Jack Parsons and the Authority Complex
"Look, dammit, I'm not expecting you to understand. I'm just stating that I wish it had gone down differently," said Jack as he set down his glass of whiskey. He had drained it. Next to the now-empty glass was whiskey bottle on the coffee table.
"Some collateral damage is to be expected. Retrieving B5-92-or Gabriel as you were so fond of calling him-was the primary objective, and saving the woman's life was secondary. We had to achieve the primary objective at the cost of the secondary, which is very common in my field assignments," X6-88 replied, matter of factly. He had not touched the whiskey. Jack took a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I understand the logic of it, the logic is not the part that I'm struggling with. I get what had to happen in that scenario, and I understand that once we were up there, the woman's chances of survival were slim to none. I'm struggling with the emotion, the guilt of it. If I had taken a moment to think, perhaps she would still be alive. I didn't even get to know her name," Jack complained.
"I fail to see how learning the woman's name would have led to greater success in the mission," X6 countered.
"Damn, did somebody turn your relational, emotional matrix off? A woman died, and it's our fault!" Jack said in a heated tone. He took a breath and poured himself another glass of whiskey.
"We were not the ones who pulled the trigger," stated the Courser. At that, Jack fell silent, and kept drinking. They were in Jack Parsons new Institute dormitory, awaiting a debriefing of the operation with Justin Ayo, the head of the Synth Retention Bureau. After that, Jack was going to head topside and lay low with the Minutemen for a while, so that he would not arouse suspicion of turning to the Institute. Both factions wanted him completely aligned to their cause, and he had lost track of whether he was a single, double, or triple agent at this point. There was also the Brotherhood of Steel to think about.
Of course, it was at this moment that Father decided to walk in.
"Ah, good. I see you're making yourself at home. I have some good news! The heads of the various departments are looking at your excursion favorably, and have decided to allow you to continue to work for the Institute."
"That's great."
"In fact, we have another job for you."
"Of course you do," Jack replied. Brushing off the slight, Father continued.
"We have gotten wind of a couple of high-value Synths at Bunker Hill. In fact, we may have stumbled onto one of the Railroad's operations in the Commonwealth. After your debrief with Justin Ayo, the two of you are to head to Bunker Hill, rendezvous with an extraction team, and get those Synths back," Father said.
"Sounds easy enough," Jack responded.
"The situation has been slightly complicated," Father added, "both the Brotherhood and Railroad have caught wind somehow. Our Watchers have detected a Brotherhood strike team and significant Railroad heavies in the area. It is very uncharacteristic of them to make such a show of force, which most likely indicates a vulnerability in the Railroad and an opportunity for the Brotherhood to gain the upper hand in our conflict. Needless to say, we will need a superior show of force, regardless of the risks."
Damn, there goes my chances of working with either of those groups again, thought Jack. At least the Minutemen weren't involved in this one.
"Can't I at least get a breather?"
"Time is of the essence," Father stated. With that, he turned heel and walked out of the room. Jack heaved a sigh, and then stood up and walked out himself. X6 came right after him. They made their way down one of the Institute's gigantic circular staircases. At first, the brightly lit rooms here made Jack Parsons think of progress and enlightenment. However, now the light felt intrusive, scrutinizing. When they got to the ground floor they made a turn and headed to one of the Institute's subdepartments: The Synth Retention Bureau. The acting director, Justin Ayo, was just inside. One his right stood a technician who ushered X6-88 into a nearby chair and began to run some diagnostics, ostensibly to see if the unit needed any repair between missions. Jack kind of wished that he had somebody to fix him in between combat runs, but that was neither here nor there.
"You're late," Justin Ayo declared, in his condescending manner.
"I had an impromptu meeting with Father-And believe me-I wish that I could skip it," Jack said, defensively. Justin Ayo reminded him of brass back in the military that he had a hard time respecting.
"Hmph, I'm sorry you hated your exclusive time with our organization's leader."
"Whatever man, just ask what you're going to ask and let's get on with our lives," Jack replied, already over it.
