And speaking of a potential Alternate Universe...
See the end of War of the Cryptids?
Van Rook was written as a key player in many of the stories that draw from this history, so I'm not yet certain how to deal with that episode without resorting to some cheesy cliché workaround.
Unless JS uses such a workaround in a future episode, hopefully sans cheddar. Then I wouldn't have to worry. I don't see how he could do it without a cliché, though.
I suppose I could figure out how to redo or remove his role in the story(ies) without a total rewrite...or just label them "Alternate Universe." But the thing is, I don't want to.
Curse you! Curse you, Rani Nagi!
*ahem*
I expect future episodes to air (and possibly give me a solution, or at least more ideas) before I get to that point, though. If nothing else, I have plenty of time to think about it. It shouldn't impact the history any, and I don't plan to actually begin writing/posting those other stories until I've finished this one up.
But I will have to make some modifications, regardless.
*shrug*
Oh, well.

Anywho, back to the current work in progress.

I decided to go with a one-chapter explanation of why Doyle's memory in "And Your Enemies Closer" contradicts the history I've written thus far. And...other things.
Maybe.
Much to my dismay, you could probably also call the resulting chapter "Mr. Exposition."
Now, let's hope I can do this chapter right, in spite of that particular problem.

I don't own Doyle, Epsilon or "his people," or the Secret Saturdays.
I own Solés and Marie.
Unfortunately.

If anybody's watched Dollhouse...
Um, yeah.
Any similarity is entirely coincidental.
Or maybe the Neuralizer from Men in Black would be a more accurate comparison.
Or something in between. But without the alien tech in MIB. And the reminder that we still don't know that much about how the brain works.

Timing: within a few months of chapter 35. Same calendar year, so still about four years following the Avalanche arc.

Intermission

"So what's the status?" Solés asked.

"We have mapped 93 percent of his brain activity, including roughly 71 percent of his memories from the entire course of his life," one of the technicians responded. "He has resisted the stimulation in many cases, making it difficult to single out specific times without resorting to a stronger current—"

"Increase to 100 volts, then," Solés interrupted with barely a glance at the readings. "That won't be enough to be lethal, not yet."

"That would not be wise," another woman replied, "not if you want the information intact." Solés looked up to see the ex-military woman, Marie, watching the proceedings with an amused expression. "It's the current forced through the body that matters, not the voltage."

"And you know this, how?" Solés snapped.

"Your files aren't very thorough, not if you have to ask that. I need to know these things, know how to keep a prisoner alive and coherent during interrogation." Marie shrugged and grinned. "Take a science class, why don't you? You could get a lethal shock from a toaster, or survive a lightning strike. It's the current that goes through the body that makes it deadly, and that depends on contact points, the condition of the skin, the body's resistance...the fact that you've got him floating in salt water..." she added and rolled her eyes. "And since you're sending the shocks directly to his brain, I couldn't even begin to explain how that would change things. Although...if you factor in resuscitation, then high voltage could—" She smirked. "But I wouldn't want to give you any ideas."

Solés shook her head and ignored the other woman. She peered into the tank and watched as the boy twitched and whimpered and trembled.

Epsilon watched the two women without comment.

Marie stepped up beside her and considered the child's reaction. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think he recognized you," she muttered.

"That's imp—" Solés began.

"Mapping completed," one of the technicians called out.

"Begin analysis," Solés said to the technician. "Prepare him for operation; isolate and destroy all memories."

Epsilon glanced at Solés for a moment, then walked over to speak quietly with the other agents before they could act on the orders.

"That's impossible," Solés snarled at Marie. "It's a sensory deprivation chamber; he can't hear or see anything."

Marie shrugged, and Solés finally looked away, unnerved by the other woman's casual manner. "It's amazing," Marie said. "Poor old Doctor Perez has no idea just how close his research was to completion. Shame he didn't stick with the military. But he was so afraid that his research might be taken and used for...for torture or interrogation or something." She snickered. "His only problem was he didn't have the resources you people have."

Solés snorted. "His only problem is that he is an unprofessional, sentimental fool who would sooner throw out his experiment than risk a single bruise to a rat."

