Chapter 1
He couldn't stand it any more.
This job was just too much. Waiting around to render assistance to any who might request it was a stagnation of mind too boring for Marcus to accept. As if to make things worse, his station required him to wear a thick blue suit, the hallmark of a security guard, the heat of which was stifling, and added to his annoyance. His mind was not accustomed to idle behaviour.
His daytime job was such a bore compared to the late nights he spent studying, exploring theories and writing up essays for his thesis, 'the effects of technology on the development of the human mind'. As his research continued he had found himself slowly reconditioning his thought processes, until eventually he thought of everything in regards to this perspective. He would watch children playing with devices that had not been conceived of even before their parents had been children. He considered the effects of everything as a knock on effect of this, imperfectly so at times, but more often than not he felt an odd sense of elation, being able to assess the finest and most tenuous links between theory and social behaviour. One of the more useless pieces of information that showed example of this was the conclusion he had made for himself that the reason that bus stops were nearly always empty was due to the accepted readiness of information. Even the least technologically savvy person could understand the likelihood of a bus timetable being accessable online, and all but the laziest of his fellow primates would use this availability. This sort of connection was the bread and butter of his paper. Which, to complete in full, had thus far required an in depth knowledge of electronics, specifically the input and output aspects. For example, studying the effects of continued exposure to certain wavelengths of radio waves, sound waves, and even light. These were constantly emitted from almost all forms of technology. Or balancing statistics of the effects of the calculator on the numeracy skills of a young child. As well as this, much attention to aspects of psychology and sociology, subjects that were unusual to be tagged onto a paper that was studied for in the computer and technology division. Many different subjects were sampled to provide the full plethora of colours required for a fully rounded thesis. It was this occupation that provided him with his feeling of pleasant well being. Whilst Marcus was under no delusions as to the possibility of groundbreaking effects of his research, he was certainly confident that the little regarded subject of his thesis would certainly be a worthwhile addition to the annals of human learning. He hoped little for fame or for acknowledgement, he had more hope to achieve something that felt complete. His whole motivation was to achieve something of a fully rounded and complete nature, such that the interred information could be absorbed and appreciated in the easiest fashion, whilst offering something of an interesting and effective enough subject matter to at least be read by some, and to be recognised insofar as the validation of correct theories would require. He did not want to make a big splash. He would be happy with a quiet but deliberate placement, and acceptance. But as it was, his lofty intentions of enlightenment suffered at the hands of mundanity, his behaviour at the shopping centre created a boredom so expansive it made it difficult to shake it even when it came time to leave. As a passtime, he began to watch people, silently analysing their behaviour, and seeing what he could read of the people, connecting their behaviours to unseen and imagined external stimuli, and looking for the threads that connected all living people. This was a way he could take inaction and turn it to study, being able to increase his understanding of the human condition by exposure, and to make effective use of this enforced boredom.
As Marcus stood and gazed through the crowd, he fancied he could see an unusually clad small man pushing through the crowd in the middle of the shopping centre walkways. This one man stood out even with his small stature, as he seemed unable to take more than one or two steps without checking over his shoulder, and each furtive glance clearly showed panic infesting his gaze. He was wearing an old worn pair of trainers, the original colours difficult to discern beneath the encrusted layers of mud. Above these was a pair of blue jeans, topped with a thick fleece jumper and a dark brown overcoat that seemed to envelope the man in such a way as to make it seem that he was wearing armour. His hair was short and oily, the sweat of fear and exertion turning the otherwise unremarkable hair into a mess of rats tails that hung down on his panicked face with equally oily skin. He had a long pointed nose set below maddeningly large eyes and a soft mouth with a perpetually worried frown, surrounded by a weak growth of unkempt whiskers that showed he might possess a full beard if his hair growth was more energetic. It was rather unclear what the man might be scared of, or running from. As he slowly remembered that this was supposed to be his job, he stepped forward from his podium at the corner of the walkway, and approached the man.
As Marcus approached, he did the best he could to appear non-threatening. As soon as the small man saw the approach of a security guard, he froze. For a moment, Marcus thought he saw the idea of a hurried flight crossing the worried man's eyes. As Marcus felt the instinctive tensing of his muscles in preparation for a chase, the man seemed to catch something in Marcus' eye, and instead dropped to his knees in front of him. The small man's hands and face turned up towards Marcus, seemingly in desperation, a whispered plea for help. The man began to beg, "Please help me, I have to hide! I'm not safe! I can't be here!".
