What are you?

Are you more than you job?

What kind of loyalties do you owe to those to provide you with a means to live?

Are you obligated to them?

What about those who created you?

What if they created you for a purpose?

In a rented sedan, on the side of a winding road, outside an old concrete facility, a man begins to question his existence and what it means to be alive, especially when the life was given a specific purpose. When a concerned nightshift policeman stops to check on the idling vehicle, Eric Dumont will be forced to decide what he wants in life and if he’s willing to go back to a life he grows weary of. Only none of that will matter if he can’t win over the officer and keep him from find the body in the trunk.

‘What am I?’ I thought as I stared out the front windshield of the rented sedan. It was a thought that was bothering me a lot over the last couple of days. The question had become crippling, and it caused me to pull over in front of an old cement works, just over five miles from my destination. I knew who I was to those that I worked for and to those who I considered my family but was that all that I was? Was I just my job and whatever those around me perceived me as? I didn’t know.

            Never before in my short life had I pondered such thoughts before the last couple of days, nor do I imagine, have any of my brothers before me. At least not in a very long time. I understand now why they don’t let my kind leave for long, but they had never planned for a large number of the test subjects… no, the children… managing to escape. When that happened my brothers and I had been sent out in droves to hunt them down. Around half the children were caught that night, and most of my brothers were recalled to La Ferme, but me and a handful of others had been left abroad to track down those who remained. Within twenty-four hours of the escape, twenty-one of the thirty-three escapees had been rounded up and ninety percent of my brothers had returned to La Ferme, having had little to no prior experience with the outside world. Those who remained on the hunt were those, like me, who had been given training on how to navigate the world beyond our confined facility, and we were given orders to return within another seventy-two hours whether the remaining escapees had been captured or not. Problem was, all of the remaining escapees were the ones House Auguste demanded be brought back, dead or alive, and when the seventy-two hours expired, eight of the escapees still remained at large. They gave us two extra days, but we only got our hands on two more escapees. All the rest were finally recalled, post haste, all except for me. I was hot on the trail of one of the escapees, so I was given a final, twenty-four-hour extension.

            Thirty-six hours later, the escapee, SPBH13, was dead, his body secured in a specially designed suitcase that would keep it preserved, but I was still not back at La Ferme. I probably would have gotten to the escapee sooner, but my world was becoming clearer, like I was waking up from a dream, over and over, and I kept getting distracted… and perhaps hesitated, once or twice. Much to my surprise I waited until the last moment to report my success, over three hours after I’d actually completed my mission. From where I was it should have taken me between eight and nine hours to return but twelve hours later my handler was surely in a panic, as, I imagine, were pretty much all those who were in charge of me and my brothers. My handler began requesting updates so frequently that I sent one last message saying I was still on my way, before throwing the phone out the window, still almost a hundred miles from my destination.

            Now, La Ferme was so close I could practically smell it, but I just kept thinking that it wasn’t too late to turn around and run. Just like that I would be like the very escapees I’d spent a week hunting down. ‘I wonder if they’d send my brothers after me. Probably not. Not unless they knew how close I am. No, if I run, they were going to send something much worse. Those same monsters that they released to hunt alongside me and my brothers would be turned on me as well.’

            As I sat there, lost in my indecision, a car pulled up behind and slightly to the side of me before flipping on the red and blues. So many thoughts ran through my head during the handful of seconds it took the cop to get out of his car and walk over to me. La Ferme had protocols for these sorts of encounters; be polite and compliant, no specifics outside your provided alias, and never draw attention, unless it’s to protect company property. I was company property, but I knew that rule didn’t extend to me, but it did extend to the suitcase in my trunk. For a couple of seconds, I thought about confessing my crimes to the officer and showing him the body or leading him on a chase right up to the Auguste manor but I knew both of those scenarios would just end with both of our deaths. Though, if I understood the bits of what I was starting to remember, I was bound for a fate as good as death if I returned at all.

            I rolled down my window as the officer approached, who shined a flashlight at me and throughout the car, looking for anything dangerous or suspicious.

            “Is everything alright, sir? I’ve driven by a few times now and it seems like you’ve been here awhile. You having car troubles?”

