Rain Harlow
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Chapter 12
🕑 Added 2025-03-20 19:08:36 +0000 UTCAlice looked as if she got blindsided by a car, mouth hung open for a split moment. Her hand suddenly went to his shoulder. “Mr. Laker — Jack — listen to me. No one negotiates! I’m helping you to implore you: just sign. You could be in hot water otherwise. I know you’ve been in rehabilitation before. I doubt you relish the idea of another… journey of that kind. Is that really what you want to leverage yourself into?”
As she spoke, Jack glanced at the hand on his shoulder and followed the arm to meet Alice’s imploring, beautiful green eyes, now very close. He raised an eyebrow when she was done. “Is your next tactic seduction? I hope you’ll forgive me the admittance of potential temptation at that point.”
He’d hoped to throw her off with that — and it worked. She flicked her hand away and stood up straight, glaring down at him coldly. In truth, her expression was more of admonishment for a kid who wasn’t taking things seriously than offense at a pass. She opened her mouth-
“That’ll be all, Agent Bermuda,” a modulated, mature woman’s voice uttered simply from the vicinity of the camera.
The so-named agent slid her eyes away from Jack as she turned and walked to the exit, back stiff. She was definitely offended at that point — in a whole, new way.
“Is your name even Alice?” Jack called.
But she ignored him and closed the door as she left, perhaps a bit too hard at that.
Damn. And there goes Jack Laker’s chances with a woman. Story of his life. I really want to hear what she would’ve said. She was gonna let me have it! Hehe. He didn’t feel any guilt — the entire thing with her was one big manipulation. She was probably just doing her job, but if her job was screwing with his life, well…
He was left to wait again. For someone with some authority, I hope. The owner of that intercom voice, perhaps?
With nothing else to do, Jack read over the contract a bit, though it was a tough read, and it seemed to enjoy being confusing.
‘Permission is granted for Final Contingency Non-Compromising, in the event of enemy capture and sequestration past the point of no return, for the sake of protecting humanity’s secrets.’ What the hell does that mean?
Out of curiosity, he fished around for the base pay structure. There was a reference to ‘Special Class, Active’ while in service, and a few codes depending on the rank achieved. Anything above rank 4 for ‘Field Agent’ was decided by attaining leadership positions. He technically started out ‘Special Class 0, Inactive’ as a Junior Agent Exemplar. By contract, this minimum stipend was persistent in perpetuity with the existence of the contract — which was also in perpetuity.
One’s father and mother were guaranteed a structured income provision, subject to a confidentiality contract on their part, and a ‘plan of believable cover story details dependent on discussion.’
Just the minimum stipend was twenty times what he made, he guessed, all told, with the Lux consideration.
That was the big thing when it came to a Non’s pay and provision: they had guaranteed Lux — Luxury Credit. It was a whole other ball game compared to the common Benny. They were harder to get, allowed special access to government provisions and special promotions or events, and only unofficially traded for Bennies, at around 1000 for 1, or 10 for a 0.01 ‘Lux Bit,’ but highly fluctuating. All in all, it was a sign of true wealth to sling it or its often exclusive fruits around.
Coffee every day, here I come. Assuming I can negotiate correctly.
The door finally opened, admitting a tall, short-haired blonde woman in an archetypal suit — but, strangely, she had a gold tie on. No shades. She was either middle-aged or at the far edge of her prime, with a perfectly symmetrical but severe face that could probably stare down a tiger. Her presence radiated power and command. Jack had met a few generals in his time. This woman could probably send them for her coffee.
After coming in and shutting the door, she stood there looking at Jack without expression, as if taking him in.
“So,” Jack said to break the ice, “are you maybe… Agent A? Don’t tell me it’s Alice. Kinda already spent that one.”
The woman didn’t answer. After watching him a few moments more, she took the chair and sat down, unblinking eyes staring over the table as she leaned back slightly, at her ease. They were… unnerving, her eyes. The irises were like polished silver, and disturbing to look into. Jack felt himself glance away almost instantly.
She pulled out an unmarked pack of herbal cigarettes from her inner coat pocket, and Jack found himself a bit mortified to see she was planning on lighting up.
“Are you seriously going to do that?” he asked incredulously. “Here?”
