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Donna > The Lies That Blind
Lies
that Bind 4:
The Next Generation
By Donna
The Pretender and it's characters
still aren't mine…probably couldn't even
afford a rent-to-own deal. I
just use them a little bit from time to time, then return them none the worse
for wear. This is, of course, the
sequel to Lies I, II, and III and will make more sense if you've read
them. Thanks for all the wonderful
feedback on the previous parts and thanks for your patience waiting for this
one. I hope it was worth the wait. Please let me know.
Mr.
Parker sighed heavily as he sat down at his desk. He reached to turn on the computer and hesitated. He wasn't sure he really wanted to see what
their "rat" had been up to over night. Not that he seemed to limit
himself to nights.
His
little "droppings" turned up in the system at all hours of the day
and night. One day, it had been questions about Mr. Parker's vacation time
in 1980. Another day, it was about his passport.
Someone
seemed to know far too much and their technicians were having no luck discovering
who was responsible.
Far
too much time and money was being lost due to the system having to be shut
down to be cleaned each time their rat left one of his calling cards. At least,
they had been doing it enough that they were getting faster…it only took a few hours instead of the whole day,
but it was still far too long. Data was lost or misplaced every time it happened
and people were not happy.
Most
importantly, the Triumvirate was not happy.
Without
realizing it, he held his breath as he activated his computer.
No
red flags.
He
breathed out.
Not
yet, anyway.
He
checked his messages and got on with the business of the day.
Many
levels below in the Centre's most secret area, Grace took a deep breath and
looked across the table at her young charge.
"Catherine,
you know that lives are depending on you.
Why won't you complete this simulation?"
Catherine
leaned back in her chair crossing her arms defiantly.
'Sometimes
she seems so much like any other teenager," Grace thought.
"I
can't."
"Can't
or won't."
She
shrugged.
"What
does it matter?"
The
girl suddenly leaned on the table.
"Tell
me about my parents."
Grace
sighed heavily.
"Catherine,
we've been through all this before. The
past won't change, no matter how many times I tell you about it."
"I
know. I just want to hear it again.
Please, Grace."
Catherine's
blue eyes sparkled with interest and the look on her face begged the older
woman for the story.
"If
I do, will you complete the simulation?"
"I
will give it my best."
Grace
knew that this was as good as a promise.
"Well,
as you know, I didn't come to the Centre until about ten years ago, so all
I know is what I've read in your files and what I've been told by others."
The
girl nodded, her face shining.
"I
know, but please, tell me anyway."
Miss
Parker stalked across the lobby of the Centre.
She could feel the tension in the air, almost like lightening ready
to strike. Everyone was busy typing
away at their computers, stopping every few minutes to back up their work. It gave her a good feeling inside to know that
she was the cause of all the problems.
She
wondered if this was the way Jarod felt when he ran a sting operation.
This
would almost be fun, if the stakes weren't so high.
But
they were.
The
truth…about her daughter.
"Both
of your parents worked here at the Centre.
They were both special, like you, and were able to help many people
through their abilities. They often
worked together on the really difficult problems and somewhere along the way
they fell in love. Everyone here at the Centre adored them both and when they
got married, there was a big celebration.
A couple of years
later,
you arrived, making their perfect life even better. Since your father was an orphan and your mother had only her father,
who also worked here, the people here were their family and they used to bring
you here with them to work. They knew from the beginning that you were special,
too. When you were only a year or
so old, there was a terrible fire at their house. Your father brought you out, left you with a neighbor and then went
back to get your mother. Neither of
them made it out."
"They
put my life before their own?"
"Of
course they did. They loved you very
much."
Catherine
nodded at her to continue.
"Your
grandfather brought you here because, even though you were so young, you were
severely traumatized by the situation. You've
always been fine when you were here, but when he would try to take you out,
you panicked. A couple of years later,
your grandfather passed away and there was no place else for you to go.
You've been here ever since."
"But
why can't I leave now?"