Having not expected the change of heart, or such an act of desperation, Marcus was momentarily shocked stiff. It took some seconds before he lapsed back into the simple sequence of procedures, and he remembered his next steps, as laid out by the training manager so few weeks ago. First, he reassured the man that he was safe, and then he radioed for another security member to cover the entrance way podium, so that he could take the poor man to a quiet room. (The training manual had stated 'In some cases, a customer may be emotional, in possession of lessened faculties, or must be interviewed in regards to a crime. In these or similar circumstances, at the discretion of the security member in question, the common rooms may be used for privacy.')
Marcus took a moment or two to calm the man whose desperation seemed to be so deep that it almost appeared as mania. As it became clear that his efforts were going to waste, he then bodily lifted the man to his feet, and guided him by the shoulder to a doorway marked 'authorised personnel only'. Once the door had shut behind them, Marcus took the man to the nearest empty room, and sat him down at the table inside. All the time that Marcus had led the man, he had been clutching at Marcus' arms and continuously muttering that it was not safe, and he was repeatedly begging for help. Marcus took little time to respond until he had sat down with the man, on the opposite side of the table. As an afterthought, Marcus paused just before he was about to speak, instead he got up again, crossing the room to lay his hand on the door knob. As he began to close the door he became aware of the man watching him in fear, his eyes seeming to stand further out on stalks as he watched the door closing.
Marcus reassured his new acquaintance, "Don't worry, sir, you are not being detained. You can leave anytime you wish. I have brought you here to see if we can help." On hearing this, the man's eyes seemed less scared, but the attention and high strung attitude were unabated. He simply looked at Marcus as if he were capable of a miracle, and as if the man were too scared to believe that fact. Marcus removed his security guard blazer, and hung it over the back of the chair, then sat before the man again.
Marcus tried to begin, "My name is Marcus. Whats your name, sir?"
The man looked at Marcus with clear confusion. Marcus stayed silent as he watched the man's mind working. Marcus Initially thought that the man must have forgotten his name, and that maybe he had some kind of dementia or possibly amnesia. This thought was dispelled, as the man spoke, "What use do I have for a name? Nobody knows it! Nobody needs it! I am nothing..." The man seemed to calm slightly at this, releasing a heavy sigh of exasperation. Marcus sensed this was not towards himself, but towards whatever subject had caused the mans deference to the usual naming conventions. The man appeared to have a tenuous link with the reality around him, at best. Marcus decided to continue a little longer anyways. Marcus asked, "You must have something your friends call you?" For the first time, the man appeared to fully hear the words spoken to him, and clearly responded, bypassing the as yet unnamed mania, and proving to marcus that the man was simply very upset about something.
"My name is Theodore. But you can call me teddy. Or ted... Is up to you. But it doesnt matter. None of this matters, everything is going to change.... And then nothing will matter."
Theodore's clear decisive speech denied the initial assumption that the man was not in possession of his faculties. His clear belief in his words was not the fanatical belief of a schizophrenic, or the undertones of sociopathy, nor even did he appear unaware of his surroundings. The longer he spent with the man, the more Marcus was inclined to ignore the hints of mental instability, and he began to think the man must have some kind of serious trouble in pursuit of him. The possibility of something being so frightening to put a man who seemed otherwise fully aware and sane into such a state of desperate fear sent a chill down Marcus's spine. He decided to take a different approach.
"What have you been up to today, Teddy?"
"Looking for somewhere to hide." Came his simple matter of fact reply.
"Who are you hiding from?" Asked Marcus, starting to wonder if his initial dismissal of mental instability was premature.
At this, Theodore looked up, clearly and straight into Marcus' eyes. He seemed to embark on an internal struggle, two possibilities seemed to be warring in his mind, so Marcus waited patiently. Theodore took a long deep breath, then seemingly in preparation he used the sleeve of his thick jacket to wipe the layer of perspiration from his forehead. Then, he opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to be at a loss for words. He tried again, this time managing a few words, "Can I have a drink please?"
