Chapter 20

I knew where I was this time.

I was in the 'dark' space ... my subconscious. A small part of me mused if this was normal or not.

I decided it wasn't ... someone would have written a book on it ... or maybe I just didn't check the 'metaphysical' section.

Once again I was seated in the chair of dark stone. I looked around. I couldn't see my doppelganger ... I couldn't see 'The Beast.' There was nothing ... I was profoundly alone.

I stood up and stepped out into the darkness.

"Hello?" I called out. "Is anyone there?"

There was no answer. I continued to walk about blindly.

I remembered being drugged. I remembered Ronald Turner ... I remembered what he planned to do to me.

He was going to put a chip in my head. I was going to become his slave ... just as surely as Sarah was mine. Then he was going to use me to kill Sarah ... so he could take her chip.

"NO!" I shouted into the darkness. "I'll fight your goddamn chip! I'll fight you to save Sarah!" Once again my voice was left unanswered.

I turned, and tried to find my chair ... but it was lost in the darkness.

Damn it. I realized I was unconscious ... but I could really go for a drink right about now.

I sat down on the floor of my sub consciousness.

I chuckled when I realized how crazy that sounded.

It started slowly at first.

The change was subtle, and I almost didn't notice it ... but it was getting lighter.

I leaped to my feet. The darkness was shifting into a subtle grey ... like the twilight before dawn. In the growing light, I was able to make out the silhouette of a figure.

My figure.

My doppelganger stood in front of me. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his shirt was once again casually unbuttoned.

He sported a look of amusement on his face.

That lazy grin just threw me over the edge. "What do you FUCKING want with me!" I screamed.

My double cocked his head to the side. "Please, let's have a civilized conversation shall we Jonathan?" He said. His voice sounded exactly like mine...

I crossed my arms. "Oh, a conversation is it? With myself? What would I call you?"

He smiled, "Well my name is Jonathan." He said like he was answering a question for a particularly slow child.

"Really?" I said, "I shouldn't call you 'The Beast' or my Id or something like that?"

He shook his head. "I've never been fond of the name you've given me. 'The Beast' sounds quite extreme. I'm a part of you ... I'm just the part you've repressed."

I sighed. "I guess its official ... I have split personality disorder."

He shrugged. "We used to be much closer ... but over the years we've grown farther apart. I've been kept downtrodden by 'ethical' education ... not to mention an unhealthy amount of drinking."

"So what happens now?" I asked.

The Beast took his hand out of his pockets. "Now you choose." He said.

"Choose what?"

He smiled. "Choose whether to repress me, or reunite with me."

I smiled back at my inner dark side. "That's it?" I asked.

He nodded, "That's it." He pointed up in a lazy motion. "But you may want to choose quickly."

My eyes followed his finger. At first it was hard to make out due to the bad light. But slowly I was able to discern it. Directly above our heads was a solid wall of glass. It was descending upon us at an alarming rate.

He leaned back and gazed at our impending doom. "It's starting Jonathan. They're putting the chip in. They are going to try and strip us of our will. Are you okay with that?"

I raised my hands and braced my feet. I was going to fight this ... I wouldn't give in.

"Bravo," The Beast said.

The glass hit my hands with the force of a stampeding elephant. My arms jarred and my elbows buckled. I was sure that if I had sustained such a blow in the real world it would have vaporized my arms. But here, I had begun to understand that will power was strength.

Surprisingly, the glass halted its downward journey ... I coughed and my body trembled. It felt like I was holding up the entire world.

The Beast watched me coolly. "I'd like to help you Jonathan ... all you have to do is accept me. We could be truly one again like we haven't been since we were ten years old."

"Go to hell." I growled. I wouldn't give in to that bastard. That bastard represented all the things I would do to Sarah if I had let loose my baser instincts.

The Beast laughed. "That's the lesser of two evils wouldn't you say? She'll die if we lose this little mental struggle Jonathan."

Apparently the fucker could read my mind ... or 'our mind.' Shit I'm confused.

My arms started to wobble.

The Beast continued, "She wants me Jonathan. She wants us as a whole. She needs the Master we could be ... she needs our control ... just as much as we need her."

"Why do we need her?" I said exhaustedly ... my breath was short ... and I was having trouble concentrating.

