Friday, September 22, 2005

Two And a Half Days Earlier

It was three hours ago that the cargo had been loaded onto the jet. It was also three hours ago that Harm was unsuccessful in getting his head around the implausible image. But the woman didn't offer any explanation; she only reminded him yet again that it was more than his life at stake should he be uncooperative. Thus, with a part of his mind on the picture, a part of it on Mac, and a part of it on what couldn't possibly be, he had mapped out a flight plan to the delivery point.

The events that followed were intrinsically familiar yet absurdly unfathomable – circling above the empty ocean, the sharp banking of the aircraft, and the noticeable shift as the metal container departed the cargo hold. It all screamed of déjà vu.

Following the unorthodox delivery, Harm was mentally suffering and physically exhausted. However, between the aircraft's autopilot and his ingrained reflexes, all the right maneuvers were performed to return the Gulfstream to London's Heathrow Airport. But the relief of being safely on familiar ground was short lived.

After he taxied the aircraft to the privately rented hangar and shut the jet down, the woman fired another dart. While ineffectively pawing at the small shaft penetrating his thigh, the mixture of stale cigarette smoke and spearmint swirled about him, each smell chasing the other, creating a vortex that pulled him down.

The deeper he descended, the faster he spiraled until. Like a centrifuge, his present circumstances separated from his past. And it was the latter onto which his mind again grasped. And like before, he dreamt the dream he could never recall, and he re-lived the events which couldn't be real.

(events from two years earlier)

He found it odd that sound should be the first sensation that registered. The wheeze of his labored breathing, the soft scuffling of feet, an incessant hum, and a steady ripple all competed for his attention.

His right cheek lay against a pillow, his face a mere foot from the natural, rocky surface of the wall. Shifting his gaze upward, the mounted video camera, with its blinking red light, seemed incongruous with the dark, cave-like environment. Adjusting the angle of his eyes again, he could barely make out the elongated body – his elongated body, with its slowly rising and lowering chest.

His nose registered the smell of blood. The insight was confusing because outwardly he appeared unharmed. But then he tried to move his head and found it too heavy. He tried to speak, but the saliva running down his chin accompanied his inability to form words. And when he tried to simply curl his fingers and could not, the realization he was paralyzed hit home.

His confusion turned to panic as he set about recalling the events that brought him to this place. He considered all the reasons why this had to be a cruel nightmare from which he would awaken shaken but relieved.

It was day one of his stint with PETS, a phantom group rumored to provide air support for snatches and re-insertions. Allen Blaisdell hadn't admitted it, but Harm sensed his handler had been coerced into loaning him out to the tertiary entity. He understood the man's concern. PETS didn't fly the most palatable of missions. But Deputy Director Kershaw hadn't pulled any punches when he explained what flying for the Agency might mean. Never one to shirk responsibility, Harm squared his shoulders and faced head on whatever was thrown his way.

On the grand scale, today he lucked out. The aircraft was top shelf and the flight turned out to be a relative milk run. Nevertheless, it left a sour taste in his mouth. You just didn't drop storage containers from the sky into the Atlantic Ocean without a good reason. Apparently the contents were 'need to know', and someone back at Langley decided he didn't. Uneasy, he nevertheless dumped the cargo and returned to the small airfield at Staszow.

Expecting to refuel and receive his next PETS orders, he was directed to taxi the Gulfstream into Hangar 13. Farthest from the terminal, the structure was abutted by steep, green hillsides to the left and weary, rundown administrative facilities on the right.

Disembarking while his aircraft was serviced, he accepted the hot soup the mentally challenged janitor had offered. Minutes later when his body withered to the floor, his mind registered the paralysis spreading through his veins while the invasion crippled the muscles of his limbs. And that was the last thing he remembered until he awoke to find himself trapped in his own body.

Knowing he was immovable because of drugs rather than broken vertebrae, did not bring comfort; nor did the woman who suddenly appeared in his limited field of vision. She was white, late thirties, brunette, 5'8", maybe 140 pounds, and she smelled. Her white lab coat, devoid of any nametag, offered no identifying name, rank, or role.

Fully conscious but pinned in place by the paralysis, he could do nothing while the woman's lithe fingers efficiently unbuttoned his shirt. Those same fingers, with their business-like quality, slid the garment off his shoulders and exposed his torso to the cold air. Like an out-of-body experience, he watched as she pulled a stethoscope from the black bag. Unable to flinch, he could only endure the discomfort when its icy bell was placed over his pounding heart and again when positioned lower on his diaphragm, and then along his side.