Unsure as to whether this was an honest request or an attempt to bypass Marcus' question, Marcus decided to play along. He let Theodore know he would be right back before taking his order for a strong sweet milky coffee. Marcus left the common room, and entered the staff cafeteria, on the way meeting his supervisor, who inquired as to the state of affairs. Marcus gave a quick explanation along the lines of he was attempting to console an upset customer of the center, and to ascertain whether or not the man needed any more serious help beyond a moment to calm down. He kept the particulars to himself, the demeanor of the man and the belief he was actually in danger, until he knew more. The supervisor congratulated Marcus on his 'community minded heart' and continued on to other needs of the center. The kettle boiled, and Marcus returned to the room in which Teddy was waiting, and placed a milky coffee in front of him, and a black one before his own chair. As Marcus sat down, he noticed that Teddy was, although seeming to be far off in thought and disconnected, he seemed much more in control, with some of the fear on his face slowly turning to worry and concern. As Theodore noticed Marcus sit down, he let out a sigh like one might give when readying oneself to lift a heavy weight. He watched Marcus sit and slowly raise the coffee to his own lips, and place the cup back down on the table. Still, Teddy was silent. Marcus began again, "So, You seem calmer now. Are you happy to share your story?"
Teddy's eyes had now lost the sharp pang of fear, the widened lids now drooping, and the high strung nerves loosening their tight hold on his face. Teddy appeared to think for a moment, then began again, "There are people after me. But, I can't tell you who. If I tell you, they will come. If I explain why... They will come. I cannot tell you anything safely. And yet... I do feel as if I should tell you. When I came into the shopping center, I was panicking, I have been on the run for months. I used to be a researcher at a company that builds the new techs for replacement of limbs and pharmaceutical drugs. Some of the lower levels were given over to Department of Defence research. Things we weren't allowed to know... But the main part of my job was computer support, and I got to know things that I shouldn't know. Things that nobody should know... Things that would keep a man awake at night. I wasn't even in a serious research group, but my tech support roles gave me access to the electronic reports and files in regards to the research of all the departments." Whilst he had been talking, Theodore's eyes had dropped to his hands, which were clasping each other worriedly, "So many things that should never have been done. These scientists have no morals. Anyways... They found out. The people who look after the company are not very nice people. They seem to have less morals than the scientists. So I was cast out and my life and credibility destroyed, so that anything I might say would not be believed. And now, here I am, running from those very same people. I don't know for sure who they are, or who they work for, all I know is that they have ways to track people using technology, ways I couldn't understand even tho I am very good with computers. Something about a computer virus that can control itself. So... I don't know what to do."
Marcus had listened carefully. He knew the sound of a conspiracy theorist. They were so common nowadays, people searching for anything in the mire of chaos that can connect to another point in a sure sign of conspiracy. The zealous search for clues and fanatical belief in those clues seemed a unifying aspect of these theorists, and these aspects seemed absent from the man. Now that his initial fear and upset had passed, this man had the aura of someone who very much hated to believe the things he spoke of. It was as if he would be much happier to have never known a word of it. He seemed to be a realist, the kind of man who would not, could not, formulate a fantasy outside of an intended work of fiction. This man, in his mannerisms and speech, seemed to show an abundance of intelligence and a surety of himself that was not so clear at first, but now had become a defining feature.
Marcus sighed, then spoke aloud, "So, you say you have been pursued by the unlawful hired thugs of a large pharmaceuticals and bio-tech company? Have they actively threatened violence?"
As the words left Marcus' mouth, they exuded an aura of disbelief around them.