"Catherine,
we've been through this. You just
wouldn't be able to live out there. You
have a special gift and there are people who would want to use it for their
own ends, who would want to prevent you from helping us, even if it meant
killing you."
"Like
they did my parents."
"Like
they did your parents. You're here
for your own safety, Catherine. You should be glad for the Centre's protection."
"I
know, and I am…I just wonder sometimes…"
Grace
smiled at the young woman.
"I
know you do, but you know you can trust me."
"It's
like they don't trust us," Broots was complaining as she entered the
tech room.
"I
wouldn't trust you with replacing the toilet paper in my bathroom, Broots.
What are you talking about?"
He
was becoming accustomed to letting her insults roll right off.
"With
the truth about whatever is going on with the computer system here. It's next
to impossible to get anything done when you have no idea when they're going
to shut the system down. You have
to stop about every ten minutes to run a backup on what you're working on. They keep telling us that it's just routine
maintenance, but it's just happening way too often for that."
"What
do you think it is, Broots?"
He
looked around quickly and then motioned to them to come closer.
In
the silence that followed, Grace wondered how much of the story was true.
It was what she had been told when she was put in charge of the young pretender,
and she knew better than to ask any questions. It seemed just a little bit
too convenient, though.
"Grace,
do you know what they looked like?"
"No,
Catherine, like I said, this was long before I came to work at the
"And
there are no photos of them?"
"No,
dear. Everything was destroyed in
the fire."
"I
just wonder what they looked like. Do
I have his nose, her eyes? Why am I so tall?
Who do I look more like?"
"From
what I've been told, you look a lot like both of them."
"Please,
keep checking for a picture. I'd just
like to have something of them."
Grace
smiled, wondering which of her parents was responsible for the stubborn streak
in the young woman. "If I promise,
will you finish this sim now?"
"Yes,
ma'am."
As
the girl turned her attention back to the papers on the table, her thoughts
were in turmoil. The more often she
heard the story, the less she believed it.
It had never felt quite right, even when Grace's predecessor, Stephanie,
had told her. And after the events
of the last few days, she doubted it even more.
"Somebody's
trying to steal files," Broots whispered.
"Jarod?"
Parker asked, even though she knew better.
"Maybe,
but I don't think so. Most hackers
have a certain…style…a certain way of doing things that you learn to recognize. I've gone up against him a few times and I
think I've kind of learned to recognize his particular style. Something just
tells me that this is someone different."
"Wait
a minute, Broots. If they shut down
the system every time there's a problem, how do you know about this hacker?"
If
possible, his voice dropped even lower.
"Because
they have a backup system that they don't shut down. It's very limited…the triumvirate and a few other people in the
Tower stay up when everyone else goes down.
I stumbled across it by accident the other day when I was trying to
set up a new tripwire program for Jarod.
While the main system is down, they're shifting files like crazy."
"Shifting
them where?"
"Some
secured area off of the mainframe. The
scary part is that the people that they have working on it don't seem to remember."
"What
do you mean?" Sidney asked.
"I
know this guy, Jasper, he's a troubleshooter.
One of the best I've ever known. Every
time this happens, he gets a call down to the main data center.
At first I thought he was just being discreet
when he wouldn't tell me what was going on, but I think there's more to it
than that. A couple of days ago, I
saw him and three other guys heading into the medical labs right after one
of the breakdowns. When I saw him
later on in the day, he seemed kind of out of it…like he had been drugged
or something…"
"Did
he seem depressed or irritable?" Sidney asked.
"Now
that you mention it, yeah, he did. Jasper
is one of those people who is so into his computer stuff that he really doesn't
relate well to the real world."
"Takes
one to know one," Parker muttered under her breath.
"No,
he's even worse than I am," Broots assured her.
"Anyway,
I went into his area to ask him about something and he was just sitting there,
gazing at the wall. His computer wasn't
even turned on!"
"Sounds
serious," Parker deadpanned.
