Report #3270, Transcript Section #46
(Operation SANDMAN)
©1998-1999 Shane Ivey

KEEPER: You feel hungover.

Rogers looks round

KEEPER: You awaken slowly. Very slowly; feeling returns first to your extremities, in seemingly random order, until you force your eyes to blink open. Everything is woozy at first.

KEEPER: You're in your dorm-like apartment in the compound. Home, your home for the past nine months.

Rogers look round in confusion

KEEPER: Your memories *are* confused; you've been in a lengthy cover simulation, you know that much. Some coffee would probably clear things up a little better.

Rogers checks his possessions

KEEPER: Your apartment--more of a compartment, really--is barely four meters square, with your bunk, a study table and computer, windows, and a wardrobe. You're dressed in standard-issue grey sleepwear.

KEEPER: The television is running, as usual. The company insists that trainees remain up-to-date on current events, as isolated as you are from the outside world.

ROGERS: can i remember who I work for?

KEEPER: Officially, the Department of Defense. Your actual position is classified, within the Department of the Air Force. Really you are in the year-long training cycle of a covert program code-named DELTA GREEN.

ROGERS: So whats the plan for toaday?

ROGERS: in the training

KEEPER: Debriefing and report-writing. You've been in the "field" for a long time--really a simulation, but as real as life under the agency's brainwash-intensive training regimen. This is your first day out of it, and you have a stack of reports to write.

KEEPER: Well... not a LONG time, really, just a very long week.

Rogers is very suspicious

KEEPER: Your head slowly clears as you sit there, though it takes a few minutes longer than usual.

ROGERS: "Ok lets get on with the day"

Rogers takes my pulse and sheck what I can

KEEPER: Physically, you seem normal; about what you'd expect coming down off the drugs used to maintain the simulation. Physical side-effects should fade completely within a couple of hours.

KEEPER: Your arm, though, is still sore from where it was dislocated in the simulation. Combat training is brutally real.

ROGERS: "Time for some food I think" (and a look round)

KEEPER: There's a small refrigerator near the desk, stocked with distilled water, energy-bars, fruit, and other healthy food. Host JTRogers whispers to DG_Keeper: ok things in brackets are thoughts ok!

ROGERS: (where are my weapons)

KEEPER: Your weapons are stored elsewhere in the compound, as usual. You never store them in your room.

ROGERS: "Ok so lets get with the programme Rogers"

KEEPER: What do you do?

ROGERS: I have a look round the room for anything that can be used as a weapon, any knives with the food?

KEEPER: There are plastic sporks and knives in little plastic packages, along with wet-wipes and napkins.

ROGERS: Ok anything that can be used as a coah or bludgeon?

KEEPER: There's the small television, and the computer.

ROGERS: chairs bed frame, can it be taken apart?

ROGERS: Are my normal clothes here?

KEEPER: The bunk is built into the cubicle floor and wall in a corner. The chair is molded plastic.

KEEPER: Your clothes are in the wardrobe.

ROGERS: OK I'm going to dress and find something I can conceal as a weapon if possible, then I'm going to examine the computer

KEEPER: Well, there are some pens and pencils you can pocket.

ROGERS: OK they will do, lets check out the PC

KEEPER: The computer is a small, single-piece unit, very fast and powerful for maximum efficiency.

Rogers boots up the PC

KEEPER: The screen resolves immediately, showing a dialog box asking for your password in a touch-screen display.

ROGERS: so do I remember a password?

KEEPER: Yes. "synchronicity," all lower-case.

Rogers enters the password

KEEPER: You touch the password on-screen and it immediately flips to the standard menu display. This late in the program you're no longer training in database security, so your computer is almost entirely cleared out, little more than a word processor with email.

ROGERS: "OK lets see what we can do!"

Rogers Rogers sends an e-mail to one of his dummy hotmail accounts, then tries to have a look around the various drives on the PC for any files for the word processors or any e-mail or in fact any files at all.

KEEPER: You get an error message when you hit the SEND button: "External communications are denied at this time. Access and command has been logged."

KEEPER: There are a few files in the word processing directory, all of them innocuous, writing samples and linguistic primers.

ROGERS: What languages?

KEEPER: French, German, Arabic, Cantonese, Japanese. You haven't really looked into any of them yet; language training won't begin until the next phase, three months from now.

ROGERS: "hmm lets see who's been writing to me and what I've been writing"

KEEPER: The email is entirely training-related: communiques from Simulations Ops (SimOps) in preparation for your field exercise.

