Two Shadows Speak Plainly.
It’s 1998 Christmas Eve, Deep unground beneath a classified CIA base in an undisclosed location and unknown to any of the agents or staff an individual was chained to a chair in a cell that blocked any light from entering it, 3 miles beneath an already classified building. As he sat there he tried puzzling his clouded mind together. He was so riddled with drugs he literally couldn’t remember the last time he could think straight, or any time at all for that matter. His long and short term memory were both completely gone. In the last decade he had undergone so many tests that he had forgotten his name after a year.
Yet his mind still worked in its own way, still retaining its ability to understand and express itself.
Grasping at any sort of cognitive stream of thinking he could, he thought back to his last trip into the void.
He was swimming in a sea of lights.
They had wanted him to find something.
They always wanted him to do something or find something out.
He could remember nothing else. He didn’t even know if anything else existed besides the two realities he fluttered between. This one, in this room with these people; Or there, the void, uncollapsed infinity, the ocean of thoughts, the river styx, known by so many other names.
A man suddenly flung the door open to his cell, the heavy hunk of metal hit the cell wall like a gong. The hinges screeching all the way. The faint yellow light that hung in the corner swayed a little. The man seamlessly stepped into the room after thrusting open the door. Dressed in the usual cloak they used to disguise themselves. They did this because they knew what he could do if he knew who they were. He could recognize them, even if he’d never seen their face before in this world. He could still find them in the next. His shoulders were broad and his face was covered. The deep voice that emitted from the black hood was pulling a metal chair behind him as he greeted his prisoner. They always used such polite tones. Even if their raspy voices sounded like they’d been screaming like drill sergeants half their life. It was probably written in his file somewhere. “Don’t piss off prison or he’ll rearrange your molecules so that your organs are on the outside of your body rather than the inside with an afterthought.” The man in chains laughed a little to himself. It wouldn’t be fair to say he was sane exactly, but technically it wasn’t really his fault either. The man who entered sat down in the chair and leaning back, arms crossed rested his leg on his left knee.
He spoke without urgency and calmness.
“Your last mission was very successful, I thank you for your help, and your country thanks you as well….” waiting for a response he did not receive he continued. “I have a gift for you.” Removing a pack of cigarettes from his cloaked pockets he pulled one out from its package and rested it between the lips of the restrained man who was unmasked. The stranger pulled a lighter from the same pocket and lit the end of it.
As soon as he breathed in he could taste the dimethyl tryptamine and the LSD mix from the smoke.
The masked man began to speak again.
“We need you to do something else for us. See there was an idea but we aren’t really sure how it’s gonna play out, so they’ve asked me to…ask you to tell us the answer.” He chuckled a little. “…it’s funny, putting it like that makes me feel like I’m asking you to help me cheat on a math test. Anyway, it all began with a man named Guy Faux. He expressed the idea that blowing up a building of government can act as a political statement of defiance against an unjust government. Our sources in another psych division say that soon this idea is going to become very popular. We have decided to take matters into our own hands and redistribute this plot into something we the government would prefer, are you with me so far pal”? Still with no response he continued again. “Right, so we’ve decided to kill two birds with one stone goes the saying. You gotta look at it from my perspective see, War is actually necessary you know; vital in fact. It creates jobs and money and keeps the power where it’s suppose to be, in the hands of the righteous and deserving, those that govern the rest of the peasants of the world. So The Middle East has been developing into a potential problem. Unchecked they could threaten our position on the world stage, and simply wield to much control over the worlds oil supply, and therefore the world, and I know what your gonna say so let me stop you. Don’t even start with that hippie shit with the sun and the wind. We need to make a deal and create unrest in their political structure. To do that we need to go to war. So, we’ve decided to convince the world of why that’s necessary. This is where you come in. We need you to tell us if it’s going to play out the way we want it to. Can you do that for us?”
The man in chains was trying to grasp what the hooded figure was asking of him. After a few moments he slurred out a sentence that was barely recognizable.
“…so your gonna weaponize fear by taking out the buildings yourself and make your own statement by blaming it on terrorism, I get that right agent Drew”?
Surprised, the man in the hood shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His body became ridged at the sound of his name being mentioned.
The restrained man looked up from the floor of his cell and into the eyes of the stranger.
Taking a deep inhale of consciousness enhancing chemical smoke he spoke again with the vapors seeping from his nostrils and past his lips into the dry, unfiltered air.
“The plan will work. You will get your war, and you will get your money. Thousands will die for your greed and for those you serve. It will last for far longer than it should and the innocent will suffer while the guilty will walk free. It’s been going on forever and it’s nothing new. However, what comes next, will be!”
On the last sentence the eyes of the man in chains went from staring arrows into the other man’s pupils to a slow rotation into the back of his head so that the whites and the veins pulsated by the yellow light in the cell.
The stranger quickly exited and closed the door behind him, satisfied with the answer he received, sealing shut the vault door. The man inside, in chains blinked once and the yellow light above him flickered out flooding the room in darkness; he began to laugh insanely.
The agent removing his cloak outside the cell could hear the man he had just spoke with laughing through the thick, steel walls as he walked down the long, hall of cells penetrating the dark. The dimly lit corridor that seemed to go on forever rang with the buzzing of madness and fields of energy that remained immaterial and indistinguishable to the agent, but clear to those imprisoned around him in cages.
By Thomas j. Iadimarco