She pulled a cigarette out with her lips as she continued holding him with her unwavering, silent gaze. She then gestured the pack at him, offering it, displaying immaculate, gold-lacquered fingernails.
His automatic rote response activated like clockwork. “No thanks, trying to qui-”
“Take one, boy,” she commanded easily, “You need it, trust me.”
Jack stared back at her, unsure what he should or would say to that. Then he caught a strange aroma, and his eyes focused on the pack, realizing it was the source. He’d certainly never smelled something like it before in his life. It was something sister to metal and oil, but deeply alluring in some uncanny way. It was as if getting a whiff of a new flavor he didn’t even realize he was starving himself of.
Is this some sort of drug? I’m not-
“Frag it,” Jack said almost as a growl and took one out of the pack. Curious to the extreme, he immediately put the filter side in his mouth. The taste was even better as he simply pulled from it dry, causing an intense ‘cackles raising’ effect. He suppressed a shiver.
The woman leaned over to light it for him.
“You first,” Jack replied suspiciously from around the cigarette.
The silver-eyed lady stared back severely in response — maybe incredulous. But a slow turn of her lip crept up and turned into the ghost of a grin. She leaned back with slow, mocking airs and lit up her cigarette. She took a long drag, shrugged it and her hand to the side like, ‘Happy, now?” and then blew the smoke right in his face.
Jack closed his eyes and balked, but once he ended up breathing a little in, he stopped himself and instead sniffed it deliberately. The uncanny sensation was stronger. He didn’t cough even slightly, and it was like his lungs soaked it up and refused to release it. It was the breathing equivalent of eating a syrupy energy drink of an unknown flavor — a lot of things rolled up together. All in all, super, super weird.
At that point, Jack was all too inclined to lean forward, totally ready to be lit up. Amused, the woman took another drag and blew the smoke off to the side, away from him. She otherwise didn’t move, eyeing him all the while.
He knew he was paying a price for refusing her initial offer. He raised his eyebrows. “Please? I gotta try it at this point. What is it, by the way? Is it addictive? That seems illegal. Probably not. Right?”
“With?” she asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“With? Huh? With what?”
“Please, with…?”
Jack’s eyes did a shift. “Please… with… sugar… on top?” He winced immediately. No, that’s stupid-
The woman nodded slowly and sagely to this like it was great wisdom she’d imparted as his sarcastic teacher. Then she finally lit up his cigarette, her every languid motion saturated with a self-possessed, taunting attitude.
Jack finally breathed the incredible, strange cigarette in. Energy surged through his veins, fibers, and his very being, as breathing in was the first part of a very fast and complete absorption his brain and body shlorped up. It was a brand-spankin’ new sugar his very being had been denied all of its sad, lacking life. His first breath went in until his ribs shook with the fullness, and when he breathed out, there was no smoke at all. And his cells seemed to ache for more immediately.
Welp. I’m awake, that’s for sure. Awareness was heightened, bringing him back to that state he was in when he first woke up after the Quallakuloth experience, and maybe a little even beyond that.
The blonde lady — Boss Lady, that’s her name now — was eyeing him nearly without expression, but he could tell there was still faint amusement and definitely an enjoyment of his reaction. But the way she puffed away, smoke came out every time.
Jack did a shorter puff, confirmed again that he was absorbing it all, and had to ask about it. “Why do you let it out and I don’t?”
Taking her time before replying, as if incurious and slightly bored, Boss Lady tapped ashes on the table with a finger. “The comparison that paints you as the starving duckling.”
“Comparison? What does that make you? A full adult, I guess? Are you a Non? My gut tells me the shit in this has something to do with Nons.”
She didn’t answer, just puffed and blew out again, staring at him. Meanwhile, Jack couldn’t help but take his own drag — then dump ashes responsibly in his disposable water cup.
Somehow, it was like she was waiting. Jack did a little huff and asked, “Can I get any more answers, or are you the one that asks the questions?”
“Both. Here’s an offering, instead: the cigarettes are packed with chemical ingredients your new and improved body needs for all the wondrous things it must facilitate. If a mainline homo sapien smoked one it would poison them. There are also foods and drinks of various kinds that are more nourishing. The smoking is like an appetite suppressant for most operational homo superiors, not even so dense as a snack.”
