Over the Top Secret - Chapter 6
Over the Top Secret - Chapter 6
AKA Loosey Goosey
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Start at the beginning (Prologue - AKA Mission Report)
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By the time the sedative part of the truth serum mixture starts to kick in, Eric and Simon have already managed to wrangle my flailing body back into the hospital bed.
They hastily re-attach the electrodes to my temples and clip the heartrate monitor to my twitching pointer finger.
Surges of foreign information continue to flash across my vision, sending waves of nausea and throbbing pain through my entire body. With each spasm, the fast-paced beeping of the monitor flatlines for a few seconds, then returns to normal.
My eyes flicker back and forth while more and more images sprint across my brain. Gap-toothed grins and evil laughs, pools of blood and handheld rocket launchers, silhouetted individuals piecing together disassembled weaponry. I’m standing in hotel rooms overlooking crowded city streets amid public gatherings, I’m walking down seedy alleyways at night, protecting manila envelopes of confidential information from being destroyed by raindrops as I discreetly exchange proprietary information… It’s like half of the images are random moments captured in time, as if they really happened, while the other half are completely outlandish dreams as if I’m the one performing these foreign acts. None of it means anything on its own, but somehow all of it together forms an intense feeling of dread when combined.
The sedative slowly winds its way through my veins, relaxing my tensed muscles. Simon and Eric stare with wide eyes as my uncontrollable limbs begin to calm, my breathing still heavy. The continuous surge of information gradually trickles to random flickers. Then, total blackness. My eyes shut tight, eyeballs dancing all around, still chasing the ghosts of the images that just invaded my mind.
“This is incredible,” Simon whispers. “Project McGuffin is finally a go!” I can feel Simon’s presence as he leans close to my face and claps his hands together. My eyelids fly open. “Stay awake. I’ll be right back.” Simon hurries over to his desk. “Lock the door, Eric,” he adds.
I let out a whimper. Eric flashes me an amused grin and says, “Just so no one interrupts,” before heading to the door.
I want to run, but there’s no way in hell that’s happening now. Not with all the damn muscle relaxant.
Now I’m so loosey-goosey I can’t move my muscles, and my lips and tongue are numb. My head aches, and another round of sticky, cold sweat is seeping into the thin hospital gown fabric, forming dark stains under my armpits. I’ve never felt so attractive in my life. The touch of the cold liquid sends a layer of goosebumps across my entire epidermis.
My own sweat betrays me.
I take deep breaths. At least I can control my lungs. Stay calm, Julie. It’s going to be okay.
Eric steps into the hall, looks both ways, and locks the door behind him with a loud click. He steps to the edge of my bed and leans into my personal bubble.
“Can you hear me, Julie?” Eric asks.
“Yes, jerk,” I spit. Literally, a bit of drool comes out. My mouth is so numb it makes everything I say sound like baby talk.
Eric chuckles. “I can’t take you seriously like this, I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” I sound like a pouting four-year-old. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to test out the truth serum,” he says. “Tell me this—What’s your name?”
“Julie Richardson,” I answer immediately, unintentionally. I know this because I had planned on being uncooperative.
“Alright, and what’s my name?” he asks.
“Eric. Eric Shaw.” I try to mimic his dramatic delivery from the plane as close as possible. He just laughs.
“Okay. Where are you from?”
I want to say, “none of your business,” but it comes out as “Beechmont, Florida.” I guess this truth serum does work.
“And where are you now?”
“I don’t know. Jeez!” I say, in an exceptionally whiny tone. Maybe the truth serum is turning me into a child. Or perhaps it just stripped me of all my remaining dignity. Though, if I’m being honest with myself, there wasn’t much of that left to begin with. “Can you stop asking questions? I’m the one who needs answers!” I pout. Eric stifles another laugh.
Simon returns with a pair of glasses hanging around his neck, holding a notebook and some loose-leaf papers covered in unintelligible notes. “What are you doing, Eric? Don’t interrogate her yet.”
“Relax. I’m just testing the serum by asking her questions I already know the answers to.”
