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“He’s been locked in that room for days,” my wife said to someone. I continued pushing pins into the wall, faster and faster. I had to finish before she opened the door. I had to get done. “I can’t even get him to speak to me. The only reason I know he’s alive is he’s come out from time to time after we’ve all gone to bed to eat.”
It’s true. There were times where I was too weak to go on with my task, so I’d slip into the kitchen and grab something quickly before I was seen. I pricked my finger on one of the pins. I ignored the moment of pain. How many times had that happened in the past…how long had I been in here? I shook my head. It didn’t matter. Only my purpose mattered.
“You say he’s been acting strange for a while now?” a deep gravelly voice answered her. I didn’t recognize it so I moved on. “Explain that, please.”
“He went to this antiquities auction and purchased several items,” my wife said. “It’s part of his job. Or it was, until he got fired for stealing three books from what he’d gotten for his client. My husband isn’t a thief. He told me someone else made him take those books. I believed him. This was about two weeks ago. Ten days ago he started rambling about his ‘mission’, locked himself in the spare bedroom, and hasn’t emerged since. I think he has those books in there with him.”
“I see. Thank you, ma’am,” the gravelly voice replied.”Okay boys, we’ve probably got a class two field up over the door, so bring the splitter. Then we’ll need a plasma torch and the coolant gel.”
I scowled. A splitter would disrupt the frequency of my force field and a plasma torch would cut through the door with little effort. I glanced down at what I held in my hands. I was almost done. If I hurried, I’d finish just as they broke in. I pushed onward.
I heard the crackle of electricity as the generator shorted out. Then I felt the heat as the door was destroyed by the plasma torch. I pinned the last page up just as the metal hit the floor with a clunk. I turned to see a security officer in full riot gear smear coolant gel on the opening before stepping through.
“Clear,” he shouted. “No visible sign of weapons.”
“Of course I don’t have any weapons,” I said calmly. “I don’t believe in them.”
Another man, this one dressed in a more streamlined set of armor, entered the room. “Mr. Ross, I’m Captain Daniels of the Old District New York security office.” It was the gravelly voice.
“Pleased to meet you, Captain Daniels,” I said with a pleasant smile.
“Your aberrant behavior requires us to take you in for psychiatric evaluation,” Captain Daniels said.
“Certainly,” I said. “May I wash my hands first? I’m afraid I’m covered in dust and ink.”
“Mr. Ross, what have you been doing in here?” Captain Daniels asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” I said, shrugging. “The voices finally stopped without telling me why it was so important the pages go up in this particular order. I’m sure I’ve gone mad, but at least my mind is quiet now.”
“You two,” Captain Daniels barked, gesturing to the first officer through and a second who’d joined him. “Escort Mr. Ross to the bathroom so he can wash up. Then take him to the transport.” He unlocked and opened the door. “Mrs. Ross, your husband is non-combative at this time, but I suggest you and your children still stand back.”
I heard her muffled sob. I felt nothing. She’d been an adequate spouse, nothing special, but very good at executing her duties. Well, all but one. My children were spoiled, overindulged little monsters thanks to her, and no matter how much I tried to discipline them she would countermand everything I tried to do. All of them needed to be punished.
I glanced at the wall. Thin bands of red light were starting to show between the pages. I let them lead me out of the room. I washed quickly and then got in the van when I was taken to it. I stayed very docile, not wanting to draw attention to anything. As the door started to slide shut, I heard the first of the screams. I started laughing as the security officers ran inside. I let myself out of the van and started walking down the street. No one paid any attention to me. I was, after all, just an ordinary businessman.