NSA Headquarters, Gotham City. February 2nd, 2042, 2:44:37 pm
Welcome to NSA Headquarters. Please scan your ID for access.
The computerized voice echoed through the dark hallway. A middle aged man with a grim expression reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small computerized badge that resembled a CredCard. He scanned it into the computer, and then replaced it in his jacket pocket, removing his green visor and fiddling impatiently while the computer matched his eye scan with his file.
Welcome back, Agent Bennett. Please proceed to Level 4, where Captain Thompson awaits you with information regarding Project 000146.
Bennett scowled. How useless this whole thing was. The added security was for nothing- if the NSA's enemies wished to enter the building, all they would have to do would be implant a virus into the computerized guard, and march right on in. A smile nearly crept over Bennett's stony face. That would certainly teach the pompous Board Commanders a lesson. Bennett had always hated Gotham HQ, home to the self-absorbed commanders who always seemed ready to degrade Bennett further about his progress in the infamous Project 000146. The Project certainly was the shame of the NSA- there seemed to be no reason that a lone synthoid and a teenager could elude the NSA's finest agents for nearly two years. He had even overheard younger agents discussing a seemingly pointless paper they had to write, it was referred to as a real Project 000146, a word that had become synonymous with doomed.
Bennett wondered why Thompson had called him out here to Gotham; the kindly older agent knew how deeply Bennett despised the place. It had better be important information that Thompson had, seeing as Bennett would far rather be following Zeta's trail in Colorado. If he could only catch the damn synthoid and return him to the NSA- that would prove that he was no failure.
A persistent beeping noise interrupted Bennett's thoughts, informing him that an elevator had arrived. The steel doors opened and the grumpy agent stepped in, allowing himself to be borne upward, to Level 4. Finally, the doors opened again, displaying a rather unexciting section of NSA HQ, a room resembling an ordinary office building, the intelligence ward. Young Intelligence Agents clacked away on high speed computer networks, constantly searching for information. Bennett heard the clacking stop and many pairs of eyes watching him in curiosity as he crossed the room. Bennett scowled, annoyed how unprofessional these imbecilic agents were. The stares didn't bother him, ever since taking on Project 000146, he was used to being stared at. No one could quite understand why an agent on his way to becoming a captain would become so attached to a Project that seemed to destroy any attempts to master it with great ease. Two years, nearly, and the NSA was no closer to capturing Zeta than when it started. This had not exactly helped Bennett's career. Agent Bennett reached an office door, marked
Capt. Thompson Department of Terrorism
Bennett rapped several times on the door, then opened it without waiting for a response. He nodded at a slightly pudgy balding man in his fifties, a likeable uncle figure with squinty baby blue eyes, a tiny pursed mouth, and wire-framed spectacles, a bit of a relic in the mid twenty-first century when laser eye surgery was sold for 10 creds an eye at any low-quality medical facility. This man was the head of Bennett's department, whose expertise in various terrorist agencies had won him to position that Bennett had dreamed about since he was a rookie. But James Bennett could not envy Thompson's fortune, it had been incredible amounts of hard work and dedication that had won him this position and Bennett had to admire that.
Thompson removed his spectacles and smiled at Bennett, a slight trace of irony on his lips.
"Well, at least you knocked this time, James."
Bennett scowled in return, hating to be addressed by his first name.
"You have information regarding Project 000146, Captain Thompson?"
"As a matter of fact, I don't. What I intend to tell you has more to do with Project 000247 in the Department of Technology. Have you heard of it?"
"No," said Bennett shortly, not really caring about anything that went on in that department as long as his laser was working.
"Well, then, allow me to introduce Dr. McCarlin, director of Project 000247, a.k.a. the Eta Project."
A young woman that Bennett had not really noticed sitting in a lounge chair in the corner stood up. He studied her for a moment, taking in the lines around her eyes and several strands of grey highlighting her shoulder length blond hair, and estimated her to be in her late forties. She peered at him with intelligent dark eyes, and extended her hand to him, which he shook quickly then thrust back into his pocket with the air of one who is allergic to friendly greetings.
"Pleased to meet you, Dr. McCarlin," he said as a matter of habit more than out of politeness. "I admit I'm curious. The Eta Project. . . certainly not another synthoid?"