“I could be tracking all of this data!” Simon throws his hands in the air.
“Don’t worry, bud. I’ve got it all up here.” Eric points to his temple with a confident nod to Simon.
The young scientist purses his lips. “Fine. You may continue.” He turns to the monitor, adjusts some settings, and enthusiastically scribbles down some more chicken scratch.
Eric looks me in the eye and asks, “Are you attracted to me?” with a smirk.
“I guess,” I say. Great. Well done, brain. Eric narrows his eyes. “To be honest,” I add, “your smile is crooked, and it’s been bugging me this entire time.” Ah ha! Success.
He chuckles and flashes me a real grin this time. It truly is the most attractive smile I’ve ever seen on a man.
“I mean, that was super cute,” I continue, totally unable to stop myself, “but it doesn’t outweigh the fact that you drugged and kidnapped me.”
Eric juts his jaw out, scowling.
“Tell me about it,” I say. “Oh, and don’t even get me started on your attitude, mister—”
“Alright, for God’s sake.” He clasps a hand over my mouth. I continue spouting nonsense into his palm like a deflating whoopie cushion.
Simon taps the screen. “That should do it.” He places his spectacles on the bridge of his nose and turns to me and Eric, pen and notepad at the ready. “Is the truth serum working?”
“Unfortunately,” Eric mutters.
Simon giggles. “Fantastic! Alright, let’s get started—” he says, but he’s interrupted by his phone ringing. He looks at the caller I.D. and puts it on speaker with a huff. “Director?”
The Director’s shrill voice escapes from the phone. “What’s going on? I received an alert that—”
“They drugged me, and now I’m paralyzed!” I spout, muffled by Eric’s hand.
“It’s just truth serum and muscle relaxant,” says Eric.
“Eric, what are you doing there? And what do you need muscle relaxants for?” I didn’t realize someone’s voice could sound so tight.
“It’s a safety precaution. Her body entered a state of convulsion as soon as she launched Project McGuffin,” says Simon.
“What!” The Director yells. A beat. Then, “Take me off speaker.”
Simon does as he’s told, but it doesn’t stop The Director’s high-pitched shouting from being heard by everyone else in the room.
“You launched Project McGuffin without my approval?”
What is this McGuffin thing they all keep mentioning? Images of MacGyver pop into my head, but I’m pretty sure it’s not that.
“Technically, Julie did, ma’am,” Simon says. “She tried to escape and accidentally activated the launch button during the process—”
“She tried to escape?” She mutters, “I leave for one minute—” Pause. “What about the database? Did we lose our information?”
Simon and Eric share a worried look. “Let me check.” Simon rushes to his desk. He puts the phone on speaker again while he searches his computer files. Eric crosses his arms and watches determinedly at the over-sized computer screen.
“I’m not sure yet.” Simon gives Eric a strained look. Eric motions for him to hurry, and stage whispers, “Hang up the phone!”
“Er, there’s no information in The McGuffin database,” Simon says to the phone.
“You’re telling me we just uploaded all our Top Secret information into a civilian’s brain with no guarantee we can retrieve or remove it?”
“Yes.” Simon nods his head at the phone.
Eric facepalms his forehead and then glares at me. As if this is my fault!
The Director goes quiet, and the faint sound of her watch beeping fills the background. Then she lets out a deep breath.
“Well, at least we have a backup,” she says, more to herself than to Simon. Simon nods in agreement.
“Alright, here’s what you’re going to do,” she continues. “You’re going to find out whether the transfer worked. If so, you’ll determine how to replicate Project McGuffin on a more suitable subject, and if it can’t be done, I’m scrapping the entire thing.” Simon bites his lip at the thought. “Understood?”
“Don’t worry, Director. I’m going to perform a deep exploratory surgery in her cranial—”
“Surgery?” I screech. The heartrate monitor goes crazy.
“What’s that noise? What’s happening?” The Director demands. Simon rushes back over to the data monitor.
“Her cortisol levels are affecting the data.” His gaze darts all over the monitor, taking in every stat, then he turns to me and shouts, “Stay calm, or you’ll ruin everything!”