KEEPER: Nothing in them indicates the individuals involved.

KEEPER: As you're reading, a sharp beep announces new e-mail.

Rogers opens the new mail

KEEPER: It's formally worded, from Program Command: "Program policy requires that all trainees be informed of events of personal impact. While external communications are prohibited, you have been granted twenty-four hours of personal leave. Please accept the condolences of Program Command, DELTA GREEN."

KEEPER: Three files are attached.

ROGERS: "Hmm"

ROGERS: "Someones dead wonder who I'll check later."

Rogers tries to gain access to the network the computer is linked to

KEEPER: Another error message pops up: "Network access is denied. Your attempt has been logged."

ROGERS: "Ok well that was never likely"

ROGERS: "Time for a wander around."

Rogers heads for the door

KEEPER: The PC is not a laptop; more like a Macintosh, one unit containing CPU and monitor.

KEEPER: The door is locked. You remember that time is strictly regimented in the program.

ROGERS: "Ok so shouldn't the door open cause I'm on personal leave?"

ROGERS: (so is the door opening?)

KEEPER: The door's locked. "Personal leave" in the program amounts to lock-down: personal time granted within your own cubicle for meditation or rest.

ROGERS: OK so whats the lock on the door like?

KEEPER: The door is a thick metal fire door, and the lock is a slab of reinforced steel.

ROGERS: But is it a normal lock or an electronic one?

KEEPER: Electronic. You don't see any key-hole, or anything indicating you could open it from this side except the handle.

ROGERS: Ok then so is the power supply for the PC able to stretch to this door?

KEEPER: No; the cord from the computer runs straight into the cement wall, only six inches long.

ROGERS: Can I get the scoket eaposed and rip out some of the cabeling so it will reach the door?

KEEPER: It's not a standard socket, only a small hole in the cement through which the cord runs.

ROGERS: Ok so what else does the room have a bathroom etc?

KEEPER: There's a small bathroom, yes, about one meter square in a corner of the cubicle, containing a shower, toilet, sink, and mirror.

ROGERS: Does the tank off the toilet detatch?

KEEPER: Well, with a lot of effort you could drain the water, unscrew the pipes and remove it from the wall.

Rogers takes the top off the tank and puts it on the bed

KEEPER: Done.

ROGERS: door open in or out?

KEEPER: In.

Rogers starts kicking the door and hammering it with the top of the tank

ROGERS: "Ahhhhhhh Help Ahhhhhhh!"

Rogers gets ready to cosh the first person through the door with the tank

KEEPER: You shout for a minute before you hear a calm female voice on an intercom. "What is the problem, Agent Rogers?"

ROGERS: "I need to get out of here I need air help help I can't breathe the walls the walls..."

KEEPER: There's a slight pause. "Your psychological profile shows no indication of claustrophobia, Agent Rogers."

ROGERS: "Ahhhh the walls help help help me please..."

KEEPER: There's another pause. "Agent Rogers, your psychological profile shows no indication of claustrophobia. Please replace the tank on your toilet and return to duty."

Rogers crosses to the bathroom and starts to smash it up

KEEPER: "Agent Rogers, desist from this behavior or you will be sedated."

ROGERS: "Let me out of here!"

KEEPER: "After another moment, you begin to feel light-headed."

KEEPER: Sorry... that was not spoken.

KEEPER: After another moment, you begin to feel light-headed.

Rogers goes to the floor of the room

KEEPER: Your extremities feel very heavy after another few seconds.

ROGERS: "Shit"

KEEPER: You hear the door click and open, and you see the feet--nice leather shoes, suit-pants--walk into your cubicle. It looks like two men.

Rogers tries to gather his strength ready for when thy pick him up if they do

KEEPER: You steel yourself, but already you can tell your muscles are sluggish and weak, unresponsive.

KEEPER: The feet come closer to you and stop four feet away. You hear clinically-calm voices. "Looks like another one's gone over." "Yeah... stressors from simulations make some of them snap early."

KEEPER: "All right. Think he's had enough time for the gas to get into him?"

KEEPER: "I think so. I'll do the honors."

KEEPER: The feet step closer until one of the men is standing over you.

KEEPER: He leans down.

Rogers decided that its better to take one out fast so goes for his knees to knock him down

Rogers strikes to the back of his knees to knoick him down

KEEPER: Your big arm flops uselessly in the direction of the man's leg, bouncing harmlessly off his shin. You feel numb. He sways a little. "Easy, now! Shit, this one's pretty strong. He shouldn't even be able to move."