"And I suppose damaging the specimen beyond all usefulness is more professional?" Epsilon asked, addressing Solés for the first time that day. "Much as I dislike having to agree with a professional torturer—the fact that Van Rook fired her ought to mean something—" About half of the people present shivered and the other half nodded in agreement. "But what Marie says has merit." He spoke to Solés, but pitched his voice so it would carry through the room. "A damaged specimen should teach restraint, and patience—though in your case, I wonder—but as far as the research is concerned, it is worthless. Just one less specimen to study."

Solés bristled through the entire speech. "You have barely any experience," she hissed, "you come in near the end of the project, but you think to lecture me? You acquired one specimen—"

Epsilon smirked. "Says the agent who permanently lost three targets, may have lost two more—three if not for Marie or Aeron, and it speaks ill of our organization that we must rely on the likes of them." Marie merely smiled at the remark. "And made it extremely difficult to track down and capture the one target I finally did bring in? In...how many missions was it, Solés?"

Her face turned red. "Two," she mumbled.

"Not to mention all the agents whose lives were lost in that first mission," Epsilon added with a chuckle. "If you were going to waste their lives, wouldn't it have been more effective to throw them at that Yeti? The specimens would not have been scattered, you could have 'rescued' them, and once our people had the children... Well, if the parents truly were useless, we could have dealt with them at our leisure. You could let him keep what little he's gained from his father, let him build on it to give us more to study. Yet you wish to eliminate everything, without any regard for how it will affect things, and you only hope that he will still prove useful."

Solés snorted in derision. "The specimen has been resilient so far; like as not, he'll start creating other memories to fill in the gaps."

"Do you know that for a fact?" Epsilon asked, lifting one eyebrow. "Perhaps for a period of a month, a full year, even. But you're suggesting we take nearly a decade from him, everything he has. Even supposing he did 'fill in the gaps,' exactly how will false memories change his value?"

"Interesting point," another agent said. Epsilon and Solés turned and saluted. The other agent returned the salute. The agent then glared at Marie, but she merely stared right back.

Epsilon, freed from his superior's attention, caught her gaze for a few seconds, mimicking her bored manner. She finally snapped off a Russian-style salute and a mumbled "Sir," and lowered her gaze.

The agent returned the salute, then continued, "It is true that eliminating these memories can have...unforeseen consequences. But thus far, he has shown a deep distrust of other people, with good reason; the tank notwithstanding, suppose he did recognize Agent Solés? Or you, or any of the agents he's encountered? I would hardly expect the specimen to willingly participate in those circumstances, and couldn't forcing his obedience also impact the results?"

"Possibly," Epsilon replied. "I am not suggesting, sir, that we should not eliminate those memories. Just...not all at once. If I could advise?"

The superior nodded.

Epsilon smiled. "I would merely suggest that we first complete the analysis, and then eliminate only specific, carefully chosen memories, or even fragments of memories, and those only to limit the chances of disobedience."

"Instead of eliminating those chances entirely?" Solés said.

"Our people could condition him not to disobey," Epsilon said, "but we can not eliminate that chance, except by eliminating him. And yet our superiors must think he is still of use, else why bother destroying his memory; why not simply kill him once the readings are analyzed?" He turned back to their superior. "Sir?"

"You already know the answer to that," the other agent replied. "Both of you do."

Epsilon nodded. "But I would like to confirm."

The superior agent nodded to Marie. "Would you like to answer this one?"

"Yes, sir," she replied. "The boy was too young to have learned much of use from his parents, and your people do not yet have the means to train him to further utilize whatever lessons he may have received. However, my understanding is that your people have determined that certain of the desired traits are, or may be, genetic. Once your people have what they can use from his memory, further study will show if he is still of use."

"Very good," the superior said. "You learn quickly for a conscript." Between him and Epsilon, she chose not to reply. "So, given those circumstances, Epsilon, have you reasons why he should be allowed to retain his memories?"

"Yes, sir," Epsilon said. He gestured to one of the technicians. "If I may?"

The technician quickly moved, and Epsilon sat down at the vacated terminal and began typing until he found the data he wanted.

An image of the inside of a small orphanage appeared on the screen.