"I know, you'd think we'd had enough trouble with the last couple," she said, smirking. "But seriously, Project Eta is just what is needed around here. Infiltration Unit Eta is more powerful and more intelligent than Zeta was. Its defenses are also many times stronger. Highly unlikely that it could be subject to terrorist programming, as its body will reject any foreign, non-NSA module placed in its system. Eta also has a strong 'dedication' to its missions; it will not terminate a mission once it sets out until all objectives have been completed. No terrorist could trick Eta."
"Isn't that dangerous? What if Eta's primary objectives were inaccurate?"
Thompson smiled and answered this time. "Let's hope that never happens!"
Bennett frowned. How cocky the Gotham Agents were! You could never be completely sure that a mission would go off without a hitch; he had learned this after years on the field. But it would be pointless to try and convince McCarlin.
"Fascinating as this all is, what does this have to do with me? I work strictly on 000146."
Thompson peered at him through his spectacles. "Eta's primary objective is the termination of The Zeta Project, as a matter of fact."
Bennett opened and closed in mouth in sudden rage. "What! Your Eta may be powerful, but Zeta has proven it has a knack for escaping difficult situations. Do you remember the Infiltration Unit 7 incident? We know of two attempts of IU7 to destroy Zeta and suspect there were more. . .every time, the infiltration unit was badly damaged, and Zeta escaped. What makes you think Eta will fare differently?
Dr. McCarlin smiled falsely. "Two reasons. One: the IU7 was an inferior synthoid without the position of even limited A.I. Eta has an advanced A.I. module that gives it the ability to make intelligent decisions and formulate plans. It has cunning, to personify it, more so even than IU Zeta. Two: As Eta is far more advanced, it is no longer necessary to reprogram Zeta, an attempt that has failed numerous times."
"You don't mean-"
"Yes, Bennett, Eta's primary objective is the irreparable destruction of Infiltration Unit Zeta."
Bennett stared at her for a long time, millions of thoughts running through his head. Somehow, destroying Zeta seemed so much worse than reprogramming him. Of course, the synthoid was a menace, a danger. . .but even of that Bennett wasn't always certain. Always nagging at the corner of his mind was the tiny seed of doubt. He remembered overhearing the words of Dr. Selig, the confession that he had equipped the synthoid with a conscience module; one that, the doctor said, had never activated. Yet it was possible, just possible, that Zeta was telling the truth. Perhaps the synthoid was truly innocent, but Bennett couldn't really afford that.
Bennett had poured his life into the Zeta Project. The relentless persecution of the synthoid had caused him to ignore his personal life for the past two years, and that damage was irrevocable. His wife, finally frustrated, had left him 6 months ago, taking their adolescent son with her. On the rare occasion that he was able to visit James Bennett Jr., he found that the boy had grown considerably, and Bennett no longer knew his own son.
And then came the doubt, the possibility that it had all been for nothing, that he had been wrong. Bennett wanted Zeta brought in for reprogramming. He wanted the strange module to be identified as Brother's Day property. He wanted Zeta to return to his work of destroying the NSA's enemies, instead of his disconcerting habit of endangering himself to protect the innocent. It must be some sort of Brother's Day trick, he had convinced himself. Bennett did not know what he would do if Zeta was destroyed and he was forced to live forever with that nagging doubt. But this option was quickly becoming a reality, and he was powerless to stop it. IU Eta would destroy the renegade synthoid, and the NSA would move on. But Zeta was an agitating but familiar constant in Bennett's life. His mission had become a part of him. He wouldn't forget so easily.
"Very well, Dr. McCarlin. Will my services still be necessary to the project?"
"Yes, we will keep you on lookout for Zeta. I will be accompanying you and your agents to observe Eta in action and to help in the event that something goes wrong."
For the second time that day, Bennett nearly felt a smile cross his lips. "Something go wrong? Not with Eta! It has a cunning module!" he said, voice thick with sarcasm.
"Synthoids get bugs, Agent Bennett. That's why I've created a failsafe, to deactivate Eta in an emergency. But I doubt I'll need it. So let's get going! The Eta is already in pursuit."
