Chapter 4: Prism

Within the space of an hour, and to be fair the longest in Jared’s life they were seating themselves at the same long bench table with individual seating, as opposed to built-it one’s, as Jared was in the mess hall, he himself already surrounded by other military personnel both the one’s assigned to him more out of his general safety than anything else, as a high profile consultant, but also to keep track of his whereabouts, his habits, anything to understand the man abit better and what made him such a monster. As a result the group of assembled men and women, laughing, passing jokes between them and generally getting along with him was an alien sight for them to behold as they with a subtle but noticeable gesture, requested the personnel, aside from the two assigned as his bodyguards, to disperse for a private conversation.

“Hell, that took long, I half expected to get dragged back in there by the ankles at this speed, take a seat”, he said happily, as he munched on some jell-o in a yogurt-shaped cup happily “did you know this stuff is actually good, despite the horror stories about it from the other guys here, seems tragic to be so misrepresented for no discernible good reason other than a pre-conceived notion in the collective minds of others”, he said obviously hinting at how they’d judged him to be an eccentric bastard and malcontent with no outward people skills, incapable of ever forming any kind of lasting social standing let alone with the group of people they’d just see him with. “But I can excuse that, when I’m not talking shop I’m only an half indecent asshole, something people fail to believe ... allot, until they witness it for themselves, I’ll admit it’s a general improvement all around until you see me action with a pair of bodies”, he said obviously referring to Kiara and Hazeem. “So, how’d it go?” he said unusually hopeful and upbeat to hear the rewards of their efforts.

The air hanging around all three of them was horribly thick, a palpable mix of anger, frustration and dread. Herbert took a seat, his eyes never leaving Jared’s, “We need to talk,” he said firmly. “Sure, about what, because as you can see and as my esteemed guards can attest, I’ve just been here chill-axing whilst you’ve been at work, so how goes it, you wrapped up Hazeem got everything you needed? Need me to mop up anything?” he inquired generally, as he continued to concentrate on consuming his cup jell-o happily.

Cynthia took a deep breath before speaking, “Jared, we can’t continue down this path, we need to find another way, something that doesn’t involve breaking them down like this,” she said, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her emotional turmoil.

“So? What do you need me for, I’m just the extra guy, the last resort, I’ll probably end up cutting them to pieces, you guys have it under control, so go break him, break him good, make him spill with your superior techniques”, he said happily as he made eager motions with his hands as if to usher them back to their ‘work’. His tone wasn’t mocking which was odd it seemed completely honest; making them question what if, what they perceived was what he’d told them, a facet of himself not swept up in his work. He caught this and began by saying “I know what you’re thinking, I can hear the wheels turning, and since when has it been a crime not to be an asshole when you’re basically off duty, your work is hard enough, which is something I don’t need to tell any of you”, he said encompassing all of them including the guards “and I imagine when you allow yourselves the time you all encounter your own sort of mood shift that allows you to ... become almost a different person as it were when not under the stress of breaking a man or woman, seven ways from Sunday”, he added, finishing his jell-o cup a greenish lime one and moving onto a new one, with an orange colour and pieces of fruit in it they knew to be “tutti-fruity”.

“So what’s up? Did you crash and burn? Or is there still hope for recovery, if that’s what you asking for?” he asked simply, with a non-judgemental tone that was almost eerie in its calmness, as if he was discussing the weather rather than the mental and physical wellbeing of his subjects. “Jesus, calm down, I can hear you thinking, just tell me how bad it is in there”, he said almost suddenly, catching a combination of body language and their general lack of appetite for anything in the room as a sign they weren’t there for a social visit.

The warden took another deep breath, “It’s worse than we thought, Jared. Farah, she’s ... she’s not the same. And Hazeem, he’s barely holding on, we need to get him to talk without...” he trailed off, unable to bring himself to repeat the words.

“So? Use your esteemed wisdom garnered from years of experience”, he said thoughtfully “or barring that stick a few knives in him all for I care, a jobs, a jobs, a job, you’ve been doing this long enough, all of you, suck it up, there be only monsters here”, he said, obviously referring to himself at the end and how on uncharted areas in maps used to say “Here be Dragons” and the fear that entailed. “But if you want me to go back in, I will, because that’s what I do, I’m not here to be liked or to win any awards, I’m here to get answers, and if you can’t do it without making a mess, then let me, I’ve got a whole set of tools that don’t make a sound, except maybe for the screams”, he said with a wink, his voice never rising above a calm tone, it was the words that had the power not his inflection, as he continued to eat his jell-o mould out of the cup, whilst the others just stared.