Teddy glared, "I am an observant man, Marcus. And due to my desire for order in my own life, I eat only my own home prepared meals, and drink only water, and the occasional coffee. One week after I had accessed the mainframe, and saw what I saw... I came home to find the tiniest little nuances, changes about my flat. At first, just little things, my kettle was turned maybe thirty degrees. The magazines that litter the shelf under my coffee table were rearranged. My clothes drawers were riffled through and left uneven. Then I came home about two weeks after. I found in my glasses cupboard that my drinking glasses had been moved. It was given away in that the glasses were no longer in a straight line front to back. So, I picked one up to have a look, and there was what I can only describe as a soluble tablet stuck to the base of the glass inside. It was a sticky green substance that had been carefully placed so as to be dissolved into whatever drink I chose to poor. When I realised what it was and what it must be for, I froze. The glass dropped from my hand, and smashed on the floor. I then, in a panic, grabbed the rest of the glasses from the shelf. They all had the green tablet in. I still held the last glass in my hand, but in my panic I had dropped all the rest at my feet, leaving my kitchen floor a mess of shattered glass. I took the glass to the sink, and filled it with water, taking care to watch the green tablet. Almost as soon as the water touched it, it seemed to silently pop, and almost immediately disappear into the water. On holding it up to the light, all that remained of the tablet was the tiniest green hint to the water, something that would have been too faint to notice had I not been looking for it. On a whim, I took the glass outside, and found a small group of woodlice sheltering in the corner of the entrance doorway for my block of flats. I poured the water on the woodlice, and they fell to the floor. As I watched, the woodlice began to sizzle and melt until there was nothing left but an indescribable mush. I stood there for perhaps five minutes watching the mess settle. Then, I lost it, and I ran. I didnt even take my car keys, or my wallet, for fear of being tracked." All the while Theodore had been speaking, his head had been hung low, and his hands wrung against each other worriedly. As he finished speaking he looked up and caught Marcus' eye. In the depths of his eyes, Marcus could see the light of truth.
"I really don't understand why you are here tho, Theodore. Surely if this has really happened, you should have called the police!" Marcus was disbelieving of the cold facts, but could not help but believe the words this poor man had uttered to him, such was the conviction in Theodore's eyes.
"The police cannot help me, bar holding me still long enough to be found, and that does not amount to help." The hopelessness was written clearly on his face, and in the lines between his words.
The discussion had now been continuing long enough that Marcus was beginning to fully absorb the information. As it was, it began to interest him professionally, as the topic of technology was clearly a strong one, and the underlying doubt of Theodore's mental stability interested him too. He decided to go out on a limb and try to help the man, outside of his duties and away from his job. As these thoughts were turning over in his mind he sat opposite Theodore and considered him carefully. Just as Marcus had decided to offer his hand of help, the radio attached to his belt gave a burst of static. He lifted it to his mouth and responded, and was told that some men from the FBI had come to ask the security staff for some help in the acquisition of information regarding a dangerous fugitive. As this call came through, Marcus' eyes were firmly fixed on Theodore, and they remarked the fear for his life that was exhibited when the FBI was mentioned. Marcus made no mention of his ward, and responded to say he would come and report in a few moments.
After he finished speaking on the radio, Marcus looked across the table. The almost calm demeanour the man had nearly achieved was now dashed in favour of the look of fear that freezes a rabbit still in the hunting jaws of the wolf. With a very careful enunciation, and even more careful wording, he attempted to transmit a double truth. "I have been asked to assist the FBI. However, your story does warrant more interest. They have asked me to look out for someone who may look suspicious," As he said this, he looked Theodore up and down, in such a manner as to make it clear that Theodore looked very much suspicious, "So, I must report. Do you know where you are?"
Theodore's eyes showed a glimmer of recognition, and a rare hint of hope, as he began to understand. "Yes." Said Theodore.
"As I will be leaving the way we came in," This he exaggerated with a motion of his eyes to remind Theodore of the route to the exit, "I would appreciate it if you waited here," As he said this, Marcus shook his head, again with great exaggeration, "Until I return."
As Marcus stood, he spoke again, "I will be back in exactly five minutes."
At this Marcus left the room. After reporting little of interest to the FBI, Marcus returned. As he approached the door to the meeting room, he could see it was empty. Marcus allowed himself a small smile of triumph. He re-entered the room and collected his blazer, and then resumed his work, happy in the surety that he had achieved a small victory against the misguided powers that be, and confident that he had made the right choice. After a few hours of working, the man faded from Marcus' forethought, until as he was readying himself to end his shift he put his hand in his blazer pocket, and discovered a small scrap of paper. He pulled it out, and read the rushed untidy handwriting, "Thankyou, you are a good man. 8pm, Monday evening, at the castle park. If you would like to know more. Teddy"
A feeling of foreboding overcame Marcus, as he remembered the mornings events. He resolved to meet the man, and offer whatever help he could.