Jack took a moment to take the cigarette out of his mouth and study it. “Does it… smell bad… to normal people?”
“That depends on if they like the taste of menthol, steel, engine fumes, and a boot to the face.”
“An amazingly accurate description,” Jack muttered. “Ha! Yeah. Engine fumes. The forbidden fruit. Are you telling me that I can breathe those in and not feel guilty about giving myself cancer?”
She took her cigarette out of her mouth, leaned forward, and said with placid seriousness, “Yes, I am. Some drinks specifically capture that experience in liquid form.”
Jack was wide-eyed in wonder. I will drink it. “So… we’re robots. We’re fraggin robots that drink gasoline.”
This got a mild snicker out of Boss Lady as she arched back in her chair and shook her head at him.
“And it’ll aaall be mine,” Jack continued, and then tapped the contract with his finger, “if I sign the contract. Right?”
Boss Lady shrugged. “No, and yes. There is no way to reverse what you are, only halt progression. Normally, anyway. As it stands, you need certain things to live, even if you deign to squander your gifts. But something like the drink I mentioned is more of a luxury. You’d be provided with more basic sustenance if you decide to walk. An allowance of cigarettes is part of it, though.”
Jack couldn’t stop himself from swallowing a lump. So it is a negotiation. They have the leverage of access, but they also want me, or I wouldn’t be here to be arm-twisted and bamboozled. “Is trying to get one over on your agents right off the bat pretty standard fare for you Mems?”
“Most just sign and then we take care of them and their families the rest of their lives, as they are due. Nothing is designed otherwise. Everything in there is for your own good, Jack.”
“Was that cute, obvious distraction of a secretary for my own good, too?”
Boss Lady had no change of expression to this. She leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “Why did you agree to the bond with Neexolei and Quallakuloth?”
The sudden change of subject was a good tactic, as it caught him off-guard. Quite intentional. “You don’t already know?”
Again, there was no answer. She simply waited, staring at him implacably.
Jack sighed as he leaned back and took a short drag on the cigarette. Just like he’d done with the coffee, his instincts were to ration it. “Boiling it down to one thing is impossible. Different reasons tumbled together into a mess. I wanted it, I wanted the promise to humanity in general, and I didn’t want her to suffer any further. If she died, it would’ve all been for nothing.”
“You fully understood the danger? Making contact with an alien entity. Opening a mysterious psychic vector to an enemy.”
His jaw working, Jack nodded. “Yes.”
“You knew this could be seen as treasonous to Memoria and humanity itself?”
"I understood the possibility. That it could be construed as a bad gamble and that it could have been some sort of... originally intended trap."
"But you did it anyway. Are you a gambler, Jack?"
"Maybe. Not generally. Probably."
"So you perhaps felt the benefit-to-risk ratio was acceptable?"
"I made something of a judgment like that, sure. But again... that she would die if I sat on my damned hands wasn’t acceptable. And that she was innocent in the matter? That all she related was truthful as she understood it? This was something I was sure of."
"Sure?"
"Sure as anything I’ve ever decided. And if something or someone was laying a trap, they sure knew what buttons to press, because how the frag was I gonna live with myself if I just stood by and did nothing? What, wash my dirty hands clean and go back to my fly-taxi life, pretend nothing happened? Frag that. I couldn't."
"Perhaps you should have contacted us. At any point."
"Ya know, you Mems want us to trust, trust, trust you without ever telling us anything. Would you have even helped her, if I didn’t do what I did and prove things? Could you tell me absolutely that you would have?"
The woman stared at him without answering.
Jack coughed a bitter chortle and continued, "If we got whisked away, would you lot ever tell me what happened to her afterward? Because such a thing would be classified, right? Out of my hands, out of my clearance as a meaningless scrub. If I was cleared and let go, I'd have to go back to my humdrum life never knowing. That's shit, lady. Ma’am — sorry. But that's total shit."
"And what if Memoria was attacked through this connection? Humanity doomed by your actions?"
