| |
––––––––
Situation Report:
17:35 hours. 22/09/1973.
First Encounter/Most Plausible Theory: Subject J. estimated that Subject A. was physically and mentally weak. Therefore, A. could be coerced and controlled, which would serve to achieve J.’s short-term ends, and potentially his longer-term gratification.
The above is not a new pattern (i.e., classic bully behavior), but it is relevant to this and subsequent reports.
Related background on J.:
Low levels of formal education as well as limited literacy and numerical skills.
He takes genuine pride in these deficiencies.
However, while J. is sometimes mistaken in matters of objective fact (something else he takes a peculiar delight in), he is far from unintelligent.
Ergo, J. can be extremely cunning.
In this case, J., needed something to be done and he decided that A. was the optimum person to get it done for him. Given our evolving understanding of Subject A.’s personality and potentials, J.’s conclusion was both correct and very wrong.
“Hey, kid.” J. grabbed A. by the upper arm and pulled him close. This action was easy for J. – although A. had grown taller since the last reliable physical examination, the youth was still quite thin and there was little evidence of significant upper body muscular development.
“What?” A.’s reaction was more surprised than fearful. Previous observations indicate that A. could sometimes be slow to process potential threats and didn’t yet see himself as any sort of a target.
“I got something for you to do for me.” J. pulled the smaller male off the sidewalk and into a telephone booth. “It’s important.”
“Okay...?” J.’s last statement may have activated some of A.’s altruistic protocols that may have been in place from his Program Training; A. started to look concerned.
J. may have mistaken A.’s expression for passivity and/or stupidity. He put a coin in the telephone, dialed a number and handed the receiver to A.
“If a man answers just ask to speak to D. Then give me the phone.”
“But-” A. could hear the ringing on the other line.
“If a woman answers, don’t say anything, just give me the phone.”
“But why?” The ringing continued.
“The lady’s in trouble.” J.’s statement was probably true, but the source of the danger was most likely standing next to A.
The ringing stopped. “Hello?”
Both A. and J. heard a woman’s voice whispering out of the earpiece.
“Hey!” J. grabbed the receiver and pushed A. out of the phone booth. “D.!”
A. looked annoyed as J. turned his back on him.
“Yeah, I know! But you really got to listen–” J., having achieved his immediate objective, stopped being aware that A. even existed.
A. frowned, walked about ten meters from the telephone booth, turned and studied J. as the larger male was still absorbed in his conversation. A. appeared to be far from pleased. He did not enjoy being treated this way and he may have also been concerned about whomever J. was talking to (see my previous note on altruistic programming).
However, while in training, A. consistently scored in the upper percentile in his tactical analysis classes, and after another 30 seconds of watching J. in the telephone booth, he turned and started walking home. A. most likely reasoned that he was unable to affect any significant change to the situation.
A. was correct.
In the short term, J. was definitely the “winner” of the exchange. However, the older male did make one key strategic error:
J. had made A. aware of his existence.
––––––––
Situation Report:
06:32 hours, 12/05/1976
A. was woken up by the sounds at the door. At first, he thought that a series of small bombs had exploded just outside his apartment. Then A. decided realized that such an event was extremely unlikely.
“–et up!” At least that’s what A. thought the words were; the voice was muffled by the door.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
However, the pounding of a fist on the wood was unmistakable.
If this had been a school day, A.’s alarm clock would gone off 30 minutes earlier and he would have just finished his breakfast.
“COME! ON!”
Why was someone yelling at his apartment? A. slid into his jeans. He was likely still feeling a bit sleepy, otherwise all that hammering and voice-noise might have registered higher on A.’s threat-response scale. He opened the door.
“Is that your goddamned crap-can car parked out there?!”
J. was standing there. His face and posture were set in typical alpha-domination positions.
“I do own a car, yes,” A. said quietly.
“You better get down there and get that fucking thing out of my way!”
