The Pretender and it's characters still aren't mine...probably couldn't
even afford a rent-to-own deal. I just use them a little bit from time
to time, then return them none the worse for wear. This is, of course,
the sequel to Lies I, II, and III and will make more sense if you've
read them. Thanks for all the wonderful feedback on the previous parts
and thanks for your patience waiting for this one. I hope it was worth
the wait. Please let me know.
Lies IV: The Next Generation
By Donna
Mr. Parker sighed heavily as he sat down at his desk. He reached to
turn on the computer and hesitated. He wasn't sure he really wanted to
see what their "rat" had been up to over night.
Not that he seemed to limit himself to nights.
His little "droppings" turned up in the system at all hours of the day
and night.
One day, it had been questions about Mr. Parker's vacation time in
1980.
Another day, it was about his passport.
Someone seemed to know far too much and their technicians were having
no luck discovering who was responsible.
Far too much time and money was being lost due to the system having to
be shut down to be cleaned each time their rat left one of his calling
cards.
At least, they had been doing it enough that they were getting
faster...it only took a few hours instead of the whole day, but it was
still far too long. Data was lost or misplaced every time it happened
and people were not happy.
Most importantly, the Triumvirate was not happy.
Without realizing it, he held his breath as he activated his computer.
No red flags.
He breathed out.
Not yet, anyway.
He checked his messages and got on with the business of the day.
Many levels below in the Centre's most secret area, Grace took a deep
breath and looked across the table at her young charge.
"Catherine, you know that lives are depending on you. Why won't you
complete this simulation?"
Catherine leaned back in her chair crossing her arms defiantly.
'Sometimes she seems so much like any other teenager," Grace thought.
"I can't."
"Can't or won't."
She shrugged.
"What does it matter?"
The girl suddenly leaned on the table.
"Tell me about my parents."
Grace sighed heavily.
"Catherine, we've been through all this before. The past won't change,
no matter how many times I tell you about it."
"I know. I just want to hear it again. Please, Grace."
Catherine's blue eyes sparkled with interest and the look on her face
begged the older woman for the story.
"If I do, will you complete the simulation?"
"I will give it my best."
Grace knew that this was as good as a promise.
"Well, as you know, I didn't come to the Centre until about ten years
ago, so all I know is what I've read in your files and what I've been
told by others."
The girl nodded, her face shining.
"I know, but please, tell me anyway."
Miss Parker stalked across the lobby of the Centre. She could feel the
tension in the air, almost like lightening ready to strike. Everyone
was busy typing away at their computers, stopping every few minutes to
back up their work. It gave her a good feeling inside to know that she
was the cause of all the problems.
She wondered if this was the way Jarod felt when he ran a sting
operation.
This would almost be fun, if the stakes weren't so high.
But they were.
The truth...about her daughter.
"Both of your parents worked here at the Centre. They were both
special, like you, and were able to help many people through their
abilities. They often worked together on the really difficult problems
and somewhere along the way they fell in love. Everyone here at the
Centre adored them both and when they got married, there was a big
celebration. A couple of years later, you arrived, making their
perfect life even better. Since your father was an orphan and your
mother had only her father, who also worked here, the people here were
their family and they used to bring you here with them to work. They
knew from the beginning that you were special, too. When you were only
a year or so old, there was a terrible fire at their house. Your
father brought you out, left you with a neighbor and then went back to
get your mother. Neither of them made it out."
"They put my life before their own?"
"Of course they did. They loved you very much."
Catherine nodded at her to continue.
"Your grandfather brought you here because, even though you were so
young, you were severely traumatized by the situation. You've always
been fine when you were here, but when he would try to take you out,
you panicked. A couple of years later, your grandfather passed away
and there was no place else for you to go. You've been here ever
since."
"But why can't I leave now?"
"Catherine, we've been through this. You just wouldn't be able to live
out there. You have a special gift and there are people who would want
to use it for their own ends, who would want to prevent you from
helping us, even if it meant killing you."
"Like they did my parents."
"Like they did your parents. You're here for your own safety,
Catherine. You should be glad for the Centre's protection."
"I know, and I am...I just wonder sometimes..."
Grace smiled at the young woman.
"I know you do, but you know you can trust me."
"It's like they don't trust us," Broots was complaining as she entered
the tech room.
"I wouldn't trust you with replacing the toilet paper in my bathroom,
Broots. What are you talking about?"
He was becoming accustomed to letting her insults roll right off.
"With the truth about whatever is going on with the computer system
here. It's next to impossible to get anything done when you have no
idea when they're going to shut the system down. You have to stop
about every ten minutes to run a backup on what you're working on.
They keep telling us that it's just routine maintenance, but it's just
happening way too often for that."
"What do you think it is, Broots?"
He looked around quickly and then motioned to them to come closer.
In the silence that followed, Grace wondered how much of the story was
true. It was what she had been told when she was put in charge of the
young pretender, and she knew better than to ask any questions.