His mind begged for her to look at him -- to see that his eyes were open, that he was awake, conscious, and feeling everything. To see that he was capable of hearing, if not comprehending, anything she might tell him about what the hell was happening to him. And then she did look; and without hesitating she returned the stethoscope to the leather satchel, withdrew the blood collection paraphernalia, and went about her business.

Pushing up his sleeve, she stopped only when it bunched stubbornly at his bicep. After swabbing the area with alcohol, she screwed the needle into the blood tube holder. Encircling his limp arm with a rubber tourniquet, she tightly tied it off and stared indifferently at his face, waiting for the blood to pool. It wasn't long before she slid the needle deep into the most prominent vein. Slowly drawing out the blood, she filled not one but rather four vials. A cotton ball, secured in place over the puncture site with a child's band aid, finally signaled her excessive siphoning was done.

"Gregor, bring me the tubing and then take these to Harrison."

Waiting for the yet unseen assistant to appear, the woman used both hands to straighten his head on the pillow, frowning with disgust as his drool transferred to her hand. "Gregor, now!"

No longer facing the cave wall, his field of vision increased dramatically.

"Damn it, Gregor. Not a hose. He's special. I want the tubing like we use in the other room. And bring back a nappie and bag of food too."

When the large man returned with the requested items, he asked. "Is he special like me?"

"No. He's 52 and he must not be harmed."

"Okay, Sissy. Gregor not hurt 52 in the hospital."

"And for godsake, change your lab coat before you take these vials to Harrison."

After the dismissal, Harm remained with the woman. His eyes begged for information, for understanding, for any explanation, reasonable or otherwise, that would shed light on his presence in the dark, sinister setting. His silent pleas again went ignored as his watch, ring, and neck chain were callously removed. Every article of clothing was stripped next -- shoes, socks, underwear, nothing was spared.

As his disconnected body lay naked, shivering, and splayed out like a specimen in an anatomy exhibit, his mind balked at the cruel hypocrisy that followed. Each of his personal belongings was carefully handled and sealed protectively in a plastic bag. Then, with the greatest of precision, the woman wrote '52' on the package and disappeared with it behind him.

Left alone, he noticed for the first time the thick mattress upon which he lay. Its stark-white covering was clean and soft, but totally at odds with his unresponsive body. Before he could find any sliver of optimism in the observation, his chin was grasped from behind. Looking up, he saw the woman looming over him with the clear, pliable tubing.

With his neck extended as if on a butcher's block, he mentally fought the invasion as the tube was inserted into his nose. It took three attempts, but eventually the tip was thrust beyond his gag reflex and slid down the back of his throat. He lost track of its progress once it reached his sternum. Only his eyes ceasing to see any additional length passing through his right nostril signaled the tube had reached his stomach, effectively implying a prolonged stay was in his future.

'Sissy' wasted no time reaping the benefits of the effort. Hanging a plastic bag of milky, orange liquid from a nearby pole, gravity took over and the bag immediately began emptying. The substance, without his permission, snaked through the tube and toward his face. Moments later it traveled cool, but tasteless, down his throat.

As the force feeding continued, he could to nothing but wonder who was running the show and for what plausible reason. The possibilities of 'who' ran the gamut from rogue agents to aliens. As to the 'why', he didn't want to think too much about that. He only knew it was all being done with a disturbing lack of compassion -- a clinical approach more conducive to lab rat than human being.

If he thought he had reached the bottom rung of despair, he sank to new lows when he was momentarily rolled onto his hip and efficiently rolled back again. A terrified whimper escaped his throat as the adult-sized diaper was pulled up between his legs and the tabs snugly affixed around his waist.

--------------

Subject 52 was acquired at 1300 hours on Monday, October 1, 2003. Caucasian, male, six feet, four inches, 190 pounds, 40 years of age. An HR4K paralytic was administered two hours ago and will remain the standard unless contraindications develop requiring a modification. Subject is conscious and equipped with naso-esophageal intubation for enteral nutritional support. Subject is --

"Sissy –"

"Damn it, Gregor! What is it? You know better than to interrupt while I'm recording."

"He looks scared."

"They always look scared. Did you get the vials to Harrison?"

"Yes. Gregor helped Sissy. Gregor is strong, cheap labor."

"Yes you are. Now help me again and change his nappie. He's already soiled it. Be sure to clean him too. And don't interrupt again until I'm done."