It is also likely that J did not recognize A. from their earlier interaction at the telephone booth. Almost three years had passed, and A. was approximately 6.35 centimeters taller (we need to find a better way to get more precise measurements from a distance); his musculature was somewhat improved and there were more traces of facial hair (confirming our earlier hypothesis that A.’s secondary sexual characteristics were indeed developing albeit at a slower rate than normal).
A., on the other hand, immediately recognized J., who looked almost exactly the same as he did in 1973. Angrier and louder, possibly.
“WELL?!”
A. still didn’t seem to be experiencing all that much fear. It may have been that his Explorer-Investigator skills were now engaged. As he went to get the key to his aged Datsun 510, what he may have been feeling was curiosity.
“Hang on...” What did this strange man want now?
When he got to the Ashgrove Apartments’ parking lot, A. immediately saw the source of J.’s frustration.
“Goddamn it, D.!” J. was screaming at a young woman who was seated behind the wheel of a black Trans-Am, which was parked sideways in front of a huge pick-up truck (presumably J.’s) and a slightly rusty Datsun 510 (which we already have established as belonging to A.).
J. turned towards A. and pointed at the smaller car: “What the fuck is that shitbox doing in that spot?!” Before A. could reply, J. was screaming some more at the woman: “Go and park on the street until I tell you to come back!”
There was no identifiable expression on the woman’s face as she (rather expertly) pulled on the gear shift and backed the Trans-Am out of the parking lot.
J. jammed his finger in the direction of A.’s face. “I told the super that I needed two spots when I signed the lease!”
“Really? Wow.” A. shrugged. “That’s interesting.”
“Yeah! It’s fucking fascinating!” J. looked as though he was just to punch A in the face.
“Well, you see...” A.’s voice was very quiet and even. “My lease says that our apartment includes a parking spot.” A pointed at his car. “And that’s the spot.”
“When I signed the lease, there was no car in that spot!”
“I must have been at class when you were here.” A. pointed at the ground in front of him, “Besides my apartment number is painted right there on the pavement.”
A. sounded completely calm, but his psychological training must have told him that he in an increasingly complicated situation; he must have understood that if he showed any signs of anger or aggression J. was probably going to hit him.
“And my car is parked there now.”
Also, if A. showed any signs of weakness, or if he even tried to apologize, J. was probably going to hit him.
Earlier reports indicate that A. had acquired the Datsun quite recently and rather impulsively. A university friend sold it to him for $50 and together they searched the auto-wreckers for spare parts and restored/upgraded the vehicle over three weekends. A.’s tech-training, although incomplete, was useful, and he was pleased that the Datsun performed much better than it looked. We all know from his personality scores that A. was more concerned about performance than appearance.
“So what the fuck are you going to do about it?!” J. was now at DEFCON-4 (as our colleagues at NORAD would say).
“I’m not going to do anything. My car, my space.” A. sighed. “If you have a problem, maybe you should talk to the super.”
“YOU FUCKING QUEER!”
A. braced for impact. Most likely he was wondering how to adjust his immediate schedule to accommodate an inevitable trip to the dentist.
“Baby...” The young woman was standing about 25 meters away, but her voice was quite clear. “You might not want to be talking about what’s happening right now at your next appointment.”
J. seemed to startle, just a little, and looked over at the woman whose arms were folded over a faded Blind Faith t-shirt.
A. decided that this was a good time to not say anything and just leave. He heard J. mutter something:
“Fucking college-boy queer.”
As A. made his way up the stairs to his apartment, he may have been thinking that his matter was far from being resolved.
That is certainly what was on our minds.
––––––––
Situation Report:
08:51 hours, 19/05/1976
Our (and probably A.’s) hypothesis was soon proven correct.
The next weekend, when A. went down to the parking lot to drive to the supermarket, he discovered that the Datsun had somehow vanished.
Situation Report:
17:05 hours, 22/05/1976
A few days after reporting the car stolen, A. received a telephone call from the Police Department and was informed that they had found the burnt-out body of a Japanese sedan on the outskirts of the city, just past the slaughterhouses.