It seemed just a little bit too convenient, though.
"Grace, do you know what they looked like?"
"No, Catherine, like I said, this was long before I came to work at the
Centre."
"And there are no photos of them?"
"No, dear. Everything was destroyed in the fire."
"I just wonder what they looked like. Do I have his nose, her eyes?
Why am I so tall? Who do I look more like?"
"From what I've been told, you look a lot like both of them."
"Please, keep checking for a picture. I'd just like to have something
of them."
Grace smiled, wondering which of her parents was responsible for the
stubborn streak in the young woman.
"If I promise, will you finish this sim now?"
"Yes, ma'am."
As the girl turned her attention back to the papers on the table, her
thoughts were in turmoil. The more often she heard the story, the less
she believed it. It had never felt quite right, even when Grace's
predecessor, Stephanie, had told her. And after the events of the last
few days, she doubted it even more.
"Somebody's trying to steal files," Broots whispered.
"Jarod?" Parker asked, even though she knew better.
"Maybe, but I don't think so. Most hackers have a certain...style...a
certain way of doing things that you learn to recognize. I've gone up
against him a few times and I think I've kind of learned to recognize
his particular style. Something just tells me that this is someone
different."
"Wait a minute, Broots. If they shut down the system every time
there's a problem, how do you know about this hacker?"
If possible, his voice dropped even lower.
"Because they have a backup system that they don't shut down. It's
very limited...the triumvirate and a few other people in the Tower stay
up when everyone else goes down. I stumbled across it by accident the
other day when I was trying to set up a new tripwire program for Jarod.
While the main system is down, they're shifting files like crazy."
"Shifting them where?"
"Some secured area off of the mainframe. The scary part is that the
people that they have working on it don't seem to remember."
"What do you mean?" Sidney asked.
"I know this guy, Jasper, he's a troubleshooter. One of the best I've
ever known. Every time this happens, he gets a call down to the main
data center. At first I thought he was just being discreet when he
wouldn't tell me what was going on, but I think there's more to it than
that. A couple of days ago, I saw him and three other guys heading
into the medical labs right after one of the breakdowns. When I saw
him later on in the day, he seemed kind of out of it...like he had been
drugged or something..."
"Did he seem depressed or irritable?" Sidney asked.
"Now that you mention it, yeah, he did. Jasper is one of those people
who is so into his computer stuff that he really doesn't relate well to
the real world."
"Takes one to know one," Parker muttered under her breath.
"No, he's even worse than I am," Broots assured her.
"Anyway, I went into his area to ask him about something and he was
just sitting there, gazing at the wall. His computer wasn't even
turned on!"
"Sounds serious," Parker deadpanned.
"For him, that is pretty serious. I didn't even think his had an off
switch!"
Parker realized that Sidney was being very quiet. She looked over at
him.
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"I assume this all means something in particular to you?"
"I was just thinking..."
His voice trailed off as he stared into the distance.
"Spit it out, Sid."
"TD-994."
"Which is?" She made no attempt to mask her impatience.
"A mind control treatment that the Centre has been experimenting with
for a number of years. It's actually a drug that makes the brain very
open to suggestion. When used in tandem with a skilled hypnotist, they
have had very good results in making people forget certain things."
"Or remember things which never happened," Parker added, another piece
of the puzzle falling into place.
"Exactly."
Broots looked over at Parker.
"Like when we found Fennigor after the explosion and he couldn't
remember anything that he had talked about before."
"Unfortunately, there are certain side effects, such as depression and
increased irritability which seem to become worse with each subsequent
use of the therapy. In the tests that I know of, they had three
suicides after the fifth use of the treatment."
"And this has been going on for over a week now..."
A week or so ago, she had noticed a shift in the mood of the Centre.
At first, Grace had tried to tell her that she was imagining it, but
she had finally broken down and admitted that they were having some
major problems with the computer system.
She had finished her sim for that day and returned to her room. Late
that evening, she had heard a very slight noise coming from the
ventilation grate behind her bed. Looking in, she had been surprised
to see someone staring back at her. The man's eyes had widened in
shock before he quickly turned around and scurried away.
The next night, he was back. He watched her as she carefully
positioned herself to shield the grate from the cameras.
"Hi!"
He smiled at her.
"My name is Catherine. What's yours?"
He paused for a moment as if in thought.
"Angelo."
"Nice to meet you, Angelo."
She stuck a finger through the grate, the closest she could come to a
handshake.
After a second, he touched his finger to hers.
"Do you need some help or are you hiding in there?"
He shook his head.
"Secret."
"What's a secret? You're not supposed to be in there, are you?"
He hung his head slightly, like a little boy caught in forbidden
territory.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
She was rewarded with a smile.
"Oh! Treat!"
He took a box out of his shirt pocket and pulled a small, brownish ball
out of it. He pushed it carefully through the grill.
