and afraid of what was happening to him. The questions had started to seem like he was captured by an enemy. Asking him about his work, who he spoke with, what the experiments he ran that day were. For some reason, anytime the question was too bizarre, or couldn't be recalled, the pain would come if he didn't answer. Lying didn't work, the captor knew all, and some of the questions were mundane things nobody would be expected to remember.

His present panic was over such inquiry. Coursing shock had already reduced his pride to the stinking mess puddled beneath the table. Blood was in his eyes, the taste in his lips, as he heard the captor ask,

"WHEN YOU THREW AWAY THE APPLE, WAS IT INTO THE WASTE BIN?"

Unsure, but with half a memory of the irrelevant moment of time so long ago, he guessed, "Yes." It must have been correct, as there was no punishment. With no delay another question came, the volume ear splitting.

"HOW DID YOU PUT IT THERE?"

"What?" His nerves were scraped raw, the fear of another jolt took over. "What do you mean, why the hell does that matter-"

"DID YOU DROP IT? GIVE IT AWAY? WHERE DID YOU PUT IT WHEN YOU FINISHED?"

Theophilus cried a bloody tear, "I don't know man, how could I remember? It was a week ago...."

"I REMEMBER. YOU SHOULD! WHY DON'T YOU?"

Bewildered, he cried more in confusion and rotten gut anticipation of the pain. "Why would anyone care? What is this? Where am I - AHH!" Theo was reminded who asked the questions yet again. More questions, he knew the answers and was spared. Vision had gone in his left eyes, and all he tasted was metal. Death was inevitable, welcomed even.

"WHAT WAS THE ISODYNE COIL RE-LOGGING SEQUENCE CODE FOR EX-445 BETA?"

This wasn't even confidential information. The codes were listed in the public registry for the trials. This was a quiz, to see if he knew the answer, not to glean confidential information. There was something familiar though, an eerie pall to his lack of remembrance which gnawed at the edges of his awareness. He didn't care about the voice any more, or the impossible questions really.

"TELL ME HOW YOU SPLIT THE ENERGY DEMANDS OF THE 414-PLATE!"

Nothing mattered any more, Theo thought of his ex-wife, whose desires for a real relationship had driven him away. Theo had decided to pursue immortality, the B'aku research teams were disbanded, but the research was still there. That path had lead to a early grave oddly enough. The specific questions kept ringing a deeper truth in his reverie. He considered the end of his life, recalling the path that lead to here.

It is said the cascade of images flashing before a persons awareness are the brain desperately searching for useable data to save itself. This desperate dig worked, he had a partial answer at least, to, "why?"

"Who are you... I was..." Pieces fell together in his mind, the mundane questions ... memories, though fractured, created a narrative that brought him to the night before.

More pain. Theo heard a voice but ignored it. He was desperate to understand why this was happening. Recalling anything he could ... there were days he could not recall, likely from the frying of his brain. Was it something else, was he drugged, or given implanted memories? As best he could parse, over the last week, he had been drilling himself with his own daily tasks, going over every word, every action in review. He was memorizing the duty logs of his own life.

"I remember..."

"YES? THE METHOD FOR SPLITTING 414?"

Awaking here, this place of darkness and pain had no doors, though he was transported inside. The voice came to him, asked him about those very actions, but before any sense could come to him, another wave of icy electric agony shot from ear to heel.

Clarity came to Theophilus. Time had been granted for his clever mind to reverse engineer his predicament. This was a hell of his own making, and there would be no stopping it. This had to be the first time, if he could only appeal to madness before it began this cycle ....

When nothing immediately came to hurt him, he pressed, hoping his captor was listening.

"Stop please, this will take our soul-AHHHHHHHHH"

"ANSWER ME."

Cleverness had burned out, alongside his synapses. All he had left was heartfelt and genuine emotion. Practically whispering, he managed to say,

"Amma, I love Amma so much. I just want to see her, please just let me see her."

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF AMMA? WHAT SCENT DOES SHE WEAR."

"Cocaux by Sever. And leaving her was a mistake, she wouldn't have let things get to this point." Theo spoke to himself, beyond hope for his own life with enough presence of mind to realize begging was worthless. The rat could always look up and out of the maze, but to what end?

"YOU ARE NOTHING TO HER. BY WHAT METHOD DID YOU DIVIDE THE ENERGY DEMANDS OF PLATE-414?"

"Go to Hell."

"YOU CANNOT ANSWER THE QUESTIONS?"

"I am not doing this anymore."

The voice stopped. A slight rasping bass voice emerged. Theo's eyes went wide in fear with the confirmation.

All it said was, "Then I have no use for you."

Theo closed his eyes, the high pitched whine of the transporter overtaking his recollection. Knowing this was his final breath, he tried to focus on Amma, and his fleeting happiness with her. The furious rage of knowing who took his life was all he could think of, and he screamed in protest.

When the light faded the room was left in darkness, the stink and offal on the floor was all that remained of a mans life.

-End-

Austen

 

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