While her brother attended to the nasty cleanup, the woman replaced the battery in the camera which captured video 24-hours a day. She also re-checked the wireless microphone clipped to her collar. It was her preferred method to audibly record information regarding each subject as she worked on them. Satisfied the electronic devices were functioning properly; she grabbed the tube of conductive paste and resumed her work.

Subject 52 is being equipped with a standard 10-20 array. Each probe is outfitted with 100,000 receivers for a total of 3.8 million access points. These will eventually be centralized once the dominant routes are determined.

Fifteen. He kept track in his head as the woman started the routine over for the fifteenth time. The counting exercise did nothing to curb the anxiety that gripped him. But he stubbornly kept at it.

The woman worked slowly but steadily -- each placement taking exactly sixty seconds. The procedure was always the same, just a different area. First her fingers parted his hair until his scalp was exposed. After the area was cleaned, his skin was pulled tight and the blunt end of a stylus roughed up the spot so the conductive paste would have something to grip. Then a pea-sized dollop of the white goop was transferred from the toothpaste-size tube to his head. When the tube was set aside, he could expect the small, metal encased oval to follow. He counted off twenty seconds. That's how long she held her finger over the wafer as the paste set up. Once released, he could feel the tug of his hairs that were inevitably caught between his scalp and the electrode.

The P8 is in place completing the last of the parietal connections. Zinc oxide coverings will be utilized for the occipital regions.

Sixteen. As he lay shivering uncontrollably, the process was slightly modified. Evidently his head needed to be shifted for better access to the yet unclaimed areas of his skull. The familiar process resumed once he had been repositioned. The new angle provided a different view of the cave.

Assuming he was still at the airport, he suspected the cavern was man-made, excavated out of the hillside and connected with either the hangar or the administrative buildings. Overall, it was sparsely furnished; its low ceiling consistent with the meager, hastily thrown-together appearance of the entire space.

Seventeen. Now accustomed to the dim lighting, his eyes were drawn toward the black, metal door. There was no indication what existed on the other side. No one came or went through it. His gaze shifted to study the far corner. Too dark, he could make out nothing specific, for all he knew it was vacant. Still his eyes remained fixed on the area, drawn by something he couldn't put his finger on.

Between repetition 26 and 27, 'Gregor' took a seat beside the bed and wiped the froth from his chin; the feeding tube lying against his throat had increased the saliva he was incapable of swallowing. Once again, the mentally challenged man was meticulous about his duties, if not a little too conscientious in his attention to detail. Likely the quality of his work was scrutinized by his sister, so he took his responsibilities seriously.

Thirty. Despite Gregor's diligent attention to his needs, he was still startled when the man grasped his hand. The gesture was inconsistent with the sister's exploitive treatment. However, it was evidently acceptable behavior because 'Sissy' didn't protest.

After the thirty-second electrode was affixed to his head, two more were fitted uncomfortably deep in each ear canal. Their presence made his head spin and his stomach nauseous. Despair filled his eyes. But while the woman remained oblivious to his distress and guttural pleas, the brother tightened his grip.

Subject 52 has been fitted with thirty-two cranial and two eustachean cathodes. To provide sufficient localizing information, sphenoidal and nasopharyngeal electrodes are also needed to increase coverage of the temporal and frontal lobes. However, penetration beyond the nasion might be problematic because of the gastric prosthesis. Therefore, sphenoidals will be inserted first.

Up until this point of the ordeal, he hadn't allowed himself to think about his friends and family. He had kept the motivational mechanism tucked away for when he really needed it. About to face more invasive abuse, he ceased counting and turned his attention to what would get him through this next round.

His thoughts invariably turned to her. But she was a two-edged sword. He hadn't called her yet because, according to Beth, when he did, he knew it would be over. But he didn't want it to be over. Hence he had not called. But any chance of being with her in the future, never seemed more impossible. It was a vicious circle, until his indomitable spirit rallied against the pessimism and bolstered his will to survive.

"Gregor help again?"

"Yes. You can shave him."

Apparently manly grooming was among the brother's repertoire of skills. Applying a small amount of shaving cream to each of his cheeks, Gregor carefully used a disposable razor and removed the day's stubble. Sister then took over again, wiping the area with alcohol before reaching for the first syringe.

"Sissy not hurt 52!"

"Sit down, Gregor. It won't hurt that much."

"No! Sissy not hurt 52!"

"Fine!"

After the short but loud debate, a protective cloth was placed over his eyes. Now sightless, he felt the sprayed analgesic applied to each side of his face.