"We are a broken man Jonathan. We sit in a goddamn church most mornings because we can't sleep. We drink because we hate our job. Face it Jonathan. We were either going to commit suicide ... or die in hospital bed of liver failure. She completes us. She gives us purpose."

My knees gave out, and I dropped to the floor.

"Okay..." I said.

The Beast smiled. "Then let me give you a hand."

Suddenly the glass's weight seemed manageable. With a little effort I was able to shift the glass wall up. I slowly rose back to my feet. I lifted my head ... and realized I was alone.

The glass in my hands no longer felt unbearably heavy ... in fact ... it seemed almost light. I felt my consciousness extend ... almost as if it now accepted the glass as part of it.

I saw numbers and words and colors float across the surface of the glass.

At first it seemed like a confusing collusion of algorithms and sentences ... but not for long. Somehow I was able to interpret the symbols and numbers.

The glass was waiting for something. I squinted my eyes and peered into its depths.

It was waiting for an imprinter. It was waiting for its Master to claim it with a DNA sample.

The operation must be over, I thought.

Soon Ronald is going to stick his saliva or his sweat on the back of my neck ... and activate my chip.

Not if I could help it.

I threw my mind at the glass. The chip was buried in my neck wasn't it? It was surrounded by my DNA. So there must be something in the program that order's it to ignore its host's DNA.

I couldn't tell if I searched for hours ... or for seconds ... but I found it.

A tiny symbol in the far reaches of the glass represented that command. This little symbol prevented the chip from accepting the host's DNA.

With a lazy flick of my mind ... the symbol vanished. Like a rock crumbling to dust. The glass started to glow. A bright white light started to shine ... and the symbols that moved so slowly before began to dance across my vision at astonishing paces.

It was beautiful and frightening all at once.

But I knew what was happening ... the chip was accepting me as its Master ... and I could already feel the changes it was invoking.

I was immediately aware of my surroundings.

If asked to explain ... I wouldn't be able to. But I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what lay around me.

Turner was standing approximately 1 meter 2 decameters and 6 centimeters away from my surgical gurney.

Carol was standing over my prone body. She was too close to accurately calculate the exact measurements. She was checking my pulse approximately 4 millimeters from the optimal spot. She was wearing latex gloves.

I couldn't sense the large goons. They weren't in the room. However, I could detect two scents that did not belong to the current occupants of our environment.

All these calculations happened instantly. I didn't even need to think about them.

What I was thinking about was how to retrieve my pen from my pocket.

The pen was what I was trying to reach before they had taken me to the surgery room. The pen was my special 'emergency response pen' that I had used to call in the FBI in the warehouse auction.

My hands were unbound ... however; I didn't risk moving one of them into my pocket. The only advantage I had was surprise ... I couldn't waste it.

"Well," I heard Turner say. "Is his pulse regular yet? Can I imprint this fucker and get on with this thing?"

Carol's voice came from directly over me. "Yes Master, his pulse has settled. I will use a Jump Starter to wake him.

Shit.

Those things were really powerful ... and I was already awake.

I heard Carol crack a stick of the stuff. I braced myself for the jolt. Carol waved it under my nose.

It felt like my entire mind was being assaulted through my nose. My brain felt like it had just been given an electric shock. My body felt like it had consumed twelve cups of coffee.

I reflexively sat up and screamed.

I couldn't help it.

At the same time I felt a familiar sensation on my left wrist.

Shit.

I jerked my left hand, and was rewarded with pain when the handcuff dug into my wrist.

Turner had attached me to the gurney I was lying on. Suddenly I felt hands on my head. Turner was behind me and he pushed my head down until my chin was up against my neck.

"Hold still you stupid Fed. This won't take a second," Turner growled.

I felt the sticky and wet sensation of saliva being pressed against the back of my neck. He must have licked his thumb.

Nothing happened of course ... the chip was useless ... I was already my own imprinter.

I was one step ahead him.

I feigned panic ... and I tried to imitate the fainting spell that Sarah had gone through in the warehouse.

"No! You bastard stop ... I can't..." I said.

This was fun ... maybe I should have been an actor.

Turner removed his hands from my head. "There we go. Say goodbye to your last moments of intelligence Mr. Creed."

My brain ran through some lightening fast calculations. I estimated the length of the chain between the handcuffs was two inches. Turner was approximately two feet away and about five inches taller than me.