Catherine accepted it and studied it carefully. It looked like a
white, foam type object that had been coated with a sweet smelling
brown goo.
She looked back at Angelo.
He took another one out of the box and popped it in his own mouth.
"Tasty!"
Well, it didn't seem to hurt him any. She slowly raised the object to
her mouth and put it in. As the carmel sweetness spread across her
tastebuds, a smile spread across her face.
"Very tasty, Angelo. What is it?"
He held up the box so she could read it.
"With a secret toy surprise? Why would they put a surprise in a box of
food?"
Angelo just shrugged and smiled. For the next few minutes, the two sat
on opposite sides of the grate in silence as they emptied the entire
box.
He tucked the box back in his pocket and looked at her, regret on his
face.
"Have to go now, Catherine."
"Thank you for coming, Angelo, and for sharing your Cracker Jacks with
me. Will you come back?"
She knew she sounded desperate, but she felt a little desperate at the
moment. This was the first time she could ever remember spending time
with someone who didn't want something from her.
"Angelo will come back, secret Catherine."
He smiled at her again and turned around, quickly disappearing from
view.
She didn't see him again for a couple of days. Late one night, she
heard his soft call from behind the wall.
"Angelo!" she whispered. "I've been worried! Is everything alright?"
He sighed heavily. "Too many eyes and ears sometimes."
"I know. It seems like they're everywhere! Is it safe now?"
"Yes," he cocked his head for a moment, as if listening for something.
"For a minute. Surprise for Catherine."
He carefully rolled up a small piece of paper and pushed it through the
square in the grate. She unrolled it to discover a page from a desk
calendar. It had been scribbled through with a black marker, violently
torn from the calendar and crumpled into a ball. She could just barely
make out the date.
August 21.
She looked at Angelo, a question in her eyes.
"Hurt."
She gently touched the page again.
Yes, she could sense pain...a hurt that threatened to overwhelm her.
Angelo pushed another rolled paper through to her. When she unrolled
it, her eyes went wide with shock.
It was a photo.
A photo of herself.
But different...
And outside...
And she had never dressed like that.
But the hair and the eyes...
Especially the eyes...
The same eyes that looked back from her mirror every morning.
She touched the face, almost reverently.
"Momma?"
She looked up at Angelo.
He smiled sadly.
"Hurt."
"But she's dead...isn't she?"
He struggled to find the phrase he wanted.
"Her voice...is inside you."
She glanced down at the photo again. When she looked up, he had
disappeared.
She had kept the photo and the calendar page on her ever since.
At night, she would pull the covers over her head and carefully unroll
them. Even though she couldn't see them well in the darkness, she felt
better just touching them.
They helped her to feel somehow connected.
Her mother.
Alive.
And out there.
Angelo said that she hurt. Was it because she missed her daughter?
Was she looking for her?
A touch on her hand brought her back to the present. She looked over
at Grace's concerned face.
"Are you alright, Catherine? You looked like you were a million miles
away there."
"Just thinking about what my life would be like if my parents were
still alive."
Grace looked at her sternly.
"You were supposed to be concentrating on the sim."
"Oh, I finished that." Catherine handed her back the papers and
carefully explained her conclusions.
Grace nodded as she wrote. When Catherine was finished, the older
woman turned and handed her notes to a figure standing in the shadows.
At that instant, the lights dimmed slightly and the figure in the
shadows cursed.
'Wonderful,' thought Grace. 'A new word for Catherine's vocabulary.'
Miss Parker sat curled up in her office chair, staring out the window.
In her hand was a photo.
A photo of her and her father in Paris the summer that Catherine had
been born.
It showed the two of them sitting in a sidewalk café, the Eiffel Tower
visible in the background. A yellow sticky note was attached to it.
"Here's the photo you wanted...me and my Angel in the City of Lights!"
It meant nothing.
She had little doubt that Broots could have come up with the same photo
in just a few minutes on his computer. In these days of digital photos
and computer scanners, a photo proved nothing.
She was much more interested in her conversation with Sidney this
morning.
TD-994.
It could make a person forget what had happened.
Or remember things that never had.
Like a trip to Europe.
This could be tomorrow's little computer glitch.
Almost on cue, the computer on her desk suddenly beeped and went blank.
She smiled slightly.
If Broots had seen that smile, he probably would have left a puddle in
the floor.
In his office, Mr. Parker heard the same beep. He closed his eyes for
a moment, not wanting to know what he knew had just happened. The
ringing of the phone abolished any hope that he was mistaken. As he
answered it, he looked over at the monitor where the telltale red light
blinked in the top corner. His was one of the systems hooked up to
stay on when power was cut. He reached over and typed in a password
and the screen came back up.
"Parker here," he said into the phone.
"Yes, I'm looking at it now. We haven't had any luck on any of the
traces we've tried to run so far."
In the center of the screen blinked a request for his daughter's
medical records for 1980. He shook his head slightly, furious at the
audacity of this particular hacker.
