The middle aged man squinted. “Now, while I agree that people respond to rewards and punishments, I also believe they can act because of other motivations—”
“Oh, come now!” the first older man sneered. “Don’t tell me you’re just like him. Next you’ll try to convince me that humans have more noble traits than the rest of the animals.”
The second man blinked. “You’re still angry about that? That was what, four years ago?”
“Seven,” the first said hotly.
“So that’s what this is all about? Him?!”
The first man glared. “No, of course it’s not all about him! We’re about to embark on the most extensive research project regarding the animalistic nature of humans ever attempted. He may have initially influenced it,” the old man admitted, running a hand through his white hair to ruffle it, “but what we will accomplish is far bigger than merely proving a point to him.”
The second man regarded him suspiciously. “So your purpose is to . . .”
“Demonstrate conclusively that men are simply animals, and can be broken as such.” The older man rattled it off as if he’d been practicing for seven years. Which, he likely had.
“What about women?”
The first man waved that off. “Everyone already accepts they’re only animals. Women have no more influence or thought beyond what their men accord them.”
The second man smirked. “You were never married, were you?”
“No. I have better things to do. So, are you up to it?”
“Just one question: you will be objective about all of this, won’t you? I’m a little concerned that your personal experiences—”
“Show me one man that’s completely objective!” the older man snapped. “There’s no such thing. All science—when you get right down to it—is about proving a bias. You know that as well as I do, so why should we pretend otherwise? I’ll be as impartial and objective as any man can be, but if I didn’t feel any drive to do what I do, why would I do it at all?”
The second man nodded in reluctant agreement. “You may have a point.”
“Naturally. Now,” the first older man continued methodically, “there hasn’t even been one incident, yet already some villages are reporting there have been sightings. You see,” he leaned forward, “it’s merely the perceptions of what is real that affect people, not reality. Just a suggestion of terror, and already they’re trembling like a broken dog. I fear it may all prove to be too simple.”
He sat back, almost sadly.
“But hopefully we’ll be able to enjoy this study for a few years before the world crumbles into a cowering mess,” he continued. “So, the oaths have been taken, all my men have moved into place—I’ve even already received a very interesting report—every fort will be in operation within the next few weeks . . . I can see you’re intrigued, so I ask you again: are you ready? Because Stage Two is.”
The second thought for a moment. “Who in the world will be tested first?”
The first smiled thinly. “I assume that question means you’re willing to be my research partner. Take your pick. The world’s under my control.
Chapter 5 ~ “Tell me what you know about Guarders.”
In the morning Captain Shin stared out again at the forest, his stack of notes in one hand, his sharpened charcoal in another, and his mind back at the platform staring at the memory of a school teacher with blazing eyes and a blistering demeanor. He shook his head to dislodge the distraction and glared at the forest. It was no use. He really should check on the builders’ progress at the barracks, anyway. With a sigh of self-deprecation, he turned and headed back to the fort.
Just inside the forest, about thirty paces deep and sitting high up in a tree, two men dressed in mottled green and brown clothing waved good-bye to the captain. Then they winked at each other.
---
Chairman Mal sat at his desk going over files that morning from the Administrator of Loyalty—another list of citizens the sniveling man suspected of potential sedition, or at least weak senses—when the door swung open and a commotion of men poured into his office.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but he just won’t—”
Mal held up his hand to calm the group, about eight men in short red jackets subduing a scruffy creature. Mal’s eyes fell upon the young man in his twenties, his hair filthy and mussed, his face smeared with muck, and his clothing disheveled—an unappreciated mutt left out in a storm. In his hand was a butchering knife.