"Some time after I located the specimen in this place, my 'assistant' got it into his head to try to poison him," Epsilon said. "While the specimen will, naturally, have encountered bad food in the time before, what little we could determine seemed to indicate that he was willing to accept food from other people. After Aeron's stunt, however, he did not trust the food that anybody tried to provide, a fact that, if I recall, Solés used to frighten him when she encountered him more than a year after."

He closed down the file, and turned to face the superior. "Suppose we were to eliminate that one memory. That one memory is not an isolated incident; it is connected to his behavior, and his memory of that behavior, in future encounters. If he were made to forget that one incident, would he then forget that he had ever distrusted the food given him? Or would he be paranoid about the issue, with no clear idea why? Or supposing we then eliminated the whole of the three years since. Would he forget only the events that occurred...or the time, as well? Perhaps he would think that no time had passed." He smiled at Solés. "It is for these reasons that Perez believes his research is incomplete; there is simply too much that is unknown about how the remaining memories would be affected."

"Your argument has a few holes, Epsilon," the superior said. "Our people don't care about what Aeron had tried to do. The specimen survived, and we can factor health problems into the research; beyond that, it has no effect. It is his ability that is of concern, not his self-esteem." Epsilon nodded. "Also, you speak of the problem with eliminating one trivial incident from his memory, where Solés would eliminate everything. If he truly lost the time, as you suggest, and reverted to infancy, he would be assigned to the care of those who train the Francis clones. A pity we do not have the father to train him further," he added with a glance in Solés' direction, "but that would still be sufficient to study him."

"True enough," Epsilon admitted, "but consider this. Though the specimen did evidence ability even before this, it had always seemed a passive variety. Animals behaved oddly around him, nothing more. Even during the torment he faced in the villages, he showed no sign of any active use of that talent...until Aeron tried to hurt him."

Solés opened her mouth to speak, then shut it with a snap. She looked at their superior. "Sir?"

The superior nodded, and gestured for Epsilon to continue.

"Thus far, we have assumed his abilities are a result of his father's training," Epsilon said, "or a product of genetics. We have yet to consider other factors. The father had no training; he'd taught himself to use this skill, a fact that was used to argue that the traits were genetic. And the boy's use when he defended himself from Aeron could have been instinctive. But it was in response to his surroundings, and he has shown evidence of greater skill, provided the trigger is the right one. Suppose, in addition to what little time the specimen had with his father, he'd also begun to teach himself? Even placing him among the clones would no longer be sufficient. We do not have the means to train him; we simply do not know enough about what he is capable of to build on what he already knows."

"I believe you have made your case," the superior said. "So, if the specimen were in your charge, what would you have us do?"

Epsilon called up another file on the terminal. "I would begin by eliminating a single memory—rather a fragment of one. Remove the fragments that deal with our people's connection, but just a little at a time." The screen showed a monster approaching the tents. "Let him remember the Yeti. Let him remember his fear, and the separation from his parents, but let him forget everything after the attack, until, say..." He tapped a few more keys, and an image of the village came up. "The first orphanage. It should not harm the research for him to lose a few days, and if it does, we can watch for it, and know what to expect before we choose another memory. And then we can begin to do the same with the other memories in which he has met our people."

The superior was quiet for a while. He finally nodded. "Do it, then."

I don't remember why I decided that Perez started into that research, except maybe to justify his role as a neurologist/neurosurgeon when he "first" appeared in Skinwalker.
Perhaps the better question would be: why did I decide he started out as a trauma counselor? (Except maybe to justify why that research led him to neurosurgery, or his understanding of Doyle's problems from a psychological point of view.)
I mean, I suppose it worked out from the history perspective, but I can't quite recall my reasons for writing him that way, without resorting to circular definitions.
I know I had one, too; I just don't remember it.
Hmm...

Oh, by the way.
Yes, they are referring to Doyle as "the specimen."

I don't believe future interactions between Doyle and the grey demons will need further explanation.

But something seems wrong with the fact that Marie, of all people, refers to him as "the boy."

And last...does my dialogue sound weird in parts? Maybe un-Epsilon-ish?
Note to self: watch Swarm, Paris, and Unblinking Eye another couple of thousand times.