Situation Report:
07:15 hours, 23/05/1976
As A. was on his way to the bus stop, he saw J. getting into his Trans-Am. The big, black, and shiny car was parked where the Datsun used to be.
“Hey College-Queer!” J. yelled out across the parking lot. “What happened to your car?”
A. had his hand in his pocket and he seemed to be running his fingertip along the plastic laminated edge of his new bus pass. He probably did not need astronaut-level logic skills to know what happened to his car.
Discussion Points:
Analysis of the so-called “Parking Lot Affair” contributed to several conjectures as to the effectiveness of what A. might do next:
Option A: Direct Revenge. For example:
Smashing in the windows of one of J.’s vehicles;
Slashing the tires;
Setting fire to the upholstery, etc.
One of our team members noted that A. does have enough skills in practical chemistry to combine some household cleaning products into a compound that could be applied to reduce the body work of that particular model of Trans-Am to strands of resin – essentially causing the car to “melt” in an unusual, possibly quite grotesque, manner.
Option B: Defiant Statement.
The most obvious expression here would be for A. to buy a new car and park in the disputed space at the first viable opportunity. Our regular monitoring of A.’s finances indicated that he had the resources to do this, and our psychological warfare specialist sketched out a few interesting variations:
A. could buy a car that was bigger or even uglier and more dilapidated than the original Datsun, in effect assaulting J.’s senses with an obvious eyesore: “Here’s an even bigger pile of shit for you to deal with.”
Or A. could show up with a car that obviously more expensive and/or powerful than J.’s: “Mine is bigger and better than yours.”
Another, and particularly insidious, scenario would be for A. to purchase an exact duplicate of the Trans-Am and park it in the spot while J. was away. The combination of disorientation and rage would definitely been interesting to observe: “I am messing with your head.”
A. did not pursue any of the above possibilities. It seemed that he was losing interest in automobile travel. The city had recently improved its public transit schedule and A. soon discovered that he was spending less time standing around waiting for buses. Also, the actual ride into campus gave him the opportunity to catch up on his reading. It is heartening to see that A. is applying his life-skill lessons regarding “found time” to good use.
Which leads us to Option C: Deception and Covert Action. To J., it must have appeared that A. was now just trying to get on with his life as though nothing had happened. Given A.’s overall temperament and an apparent growing disinterest in cars, this might have been what our subject saw as the preferred strategy. Everyone on the Observation Team agreed that this was a somewhat dangerous course of action (or inaction) for A. to pursue: J. would likely perceive the lack of consequences as another sign of A.’s passivity and weakness, which would inevitably lead to more aggression.
We began to fear for A.’s safety – to the extent that we explored possible means of revising the Assignment Protocols to allow us to somehow intervene on his behalf. This, of course, proved to be impossible, but it turned out that our concerns were at least somewhat unfounded.
A. employed a retaliatory strategy that synthesized elements of all three options.
––––––––
Situation Report:
20:20 hours, 23/05/1976
“You really don’t have wait around here.”
The individual speaking was D., the woman who had been driving J.’s truck (and co-habiting with him). She was wearing a Scorpions t-shirt, and was standing in front of the two driers in the Ashgrove Apartment’s laundry-room and trying to explain something to A.:
“Nobody’s going to take your stuff when you’re not here.” D. was referring to the small pile of A’s wet clothes stacked on top of one of the washing machines.
“That’s okay.” A. was sitting in one of two folding chairs. “I’ve got something to read.” He held a yellowing paperback in one hand: Slan by A.E. Van Vogt.[1]
D. sat next to A., folded her arms and sighed. “Okay.”
Then she watched the waves and streams of fabrics tumble in circular patterns through the portholes of the driers. “I know... I know...”
D. sighed again.
A. looked up from his book. “What do you know?”
“That I could have combined those loads and left one of the units free for you to use.”
A. returned his attention to the printed pages. “Maybe.” Something about the story appeared to be making him smile. “It’s no big deal.”