KEEPER: "We'll have to kick up the dosage a little for the bigger guys. That happened the other day."

KEEPER: You feel a sharp pain in your neck as the nearest man leans over you again.

Rogers tries to roll upright

KEEPER: You manage to twist maybe an inch or two, not enough to even roll over.

KEEPER: "Yeah," says the man nearest you. "Just have to watch for reactions... drug interactions get a little dicier at higher dosages of the Z9 mix."

KEEPER: He stands up and steps back again. The pain in your neck subsides.

Rogers thinks "Z9 Z9 Z9 Z9"

KEEPER: "Give him a few minutes, now. Have to check with SimOps to see if field stressors contributed to this. The shrinks should have caught it."

KEEPER: Your head swims dizzily.

KEEPER: "Yeah, definitely. Still, they can't--"

KEEPER: You black out.

KEEPER: Your next sensation is a throbbing of blood in your head, a heavy, swelling headache as your eyes are still closed.

KEEPER: thump... thump... thump... goes the pulse...

KEEPER: You smell dry, clean air, vaguely organic, like a hospital.

Rogers keeps his eyes closed for the moment

KEEPER: thump... thump... thump...

KEEPER: Over your own blood, you hear the hiss of air conditioning in a quiet, well-insulated room. The light through your eyes indicates that the room is lit.

KEEPER: You hear a man sigh impatiently and papers ruffle.

Rogers tries to turn over to see if he's restrained

KEEPER: You are restrained, your arms, torso, and legs held in thick straps to a flat table, not quite horizontal.

Rogers opens his eyes a fraction to get used to the light slowly

KEEPER: "Well!" You hear a man's voice, high and gravelly. The accent is American, southern.

KEEPER: "Sleepin' beauty has arrived. I'll tell you now, I'm gettin' tired o' this routine. You awake and cognizant yet, boy?"

ROGERS: "Just about, got any coffee?"

KEEPER: "Well, ain't that British? Your partners wake up cussin' an' talkin' tough, and you come up like it's breakfast time. No, boy, we got no coffee for you."

ROGERS: "Shame it would have gone well into your eyes"

KEEPER: "Now, now. You gonna start that business again?" He sighs. The man is skinny in a fine sharkskin suit, caucasian, middle aged, with greying black hair, cold eyes, and a dead smile.

ROGERS: "Untie me and see."

KEEPER: "Not this time, boy. Not yet, anyway. Not til we have a little talk."

ROGERS: "OK so lets talk."

KEEPER: "That's more like it. Well. Don't you worry, I ain't gonna ask you about Delta Green. Not your operation in New York, either. We got all we need about that out of you before."

ROGERS: "Whatever you say."

KEEPER: "That's right, 'Michael.' But you oughta feel lucky. This time, we're gonna let you remember our little talk. Don't you feel lucky?"

ROGERS: "If you say so Mr....?"

KEEPER: He chuckles. "You can call me Mister Black, if you gotta hang a name on me. That's a little nicer'n what you was callin' me last night, that's for sure." He laughs again.

ROGERS: "Ok, Mr. Pink."

KEEPER: He chuckles again. "It don't much matter. I'm here to tell you how you can go on back to the world. You interested?"

ROGERS: "What's it cost me?"

KEEPER: "Smart boy. Well, it won't cost much. Not much at all. All you gotta do is what you do anyway: go back to work. Report to Uncle Alphonse. And don't say a single word to anybody else about any o' this."

ROGERS: "What's the report going to say?"

KEEPER: "Say? Why, whatever you want to say. I'm tellin' you to get back to your mission, that's all."

ROGERS: "What's to stop me reporting all this whats in it for me?"

KEEPER: "Well. What's in it for you is you get to go back out into the world alive. And what's to stop you is me. See, I ain't askin' for your cooperation, here. I'm just makin' you aware of the natural order of things. If you go out there and try to talk to the news or spread the gospel, then you'll die. That's just the way of the world, son."

ROGERS: "OK.."

KEEPER: He raises an amused eyebrow. "You gonna make it too easy on me, boy! After all we been through, here. Shit, I spent the last few days makin' you scream like a girl, and you're just ready to march on out and behave?"

ROGERS: "What is my other alternative death, yeah I'll cooperate."