"Apparently, someone is getting into the central system and leaving
these messages to be activated randomly. So far, we haven't a clue as
to who, when or how."
He listened a moment longer.
"I'll take care of it."
He hung up and sighed.
Catherine was hustled into Grace's office.
"Wait here. Someone will be here to take you back to your room in a
little while."
"What am I supposed to do in here?" the teenager asked.
Grace indicated the packed bookshelves.
"Find something to read. I have to check on a couple of other
patients."
She heard the door close and lock.
With a heavy sigh, she plopped down in the desk chair.
"Couldn't even take me back to my room where I might at least get to
see Angelo."
She idly checked all the desk drawers.
Locked, of course.
A quick scan of the bookshelves revealed nothing that she hadn't read
before and certainly nothing that interested her enough to read again.
While she considered picking the lock on the door (never done it, but
how hard could it be?), her eyes came to rest on the blank computer
screen on the desk.
A slow smile spread across her face.
Computer problems, huh...
Maybe she could find out what was going on.
At the very least, it would give her something to do.
And maybe...just maybe...she could find out something about her past in
the process...something about her parents...about the woman who wasn't
dead.
A very much alive Miss Parker sat in the darkness of her office.
'Patience, Parker, Patience.'
It had never been one of her strengths, but this time the reward would
be well worth the struggle to achieve it.
If all had worked as she planned, each file that was moved into the
secured area of the database had been copied and sent to her own secret
hiding place. Once she had all the data she needed, all that was left
would be to retrieve it.
That would be the hard part.
She had tried a couple of days ago, just to make sure that it was
working like it was supposed to. She had almost gotten caught.
Someone else was able to track her for a while. Still, she had managed
to bring one document out with her. She closed her eyes and conjured
it up in her mind.
Memo: Pretender Project-Phase II
Attempts to create a new prodigy subject using artificial insemination
have failed. It appears that the gene does not survive the freezing
process. The next step in the creation of the product will be an
attempt at conception in the normal method, i.e. male/female
intercourse.
The subjects have been chosen for this next step.
The male is a proven commodity, kept in a controlled environment for
some fifteen years. Female subject carries the necessary genetic
trait, but due to outside interference, was not properly trained. As a
result, her efficacy cannot be verified, though testing has shown great
promise even at this late a date. Subjects have been allowed to become
acquainted over the past several years in anticipation of this
possibility and there does seem to be a degree of physical attraction
between them. This leads us to the conclusion that this breeding
project can be accomplished with minimal intervention.
Both subjects have undergone complete physical evaluations and have
been deemed to be in excellent physical health.
At this time, it is suggested that the female subject be treated with
fertility drugs to increase the chances of conception during the
December target date. At that time, subjects should be allowed time
alone together to follow their natural instincts.
Should conception not occur at that time, a second attempt will be made
the following spring. If there is no success as that time, more
aggressive measures will need to be taken.
Dr. Brighton Finley
The most chilling part of the memo, though, was at the bottom.
A handwritten word "Proceed" followed by her father's signature.
Angelo watched through the vent as Catherine sat typing on Grace's
computer. It had only taken her a few minutes to link up to the active
system.
'Not much security. Now let's see if we can find out what's causing
all their problems.'
After only a few more minutes, she stumbled across the first of he
mother's red flags.
"Pretender Breeding Project" and "Pretender Project: Phase II" raised
her curiosity, but meant little to her. The third part, though,
brought her up short.
"Catherine Faith Parker
Born August 21, 1980
Blue Cove, Delaware"
Catherine...her name...and the same date as the one on the calendar
page Angelo had given her.
Were they connected?
A noise caused her to look to the vent, into his eyes.
"Catherine Faith Parker. Is that my name, Angelo?"
He nodded slowly.
"Parker."
She quickly pulled the photo he had given her out of her shirt.
"Is her name Parker?"
He smiled and nodded.
"Daughter...is looking...for daughter."
He suddenly looked up, past her.
"Coming now. Have Faith."
He turned and disappeared into the darkness again.
Catherine quickly hid the photo away and turned the computer off,
grabbing a book and falling into the chair just as the door opened.
A young guard poked his head in the door.
"Ready to go back to your room, Miss."
"It's about time! I was about to die of boredom here!"
She got up and stalked past him.
In the vent, Angelo smiled.
Like mother, like daughter.
In her bed that night, Catherine ran her hand over the photo.
"I'm going to find you, Momma. Please, don't give up on me."
In her own bed, Parker prayed, almost in answer.
"I'm coming, Catherine. Momma's coming."
The end...of this part...
***********************************************************************
As you can probably tell, I really know very little about computers. I
can turn one on, type a story, and I think I've just about got this e-
mail thing down, but that's just about my limit. I don't know whether
this kind of stuff can be done or not, (same with the drug/hypnosis
bit) but I figure if it can be done anywhere, the Centre would be the
place for it to happen.