A.’s statement caused D. to look surprised. In all probability, in her world people thought that everything she did (or failed to do or did incorrectly) was a very big deal indeed.
Especially if those people were men like J.
“I could do that now,” she said.
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s up to you.”
A. turned a page as D. looked uncomfortable. It is highly probable that J. had told her to have no interaction with A.
“I gotta go have a smoke.”
Or anyone else possibly.
About 63.2 seconds after D. had left the laundry-room, A. got up, opened one of the driers, placed a small something inside, closed the unit, and turned it back on.
He then returned to reading about young people who were growing up with antennae and extra brains.
Situation Report:
17:40 hours, 31/05/1976.
A.’s motives for arriving home early will soon become apparent:
Four minutes and twenty-three seconds after entering the building, A. was seated on a folding chair on the balcony of his apartment. A. also had a stack of textbooks beside him, under one arm, hypothesis being that he was going to take advantage of the remaining two hours and four minutes of sunlight to study in the fresh air.
This theory was soon proven incorrect. We should have realized this error when we noted that A. had an optimum view of the parking lot from his balcony.
Seventeen minutes and 40 seconds later, J.'s Trans-Am roared into the lot at excessive speed. J. hit the brakes very suddenly, almost colliding with his truck, which was (as usual) positioned in the space formerly occupied by A.’s Datsun. There was a metallic screech as J. pulled on the emergency brake; 1.5 seconds later, J. slammed the car door shut and marched across the parking lot. J.'s movements had a hurried, stiff, almost mechanical quality. From what we could see from a distance, J.s facial expression suggested a range of conflicting emotions: embarrassment, confusion, rage and an over-riding drive to suppress all of the preceding feelings.
Hypothesis regarding J.'s extreme distress: All of his clothing (except his boots) were a shade of what our monitor described as "an extraordinary shade of vibrant hot pink." We were tracking A.'s movements that morning so we had no record of the color of J.'s denims when he left for work, but we’re confident that they were not any shade except blue.
J. struggled with his keys for one minute and six seconds, until he was able to open the door to the main entrance. He disappeared inside the building in less than two seconds.
A. remained up on his balcony, apparently reading his books while the events in the parking lot were transpiring. He occasionally turned pages, probably to publicly demonstrate that he had not noticed J.'s distress.
––––––––
Situation Report:
17:40 hours, 02/06/1976.
A.'s actions were almost exactly the same as on 31/05/1976. He was out on the balcony, reading textbooks.
Again, J.’s vehicle raced into the parking lot, narrowly missing the truck and jerking to a sudden stop. J. heaved himself out of the car and again – half-stomped, half-ran to the main entrance.
This time, J.'s clothes were what our monitor was able to describe (after some research) as "a uniquely accelerated and radiant shade of artificial chartreuse".
There was one significant variation to the 31 May pattern: J. seemed to have misplaced his door keys and had to buzz D. on the intercom to let him inside. If we had a device to quantitatively measure agitation from remote locations, I would estimate that J.'s reading would have jumped from a ten to a 37.
D. and J. had an intense verbal exchange for two minutes and 10 seconds (microphones were not in place to record the actual conversation), but D. did not look as happy when she arrived at the entrance to let J. in.
A. remained up on the balcony, maintaining the illusion of studying.
––––––––
Situation Report:
17:40 hours, 05/06/1976.
We will restrict our account to those events that differentiate it from the previous two events.
J.'s driving was even faster and more reckless, so the Trans-Am impacted the truck and caused noticeable damage to both vehicles.
J.'s scream was audible for several blocks. A. briefly glanced up from his book; how could he not?
J. was still bellowing as he kicked the crumpled car door open and when he staggered out, we were able to see that his clothing was luminescent with distinct bands of color which, frankly, defy classification. J. seemed to be wearing a shimmering, almost blinding, denim rainbow.
J. had not stopped yelling obscenities when D. ran out of the main entrance. She did not stop to examine the damage to the vehicles, but rushed directed to J.—perhaps to determine if the man had sustained any serious injury. J. ignored D.’s concern, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into the apartment building.