"I didn't believe that. Nor did I have the information to understand whether it was truly possible or not. We can't just believe our imagination on everything... and we can't know the future. Considering what this did, and the potential replication... What if this was what saved humanity, instead? One chance on a time-sensitive thread to correct an apparent rampant weakness. Maybe you brass-balled elites will be thanking me for being bold down the line. For being your guinea pig."
Another eyes-on stare, and this time, Jack stared right back. The blonde took a slow, slow drag and blew more smoke out. And then a little mocking smirk spawned and she reached her free hand over to tap a lacquered fingernail once on the contract. “You can’t be a guinea pig without coming over the fence, Jack.”
“So it's negotiation time, then?”
“Is that what you think we’re doing?”
“It’s not like I didn’t expect rules and regulations, or a new enlistment. I took the step over already. Philosophically, anyway.”
“Then you left one philosophical foot on the other side.”
Jack chuckled, nodding in admittance. “I’ll happily commit both feet, plant, and salute — with a few alterations to the agreement.”
Boss Lady didn’t reply, of course. She puffed and waited, her expression cold and dubious.
Jack continued. “So, let’s deal with the elephant in the room, then, eh? Huge question mark. Why would you want to decide my class for me? I don’t get it. Do you think I’m a stones-out idiot or something?”
“I don’t hear a demand. What, you want an explanation? Is that a part of your price?” Jack for once got to pull the silent treatment on her, finally nodding very slightly. “Alright. Consider it an advance. No, you aren’t an idiot. Your behavior wasn’t entirely rational or stable leading to you sitting in that chair with that contract in front of you. You’re unusual in being an adult making this transition, with unpredictable values. You have resentments. The totality of your future with us is more important than momentary, emotionally charged conclusions.”
“So kind of you to care, but I think I can handle it fine myself.” Again he tapped the paperwork as he met her eyes, and swallowed past any remnant awe, even not knowing just who she was. Important, somehow. A high authority. But he added with conviction, "Let me be clear: I'm not signing this with that stipulation."
She stared at him evenly and he struggled uncomfortably under that intense gaze. Nonetheless, he didn't back down this time.
She finally squinted her eyes slightly and took a drag of her cigarette. She blew it out slowly while studying him as if at some puzzle piece she couldn't place.
Odd how her ciggy seems to deteriorate way slower than mine — perhaps because despite my efforts, I’m fiending on it like a maniac. Irrelevant thoughts born of his nerves. He pushed it away.
Finally, Boss Lady shrugged. "Then don't. You can go back to your 'humdrum life' permanently wondering about what might've been with real power in your hands. A power you've always fantasized and dreamed about. Something that will eat you up inside with every passing day until you crack — one way or another."
Shifting uncomfortably once more, Jack gazed back at her with some incredulity, beginning to question whether he understood things at all. They don't throw away Nons. Do they? "You can't be serious. You just said you want me to make the optimal choice."
"If we can't be sure, we'll wait. Time is your enemy, here, not ours. Isn't it, man who would be the hero?" She leaned forward more and shook a pointed finger at him. "You need to lose the damned ego and take this seriously, Jack. Being among them is a higher calling and the gravest of responsibilities. Your petty issues need to be set aside for the greater good. The good of the human species."
She held the stance for a long moment. Finally, she leaned back and presented her hands. "So, what's it going to be? Our way or the highway? Are we going to have our dance now or on some lonely future holiday after you take up drinking and finally give in?"
Take up drinking? Never. I will never be my father.
Jack scoffed and shook his head, feeling the bite of that anxiety. He knew it for what it was: the Fear Of Missing Out. Of course, he was excited to be one of them. She was exploiting it, now, but it didn't stop it from being true. They held the power. Somehow. It might've been due to the circumstances. Outside of normal contract, out of protocol. Extenuating circumstances, enough that these higher authorities could change the game.
Ah, who am I kidding? They own the game completely.
He leaned back and took a deep breath. Glanced at his still burning, but nearly exhausted ciggy between his fingers, wanting a puff. But he resisted. Keep the candle burning, right?
He eyed the contract. It was always about this. The secretary, the room, the table, the guy supposedly on the crapper right now, and now this lady. My recruiter. My negotiator.
Jack cleared his throat and said simply, "There needs to be a third option. There needs to be compromise. Or I will walk."
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