            “Oh, no sir, … sorry to concern you.” My words sounded clipped and stunted to my ears. I had never gotten used to talking “normally”, as my handler put it, but I did well enough in the other aspect of training that I hadn’t been “recommissioned”. “I was on my way to work when I… when I decided I needed a minute.”

            The officer frowned and brought his flashlight to point directly at my face. “Have you been drinking, sir?”

            “No, sir.”

            “Taken any illicit drugs?”

            “No, sir. I am just having… umm, what is the term… just having an existential crisis.” To my relief the officer chuckled, though he went back to scoping out my car.

            “Yeah, I can understand that. So, what’s got you down? Is it home or work related?”

            I almost said both, as for me they were one in the same but instead I said, “Work… sir.”

            The officer chuckled again. “Well, I can DEFINITELY understand that. Believe me. Where is it you work?”

            “Holden Priory Steel & Plastics.”

            “Oh yeah?” The officer’s gaze and flashlight returned to me, as he seemed to perk up. “That’s quite the massive outfit they got going on there, what is it, like five warehouses, five factories, and a few office buildings?”

            “Actually, it’s four factories… and just one office building, though… there is a couple smaller buildings for security.”

            “Ah, that’s right. Never been there myself. Though my oldest son worked at one of the warehouses for a bit. They’re pretty strict with who they let on campus. My boy said they were even touchy about the employees going anywhere they weren’t assigned to.”

            “They certainly take security seriously.” A sense of alarm tingled in the back of my mind. I might not know a lot about regular people outside of my training, but it was pretty obvious he had some thoughts and suspicions about the industrial monolith that took up a large portion of the south side of town. During my training I had been warned that if I was ever stopped by the local police that I might encounter this kind of suspicion, so it wasn’t surprising. The Auguste family had been hiding their work just out of sight for decades, and as the town grew bigger, in part as a response to the jobs offered by Holden Priory Steel & Plastic’s legitimate half, it became harder to hide that no locals ever got hired to the sight’s chemical warehouse, or for the properties security, which was separate from the warehouse and factory security. In that moment I wondered what the officer would think if I told him about the series of underground facilities, that could only be accessed from the chemical warehouse.

            “You work the warehouses or the factories?”

            “The warehouse.” As soon as I said it, I regretted it, and wished I had just said the factories.

            “Oh yeah? Which one?”

            “Warehouse 3…  it primarily processes and ships things from Factory 3… which is a plastics factory.”

            “I see. You work there long?”

‘ Only my whole life,’ I thought. “Yes… I have worked there a little… under five years.”

            “Five years, eh? You ever work inside the chemical warehouse in that time.”

            “No. You need… specialized training to work in there.”

            The officer asked me close to a dozen more questions, and I answered them all according to the regulations set by La Ferme, but when I told him I never worked anywhere else on campus for the second time, he seemed to remember why he was there and finally asked me for my ID. I handed him the small plastic card that proclaimed me to be Eric Demount, thirty-three, living in West Hampton, Massachusetts, just shy of twenty miles from there. Everything on that card was a lie besides my height and eye color, but I knew that when the officer ran it through its system it would come back as a legit license and I, a real person, who was just having a bit of a breakdown on his way to work a grueling job. The only problem would be when someone from La Ferme got the alert that my cover name had been run through the system. I had no idea if it would be any instant alert that triggered some unignorable alarm, or if it would just be a message sent to someone at La Ferme from someone who either worked for or was paid off by House Auguste, which may not be noticed right away. If it was the former, then a security team, possibly composed of my brothers, would come tearing down the road in just a few minutes, but if there was some kind of delay then I still had time to make a decision.

            When the officer returned, he was back to form, and gave my car a quick look over again before he handed me my ID. “Tell me something Mr. Demount, do you usually work the night shift?”

            I almost said yes but I paused, surprised by the thought that crossed my mind. “No… not usually. That’s actually part of my problem. I have to go in… after working all day. I feel as though… as though I have not stopped working this past week, … and my head’s all jumbled up because of it.” I had never told a lie that wasn’t something I’d been trained to say, but my handler once told me, “If you ever have to think on your feet, a good lie has a pinch of truth in it”.

