HOW DECEITFUL THE HEART LIES.
The Pretender and the characters on the show are copyright by NBC, The Action Network, the original writers, etc. The characters I invented belong to me, even the bad ones like Walstaff. (I wish he didn't, but he does. Why I made such a loser as a character is beyond me.) Anway, now for the reason.
All of you have seen the DSAs and I am sure some of you wondered well how does a boy like that grow up to be like Jarod. Hair color is all wrong, complexion, and eye color doesn't match. Well the Centre planned it that way. They used a substitute. Oh and why with all their brilliant scientific equipment, why were the DSAs (except in the first episode) black and white? This story will give an explanation.
This is a repost of Chapter One with some revisions. Although I really hate the Parkers with the exception of Miss Parker, one of the reviewers requested more detail about their surroundings. Well I believed a description of the room in the Tower should suffice for now. Although I doubt that anyone would like to stay in it for long. The artist who painted the portrait should be shot, for instance. There is no creativity in the room, so I am writing a novel in the R section where Miss Parker does some major redecorating.
CHAPTER ONE
The:late 1960s The Centre.
The shades in the Tower were drawn. Mr. Parker, and Dr. Raines sat in luxurious black leather chairs as they faced a large screen. Well actually it wasn't a screen but an observation window magnified so many times for the object was many sub levels below. At the side of the screen window were two speakers to magnify the sound. A girl in a grey dress brought in a pot of tea, bowed silently, and left. Her employers or masters just ignored her. On the wall was an abstract Nazi typed picture of Mr. Parker Senior painted by a former Nazi artist who escaped Allied justice and joined the Centre.
Now neither Mr. Parker and Doctor Raines were Nazis. They believed all ethnic groups to be corruptible, not just one. It was just that this artist with his lack of creative ability could show the Centre denizens in the proper emotionless light that the Centre demanded.
Mr. Parker sipped his cup of tea while he and Dr. Raines watched the screen with a younger Sydney and a boy with dark brown hair, and brown eyes. The latter had his hair over his shoulders and wore a shirt and pants. As of yet, the Centre had not given him a uniform yet. This would come when he grew older. Right now, the boy was in a large bubble with electrodes hooked up to him. He looked frightened. The two observers didn't care.
"Excellent specimen," said Raines blowing smoke from his cigarette.
"I can't hear it," said Parker.
Dr. Raines turned up the sound. :"Now you can."
"Now concentrate Jarod."
"I'm trying. Yes, now I see it. The plane's about the crash. Look out, the instrument panel's froze. I can't move the controls!"
"What do you do, Jarod? You have to keep the plane from crashing. Remember there's an important diplomat on board. He has to be at the United Nations before sun up."
"I got it Sydney. I put the plane on a nose dive. That will take the ice off the wing and then I level off."
"The new Pretender is working out quite well, Dr. Raines," said Mr. Parker.
"Yes, although Sydney is too close and the boy's too curious. I fear we have a problem." Dr. Raines pressed his cigarette into the ash tray.
"What do you mean?"
"The boy's too curious. We've kept him isolated and fed that special diet. But sooner or later, he's going to wonder what he looks like."
They could already see it. The boy was trying to see his reflection in the bubble. So far, he had been unsuccessful. The Centre staff had placed it in such away as to keep it from direct light. The cameras which showed Jarod's activity since they first acquired him, had their shiny metal painted over with black paint and the lens was high enough so that unless the boy grew to be over six feet tall, he could not see his reflection.
"Look Raines," said Mr. Parker, "It is the Centre policy that none of the Pretenders see their reflections. They are Property. Things have no reflections, but I have a solution." He motioned to a figure that hid behind the curtain. "Meet Jarod's 'father'!"
"Did you loose your objective, Chairman?" Raines eyes narrowed.
The man, who stepped forward, looked nothing like Jarod. He had thinning red brown hair, and his features and that of Margaret would never produce a boy with dark hair and brown eyes. His complexion was all wrong He looked almost like Margaret's brother.
"So you're the Pretender's 'father'," said Raines with a smile.
"Actually I'm Theodore Walstaff,"
"We've been training Mr. Walstaff for years. He was an employee at our London office. Of course, you know our policy. He first entered the Centre Training School when he was six, learned all the ropes, but could not make it as a Sweeper or Cleaner, not enough heartlessness. However, he was good at mimicking. Worked at the local theatre so I thought he would be the perfect ploy," said Mr. Parker.
"What are you going to do?"
Mr. Parker turned on the intercom. "Could you send me the photographer in?"
"Right away sir."
As soon as the photographer entered, Mr. Parker had him sit down. "This is our Pretender's father, well not exactly. I want you to make him." He reached into his desk and took out an envelope containing negatives and film. "I had the Cleaners intercept these from the drug store where Charles and Margaret had them developed." He handed them to him. "I want you to put Walstaff's image in place of Charles' s and Dr., do you have an employee known for his discretion and lack of conscience?"
"Yes, Gar. He just got out of training."
"Good," said Mr. Parker, "According to information, Charles is an air force pilot. We've kept them on the run. But he's now going to suddenly be transferred."
"Where?"
"I haven't decided yet, but it's somewhere where the real Jarod's father never appeared."
Raines smiled evilly. "I hope you have all the pieces put together, Mr. Parker. I'd hate for something to go wrong." He turned to the door and motioned for a man to appear.
It was Gar, a younger version of the Sweeper. "Yes Dr. Raines?" he asked.
"I want you to find a boy, one that would look like he's a child of these two," said Mr. Parker who showed him the picture of Mr. Walstaff and Margaret. "He is to be Jarod's age and be sure that — Mr. Walstaff, when did you first start to shave or your voice changed?"
"Shave? I was twenty and my voice changed when I was nineteen."
"Rather late," commented Raines.
"That's why I chose him. When and if Jarod sees the DSAs, I want him to see an innocent and fresh faced boy working on it. I want him to remember the Centre with fondness and not with fear. And I believe Mr. Walstaff is the man who can do this and our new ' Jarod'."