“They don’t believe me”, he said to his bodyguards, with a slight tone of humour in his voice “too bad, in any case, has the end result been reached? Do you have the information you need yet or do you perceive your close?” he asked earnestly, wiping a smear of jell-o off his lip with the back of his hand, the act oddly humanizing in the otherwise sterile and cold environment of the facility.

The Warden, his face a mask of concentration, finally spoke, “Jared, we need to find a balance, we need to get the intel without losing ourselves in the process,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind.

Jared smiled lavishly in return, as he offered a guess at what they’d done “you tried to ask them directly, didn’t you? You thought the “Dream” was powerful enough to overpower Hazeem’s will and daughter in tow, and convince them to give you everything you need without a tear shed, because you thought I was just torturing them just for the jollies, am I close?”, he said looking around the table to each of their faces, holding them to his question, as he smiled like a kid about to win a round of hangman on a chalkboard singlehandedly.

Cynthia was the first to speak up, reluctantly admitting the failure of their approach, “We did. And it didn’t work. Farah is ... changed, and Hazeem ... we can’t get through to him without risking his life.”

“Suggestions”, Jared offered lightly, like a kid in a candy store ready to burn the place down with an eager look on his face, in favour of his own homemade mix.

“We need to find a way to get the truth without losing our humanity,” Herbert insisted, his voice echoing the gravity of their situation.

“Good luck with that”, he said raising a Coke in mock salute to his efforts, setting it down after a gentle sip. “Anyone else?” he offered.

Herbert broke the silence, “You’re supposed to be our expert, Jared. You’re here to give us options, not make light of the situation,” she said, her voice tight with restrained anger.

“Hell I wanted to give you “my” best shot, I succeeded twice, in record time too, if you haven’t forgotten, and when it got tough, I was willing to put on some spiked shoes and walk all over their weary souls, with an offer of truce in place, a fighting chance as it were, if they merely listened and took their time, but on both counts I’ve been told to hit the benches, and here I am, I would rather be hitting a home run, no question about it, but my fear is I’ll end up hitting the ball so hard it’ll explode, as it surely will”, he said, with confident ease.

“So Sarah, what’s your take away, yay or nay, you want Hyde back in the driver’s seat or Jekyll to keep explaining that the formula only works if you take it, not if you blame the chemist for how it works”, he said as he looked at her. “And don’t worry I don’t have a soul to offend, I discovered that a long time ago, my only decency comes from my choice to be here, to help, as unwanted and unsavoury as it is”, he replied still looking at her for any kind of input she wished to share.

Sarah leaned in, her eyes piercing through his facade, “Jared, we need you to help us find that balance,” she said, her voice a mix of urgency and plea.

“Jekyll it is then ... okay”, he began “does anyone know why I made more than one version of this drug in the first place? I mean quite honestly it’s not a brain teaser, how about you Kurt?”, he said referring to one of the bodyguards he’d come to know well over the last hour “why does a manufacturer of a potent drug make a stronger version of its kind, hell, why does anyone make a stronger version of anything these days? I mean if this were a gun you could point at someone what would be the point, if you already had an effective weapon at hand”, he asked sincerely, hoping he didn’t feel too intimidated in the presence of his superiors to answer the question honestly, until Herbert gave the go ahead to speak freely.

The young man spoke up “It’s a deterrent, a show of force, or when the situation requires it, a final solution”, he said, his voice firm and even. “Yes, but why a different model, why make a sniper rifle when you already have a hand gun, if each produces roughly the same end result?” he asked earnestly seemingly getting to the point. “Because sometimes you need a scalpel, not a chainsaw, and sometimes you need a chainsaw, not a scalpel, but when you’re dealing with something like the human mind, something that can’t be measured with a yard stick, or a scale, then you need to be able to tailor your approach to suit the subject”, he said with an honest smile.

Jared slammed his clenched fist on the long benches metallic table “exactly! Thank god for marines! They get it!”, he said with a startling show of enthusiasm that frankly startled them all abit except for Kurt and the other guard who seemed to be used to this exuberance. “Em, were military sir, not the marines”, Kurt pointed out. Jared acknowledged this with a nod and said “my apologies, I didn’t mean to insult your profession but a combination of my ignorance and my emotions did not allow me to connect those two points together but yeah, thank you for your perspective, it’s appreciated”, he said in the most polite way possible, without any hint of a patronizing tone in his tone, as the senior officers, just looked on at Jared with a joint expression of confusion and discomfort.