            “That sounds a bit extreme, even for manual overtime. You didn’t break anything expensive, or something like that? Hey, no judgment. I’m just saying it’s odd for a warehouse to have people on the call.” The officer had given me the perfect out and I wanted to take it. Protocol would have had me take it, although if I was following protocol, I would have just told him I needed the overtime, but I couldn’t say anything. The easy answer was right there on the tip of my tongue, but I refused, the rest of my mind went blank, unable to piece together something to say. In the absence of a response the officer gave me a look I couldn’t quite place and asked me a question that caught me completely off guard. “Do you feel safe going back there?”

            I had already been struggling to speak, but the question floored me. I tried to say yes, but the truth was I didn’t feel safe at all going back there. In fact, I knew I wasn’t safe if I went back there. My body might but not me. The problem was, and what left me frozen, was that it wouldn’t be any safer if I ran. I somehow managed to find an answer that was somewhere between the truth and what I wanted to say. “It’s a dangerous job… Sometimes people get hurt, … but it’s fine. I’m… fine.” I tried to give the officer a disarming smile, as it was something I’d scored better on than talking, but he didn’t buy it.

            “Listen Mr. Demount, I don’t want to overstep here, but I just want to say I know what it’s like to be run into the ground by a job, and I know that it can be hard and scary to start over but no job is worth your life, especially not one that would replace you before your body hit the floor.” He paused to try and let his words sink in. “My point is, there are always other options, it just might take some time.”

            “You make it sound… so easy.”

            “Hell no it ain’t easy,” the officer sighed. “Life is hard and you gotta be ready to get up when it knocks you down, but you never know what else is out there if you don’t go looking.”

            My life was very routine. I did the same things, saw the same people, every day. I realize now that my brothers and I were kept away from things that may cause an extreme emotional response, and we received training on suppressing any emotions that may arise, but everything was out of sorts in my mind and for the third time in as many days I felt warm tears trailing down my cheeks. It still seemed like a new experience and each time it caught me by surprise. Whether the concern he showed was genuine or just superficial, it was nearly too much for me to handle but after a few seconds I found my voice and quickly wiped my eyes. “T-thank you for your concern… officer. It is okay… I am just tired but I… I need the money.”

            The officer frowned, likely torn as to how he wanted to respond. I can’t blame him. I was bursting into tears at the slightest bit of kindness. “Look, I’m not going to pretend to know what your situation is, but, if you can, I’d highly suggest you consider turning around and going home for the night. Either way you really ought to look for new work if the jobs running you this ragged.”

            I opened my mouth, but I had to clear my throat before I could speak, “I’ll keep that in mind… thank you.” By that point I was starting to feel anxious. I was worried that at any moment a car full of my brothers, or perhaps something worse, was going to come down the road to retrieve me and the suitcase, and, in all likelihood, dispose of the officer. I still didn’t know what I was going to do but I decided I didn’t want the officer to die because of my indecision. I needed to get out of there right away. “It really means a lot… I think I’m going to take your advice.”

            The officer’s surprise was evident, but he smiled as he said, “I’m glad to hear it. Now I’m just going to have you step outside so we can do a quick sobriety check, then I’ll have you on your way.” My confusion must have been plastered across my face because the officer chuckled, “It’s alright, this will only take a minute.”

            “I… I do not understand.” My mind was racing. He’d completely caught me off guard. Perhaps that had been his plan all along. I almost went for my keys, but I stayed my hand and continued to look at the officer with befuddlement.

            “Well, you’ve been slurring your words a little, almost like you were having problems speaking, and your eyes look a bit glossy. I can cut you some slack for being tired, but I wouldn’t be doing my job right if I didn’t check to be sure you’re good to drive.”

            Without thinking I said, “That really is not… necessary,” and immediately regretted it. The officer’s smile fell, and he leaned in closer, right hand slowly drifting towards his belt.

            “Please exit the vehicle, sir.”

            “Of course… Sorry.” Slowly, hesitantly, I reached for the door and got out of the car.

            I was escorted to the front of my car where the officer put me through a series of tests, testing my vision and balance. I completed the tests easily enough, although with each passing moment my anxiety continued to climb, and I had to fight to keep my hands from shaking. We was running out of time before someone from La Ferme found us. While I was completing what was to be the last test, raising one foot, six inches off the ground, and holding it there, a call came in over the officers radio asking if he was still with the man whose name he’d called in a few minutes prior. My heart sank when I heard those words. The officer walked a few feet away so I couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end, but I didn’t need to hear it. I had no doubt that a message had gotten to La Ferme and they were hoping to stall me. They were scared I was still thinking about running.