How very helpful.
“Don’t tell me to stay calm!” I screech, my voice cracking. No way they’re getting me under the scalpel. Damn these dead muscles! “Get me the hell out of here!”
Eric claps his hand over my mouth once more and yanks the phone from Simon’s grasp with his free hand. “Don’t worry, Director. I’ll handle this. Go treat yourself to a nice manicure or something.”
“Eric, you should be filing your—”
Eric ends the call and tosses the phone back to Simon, who fumbles to catch it. He finally gets a grip on the small device and drops it back in his lab coat pocket. This kid can’t even catch a phone and he wants to perform surgery on me? I don’t freaking think so.
Eric turns to me. “I’m going to take my hand off your mouth. When I do, you’re going to hold your tongue. Got it?” He stares me down. I stare back.
“Fine,” I say, but it comes out like “Phnmg.” Eric gingerly removes his palm.
“First things first—you must calm down.” Simon places a hand on my shoulder, but I can’t flinch away.
“Don’t touch me!” I shriek. Simon feverishly glances between the monitor and me.
“I knew it.” Eric shakes his head at me. “I knew you wouldn’t listen.”
“Don’t you have some kind of logs to take care of?” I hiss at him.
“And miss this? No way.” He grins. It simultaneously turns me on and irks me to the core.
Simon pulls a chair up to the other side of the bed. I try to move my arms with all my might, but it only sparks another surge of pain that sends the monitor flatlining again. Is this how I’m going to die?
Nope, I think, as the beeping goes back to normal. I sigh.
Welp, that took all my remaining energy. “What do you want?” I ask with a weak voice.
Simon holds his pudgy hands up in the universal ‘please stay calm, we’re not going to hurt you’ signal. “We need to perform some tests on your brain, preferably while the transfer is still fresh—”
“Look, if you want me to cooperate, you’re going to have to answer some of my questions first,” I say.
“We don’t have time for this, Julie,” Eric says. “Just trust us.”
“Sure, says the guy who pushed me out of an airplane!” The monitor beeps faster. Eric rolls his eyes at me.
Simon jumps to attention, reaching for the readings on the screen with a plea in his expression. “My data!” he cries, then he recomposes himself.
“Alright. What do you want to know?” Simon asks.
“Who are you, and what do you want with me? Where is this place? What’s Project McGuffin? What happened to my brain?” I stare them down, ready to finally get some answers.
“That’s too many questions,” Eric says.
Who knew there was a limit?
Simon purses his lips and whispers to Eric, as if I can’t hear them right next to me, “It may be the only way to protect the data.”
“Fine, but keep your answers short and to the point, Mr. Explainy,” Eric ‘whispers’ back.
Simon turns back to me, a professional smile plastered on his face. “Hello.” He holds out his hand. “My name is Simon Zedler.”
I tell my hand to shake his, but it merely twitches. Simon abandons the gesture. Good start.
“I’m the Head Computer Scientist and Senior Analyst here at T.O.P.S.E.C.R.E.T.”
“What’s Top Secret?” I ask.
“T.O.P.S.E.C.R.E.T. is an undercover government organization devoted to protecting the United States from foreign and domestic threats,” says Simon.
“So… you’re spies.” I let that sink in for a second.
“We’re secret agents,” Eric says.
“So, what, you do things like in Mission Impossible?”
“More like James Bond. I work alone,” Eric says. There he goes again with the cheesy lines. I guess he really is a spy.
“Not technically,” Simon corrects. “I help by delivering mission updates to Eric from The McGuffin and interpreting the information he obtains in the field. We’re a team,” he says with a smile. Eric screws up his lips at that. It appears he doesn’t think so.
“Okay,” I say. “What is a McGuffin?”
“The McGuffin,” Eric corrects. “It’s the single most powerful and all-knowing source of all T.O.P.S.E.C.R.E.T. private intel.”
Right, because that sounds like a good plan. All your secrets in one place. Bravo.
“So, it’s like a cloud-based filing system, or…?” I squint my eyes, expecting some sort of logical explanation to follow.