"For
him, that is pretty serious. I didn't
even think his had an off switch!"
Parker
realized that Sidney was being very quiet.
She looked over at him.
"Well?"
"Well,
what?"
"I
assume this all means something in particular to you?"
"I
was just thinking…"
His
voice trailed off as he stared into the distance.
"Spit
it out, Sid."
"TD-994."
"Which
is?" She made no attempt to mask
her impatience.
"A
mind control treatment that the Centre has been experimenting with for a number
of years. It's actually a drug that
makes the brain very open to suggestion.
When used in tandem with a skilled hypnotist, they have had very good
results in making people forget certain things."
"Or
remember things which never happened," Parker added, another piece of
the puzzle falling into place.
"Exactly."
Broots
looked over at Parker.
"Like
when we found Fennigor after the explosion and he couldn't remember anything
that he had talked about before."
"Unfortunately,
there are certain side effects, such as depression and increased irritability
which seem to become worse with each subsequent use of the therapy. In the tests that I know of, they had three
suicides after the fifth use of the treatment."
"And
this has been going on for over a week now…"
A
week or so ago, she had noticed a shift in the mood of the Centre. At first, Grace had tried to tell her that
she was imagining it, but she had finally broken down and admitted that they
were having some major problems with the computer system. She had finished
her sim for that day and returned to her room.
Late that evening, she had heard a very slight noise coming from the
ventilation grate behind her bed. Looking
in, she had been surprised to see someone staring back at her.
The man's eyes had widened in shock before he quickly turned around
and scurried away. The next night, he was back.
He watched her as she carefully positioned herself to shield the grate
from the cameras.
"Hi!"
He
smiled at her.
"My
name is Catherine. What's yours?"
He
paused for a moment as if in thought.
"Angelo."
"Nice
to meet you, Angelo."
She
stuck a finger through the grate, the closest she could come to a handshake.
After
a second, he touched his finger to hers.
"Do
you need some help or are you hiding in there?"
He
shook his head.
"Secret."
"What's
a secret? You're not supposed to be
in there, are you?"
He
hung his head slightly, like a little boy caught in forbidden territory.
"Don't
worry, I won't tell anyone."
She
was rewarded with a smile.
"Oh! Treat!"
He
took a box out of his shirt pocket and pulled a small, brownish ball out of
it. He pushed it carefully through
the grill. Catherine accepted it and studied it carefully. It looked like a white,
He
took another one out of the box and popped it in his own mouth.
"Tasty!"
Well,
it didn't seem to hurt him any. She
slowly raised the object to her mouth and put it in. As the caramel sweetness spread across her taste buds, a smile spread
across her face.
"Very
tasty, Angelo. What is it?"
He
held up the box so she could read it.
"With
a secret toy surprise? Why would they
put a surprise in a box of food?"
Angelo
just shrugged and smiled. For the
next few minutes, the two sat on opposite sides of the grate in silence as
they emptied the entire box. He tucked
the box back in his pocket and looked at her, regret on his face.
"Have
to go now, Catherine."
"Thank
you for coming, Angelo, and for sharing your Cracker Jacks with me. Will you
come back?"
She
knew she sounded desperate, but she felt a little desperate at the moment. This was the first time she could ever remember
spending time with someone who didn't want something from her.
"Angelo
will come back, secret Catherine."
He
smiled at her again and turned around, quickly disappearing from view.
She
didn't see him again for a couple of days.
Late one night, she heard his soft call from behind the wall.
"Angelo!" she whispered. "I've been worried! Is everything alright?"
He
sighed heavily. "Too many eyes
and ears sometimes."
"I
know. It seems like they're everywhere!
Is it safe now?"
"Yes,"
he cocked his head for a moment, as if listening for something. "For a minute. Surprise for Catherine."
He
carefully rolled up a small piece of paper and pushed it through the square
in the grate. She unrolled it to discover
a page from a desk calendar. It had
been scribbled through with a black marker, violently torn from the calendar
and crumpled into a ball. She could
just barely make out the date.