This job was just too much. Waiting around to render assistance to any who might request it was a stagnation of mind too boring for Marcus to accept. As if to make things worse, his station required him to wear a thick blue suit, the hallmark of a security guard, the heat of which was stifling, and added to his annoyance. His mind was not accustomed to idle behaviour.
His daytime job was such a bore compared to the late nights he spent studying, exploring theories and writing up essays for his thesis, 'the effects of technology on the development of the human mind'. As his research continued he had found himself slowly reconditioning his thought processes, until eventually he thought of everything in regards to this perspective. He would watch children playing with devices that had not been conceived of even before their parents had been children. He considered the effects of everything as a knock on effect of this, imperfectly so at times, but more often than not he felt an odd sense of elation, being able to assess the finest and most tenuous links between theory and social behaviour. One of the more useless pieces of information that showed example of this was the conclusion he had made for himself that the reason that bus stops were nearly always empty was due to the accepted readiness of information. Even the least technologically savvy person could understand the likelihood of a bus timetable being accessable online, and all but the laziest of his fellow primates would use this availability. This sort of connection was the bread and butter of his paper. Which, to complete in full, had thus far required an in depth knowledge of electronics, specifically the input and output aspects. For example, studying the effects of continued exposure to certain wavelengths of radio waves, sound waves, and even light. These were constantly emitted from almost all forms of technology. Or balancing statistics of the effects of the calculator on the numeracy skills of a young child. As well as this, much attention to aspects of psychology and sociology, subjects that were unusual to be tagged onto a paper that was studied for in the computer and technology division. Many different subjects were sampled to provide the full plethora of colours required for a fully rounded thesis. It was this occupation that provided him with his feeling of pleasant well being. Whilst Marcus was under no delusions as to the possibility of groundbreaking effects of his research, he was certainly confident that the little regarded subject of his thesis would certainly be a worthwhile addition to the annals of human learning. He hoped little for fame or for acknowledgement, he had more hope to achieve something that felt complete. His whole motivation was to achieve something of a fully rounded and complete nature, such that the interred information could be absorbed and appreciated in the easiest fashion, whilst offering something of an interesting and effective enough subject matter to at least be read by some, and to be recognised insofar as the validation of correct theories would require. He did not want to make a big splash. He would be happy with a quiet but deliberate placement, and acceptance. But as it was, his lofty intentions of enlightenment suffered at the hands of mundanity, his behaviour at the shopping centre created a boredom so expansive it made it difficult to shake it even when it came time to leave. As a passtime, he began to watch people, silently analysing their behaviour, and seeing what he could read of the people, connecting their behaviours to unseen and imagined external stimuli, and looking for the threads that connected all living people. This was a way he could take inaction and turn it to study, being able to increase his understanding of the human condition by exposure, and to make effective use of this enforced boredom.
As Marcus stood and gazed through the crowd, he fancied he could see an unusually clad small man pushing through the crowd in the middle of the shopping centre walkways. This one man stood out even with his small stature, as he seemed unable to take more than one or two steps without checking over his shoulder, and each furtive glance clearly showed panic infesting his gaze. He was wearing an old worn pair of trainers, the original colours difficult to discern beneath the encrusted layers of mud. Above these was a pair of blue jeans, topped with a thick fleece jumper and a dark brown overcoat that seemed to envelope the man in such a way as to make it seem that he was wearing armour. His hair was short and oily, the sweat of fear and exertion turning the otherwise unremarkable hair into a mess of rats tails that hung down on his panicked face with equally oily skin. He had a long pointed nose set below maddeningly large eyes and a soft mouth with a perpetually worried frown, surrounded by a weak growth of unkempt whiskers that showed he might possess a full beard if his hair growth was more energetic. It was rather unclear what the man might be scared of, or running from. As he slowly remembered that this was supposed to be his job, he stepped forward from his podium at the corner of the walkway, and approached the man.
As Marcus approached, he did the best he could to appear non-threatening. As soon as the small man saw the approach of a security guard, he froze. For a moment, Marcus thought he saw the idea of a hurried flight crossing the worried man's eyes. As Marcus felt the instinctive tensing of his muscles in preparation for a chase, the man seemed to catch something in Marcus' eye, and instead dropped to his knees in front of him. The small man's hands and face turned up towards Marcus, seemingly in desperation, a whispered plea for help. The man began to beg, "Please help me, I have to hide! I'm not safe! I can't be here!".
