Project Maigo(66)

Dunne walks past us, through the study, which I’ve barely noticed. He pauses at a second door, listening.

“His memory of today’s events are...skewed,” Endo says. “He is simply doing his job.”

“You didn’t...” I point to my head, wiggling my finger.

He nods. “Subtle changes. In his mind, we’ll always be good guys. Don’t worry, it takes more time and focus to alter a mind permanently than it does to make someone sit in a puddle. You’re still you.”

The memory makes me frown. “That was a really dirty puddle.”

“Sorry,” Endo says, wearing a smile that says he’s not.

I look to Dunne and decide to test Endo’s claim. “What’s the hold up?”

“Sorry, sir,” Dunne says. “President Beck is speaking to someone. Since your meeting is private and unscheduled, I believed it best to wait.”

Well holy guacamole, it worked.

“How?” I ask Endo. “You should have told me about this sooner.”

Endo must know I’m right, but he’s not apologetic. “Keep your thoughts simple. A key phrase that encompasses everything you want, works best. Think it over and over until it becomes their thought. Their belief.”

“Their reality,” I say.

“Exactly. The more complex the control, the longer it takes.”

The sound of a distant door closing catches my attention. Dunne turns around, oblivious to our conversation. “Sounds like the room is clear. Let me take a look.”

Without knocking, Dunne opens the door to the Oval Office.

“Agent Dunne?” It’s Beck. He’s confused by the sudden interruption. I detect a trace of fear as well, probably because the Secret Service would only enter the room unannounced if there was some kind of danger.

Dunne ignores the leader of the free world and waves us in, “You guys are clear.”

Walking past Dunne’s open arms and big smile is surreal. This is the guy who wanted to kick me shitless and fugly. Now he’s like my Aunt Gertrude at Thanksgiving. These neural implants are dangerous. So much so that I’m rethinking our plan.

“What’s going on?” Beck stands behind the Resolute desk. He’s dressed in black slacks and a blue button-up shirt. His jacket hangs over the back of the desk chair. His red tie is loose. He wasn’t expecting company. He’s more angry than afraid now, glaring at Endo and then at me with his piercing light blue eyes that can look both intimidating and manic. “Hudson, I’m going to have your job for this.”

I nearly smile at the way his double chin—the chubbiest part of the man’s body—jiggles when he speaks. “You could probably do a lot worse than that.”

“You’re damn right!” He picks up the phone. “You’re in the shitter too, Dunne.”

Oblivious, Dunne responds, “I’ll just wait outside.” He steps back into the side office and closes the door.

“Before you call...” Endo starts, making himself comfortable in one of the two flower print couches positioned face-to-face in front of the large, ornately carved desk. The office itself is far gaudier than I would have imagined. The gold and white oval rug covering most of the floor is some kind of modern design that looks more like an 8-bit Mario got sick. To make it worse, red flowers cover the design like explosions, or blood. Next to Gordon and his Kaiju, it’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen. The paintings around the room are equally bad, framed in gold. “…I believe you will want to hear us out. My employer would agree.”

The phone hovers next to Beck’s ear, but he doesn’t dial.

“You’ve been ignoring your supporters,” Endo says. He nods at me. “And those who have saved you in the past. That is rude, don’t you think?”

“Look,” Beck says, leaning forward, one hand on the desk, the other hanging up the phone. “I’m not some stooge you can just tell what to do. Irregardless of your employer’s support, I need to do what is best for this country.”

I raise an index finger. “First, did you really just say, ‘irregardless?’ And second, since when is letting giant monsters kill U.S. citizens and smash billions worth in property, what is ‘best for this country?’”

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Beck says. “All you’ve supplied us with are band-aids and medical bills. Speaking of which, I thought you two were supposed to be in the hospital?”

Endo chuckles. “Thoughts can be deceiving.”

“Ignore him, sir,” I say. “He’s an idiot, and you should have never assigned him to the FC-P.” I glance at Endo. This is going to hurt my soul. “That said...I believe the technology supplied by Zoomb is our best bet at containing—”