“I told you, off the clock I’m not a monster, as alien as that concept might be, ask them”, he indicated to the other two guards “their witnesses to my humanity over the last hour or so, dark humour and all”, he said, as he tipped the remains of the Jell-o cup into his mouth, unable to resist himself, as the guards simply looked on blankly neither acknowledging or denying this simple truth, even though their superiors could tell from their half-hidden smiles they were trying to conceal that this was most certainly true, before Herbert spoke up, a look of defeat slowly crawling on his face, as if the universe itself were against him or the possibility that he was slowly going mad a very possible one too in his opinion, in the face of this brilliant scientist turned depraved half-lunatic when he was in his element, to the seemingly all around reasonable alternative, they were being forced to witness before them.

“Jared, we need to get that intel, but we can’t keep doing this to people,” the Herbert said, his voice carrying the weight of his responsibility.

“So, you wanna’ use the Pulpit? That’s just pure pain there, so that could work or kill them, your call”, he said dismissively.

“No, we want something that doesn’t destroy them,” Cynthia said, her voice tight with anger.

“And the Dream will do that, just not in any way potent enough to do it with a simple game of twenty questions as you’ve probably already found out”, he said as he looked around for denials

as he pointed it out, receiving none “It’s a slow burn, it’s not supposed to be a quick fix, it’s supposed to be a methodical dissection of the mind, a dance with the darkest parts of their soul, it’s not a sledgehammer, it’s a scalpel, and it’s not pretty, and it’s not meant to be, because the truth rarely is”, he said, his voice never wavering, his eyes never leaving any of theirs.

“So on that note, when you want me back, as is, terrible flaws and all, let me know, otherwise I can’t fulfill the delicate task of dancing around these two people asking questions, I wouldn’t be able to fathom how to begin with that, instead I’d just try and patch over what you did, and ease them into the meat grinder you’re not so fond of, either that or...”, he thought carefully, his face locked in an expression of thoughtful consideration before he said “Nope that’s all I’ve got, Sandman’s’ Promise was made for a less lethal approach, Traitors Dream was tailored for the lethal approach, and the ... you know the one I’d rather not use, is tailored for all out destruction and mayhem, results or no, but I’d rather not launch that missile before we have to. All pretences aside, the “Pulpit” scares the shit out of me and if it doesn’t out of you ... well I hate to sound like an all knowing Yoda here but “but shit out of luck, you are”, he said in his worst, intentional impression of Yoda, that actually drew an unexpected smile from Cynthia of all people, as he noticed this and said.

“How’s this, I keep my word, give them another chance at guessing, they guess right, they get an automatic reprieve from me until you decide otherwise, they guess wrong they still get a reprieve me until you say otherwise and we whittle down the other more susceptible members with a greater likelihood to answering questions outright under the drugs influence through a trial and error basis. If their will is strong I’ll just send them back into their cells and order them to sit on their hands for all you like, for the next twelve hours until we need them again, we keep rolling through members prioritizing the easy ones over the resistant ones, we leave Hazeem and Kiara for dead last as a group, and we find a better methodology unless there isn’t one and in those rare and extreme cases its becomes a question of what you just saw back there with me at the drivers wheel, a veritable Superman vs. Doomsday last man standing takes all session, to finally get the answers you’ll need, that seem more reasonable?”, he offered them, his voice never once betraying the seriousness of the situation they were in, his eyes never leaving theirs.

The Warden took a moment to consider the proposal, “It’s a temporary solution, but it’s a start. We need to find a way to get the truth without ... without turning into monsters ourselves,” he said, his voice a mix of desperation and determination.

“With respect, if you’re not here to face monsters you’re in the wrong business”, he said almost casually, “But I get the feeling working here for too long, will tend to strip your nerves raw, given a long enough amount of time”, he said with feeling “my only luxury is I know what I am and that is not you, that’s why you hired me I presume?”, he said never breaking eye contact with the warden, hopeful for an answer.

The Warden nodded, “We did, because we needed someone who could go to places we wouldn’t dare,” he said, his eyes reflecting his inner conflict. “Problem is you peaked in Pandora’s box sir”, he said plainly “you expected some kind of Deus Ex Machina”, and all you got was me, but don’t worry, like I said, you can’t offend me, my soul left that kind of baggage behind a long time ago, I’m what you call unfit to lead and unfit to be lead, my uses vary on the problem as it’s presented, it’s tough but an honest self assessment”, he said simply as if he’d reflected on this fact too many times to find any offense in, regardless, the moment of retrospection was short lived as he knew they didn’t come here for a philosophical debate.