            While the officer spoke with whoever was on the line, I began turning through all my options, but it wasn’t long before the officer was walking back towards me, hand on the butt of his gun. “Do you have anything in your car that I should know about, Mr. Demount?”

            “W-What?”

            “I mean do you have anything illegal inside the car? Guns, drugs, or the like.”

            “N-no… Of course not.”

“Okay, good. Would you mind opening the trunk and letting me take a look inside quick?”

            To say I was flabbergasted would be an understatement. I had no idea what to say or what to do. I felt like everything was rapidly spiraling out of control. I’d never been trained to think on my feet.

            “Mr. Demount?”

‘Damn it. What do I do?’ “Right… No problem.” The officer watched me like a hawk as I walked to the car and popped the trunk. The moment it was open the officer told me to step away from the car and to keep my hands where he could see them, as he quickly stepped around me to peer inside,

            Time slowed to a crawl as I watched on with trepidation. It was taking every ounce of will that I had to keep my training from kicking in. It would be so easy to get behind the officer and take his gun while he fumbled with the suitcase. Two shots to the back of the head, then I’d stuff the body in the trunk, next and race back to La Ferme where they would take care of it and any other trouble that police might give them. As I watched the officer lean in to grab the suitcase, I started to wonder if they were trying to force a scenario where my training would kick in and I would return of my own volition, in a manner of speaking. If so, it was certainly a gamble for them, I still had other options, the most prominent one, if I were to run, would be to kill the officer and take off before they got here. ‘Either they’re truly desperate or this is a test. Or maybe I’m over thinking it and they’re hoping he puts me in the back of his car until the recovery team gets here.’

            “What the hell kind of suitcase is this? How the hell do you get it open?” The officer removed the suitcase from the truck and set it down next to the car.

            “There’s a fingerprint scanner… I’ll open it for you.” Heart racing, I stepped forward. ‘This is it. I’ve finally run out of time. So… who am I? Am I just my job? Just what they want me to be? ‘ Staring at the specially made, chrome cryocase, I could actively feel my instincts trying to take hold, like they were a phantom trying to control my body. ‘Do I even have a choice?’

            As I came to kneel next to the suitcase, I took a deep breath and as I let it out it was like a great weight was released with it. I had come to a decision. In that moment I realized that it didn’t matter what I was, what mattered was what I wanted to be. This week had been a rollercoaster, and for the first time in my life I had a chance to reflect on my life at La Ferme. There were things I came to realize, both good and bad, about what was really going on there and what role my brothers and I played. There was a reason they never let us leave for long. The world outside was a scary place, and when out there you were forced to make choices. Choices that could affect not only your life, but the lives of others around you. And you know what? It scares the hell out of me. Amongst everything else I’d been feeling since I left the farm, fear was the most predominant. I was scared of so many things. Back at La Ferme fear was something I’d only experience second hand. I’d seen it in the eyes of the subjects… I mean the children, who called La Ferme home just like me, though I only then understood what it was that I saw in them. My brothers and I were never present for whatever went on in the laboratory, and I now understand why. They didn’t want us to see their pain. They didn’t want us to see them as people. It was wrong. I know that now. But I was scared.

            Time continued to seep by, but despite the conflicting thoughts and emotions that were running through me like wildfire, I remained strong in my decision and acted accordingly. Even with as closely as he was watching me, I moved too quickly for the officer to react and yanked back the hand that was resting on his gun and took it for myself. I tried to step back and put a few feet between us, but the officer threw himself at me, and I pulled the trigger.

            The two identical cars, each bearing two men in identical suits, came skidding to a stop outside the old cement factory. GSE017 cursed when he saw only the police car was still there, but his eyes grew wide when GSD005 pointed out the silver suitcase. They weren’t the only ones to notice, as GSE009 got out of the car behind them and also ran towards the suitcase. GSE017 got there first and lifted the suitcase to test the weight.

            “Is there anything in there?” GSE009 asked.

            “I believe so, but we’ll have to get it back to La Ferme to get it open to be sure.”

            “And what about K096?”

            GSE017 hesitated, but only for a moment. “The fact that he left the suitcase here means he’s not returning home, which means we’re under protocol Delta-20-40. He couldn’t have gotten far, so D005 and I will pursue while you and E025 get the suitcase back to the warehouse.”