Please, let me know what you think of the story.
even afford a rent-to-own deal. I just use them a little bit from time
to time, then return them none the worse for wear. This is, of course,
the sequel to Lies I, II, and III and will make more sense if you've
read them. Thanks for all the wonderful feedback on the previous parts
and thanks for your patience waiting for this one. I hope it was worth
the wait. Please let me know.
Lies IV: The Next Generation
By Donna
Mr. Parker sighed heavily as he sat down at his desk. He reached to
turn on the computer and hesitated. He wasn't sure he really wanted to
see what their "rat" had been up to over night.
Not that he seemed to limit himself to nights.
His little "droppings" turned up in the system at all hours of the day
and night.
One day, it had been questions about Mr. Parker's vacation time in
1980.
Another day, it was about his passport.
Someone seemed to know far too much and their technicians were having
no luck discovering who was responsible.
Far too much time and money was being lost due to the system having to
be shut down to be cleaned each time their rat left one of his calling
cards.
At least, they had been doing it enough that they were getting
faster...it only took a few hours instead of the whole day, but it was
still far too long. Data was lost or misplaced every time it happened
and people were not happy.
Most importantly, the Triumvirate was not happy.
Without realizing it, he held his breath as he activated his computer.
No red flags.
He breathed out.
Not yet, anyway.
He checked his messages and got on with the business of the day.
Many levels below in the Centre's most secret area, Grace took a deep
breath and looked across the table at her young charge.
"Catherine, you know that lives are depending on you. Why won't you
complete this simulation?"
Catherine leaned back in her chair crossing her arms defiantly.
'Sometimes she seems so much like any other teenager," Grace thought.
"I can't."
"Can't or won't."
She shrugged.
"What does it matter?"
The girl suddenly leaned on the table.
"Tell me about my parents."
Grace sighed heavily.
"Catherine, we've been through all this before. The past won't change,
no matter how many times I tell you about it."
"I know. I just want to hear it again. Please, Grace."
Catherine's blue eyes sparkled with interest and the look on her face
begged the older woman for the story.
"If I do, will you complete the simulation?"
"I will give it my best."
Grace knew that this was as good as a promise.
"Well, as you know, I didn't come to the Centre until about ten years
ago, so all I know is what I've read in your files and what I've been
told by others."
The girl nodded, her face shining.
"I know, but please, tell me anyway."
Miss Parker stalked across the lobby of the Centre. She could feel the
tension in the air, almost like lightening ready to strike. Everyone
was busy typing away at their computers, stopping every few minutes to
back up their work. It gave her a good feeling inside to know that she
was the cause of all the problems.
She wondered if this was the way Jarod felt when he ran a sting
operation.
This would almost be fun, if the stakes weren't so high.
But they were.
The truth...about her daughter.
"Both of your parents worked here at the Centre. They were both
special, like you, and were able to help many people through their
abilities. They often worked together on the really difficult problems
and somewhere along the way they fell in love. Everyone here at the
Centre adored them both and when they got married, there was a big
celebration. A couple of years later, you arrived, making their
perfect life even better. Since your father was an orphan and your
mother had only her father, who also worked here, the people here were
their family and they used to bring you here with them to work. They
knew from the beginning that you were special, too. When you were only
a year or so old, there was a terrible fire at their house. Your
father brought you out, left you with a neighbor and then went back to
get your mother. Neither of them made it out."
"They put my life before their own?"
"Of course they did. They loved you very much."
Catherine nodded at her to continue.
"Your grandfather brought you here because, even though you were so
young, you were severely traumatized by the situation. You've always
been fine when you were here, but when he would try to take you out,
you panicked. A couple of years later, your grandfather passed away
and there was no place else for you to go. You've been here ever
since."
"But why can't I leave now?"
"Catherine, we've been through this. You just wouldn't be able to live
out there. You have a special gift and there are people who would want
to use it for their own ends, who would want to prevent you from
helping us, even if it meant killing you."
"Like they did my parents."
"Like they did your parents. You're here for your own safety,
Catherine. You should be glad for the Centre's protection."
"I know, and I am...I just wonder sometimes..."
Grace smiled at the young woman.
"I know you do, but you know you can trust me."
"It's like they don't trust us," Broots was complaining as she entered
the tech room.
"I wouldn't trust you with replacing the toilet paper in my bathroom,
Broots. What are you talking about?"
He was becoming accustomed to letting her insults roll right off.
"With the truth about whatever is going on with the computer system
here. It's next to impossible to get anything done when you have no
idea when they're going to shut the system down. You have to stop
about every ten minutes to run a backup on what you're working on.
They keep telling us that it's just routine maintenance, but it's just
happening way too often for that."
"What do you think it is, Broots?"
He looked around quickly and then motioned to them to come closer.
In the silence that followed, Grace wondered how much of the story was
true. It was what she had been told when she was put in charge of the
young pretender, and she knew better than to ask any questions.