“So you ready to throw me at Superman when the time comes, I don’t mind being your Doomsday and it’s a better than the alternative right?” he said simply looking around the table at all three of them in turn.

Sarah nodded slowly, “We’ll try your way, for now, but we need to work on something ... less destructive for the long haul,” she conceded.

“I need consensus”, he said simply “I’m a stickler like that”, he said with a slight, spreading grin, they were all too familiar with, even out here in the open mess hall it still had the power to make the hair on their necks stand up. The Warden nodded, and Cynthia reluctantly agreed.

“Coolio, let’s get to cracking, is the cell member I selected prepped? I want them to make the best guess of their lives based on what she represents”, he said eagerly.

Herbert nodded, “Yes, she’s ready”, his voice laced with trepidation, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what Jared had in mind.

“Excellent, let the games begin”, he said eagerly noting the horror on their faces before he said hurriedly “calm down, you’ll give yourself a heart attack, then where would be”, he snickered as he got up off his seat, which they noticed he had also reversed as Sarah asked “Why do you do that, with the seat like that?”, she said, curious to see if he would answer honestly.

“Read it in “David Gemell’s” “Legend” and it stuck with me. When someone asked the same thing in the novel the character Hogun replied: Old habits die hard, even among friends. It’s a warrior’s habit. With your legs astride the chair, it is easier to rise. Also it puts a thick layer of wood between your belly and the man you are talking to or sitting with”, he said with a shrug as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his bodyguards chuckling lightly at his reference to the fantasy novel, which seemed to ease the tension slightly.

Sarah found it hard to believe that a man like Jared had a soft spot for fantasy literature, but she filed it away as another layer to his enigmatic character. As they moved towards the interrogation chamber, the air grew thick with anticipation. The Warden led the way, with Jared and his entourage of guards following closely. Cynthia trailed behind, her footsteps echoing in the stark corridor, her thoughts racing with the potential outcomes of this new approach. Sarah couldn’t help but feel a mix of dread and hope that maybe; just maybe; they could get the answers they needed without losing their humanity as she stepped through the hallway.

“Hello children”, he said as he entered the room. “Farah” looking as dishevelled as she was when he’d left her there was the first to look up, her eyes wide with fear, her body trembling slightly, she knew what was coming and she was terrified, which was the exact reaction he was aiming for, but not for the reasons she thought, it was for the psychological game he was playing with her, one that was about to get a whole lot more intense. Hazeem on the other hand was slumped in his chair, his face a mask of pain, but his eyes were sharp, watching everything with a kind of detached fascination, like he was watching someone else go through this, not himself.

“I apologize”, he said sincerely “So rarely can I help myself, but good news all around, no tricks”, he said as he took his usual seat in his reversed chair and continued “I wish I could have been here to prevent the three senior officers you no doubt met from questioning you and which I can only guess failed miserably with spectacular results, but as I said, there’s good news. I won’t be interrogating you until further notice and the methods you’ve witnessed and suffered here will be discontinued until agreed upon as essentially a last resort. Before either of you leave, I’ll explain in more detail but the lynchpin in all this, is you taking your guess now, of in a few moments after the fourth person in this interrogation joins us, and no, they will not be interrogating you either, they will be a more ... a prism of sorts to help me separate truth from fiction in this case, in the same way a prism separates light into its constituent colours”, he said as he nodded towards door to the room, yet to opened. “So what say you, would you like your guess now or after, I do advise, you in particular Hazeem will probably benefit most from seeing this person, or so I hope”, to this Hazeem simply said nothing, his eyes never leaving Jared’s, his expression unreadable. Farah, on the other hand, was visibly relieved at the news, even if it was just temporary, she took a deep breath and said “I’ll guess now, please”, her voice barely above a whisper. “You sure? This will really help, I honestly swear it, bear in mind, so far I’ve been honest to my word, but it’s up to you if you really want it, I mean I’ll still introduce her to you regardless, just as a “learning moment”, nothing will be done to her either”, he added hoping they’d take advantage of his offer but knowing it was solely up to them.

The room remained silent as Farah nodded and whispered “Okay”, she looked around the room as if expecting a trap, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and hope. “In order to em ... in order to prevent any further harm and at the same time illuminate what’s been done to you in its totality I have to tell you who it is before she enters to allow the reality of the situation to sink in fully, there’s no way around it, understand?”, he said firmly, his face a picture of concentration as he waited for her response. Farah nodded again, her eyes never leaving his, “Okay, I understand”.