Having not expected the change of heart, or such an act of desperation, Marcus was momentarily shocked stiff. It took some seconds before he lapsed back into the simple sequence of procedures, and he remembered his next steps, as laid out by the training manager so few weeks ago. First, he reassured the man that he was safe, and then he radioed for another security member to cover the entrance way podium, so that he could take the poor man to a quiet room. (The training manual had stated 'In some cases, a customer may be emotional, in possession of lessened faculties, or must be interviewed in regards to a crime. In these or similar circumstances, at the discretion of the security member in question, the common rooms may be used for privacy.')
Marcus took a moment or two to calm the man whose desperation seemed to be so deep that it almost appeared as mania. As it became clear that his efforts were going to waste, he then bodily lifted the man to his feet, and guided him by the shoulder to a doorway marked 'authorised personnel only'. Once the door had shut behind them, Marcus took the man to the nearest empty room, and sat him down at the table inside. All the time that Marcus had led the man, he had been clutching at Marcus' arms and continuously muttering that it was not safe, and he was repeatedly begging for help. Marcus took little time to respond until he had sat down with the man, on the opposite side of the table. As an afterthought, Marcus paused just before he was about to speak, instead he got up again, crossing the room to lay his hand on the door knob. As he began to close the door he became aware of the man watching him in fear, his eyes seeming to stand further out on stalks as he watched the door closing.
Marcus reassured his new acquaintance, "Don't worry, sir, you are not being detained. You can leave anytime you wish. I have brought you here to see if we can help." On hearing this, the man's eyes seemed less scared, but the attention and high strung attitude were unabated. He simply looked at Marcus as if he were capable of a miracle, and as if the man were too scared to believe that fact. Marcus removed his security guard blazer, and hung it over the back of the chair, then sat before the man again.
Marcus tried to begin, "My name is Marcus. Whats your name, sir?"
The man looked at Marcus with clear confusion. Marcus stayed silent as he watched the man's mind working. Marcus Initially thought that the man must have forgotten his name, and that maybe he had some kind of dementia or possibly amnesia. This thought was dispelled, as the man spoke, "What use do I have for a name? Nobody knows it! Nobody needs it! I am nothing..." The man seemed to calm slightly at this, releasing a heavy sigh of exasperation. Marcus sensed this was not towards himself, but towards whatever subject had caused the mans deference to the usual naming conventions. The man appeared to have a tenuous link with the reality around him, at best. Marcus decided to continue a little longer anyways. Marcus asked, "You must have something your friends call you?" For the first time, the man appeared to fully hear the words spoken to him, and clearly responded, bypassing the as yet unnamed mania, and proving to marcus that the man was simply very upset about something.
"My name is Theodore. But you can call me teddy. Or ted... Is up to you. But it doesnt matter. None of this matters, everything is going to change.... And then nothing will matter."
Theodore's clear decisive speech denied the initial assumption that the man was not in possession of his faculties. His clear belief in his words was not the fanatical belief of a schizophrenic, or the undertones of sociopathy, nor even did he appear unaware of his surroundings. The longer he spent with the man, the more Marcus was inclined to ignore the hints of mental instability, and he began to think the man must have some kind of serious trouble in pursuit of him. The possibility of something being so frightening to put a man who seemed otherwise fully aware and sane into such a state of desperate fear sent a chill down Marcus's spine. He decided to take a different approach.
"What have you been up to today, Teddy?"
"Looking for somewhere to hide." Came his simple matter of fact reply.
"Who are you hiding from?" Asked Marcus, starting to wonder if his initial dismissal of mental instability was premature.
At this, Theodore looked up, clearly and straight into Marcus' eyes. He seemed to embark on an internal struggle, two possibilities seemed to be warring in his mind, so Marcus waited patiently. Theodore took a long deep breath, then seemingly in preparation he used the sleeve of his thick jacket to wipe the layer of perspiration from his forehead. Then, he opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to be at a loss for words. He tried again, this time managing a few words, "Can I have a drink please?"