August
21.
She
looked at Angelo, a question in her eyes.
"Hurt."
She
gently touched the page again.
Yes,
she could sense pain…a hurt that threatened to overwhelm her. Angelo pushed
another rolled paper through to her. When
she unrolled it, her eyes went wide with shock. It was a photo.
A
photo of herself.
But
different…
And
outside…
And
she had never dressed like that.
But
the hair and the eyes…
Especially
the eyes…
The
same eyes that looked back from her mirror every morning.
She
touched the face, almost reverently.
"Momma?"
She
looked up at Angelo.
He
smiled sadly.
"Hurt."
"But
she's dead…isn't she?"
He
struggled to find the phrase he wanted.
"Her
voice…is inside you."
She
glanced down at the photo again. When
she looked up, he had disappeared.
She
had kept the photo and the calendar page on her ever since.
At
night, she would pull the covers over her head and carefully unroll them.
Even
though she couldn't see them well in the darkness, she felt better just touching
them. They helped her to feel somehow
connected.
Her
mother.
Alive.
And
out there.
Angelo
said that she hurt. Was it because
she missed her daughter? Was she looking for her?
A
touch on her hand brought her back to the present. She looked over at Grace's concerned face.
"Are
you alright, Catherine? You looked
like you were a million miles away there."
"Just
thinking about what my life would be like if my parents were still alive."
Grace
looked at her sternly.
"You
were supposed to be concentrating on the sim."
"Oh,
I finished that." Catherine handed
her back the papers and carefully explained her conclusions.
Grace
nodded as she wrote. When Catherine
was finished, the older woman turned and handed her notes to a figure standing
in the shadows.
At
that instant, the lights dimmed slightly and the figure in the shadows cursed.
'Wonderful,' thought Grace. 'A new
word for Catherine's vocabulary.'
Miss
Parker sat curled up in her office chair, staring out the window. In her hand was a photo.
A
photo of her and her father in Paris the summer that Catherine had been born.
It showed the two of them sitting in a sidewalk café, the Eiffel Tower visible
in the background. A yellow sticky
note was attached to it.
"Here's
the photo you wanted…me and my Angel in the City of Lights!"
It
meant nothing.
She
had little doubt that Broots could have come up with the same photo in just
a few minutes on his computer. In
these days of digital photos and computer scanners, a photo proved nothing.
She
was much more interested in her conversation with Sidney this morning.
TD-994.
It
could make a person forget what had happened.
Or
remember things that never had.
Like
a trip to Europe.
This
could be tomorrow's little computer glitch.
Almost
on cue, the computer on her desk suddenly beeped and went blank. She smiled slightly.
In
his office, Mr. Parker heard the same beep.
He closed his eyes for a moment, not wanting to know what he knew had
just happened. The ringing of the
phone abolished any hope that he was mistaken.
As he answered it, he looked over at the monitor where the telltale
red light blinked in the top corner. His
was one of the systems hooked up to stay on when power was cut. He reached
over and typed in a password and the screen came back up.
"Parker
here," he said into the phone.
"Yes,
I'm looking at it now. We haven't
had any luck on any of the traces we've tried to run so far."
In
the center of the screen blinked a request for his daughter's medical records
for 1980. He shook his head slightly,
furious at the audacity of this particular hacker.
"Apparently,
someone is getting into the central system and leaving these messages to be
activated randomly. So far, we haven't
a clue as to who, when or how."
He
listened a moment longer.
"I'll
take care of it."
He
hung up and sighed.
Catherine
was hustled into Grace's office.
"Wait
here. Someone will be here to take
you back to your room in a little while."
"What
am I supposed to do in here?" the teenager asked.
Grace
indicated the packed bookshelves.
"Find
something to read. I have to check
on a couple of other patients."
She
heard the door close and lock.
With
a heavy sigh, she plopped down in the desk chair.