He nodded at Captain Thompson, and walked out the door, beckoning for McCarlin to follow.
Welcome to NSA Headquarters. Please scan your ID for access.
The computerized voice echoed through the dark hallway. A middle aged man with a grim expression reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small computerized badge that resembled a CredCard. He scanned it into the computer, and then replaced it in his jacket pocket, removing his green visor and fiddling impatiently while the computer matched his eye scan with his file.
Welcome back, Agent Bennett. Please proceed to Level 4, where Captain Thompson awaits you with information regarding Project 000146.
Bennett scowled. How useless this whole thing was. The added security was for nothing- if the NSA's enemies wished to enter the building, all they would have to do would be implant a virus into the computerized guard, and march right on in. A smile nearly crept over Bennett's stony face. That would certainly teach the pompous Board Commanders a lesson. Bennett had always hated Gotham HQ, home to the self-absorbed commanders who always seemed ready to degrade Bennett further about his progress in the infamous Project 000146. The Project certainly was the shame of the NSA- there seemed to be no reason that a lone synthoid and a teenager could elude the NSA's finest agents for nearly two years. He had even overheard younger agents discussing a seemingly pointless paper they had to write, it was referred to as a real Project 000146, a word that had become synonymous with doomed.
Bennett wondered why Thompson had called him out here to Gotham; the kindly older agent knew how deeply Bennett despised the place. It had better be important information that Thompson had, seeing as Bennett would far rather be following Zeta's trail in Colorado. If he could only catch the damn synthoid and return him to the NSA- that would prove that he was no failure.
A persistent beeping noise interrupted Bennett's thoughts, informing him that an elevator had arrived. The steel doors opened and the grumpy agent stepped in, allowing himself to be borne upward, to Level 4. Finally, the doors opened again, displaying a rather unexciting section of NSA HQ, a room resembling an ordinary office building, the intelligence ward. Young Intelligence Agents clacked away on high speed computer networks, constantly searching for information. Bennett heard the clacking stop and many pairs of eyes watching him in curiosity as he crossed the room. Bennett scowled, annoyed how unprofessional these imbecilic agents were. The stares didn't bother him, ever since taking on Project 000146, he was used to being stared at. No one could quite understand why an agent on his way to becoming a captain would become so attached to a Project that seemed to destroy any attempts to master it with great ease. Two years, nearly, and the NSA was no closer to capturing Zeta than when it started. This had not exactly helped Bennett's career. Agent Bennett reached an office door, marked
Capt. Thompson Department of Terrorism
Bennett rapped several times on the door, then opened it without waiting for a response. He nodded at a slightly pudgy balding man in his fifties, a likeable uncle figure with squinty baby blue eyes, a tiny pursed mouth, and wire-framed spectacles, a bit of a relic in the mid twenty-first century when laser eye surgery was sold for 10 creds an eye at any low-quality medical facility. This man was the head of Bennett's department, whose expertise in various terrorist agencies had won him to position that Bennett had dreamed about since he was a rookie. But James Bennett could not envy Thompson's fortune, it had been incredible amounts of hard work and dedication that had won him this position and Bennett had to admire that.
Thompson removed his spectacles and smiled at Bennett, a slight trace of irony on his lips.
"Well, at least you knocked this time, James."
Bennett scowled in return, hating to be addressed by his first name.
"You have information regarding Project 000146, Captain Thompson?"
"As a matter of fact, I don't. What I intend to tell you has more to do with Project 000247 in the Department of Technology. Have you heard of it?"
"No," said Bennett shortly, not really caring about anything that went on in that department as long as his laser was working.
"Well, then, allow me to introduce Dr. McCarlin, director of Project 000247, a.k.a. the Eta Project."
A young woman that Bennett had not really noticed sitting in a lounge chair in the corner stood up. He studied her for a moment, taking in the lines around her eyes and several strands of grey highlighting her shoulder length blond hair, and estimated her to be in her late forties. She peered at him with intelligent dark eyes, and extended her hand to him, which he shook quickly then thrust back into his pocket with the air of one who is allergic to friendly greetings.
"Pleased to meet you, Dr. McCarlin," he said as a matter of habit more than out of politeness. "I admit I'm curious. The Eta Project. . . certainly not another synthoid?"