The cloth was left in place while the woman bent in close to deal with the precise placement of the internal electrodes. But he didn't need his vision to know her face was mere inches from his. Despite being unable to swallow, his gag reflex kicked in as the woman's cigarette-tainted breath assaulted his sense of smell. The spearmint Tic Tacs she continuously sucked on did nothing but muddle the air each time she exhaled.

Fifty-percent larger implants are required to handle the increased number of receivers. Thus .75 millimeter needles are being used for insertion procedure.

Oblivious to the affect her close proximity was having on him, the woman began the precision work. The first sphenoidal electrode was inserted via syringe below his right cheekbone, just forward of his ear. Despite the analgesic, he could feel the needle as it was carefully guided in and slowly backed out, leaving behind a wire embedded beneath his burning skin.

Knowing what to expect only accentuated the terror when the ten-minute procedure was repeated on his other cheek.

When the cloth was removed from his eyes, he watched as the two entry sites were capped off with antibiotic ointment. Still suffering from the process, he couldn't help but wonder if Gregor's concern for his wellbeing stemmed from being on the receiving end of the procedure. The empathetic thought was interrupted when bandages were placed over the two painful areas. Purportedly to keep the implants in place, they seemed absurdly superfluous given that the paralytic still held him inescapably in its grasp.

"52 cold, Sissy. I give 52 blanket, okay?"

"No. His body temperature must remain low."

"But—"

"Cynthia said no! I shouldn't even be letting you hold his hand."

As was often the case when her brother ruined her concentration and a cigarette was out of the question, Cynthia 'Sissy' McPherson regained her composure by submerging herself in the minutiae of her work.

A nasopharyngeal electrode, last utilized on Subject 39, has been disinfected by soaking for 15 minutes in sodium hypochloride. Subsequent sterilization at 275 degrees Fahrenheit for ten minutes is complete. A dose of xylocaine will be administered. After which insertion will be via Subject 52's left nostril utilizing an endonasal scope. Pending perforation of the sphenoid sinus, the electrode will be positioned against the dural membrane, one centimeter lateral to the midline. Suction pressure will be applied to maintain electrode-mucosa contact sufficient to assess the derivation of P8 wave activity needed to gauge affect on column nuclei and nucleus cuneatus.

Despite his lowered core temperature, beads of perspiration formed on his forehead. A sensor that had been placed on his finger triggered a shrill alarm when his heart rate surpassed 170 beats per minute. The alert was silenced with a casually flicked finger. Then the small aerosol can was put back in service. Its nozzle released a measured amount of its pressurized contents into his left nostril, numbing his nasal passageway. He sent up a silent prayer hoping it did a better job in his nose than it had on his cheeks.

"Gregor, if you insist on sitting there, make yourself useful. Lift 52's neck until his head bends back."

"Okay, Sissy. Gregor help. Gregor is strong, cheap labor."

Three hours after he had awoke, his vision finally wavered. He saw stars and felt his eyes start to roll to the back of his head. But evidently leaving the party on his terms wasn't permitted. The broken ammonia capsule waved beneath his nose made that clear.

Again alert, he felt the feeding tube pull uncomfortably tight in his neck as his head shifted to the extreme position.

But the position also gave him his first view of the rear of the cave and, more importantly, the mass of wires emanating from his head. Four feet long, they eventually separated, each connecting to separate ports on an electronic grid. Though different from ones he was familiar with, he recognized the setup for what it was – an electroencephalogram or EEG machine that would map the electrical impulses given off by his brain.

Breathing through his mouth, he studied the machine while the high-tech, fiber-optic nasal-endoscope was inserted into his only available nostril. At the fifteen minute mark of the instrument's penetrating, but relatively painless exploration, blood started running from his nose and down his throat. He listened worriedly, anxious to know if this was an expected development.

Subject 52's sphenoid sinus has just been perforated. Unrelated epistaxis is occurring but should not impact delivery of the nasopharyngeal wire to the dural lining.

Whether it was the stress, pain, blood loss, or unnatural position of his head, his vision wavered again. And again the ammonia capsule revived him. Thus he was awake when the fine, flexible silver wire with its tiny, three millimeter, gold tip was threaded into his nose, along the same path as the endoscope and through the punctured hole. When it could go no farther, he knew the final electrode rested against the membrane of his brain.

"Okay, Gregor, I'm done. You can let 52's head return to normal."

As the command was performed, Harm's tear-filled eyes fell upon a critical detail he had missed earlier. The EEG console was equipped with a two-way switch!

As his nose was packed with cotton, he made his voice box work. But when the wad of gauze stifled his raw scream, he was certain no one was present who could or would prevent the unsolicited modification of Harmon Rabb Junior.