The acting director handed Jack a worksheet attached to a clipboard. It had a ton of bureaucratic questions on it. The department wanted to know if they were spotted by any topsiders, what kind of countermeasures they made against detection, how many rounds they fired, whether they sustained any casualties, and whether or not there was any collateral damage. His heart sunk at the sight of that question.
"Do I really have to fill all of this out?"
Justin Ayo just stared at him, a look of disappointment and disapproval written on his face. Jack Parsons took that as a yes. He sulkily got through the task and then exited the SRB. Then, him and X6 got onto the central elevator to embark on their next mission. The experience of two men in an elevator reminded him of some of the awkward elevator conversations he had back when the world was normal. Two people would walk into the small enclosed room, with about twenty seconds between them before one or both had to leave. One person would inevitably choose to fill the empty time with conversation, but there was no time for it to be truly impactful. So, they would ramble about the weather or some sports team, getting a grunt of agreement or two before the elevator dinged and they could each go back to their lives. Jack Parsons figured that those conversations were gone forever. At that exact moment, the Courser next to him piped up.
"Are you sure you're ready for more combat? Combat in a zone populated heavily by civilians, no doubt."
"What does it matter to you?"
"I don't want my back to be covered by a human who is reliving flashbacks of days gone by. I need my allies to be focused, refined… I… hope I haven't overstepped my bounds by saying so," X6 finished rather sheepishly.
"Got it…" Jack said, before trailing off. The elevator started to rise. However, Jack was no longer in the elevator at the Institute.
He was back in Canada, in the year 2075, commanding a riot control unit. This year had been particularly stressful for civilians and military alike. Jack Parsons, the military sergeant, didn't know it at the time, but this was going to be his last day on active duty.
He found himself on a city street crowded with cars, standing in front of a line of civilians. The cars, by this point, had long stopped moving. There was no way to power them. Planet Earth had been running out of resources for quite some time, and now the greater populace was beginning to feel those effects in full. All of the petroleum had to go to the military first, and by the time it got to consumer markets, it cost way too much for anyone to afford. It was not long afterward, that food systems had begun to slow down. By this point, it cost most of a man's salary just to feed his family. Hyperinflation was in full effect. And as resources and the value of money lowered, tensions rose. After his covert career securing Alaska and taking the fight to mainland China in power armor, Sergeant Parsons had been re-deployed to Toronto to help keep the populace stable.
The United States had annexed Canada a couple of years earlier, in the name of keeping the peace, but in reality to secure more resources and transportation avenues. What that meant for our hero is he had to forcibly keep the citizens from overthrowing major population centers. The riots had been bad, but never as bad as today.
Jack stood behind a line of armed soldiers dressed in riot gear. They were attempting to hold the line in front of some business or other, that the general populace wanted to burn to the ground.
"You don't care about us! You just care about the bottom line!" shouted on man from the other side of the line, which was met with cheers of approval. The situation was worsening. The crowd had been out for hours, chanting and yelling, and things had almost gotten violent. That was when a radio call came in from his commanding officer.
"We're going to need a real show of force in order to break things up, Parsons," the commander stated. Jack Parsons barely remembered his name, since he had changed posts so frequently in the last couple of years. Probably Smith, or Johnson, or some other apple pie and baseball sort of name.
"What do you mean, sir?"
"What I mean is, put a couple of them down. Have your men fire a couple of warning shots into the crowd. If it worked in Quebec City, it'll work here."
"You want me to fire upon civilians, sir?" Jack asked, dumbstruck. He had heard of this kind of tactic being used elsewhere recently, but could scarcely believe he was being asked to do it here.
Nevertheless, he followed the order. He and his men opened fire, dropped a couple of civilians, and sure enough, the crowd dispersed. He didn't feel like he was inside his own body as he watched himself and the rest of the soldiers, as a couple of protesters fell, spots of blood growing on their clothes. He felt beside himself as people screamed and ran away to safety. Of everything that he experienced during the war, this was the scene that would find itself playing out most often in his dreams.
It ended up being one of the last orders he ever gave as part of the military.