"Couldn't
even take me back to my room where I might at least get to see Angelo."
She
idly checked all the desk drawers.
Locked,
of course.
A
quick scan of the bookshelves revealed nothing that she hadn't read before
and certainly nothing that interested her enough to read again.
While
she considered picking the lock on the door (never done it, but how hard could
it be?), her eyes came to rest on the blank computer screen on the desk.
A
slow smile spread across her face.
Computer
problems, huh…
Maybe
she could find out what was going on.
At
the very least, it would give her something to do.
And
maybe…just maybe…she could find out something about her past in the process…
something about her parents…about the woman who wasn't dead.
A
very much alive Miss Parker sat in the darkness of her office.
'Patience,
Parker, Patience.'
It
had never been one of her strengths, but this time the reward would be well
worth the struggle to achieve it. If all had worked as she planned, each file
that was moved into the secured
That
would be the hard part.
She
had tried a couple of days ago, just to make sure that it was working like
it was supposed to. She had almost
gotten caught. Someone else was able
to track her for a while. Still, she
had managed to bring one document out with her.
She closed her eyes and conjured it up in her mind.
Memo:
Pretender Project-Phase II
Attempts to create a new prodigy subject using artificial insemination have failed. It appears that the gene does not survive the freezing process. The next step in the creation of the product will be an attempt at conception in the normal method, i.e. male/female intercourse. The subjects have been chosen for this next step.
The
male is a proven commodity, kept in a controlled environment for some fifteen
years. Female subject carries the
necessary genetic trait, but due to outside interference, was not properly
trained. As a result, her efficacy
cannot be verified, though testing has shown great promise even at this late
a date.
Subjects
have been allowed to become acquainted over the past several years in anticipation
of this possibility and there does seem to be a degree of physical attraction
between them. This leads us to the
conclusion that this breeding project can be accomplished with minimal intervention.
Both
subjects have undergone complete physical evaluations and have been deemed
to be in excellent physical health. At this time, it is suggested that the
female subject be treated with fertility drugs to increase the chances of
conception during the December target date.
At that time, subjects should be allowed time alone together to follow
their natural instincts. Should conception not occur at that time, a second
attempt will be made the following spring.
If there is no success as that time, more aggressive measures will
need to be taken.
Dr.
Brighton Finley
The
most chilling part of the memo, though, was at the bottom. A handwritten word
"Proceed" followed by her father's signature.
Angelo
watched through the vent as Catherine sat typing on Grace's computer. It had
only taken her a few minutes to link up to the active system. 'Not much security.
Now let's see if we can find out what's causing all their problems.'
After
only a few more minutes, she stumbled across the first of he mother's red
flags. "Pretender Breeding Project"
and "Pretender Project: Phase II" raised her curiosity, but meant
little to her. The third part, though,
brought her up short.
"Catherine
Faith Parker
Born
August 21, 1980
Blue
Cove, Delaware"
Catherine…her
name…and the same date as the one on the calendar page Angelo had given her.
Were
they connected?
A
noise caused her to look to the vent, into his eyes.
"Catherine
Faith Parker. Is that my name, Angelo?"
He
nodded slowly.
"Parker."
She
quickly pulled the photo he had given her out of her shirt.
"Is
her name Parker?"
He
smiled and nodded.
"Daughter…is
looking…for daughter."
He
suddenly looked up, past her.
"Coming
now. Have Faith."
He
turned and disappeared into the darkness again. Catherine quickly hid the
photo away and turned the computer off, grabbing a book and falling into the
chair just as the door opened.
"Ready
to go back to your room, Miss."
"It's
about time! I was about to die of
boredom here!"
She
got up and stalked past him.
In
the vent, Angelo smiled.
Like
mother, like daughter.
In
her bed that night, Catherine ran her hand over the photo. "I'm going
to find you, Momma. Please, don't
give up on me."
In
her own bed, Parker prayed, almost in answer. "I'm coming, Catherine. Momma's coming."