“It’s a proprietary piece of technology that tells us who we’re after and what the mission is, among other things,” Simon says, matter of fact.
“Alright, and who tells The McGuffin what missions to hand out?” I ask.
“No one,” says Simon.
“C’mon, Julie. You think a single person could know all the secrets of the world?” Eric snickers.
I narrow my eyes. “Then how does The McGuffin know?”
“It just does,” Eric says. Simon nods.
“So, The McGuffin is an all-knowing source of secrets that randomly gives you missions to save the world?” They nod their heads. They’re not kidding. “You just described a magic eight ball,” I say.
“This isn’t a joke, Julie,” Eric says. “Do you think we’d waste our time with you if the world weren’t at stake?”
So dramatic. “Look, even if I believed this crap, it still doesn’t explain how I’m involved. What did you do to me?”
Simon perks up at this question. I get the sense he likes to explain things.
“About two years ago, I thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be great if instead of sending T.O.P.S.E.C.R.E.T. information to our field agents through easily interceptable means such as messengers, drop boxes, safe house locations, etcetera, etcetera, we could send the information directly to our agents’ brains?’” His eyes light up and he stares at me expectantly.
Oh. This is where I’m supposed to look impressed. “Uh. Sure,” I nod. “Sounds like a good idea.” Simon beams at my approval and continues.
“I presented my idea to The Director, and she loved the efficiency of it. So that’s when I began working—”
“Simon,” Eric interrupts. “Just skip to the part about what happened to her brain.”
“Wait, I want to hear everything,” I stammer. Why does Eric seem to know the direct route to under my skin? “Please, keep going.”
“Right,” Simon says, looking between Eric and me as we glare at each other. He clears his throat. “Well, once I felt the system was ready, I created a test ‘message’, about the same size as your standard T.O.P.S.E.C.R.E.T. case briefing.”
“And how big is that exactly?” I ask.
“One hundred forty pages or so,” Simon confirms. Jeez, nothing like preparing your field agents for work on-the-go. “I tested sending the message directly to the brains of all our top agents, Eric included, but none of them were able to receive the information successfully. Some agents died during the transfer, some agents were severely traumatized as a result of the foreign digital data, and some agents simply couldn’t receive the data at all, like Eric, here.” Eric looks away, his jaw hard.
“So, I placed my test message online to be discovered by whoever could trigger it. I programmed it to reveal itself whenever someone completed our ‘career quiz’ in a precise way, to ensure they’d be suitable at least for the fundamental level of testing. Hundreds of people got to the end of the test, but the only person to activate the data transfer was you.”
“Wow…” I take a moment to let it all sink in. “I knew that wasn’t a normal computer virus,” I think aloud.
“Perhaps because it wasn’t a virus,” Simon corrects, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with his pudgy pinky finger. “We sent Eric to retrieve you so we could figure out why you were able to trigger the message and, hopefully, replicate the same response in one of our agents.”
I furrow my brow. My muscles must be coming back. “So, you put a deadly virus online endangering the lives of innocent people?”
“Nonono, Julie,” Simon says, hands going back up to shoo my worries away. “It wasn’t a virus. It was a message. And it would only activate if, well let me try to explain in a way—”
“What Simon means to say,” interrupts Eric, “is that it would only work if it could work. Understand?”
“Sure, I understand,” I say. “You let me almost die from information overload and then waited for me to be on a freaking airplane before kidnapping me.” Unbelievable.
“Apprehended,” Eric corrects. If I could move my arm, I’d slap him again. But for now, I settle for an angry nostril flare.
“Now what? You’re going to keep me prisoner and lobotomize my brain?”
Simon raises his hands again, urging me to calm down, but it only succeeds in annoying me further.
“We originally planned to perform easy, simple tests to become acquainted with your brain. Only after determining whether my initial message had successfully been received would we then continue on to more invasive techniques for more detailed analysis. But, well, you sort of skipped all that when you launched the entire contents of The McGuffin into your mind.”
I close my eyes, blocking out their nosey faces for just a moment.