"I know, you'd think we'd had enough trouble with the last couple," she said, smirking. "But seriously, Project Eta is just what is needed around here. Infiltration Unit Eta is more powerful and more intelligent than Zeta was. Its defenses are also many times stronger. Highly unlikely that it could be subject to terrorist programming, as its body will reject any foreign, non-NSA module placed in its system. Eta also has a strong 'dedication' to its missions; it will not terminate a mission once it sets out until all objectives have been completed. No terrorist could trick Eta."
"Isn't that dangerous? What if Eta's primary objectives were inaccurate?"
Thompson smiled and answered this time. "Let's hope that never happens!"
Bennett frowned. How cocky the Gotham Agents were! You could never be completely sure that a mission would go off without a hitch; he had learned this after years on the field. But it would be pointless to try and convince McCarlin.
"Fascinating as this all is, what does this have to do with me? I work strictly on 000146."
Thompson peered at him through his spectacles. "Eta's primary objective is the termination of The Zeta Project, as a matter of fact."
Bennett opened and closed in mouth in sudden rage. "What! Your Eta may be powerful, but Zeta has proven it has a knack for escaping difficult situations. Do you remember the Infiltration Unit 7 incident? We know of two attempts of IU7 to destroy Zeta and suspect there were more. . .every time, the infiltration unit was badly damaged, and Zeta escaped. What makes you think Eta will fare differently?
Dr. McCarlin smiled falsely. "Two reasons. One: the IU7 was an inferior synthoid without the position of even limited A.I. Eta has an advanced A.I. module that gives it the ability to make intelligent decisions and formulate plans. It has cunning, to personify it, more so even than IU Zeta. Two: As Eta is far more advanced, it is no longer necessary to reprogram Zeta, an attempt that has failed numerous times."
"You don't mean-"
"Yes, Bennett, Eta's primary objective is the irreparable destruction of Infiltration Unit Zeta."
Bennett stared at her for a long time, millions of thoughts running through his head. Somehow, destroying Zeta seemed so much worse than reprogramming him. Of course, the synthoid was a menace, a danger. . .but even of that Bennett wasn't always certain. Always nagging at the corner of his mind was the tiny seed of doubt. He remembered overhearing the words of Dr. Selig, the confession that he had equipped the synthoid with a conscience module; one that, the doctor said, had never activated. Yet it was possible, just possible, that Zeta was telling the truth. Perhaps the synthoid was truly innocent, but Bennett couldn't really afford that.
Bennett had poured his life into the Zeta Project. The relentless persecution of the synthoid had caused him to ignore his personal life for the past two years, and that damage was irrevocable. His wife, finally frustrated, had left him 6 months ago, taking their adolescent son with her. On the rare occasion that he was able to visit James Bennett Jr., he found that the boy had grown considerably, and Bennett no longer knew his own son.
And then came the doubt, the possibility that it had all been for nothing, that he had been wrong. Bennett wanted Zeta brought in for reprogramming. He wanted the strange module to be identified as Brother's Day property. He wanted Zeta to return to his work of destroying the NSA's enemies, instead of his disconcerting habit of endangering himself to protect the innocent. It must be some sort of Brother's Day trick, he had convinced himself. Bennett did not know what he would do if Zeta was destroyed and he was forced to live forever with that nagging doubt. But this option was quickly becoming a reality, and he was powerless to stop it. IU Eta would destroy the renegade synthoid, and the NSA would move on. But Zeta was an agitating but familiar constant in Bennett's life. His mission had become a part of him. He wouldn't forget so easily.
"Very well, Dr. McCarlin. Will my services still be necessary to the project?"
"Yes, we will keep you on lookout for Zeta. I will be accompanying you and your agents to observe Eta in action and to help in the event that something goes wrong."
For the second time that day, Bennett nearly felt a smile cross his lips. "Something go wrong? Not with Eta! It has a cunning module!" he said, voice thick with sarcasm.
"Synthoids get bugs, Agent Bennett. That's why I've created a failsafe, to deactivate Eta in an emergency. But I doubt I'll need it. So let's get going! The Eta is already in pursuit."
He nodded at Captain Thompson, and walked out the door, beckoning for McCarlin to follow.