KEEPER: He sighs. "They just don't turn em out o' the Agency like they used to. All right. You sit tight, big boy. Just remember, now: you go and talk, and I'll put a bullet in your brain. Or send your car into the river, or drop a little drug in your french fries. Ain't no way to tell before we make the move, see."

KEEPER: He stands and collects his papers from the small desk in front of him.

Rogers coughs hollocks

KEEPER: He pauses and looks at you again. "What's that, son?"

Rogers: cough cough

ROGERS: "Got any water?"

KEEPER: He watches you a moment, smiling coldly. "No, sir, we got no water right now. And I'm beginnin' to wonder if you take me seriously."

ROGERS: "perfectly."

KEEPER: "Is that so? Well, let me tell you a little story. Real short. We had another one o' your boys in here a year or two ago. We picked him dry and sent him packin', but he decided he didn't take me seriously. He came all the way to Washington, lookin' for some sign o' me. He didn't find squat, of course..."

KEEPER: "...but we grabbed him, doped him up again, and programmed him to go on home. I put my boy Wilkinson on him, to watch him. Wilkinson's a medic from the Air Force, see. And he slipped this fella a little juice we cooked up."

KEEPER: "Two weeks later he dropped dead out joggin', nothin' but a heart attack and a little heat stroke, a lot of questions asked and none answered."

ROGERS: "Binary poison?"

KEEPER: "Naw, nothin' sloppy like that. But that don't matter. What matters is..." He leans on the table and watches you intently. "What matters is, that fella's dead as hell. And tell me, what are YOU gonna do about it?"

ROGERS: "Why should I care about him?" "Won't happen to me will it."

KEEPER: "Why should you care? Hell, even my boys care more'n that about their own, and I got the hardest-core bastards ever built. You mean to tell me it don't bother you that one o' your compatriots, out fightin' the good fight, is dead in the ground, and nobody's gonna ever gonna see justice done?"

ROGERS: "Exactly why should I care?"

ROGERS: "Plenty more idiots in this world"

KEEPER: He watches you with narrow, gauging eyes. "Because he's you, boy. You're out there gettin' into unnatural shit, just like he did, and tryin' to do some good, right? Only difference between him and you is, he went home and got mad. And he decided he wanted to get back at us."

ROGERS: "I never get mad."

KEEPER: He laughs. "Aw, come on, now. You gotta have better lies for me than that."

ROGERS: "Actying ina moment of anger is stupid and I'm not stupid I'm a doctor triage man save who or what you can and move on, cold yes efficient yes."

KEEPER: He straightens again. "Hmph. Well, then. I guess you can appreciate what I'm sayin', then. Because, see, I *want* you to get mad. I want you to realize that you been under the straps in here, screamin' your lungs out, hurt, shamed, babbling like a baby and tellin' everything you have to say about all your secrets and friends."

KEEPER: "And I want you to know, deep down, way down deep, that there ain't a single blessed thing you'll ever do about it."

ROGERS: "Anyone will talk given enough persuasion, any rganisations thas good knows that I'll be out in the cold when i go back so hopefully anything I've told you won't be of any use."

ROGERS: "You need to read more Sun Tzu, or Miyamot Matshusi on tactics."

KEEPER: He smiles. "Boy, it's always of use. You think Alphonse keeps all his secrets safe from me? Tactics? Hell. We're in a whole new book. See, you're tryin' to tell yourself that it ain't so bad, that all this ain't gonna matter out there, that Delta Green's gonna be sharp enough to go to ground so everything you know can't hurt it."

KEEPER: "But that's just makin' excuses."

ROGERS: "And your point is?" "If nothing I can do can affect anything I';m not worrying about it."

KEEPER: He nods slowly. "That's right. And that's what I'm tryin' to tell you. We're gonna let you out o' here, and we're gonna let you get back to the mission. All it's gonna cost you is knowin' who owns it all. And that's me. So. You understand what I'm sayin', boy?"

ROGERS: "Yeah I understand all too well."

Rogers yawns

ROGERS: "So when do i get out of here?"

KEEPER: "I guess we'll see. All right, then. You just sit back, now, and we'll take care o' that soon enough."

KEEPER: He smirks as he opens the door. "Be seeing you, 'Michael'."

ROGERS: "So where are we? care to do the James Bond Villan bit and show me everything and the self destruct button?"

Rogers smiles

ROGERS: "Always wanted to say that"

KEEPER: Chuckling, he steps out into an antiseptic white hall and shuts the door behind him.