A computer virus that sends information into your brain. A spy sent to save me from a plane crash. Because I passed a Top Secret government agency’s un-passable test.
This all seems entirely unreal.
Then again, I’ve always had a knack for acing tests.
“What happens now? Can you get this McGuffin out of my head and let me go home?”
Simon trots over to his giant flat-screen TV, referencing his intriguing mysterious data analytics as if the oscillating color and ticking number mean anything to me. “Ideally, I’d like to perform some tests as soon as possible while The McGuffin transfer is still fresh in your mind,” he says, his fingers twitching with anticipation. “We have no idea how your brain has processed the information, or what kind of complications or dangers might arise without proper initial analysis.”
“Dangers? Complications?” The heartrate machine makes a dramatic beep.
Simon waves his hands dismissively. As if that’ll help. “Well, of course. As with any experiment, there’s bound to be health risks, potentially life-threatening—” He stops at the sight of my horrified expression.
“Of course, this is all theoretical. It’s just that, even we have no idea of the full extent of The McGuffin’s knowledge. It’s always been sort of a mystery to us, and now it’s locked within your unique brain.” He’s practically seething at the mouth.
“If it was so damn dangerous, why would you leave a giant red launch button lying around?” I ask. Besides, how do they not know what this McGuffin thingy does if they designed the damn thing? At least, I’m assuming they made it. My God, what if it was sent from outer space? What if this McGuffin thing is sending me these crazy ideas right now?
Simon looks bewildered by the question, like it never occurred to him to not have a giant red LAUNCH button lying around. He opens his mouth to speak, but Eric hastily interrupts whatever he was going to say.
“Don’t question T.O.P.S.E.C.R.E.T. methods, Julie,” he says.
“Look, I don’t want to be involved—”
“It’s a little late for that,” Eric says.
No shit, Sherlock.
“Please understand, Julie. You are very special.” Simon looks at me with pleading eyes. I almost forget he wants to put me under the scalpel.
“Just, give me a second,” I say, the gravity of the situation fully setting in. I’m pretty much stuck in this isolated secret place in the middle of who knows where with two guys who are more than capable of killing me, whether intentionally or not.
For someone who’s irrationally afraid of needles and barely gets out, I think this goes as some kind of record. Plus, despite everything, I’d like to know why I passed their test.
“Hello? Julie?” Simon waddles over and waves his hands in front of my eyes. Eric stands from his perch on the edge of my temporary bed and crosses his arms, staring me down with a contemplative look. I wonder what’s going through his broody mind.
“You’re not kidding,” I say, incredulous.
“We never kid when it comes to The McGuffin,” says Eric.
I struggle to sit up straight, intending to make these boys see just how serious I am. When I stop breathing heavily, I glower at them with my best businesswoman face. “Okay, let’s get this straight,” I say. “I want to know what’s going on in my head, too, but you’ve got to understand something— I don’t do needles.”
Simon opens his mouth like he’s going to protest. He turns to Eric, who shrugs. Simon sighs reluctantly. “I suppose that’s doable,” he mutters.
“Or scalpels,” I add. “Or any kind of invasive surgical technique or bodily intrusion.”
“That’s going to make it extremely difficult—” Simon starts to say, but the fast beeping returns. He glances at the monitors again. “Fine—I welcome the challenge.”
“And one other thing,” I say. Simon presses his lips together, a tick starting up his jaw. “When we’re done with your tests, and we figure out what’s going on in my brain, you’re going to take The McGuffin out of my head and let me go home.”
“Well, we don’t know how—” Simon starts, but Eric kicks him under my bed.
“Great idea,” says Eric. “Do we have a deal?” Simon watches with an uncertain expression as Eric reaches his hand out to shake mine. I get the feeling they’re not telling me the entire truth, but I suppose I can’t do anything about it anyway.
My curiosity gets the better of me.
“Let’s just get this over with.” I manage to shakily raise my palm into Eric’s grasp. He gives me one firm shake, not bothering to hold back a look of disgust as my cold, sweaty hand slides out of his and flops back down on the bed like a dead fish.
“Alright,” I say. “Let’s do this.”