Unsure as to whether this was an honest request or an attempt to bypass Marcus' question, Marcus decided to play along. He let Theodore know he would be right back before taking his order for a strong sweet milky coffee. Marcus left the common room, and entered the staff cafeteria, on the way meeting his supervisor, who inquired as to the state of affairs. Marcus gave a quick explanation along the lines of he was attempting to console an upset customer of the center, and to ascertain whether or not the man needed any more serious help beyond a moment to calm down. He kept the particulars to himself, the demeanor of the man and the belief he was actually in danger, until he knew more. The supervisor congratulated Marcus on his 'community minded heart' and continued on to other needs of the center. The kettle boiled, and Marcus returned to the room in which Teddy was waiting, and placed a milky coffee in front of him, and a black one before his own chair. As Marcus sat down, he noticed that Teddy was, although seeming to be far off in thought and disconnected, he seemed much more in control, with some of the fear on his face slowly turning to worry and concern. As Theodore noticed Marcus sit down, he let out a sigh like one might give when readying oneself to lift a heavy weight. He watched Marcus sit and slowly raise the coffee to his own lips, and place the cup back down on the table. Still, Teddy was silent. Marcus began again, "So, You seem calmer now. Are you happy to share your story?"
Teddy's eyes had now lost the sharp pang of fear, the widened lids now drooping, and the high strung nerves loosening their tight hold on his face. Teddy appeared to think for a moment, then began again, "There are people after me. But, I can't tell you who. If I tell you, they will come. If I explain why... They will come. I cannot tell you anything safely. And yet... I do feel as if I should tell you. When I came into the shopping center, I was panicking, I have been on the run for months. I used to be a researcher at a company that builds the new techs for replacement of limbs and pharmaceutical drugs. Some of the lower levels were given over to Department of Defence research. Things we weren't allowed to know... But the main part of my job was computer support, and I got to know things that I shouldn't know. Things that nobody should know... Things that would keep a man awake at night. I wasn't even in a serious research group, but my tech support roles gave me access to the electronic reports and files in regards to the research of all the departments." Whilst he had been talking, Theodore's eyes had dropped to his hands, which were clasping each other worriedly, "So many things that should never have been done. These scientists have no morals. Anyways... They found out. The people who look after the company are not very nice people. They seem to have less morals than the scientists. So I was cast out and my life and credibility destroyed, so that anything I might say would not be believed. And now, here I am, running from those very same people. I don't know for sure who they are, or who they work for, all I know is that they have ways to track people using technology, ways I couldn't understand even tho I am very good with computers. Something about a computer virus that can control itself. So... I don't know what to do."
Marcus had listened carefully. He knew the sound of a conspiracy theorist. They were so common nowadays, people searching for anything in the mire of chaos that can connect to another point in a sure sign of conspiracy. The zealous search for clues and fanatical belief in those clues seemed a unifying aspect of these theorists, and these aspects seemed absent from the man. Now that his initial fear and upset had passed, this man had the aura of someone who very much hated to believe the things he spoke of. It was as if he would be much happier to have never known a word of it. He seemed to be a realist, the kind of man who would not, could not, formulate a fantasy outside of an intended work of fiction. This man, in his mannerisms and speech, seemed to show an abundance of intelligence and a surety of himself that was not so clear at first, but now had become a defining feature.
Marcus sighed, then spoke aloud, "So, you say you have been pursued by the unlawful hired thugs of a large pharmaceuticals and bio-tech company? Have they actively threatened violence?"
As the words left Marcus' mouth, they exuded an aura of disbelief around them.