It seemed just a little bit too convenient, though.
"Grace, do you know what they looked like?"
"No, Catherine, like I said, this was long before I came to work at the
Centre."
"And there are no photos of them?"
"No, dear. Everything was destroyed in the fire."
"I just wonder what they looked like. Do I have his nose, her eyes?
Why am I so tall? Who do I look more like?"
"From what I've been told, you look a lot like both of them."
"Please, keep checking for a picture. I'd just like to have something
of them."
Grace smiled, wondering which of her parents was responsible for the
stubborn streak in the young woman.
"If I promise, will you finish this sim now?"
"Yes, ma'am."
As the girl turned her attention back to the papers on the table, her
thoughts were in turmoil. The more often she heard the story, the less
she believed it. It had never felt quite right, even when Grace's
predecessor, Stephanie, had told her. And after the events of the last
few days, she doubted it even more.
"Somebody's trying to steal files," Broots whispered.
"Jarod?" Parker asked, even though she knew better.
"Maybe, but I don't think so. Most hackers have a certain...style...a
certain way of doing things that you learn to recognize. I've gone up
against him a few times and I think I've kind of learned to recognize
his particular style. Something just tells me that this is someone
different."
"Wait a minute, Broots. If they shut down the system every time
there's a problem, how do you know about this hacker?"
If possible, his voice dropped even lower.
"Because they have a backup system that they don't shut down. It's
very limited...the triumvirate and a few other people in the Tower stay
up when everyone else goes down. I stumbled across it by accident the
other day when I was trying to set up a new tripwire program for Jarod.
While the main system is down, they're shifting files like crazy."
"Shifting them where?"
"Some secured area off of the mainframe. The scary part is that the
people that they have working on it don't seem to remember."
"What do you mean?" Sidney asked.
"I know this guy, Jasper, he's a troubleshooter. One of the best I've
ever known. Every time this happens, he gets a call down to the main
data center. At first I thought he was just being discreet when he
wouldn't tell me what was going on, but I think there's more to it than
that. A couple of days ago, I saw him and three other guys heading
into the medical labs right after one of the breakdowns. When I saw
him later on in the day, he seemed kind of out of it...like he had been
drugged or something..."
"Did he seem depressed or irritable?" Sidney asked.
"Now that you mention it, yeah, he did. Jasper is one of those people
who is so into his computer stuff that he really doesn't relate well to
the real world."
"Takes one to know one," Parker muttered under her breath.
"No, he's even worse than I am," Broots assured her.
"Anyway, I went into his area to ask him about something and he was
just sitting there, gazing at the wall. His computer wasn't even
turned on!"
"Sounds serious," Parker deadpanned.
"For him, that is pretty serious. I didn't even think his had an off
switch!"
Parker realized that Sidney was being very quiet. She looked over at
him.
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"I assume this all means something in particular to you?"
"I was just thinking..."
His voice trailed off as he stared into the distance.
"Spit it out, Sid."
"TD-994."
"Which is?" She made no attempt to mask her impatience.
"A mind control treatment that the Centre has been experimenting with
for a number of years. It's actually a drug that makes the brain very
open to suggestion. When used in tandem with a skilled hypnotist, they
have had very good results in making people forget certain things."
"Or remember things which never happened," Parker added, another piece
of the puzzle falling into place.
"Exactly."
Broots looked over at Parker.
"Like when we found Fennigor after the explosion and he couldn't
remember anything that he had talked about before."
"Unfortunately, there are certain side effects, such as depression and
increased irritability which seem to become worse with each subsequent
use of the therapy. In the tests that I know of, they had three
suicides after the fifth use of the treatment."
"And this has been going on for over a week now..."
A week or so ago, she had noticed a shift in the mood of the Centre.
At first, Grace had tried to tell her that she was imagining it, but
she had finally broken down and admitted that they were having some
major problems with the computer system.
She had finished her sim for that day and returned to her room. Late
that evening, she had heard a very slight noise coming from the
ventilation grate behind her bed. Looking in, she had been surprised
to see someone staring back at her. The man's eyes had widened in
shock before he quickly turned around and scurried away.
The next night, he was back. He watched her as she carefully
positioned herself to shield the grate from the cameras.
"Hi!"
He smiled at her.
"My name is Catherine. What's yours?"
He paused for a moment as if in thought.
"Angelo."
"Nice to meet you, Angelo."
She stuck a finger through the grate, the closest she could come to a
handshake.
After a second, he touched his finger to hers.
"Do you need some help or are you hiding in there?"
He shook his head.
"Secret."
"What's a secret? You're not supposed to be in there, are you?"
He hung his head slightly, like a little boy caught in forbidden
territory.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
She was rewarded with a smile.
"Oh! Treat!"
He took a box out of his shirt pocket and pulled a small, brownish ball
out of it. He pushed it carefully through the grill.
Catherine accepted it and studied it carefully. It looked like a
white, foam type object that had been coated with a sweet smelling
brown goo.