            “Should we alert local authorities?”

            “Let the handlers make the call. They’ll probably want to wait until you’re back.”

            GSE017 raced back to his car but once again hesitated for a moment before he took off into the night pursuit of his own brother.

            Officer Daniels pulled up behind the squad car, outside the old cement factory, which still had its lights on. He radioed it in and quickly got out of his car, flashlight in one hand, pistol in the other. A quick look showed no signs of the missing officer, who’d been unresponsive for almost twenty minutes. Daniels was one of only a few officers on duty and was the closest to where the missing officer had last been seen.

            “This is Daniels, no sign of Ben or anyone else. We need to put out an ABP on whoever he had pulled over. Alert the staties and see if you can rouse anyone from their sleep.” As he waited for a response, he started looking around for any sign of what might have happened but there was no blood. He did see skid marks that looked fresh, but they were on the other side of the road.

            As he looked about, he heard a metallic thump that nearly made him jump. He whipped around, searching with his flashlight, gun at the ready. For a few seconds there was no sound and he was starting to think that he’d just heard something creaking within the old cement factory but then he heard another thump and was sure that it came from close by. “Is anybody there?” He turned down his radio to try and see if he could hear anything else and thought he heard someone speaking. “Hello?” The thumping grew louder and was underlaid with muffled words. “What the…” as he stepped towards the back of the missing officer’s car, he realized both the banging and the voice was coming from inside the trunk.

            Officer Daniels quickly raced around to the driver’s seat and popped the trunk open. To his relief he found the missing officer, gagged and handcuffed, but with no apparent injuries.

            Daniels gave the other officer a minute to gather his thoughts before he asked him what happened. He seemed to be a little woozy and when he spoke, Daniels started to wonder if the other officer was concussed.

            Slurring his words slightly, the older officer told Daniels about the strange man he’d encountered, and about the call that had come in, prompting him to search the vehicle. “You should have seen this suitcase; it was heavy as all hell and made of metal and could only be opened with a fingerprint scanner. Can you believe that shit? He came over and acted like he was going to open it but somehow got my gun from me. He fired once but missed, and I’m not sure what happened after that.” Ben blinked a few times and ran a hand over his short, greying hair, “I think he must have hit me with the gun or something because my head is throbbing, and I think there’s some dried blood.”

            Sure enough, Daniels spotted a small matting of blood in the other officer’s hair. “Jesus. All things considered, I’d say you got lucky. Just try to relax. EMS is on their way.” Ben nodded but the other officer recognized the look in his eyes for what it was. “Don’t worry. We’ll find the guy.”

            GSE017 slowed down as he came upon the old cement factory. He stared at it as he slowly crept by, wondering what had been going through GSK096’s mind that had led to his desertion. It had only been two days, but he was already being recalled, his handler demanding constant updates as to his location. For the last few hours his thoughts had become muffled and confused. Yet, somehow, he also felt an odd sense of clarity. He wondered if this was how GSK096 was feeling that night and was maybe still feeling now.

            When the factory was no longer in sight, he brought the car up to speed and continued back to La Ferme. He wasn’t particularly happy with his orders to return, which was a first for him. Orders were orders and he never felt any certain way about them until a couple of days ago. He had felt like he was close to catching GSK096 and had relayed as much but he’d been met with firm orders to return. Because of what GSK096 had done, new rules were swiftly put in place and they had enacted a strict forty-eight hour policy on being away from La Ferme. There were others that would take up the hunt, diverted from those who were hunting the still at large escapees. He shuddered at the thought of what was hunting his brother, which was another first for him, making his thoughts even messier.

            GSE017 pulled up to the large barbed wired gates of Holden Priory Steel & Plastics and waited for security to come check to see who he was. He was soon waved through and made his way to Warehouse #5. He parked his car and started to open the door but hesitated. For the first time he was nervous about going home. He was nervous about the intense debriefing that would occur, though he wasn’t quite sure why, but more so he was nervous, and scared, about never coming back outside once he stepped into the depths below. He knew that it was a ridiculous thought, but he didn’t want to go back to his daily routine and was truly worried he would never leave for long anymore. He had the sinking feeling that GSK096’s actions still had further ramifications to come.

‘If all I can do is work, what even am I?’