Teddy glared, "I am an observant man, Marcus. And due to my desire for order in my own life, I eat only my own home prepared meals, and drink only water, and the occasional coffee. One week after I had accessed the mainframe, and saw what I saw... I came home to find the tiniest little nuances, changes about my flat. At first, just little things, my kettle was turned maybe thirty degrees. The magazines that litter the shelf under my coffee table were rearranged. My clothes drawers were riffled through and left uneven. Then I came home about two weeks after. I found in my glasses cupboard that my drinking glasses had been moved. It was given away in that the glasses were no longer in a straight line front to back. So, I picked one up to have a look, and there was what I can only describe as a soluble tablet stuck to the base of the glass inside. It was a sticky green substance that had been carefully placed so as to be dissolved into whatever drink I chose to poor. When I realised what it was and what it must be for, I froze. The glass dropped from my hand, and smashed on the floor. I then, in a panic, grabbed the rest of the glasses from the shelf. They all had the green tablet in. I still held the last glass in my hand, but in my panic I had dropped all the rest at my feet, leaving my kitchen floor a mess of shattered glass. I took the glass to the sink, and filled it with water, taking care to watch the green tablet. Almost as soon as the water touched it, it seemed to silently pop, and almost immediately disappear into the water. On holding it up to the light, all that remained of the tablet was the tiniest green hint to the water, something that would have been too faint to notice had I not been looking for it. On a whim, I took the glass outside, and found a small group of woodlice sheltering in the corner of the entrance doorway for my block of flats. I poured the water on the woodlice, and they fell to the floor. As I watched, the woodlice began to sizzle and melt until there was nothing left but an indescribable mush. I stood there for perhaps five minutes watching the mess settle. Then, I lost it, and I ran. I didnt even take my car keys, or my wallet, for fear of being tracked." All the while Theodore had been speaking, his head had been hung low, and his hands wrung against each other worriedly. As he finished speaking he looked up and caught Marcus' eye. In the depths of his eyes, Marcus could see the light of truth.
"I really don't understand why you are here tho, Theodore. Surely if this has really happened, you should have called the police!" Marcus was disbelieving of the cold facts, but could not help but believe the words this poor man had uttered to him, such was the conviction in Theodore's eyes.
"The police cannot help me, bar holding me still long enough to be found, and that does not amount to help." The hopelessness was written clearly on his face, and in the lines between his words.
The discussion had now been continuing long enough that Marcus was beginning to fully absorb the information. As it was, it began to interest him professionally, as the topic of technology was clearly a strong one, and the underlying doubt of Theodore's mental stability interested him too. He decided to go out on a limb and try to help the man, outside of his duties and away from his job. As these thoughts were turning over in his mind he sat opposite Theodore and considered him carefully. Just as Marcus had decided to offer his hand of help, the radio attached to his belt gave a burst of static. He lifted it to his mouth and responded, and was told that some men from the FBI had come to ask the security staff for some help in the acquisition of information regarding a dangerous fugitive. As this call came through, Marcus' eyes were firmly fixed on Theodore, and they remarked the fear for his life that was exhibited when the FBI was mentioned. Marcus made no mention of his ward, and responded to say he would come and report in a few moments.
After he finished speaking on the radio, Marcus looked across the table. The almost calm demeanour the man had nearly achieved was now dashed in favour of the look of fear that freezes a rabbit still in the hunting jaws of the wolf. With a very careful enunciation, and even more careful wording, he attempted to transmit a double truth. "I have been asked to assist the FBI. However, your story does warrant more interest. They have asked me to look out for someone who may look suspicious," As he said this, he looked Theodore up and down, in such a manner as to make it clear that Theodore looked very much suspicious, "So, I must report. Do you know where you are?"
Theodore's eyes showed a glimmer of recognition, and a rare hint of hope, as he began to understand. "Yes." Said Theodore.
"As I will be leaving the way we came in," This he exaggerated with a motion of his eyes to remind Theodore of the route to the exit, "I would appreciate it if you waited here," As he said this, Marcus shook his head, again with great exaggeration, "Until I return."
As Marcus stood, he spoke again, "I will be back in exactly five minutes."
At this Marcus left the room. After reporting little of interest to the FBI, Marcus returned. As he approached the door to the meeting room, he could see it was empty. Marcus allowed himself a small smile of triumph. He re-entered the room and collected his blazer, and then resumed his work, happy in the surety that he had achieved a small victory against the misguided powers that be, and confident that he had made the right choice. After a few hours of working, the man faded from Marcus' forethought, until as he was readying himself to end his shift he put his hand in his blazer pocket, and discovered a small scrap of paper. He pulled it out, and read the rushed untidy handwriting, "Thankyou, you are a good man. 8pm, Monday evening, at the castle park. If you would like to know more. Teddy"
A feeling of foreboding overcame Marcus, as he remembered the mornings events. He resolved to meet the man, and offer whatever help he could.