She looked back at Angelo.
He took another one out of the box and popped it in his own mouth.
"Tasty!"
Well, it didn't seem to hurt him any. She slowly raised the object to
her mouth and put it in. As the carmel sweetness spread across her
tastebuds, a smile spread across her face.
"Very tasty, Angelo. What is it?"
He held up the box so she could read it.
"With a secret toy surprise? Why would they put a surprise in a box of
food?"
Angelo just shrugged and smiled. For the next few minutes, the two sat
on opposite sides of the grate in silence as they emptied the entire
box.
He tucked the box back in his pocket and looked at her, regret on his
face.
"Have to go now, Catherine."
"Thank you for coming, Angelo, and for sharing your Cracker Jacks with
me. Will you come back?"
She knew she sounded desperate, but she felt a little desperate at the
moment. This was the first time she could ever remember spending time
with someone who didn't want something from her.
"Angelo will come back, secret Catherine."
He smiled at her again and turned around, quickly disappearing from
view.
She didn't see him again for a couple of days. Late one night, she
heard his soft call from behind the wall.
"Angelo!" she whispered. "I've been worried! Is everything alright?"
He sighed heavily. "Too many eyes and ears sometimes."
"I know. It seems like they're everywhere! Is it safe now?"
"Yes," he cocked his head for a moment, as if listening for something.
"For a minute. Surprise for Catherine."
He carefully rolled up a small piece of paper and pushed it through the
square in the grate. She unrolled it to discover a page from a desk
calendar. It had been scribbled through with a black marker, violently
torn from the calendar and crumpled into a ball. She could just barely
make out the date.
August 21.
She looked at Angelo, a question in her eyes.
"Hurt."
She gently touched the page again.
Yes, she could sense pain...a hurt that threatened to overwhelm her.
Angelo pushed another rolled paper through to her. When she unrolled
it, her eyes went wide with shock.
It was a photo.
A photo of herself.
But different...
And outside...
And she had never dressed like that.
But the hair and the eyes...
Especially the eyes...
The same eyes that looked back from her mirror every morning.
She touched the face, almost reverently.
"Momma?"
She looked up at Angelo.
He smiled sadly.
"Hurt."
"But she's dead...isn't she?"
He struggled to find the phrase he wanted.
"Her voice...is inside you."
She glanced down at the photo again. When she looked up, he had
disappeared.
She had kept the photo and the calendar page on her ever since.
At night, she would pull the covers over her head and carefully unroll
them. Even though she couldn't see them well in the darkness, she felt
better just touching them.
They helped her to feel somehow connected.
Her mother.
Alive.
And out there.
Angelo said that she hurt. Was it because she missed her daughter?
Was she looking for her?
A touch on her hand brought her back to the present. She looked over
at Grace's concerned face.
"Are you alright, Catherine? You looked like you were a million miles
away there."
"Just thinking about what my life would be like if my parents were
still alive."
Grace looked at her sternly.
"You were supposed to be concentrating on the sim."
"Oh, I finished that." Catherine handed her back the papers and
carefully explained her conclusions.
Grace nodded as she wrote. When Catherine was finished, the older
woman turned and handed her notes to a figure standing in the shadows.
At that instant, the lights dimmed slightly and the figure in the
shadows cursed.
'Wonderful,' thought Grace. 'A new word for Catherine's vocabulary.'
Miss Parker sat curled up in her office chair, staring out the window.
In her hand was a photo.
A photo of her and her father in Paris the summer that Catherine had
been born.
It showed the two of them sitting in a sidewalk café, the Eiffel Tower
visible in the background. A yellow sticky note was attached to it.
"Here's the photo you wanted...me and my Angel in the City of Lights!"
It meant nothing.
She had little doubt that Broots could have come up with the same photo
in just a few minutes on his computer. In these days of digital photos
and computer scanners, a photo proved nothing.
She was much more interested in her conversation with Sidney this
morning.
TD-994.
It could make a person forget what had happened.
Or remember things that never had.
Like a trip to Europe.
This could be tomorrow's little computer glitch.
Almost on cue, the computer on her desk suddenly beeped and went blank.
She smiled slightly.
If Broots had seen that smile, he probably would have left a puddle in
the floor.
In his office, Mr. Parker heard the same beep. He closed his eyes for
a moment, not wanting to know what he knew had just happened. The
ringing of the phone abolished any hope that he was mistaken. As he
answered it, he looked over at the monitor where the telltale red light
blinked in the top corner. His was one of the systems hooked up to
stay on when power was cut. He reached over and typed in a password
and the screen came back up.
"Parker here," he said into the phone.
"Yes, I'm looking at it now. We haven't had any luck on any of the
traces we've tried to run so far."
In the center of the screen blinked a request for his daughter's
medical records for 1980. He shook his head slightly, furious at the
audacity of this particular hacker.
"Apparently, someone is getting into the central system and leaving
these messages to be activated randomly. So far, we haven't a clue as
to who, when or how."
He listened a moment longer.
"I'll take care of it."
He hung up and sighed.
Catherine was hustled into Grace's office.
"Wait here. Someone will be here to take you back to your room in a
little while."
"What am I supposed to do in here?" the teenager asked.
Grace indicated the packed bookshelves.
"Find something to read. I have to check on a couple of other
patients."
She heard the door close and lock.
With a heavy sigh, she plopped down in the desk chair.
"Couldn't even take me back to my room where I might at least get to
see Angelo."
She idly checked all the desk drawers.
Locked, of course.
A quick scan of the bookshelves revealed nothing that she hadn't read
before and certainly nothing that interested her enough to read again.
While she considered picking the lock on the door (never done it, but
how hard could it be?), her eyes came to rest on the blank computer
screen on the desk.
A slow smile spread across her face.
Computer problems, huh...
Maybe she could find out what was going on.
At the very least, it would give her something to do.
And maybe...just maybe...she could find out something about her past in
the process...something about her parents...about the woman who wasn't
dead.
A very much alive Miss Parker sat in the darkness of her office.
'Patience, Parker, Patience.'
It had never been one of her strengths, but this time the reward would
be well worth the struggle to achieve it.
If all had worked as she planned, each file that was moved into the
secured area of the database had been copied and sent to her own secret
hiding place. Once she had all the data she needed, all that was left
would be to retrieve it.
That would be the hard part.
She had tried a couple of days ago, just to make sure that it was
working like it was supposed to. She had almost gotten caught.
Someone else was able to track her for a while. Still, she had managed
to bring one document out with her. She closed her eyes and conjured
it up in her mind.
Memo: Pretender Project-Phase II
Attempts to create a new prodigy subject using artificial insemination
have failed. It appears that the gene does not survive the freezing
process. The next step in the creation of the product will be an
attempt at conception in the normal method, i.e. male/female
intercourse.
The subjects have been chosen for this next step.
The male is a proven commodity, kept in a controlled environment for
some fifteen years. Female subject carries the necessary genetic
trait, but due to outside interference, was not properly trained. As a
result, her efficacy cannot be verified, though testing has shown great
promise even at this late a date. Subjects have been allowed to become
acquainted over the past several years in anticipation of this
possibility and there does seem to be a degree of physical attraction
between them. This leads us to the conclusion that this breeding
project can be accomplished with minimal intervention.
Both subjects have undergone complete physical evaluations and have
been deemed to be in excellent physical health.
At this time, it is suggested that the female subject be treated with
fertility drugs to increase the chances of conception during the
December target date. At that time, subjects should be allowed time
alone together to follow their natural instincts.
Should conception not occur at that time, a second attempt will be made
the following spring. If there is no success as that time, more
aggressive measures will need to be taken.
Dr. Brighton Finley
The most chilling part of the memo, though, was at the bottom.
A handwritten word "Proceed" followed by her father's signature.
Angelo watched through the vent as Catherine sat typing on Grace's
computer. It had only taken her a few minutes to link up to the active
system.
'Not much security. Now let's see if we can find out what's causing
all their problems.'
After only a few more minutes, she stumbled across the first of he
mother's red flags.
"Pretender Breeding Project" and "Pretender Project: Phase II" raised
her curiosity, but meant little to her. The third part, though,
brought her up short.
"Catherine Faith Parker
Born August 21, 1980
Blue Cove, Delaware"
Catherine...her name...and the same date as the one on the calendar
page Angelo had given her.
Were they connected?
A noise caused her to look to the vent, into his eyes.
"Catherine Faith Parker. Is that my name, Angelo?"
He nodded slowly.
"Parker."
She quickly pulled the photo he had given her out of her shirt.
"Is her name Parker?"
He smiled and nodded.
"Daughter...is looking...for daughter."
He suddenly looked up, past her.
"Coming now. Have Faith."
He turned and disappeared into the darkness again.
Catherine quickly hid the photo away and turned the computer off,
grabbing a book and falling into the chair just as the door opened.
A young guard poked his head in the door.
"Ready to go back to your room, Miss."
"It's about time! I was about to die of boredom here!"
She got up and stalked past him.
In the vent, Angelo smiled.
Like mother, like daughter.
In her bed that night, Catherine ran her hand over the photo.
"I'm going to find you, Momma. Please, don't give up on me."
In her own bed, Parker prayed, almost in answer.
"I'm coming, Catherine. Momma's coming."
The end...of this part...
***********************************************************************
As you can probably tell, I really know very little about computers. I
can turn one on, type a story, and I think I've just about got this e-
mail thing down, but that's just about my limit. I don't know whether
this kind of stuff can be done or not, (same with the drug/hypnosis
bit) but I figure if it can be done anywhere, the Centre would be the
place for it to happen.
Please, let me know what you think of the story.