This time, A. put down his book and watched the events below. He frowned as D. disappeared inside.
––––––––
Situation Report:
15:25 hours, 08/06/1976.
One of the advantages of A.'s decision to use public transit is that it made it easier to observe him while he was in motion. As reported earlier, A. spent most of his bus travel time with reading, although occasionally he did converse with fellow students, faculty members or any interesting-looking person who might be looking for a way to pass the time on a very long bus ride. Which confirmed that Subject A. – while definitely neurologically atypical – is by no means anti-social.
Before continuing with this report, I wish to make an official note of our team's objection regarding Senior Management's decision to disallow a debriefing session with A. to determine the chemical engineering that caused the timed pigmentation/transformation of J's clothing. In our collective opinion, A. has arrived at an important industrial advance and represents exactly the sort of "spin-off" benefits that all branches of the Program are under considerable pressure to produce.
Perhaps it is time to put A. and the other subjects directly to work.
To return to the observed record:
A. boarded the #3A bus at the main downtown station, after transferring off the University Express. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, his classes ended just after 15:00 hours, and on this Thursday, A. had decided to study at home instead of the university library.
After displaying his transit pass, A. proceeded down the length of the bus and noticed D. sitting by one of the windows near the back of the bus.
A. did have the option of pretending that he didn't see D. All he would have had to do was open one of his ever-present science fiction paperbacks and start reading. A. would have easily avoided a potentially awkward, and possibly even dangerous, social interaction.
Instead, A. walked directly over to D. and sat next to her.
"Hello." Now that A. was in close proximity to D., we can verify that he had a clear view of the dark purple and black bruise under her left eye.
"Hi." D. spoke in a low tone, as if she might be afraid to talk to A.
"Are you okay?"
"Ha!"
D. was not laughing, the sound she made was more of an involuntary expulsion of air.
A. said nothing, but looked steadily at D.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." D. shrugged in a way that even from a distance was not convincing. "Left the cupboard door open. Walked right into it."
"Ouch," A. said quietly.
"Stupid, right?" D. sighed. "Dangers of household living."
"So true." A. was quiet again. Then he nodded in the direction of a large bag bearing a Hudson's Bay logo sitting at D.'s feet. "Been shopping?"
"I must have messed up the settings on the washer." D. sighed again. "So I had to buy a new wardrobe for my man."
"Really?" A. hesitated, like he was deciding what to say next. "Did you try re-washing his clothes?"
"Why would I do that?” D. looked impatient with A.’s apparent stupidity. “Temperature damage is permanent."
"I think I heard somewhere they sometimes if you wash clothes like that again—like in cold water—they might go back to normal."
"But why would it?"
“I read it in Readers Digest.”
“Oh.” D. seemed impressed with A.’s citing such a respected authority.
A. shrugged. "Wouldn't hurt to try, right?"
D. looked at the bag of new clothes. "Maybe, maybe not."
“If it works and you kept your receipts, you could return those and get your money back."
For the next 14 minutes (approximately) D. and A. said very little, but they disembarked together and one of our outside monitors picked them up walking towards the Ashgrove Road Apartments. We were not set up for sound from that position, however within two minutes and 16 seconds we were able to make a clear recording from our permanent outside audio installation.
They had stopped in the parking lot before entering the building.
"Wow."
"Holy shit."
A very large and very new-looking muscle car was parked overtop a single white line of the pavement: half occupying J.'s space and half in what used to be A.'s space.
Hypothesis: J. was making a deliberate and powerful statement.
D. shook her head. "He went out and bought it."
A. made a humming sound as if processing large amounts of new information.
"D.!"
D. and A. turned in the direction of the voice and saw J. standing on his balcony. He was shirtless and clutching the railing.
"Get your fat ass up here!"
Another hypothesis: J. had probably been out there for quite some time, waiting to see A.'s reaction to his latest territorial clam.
"NOW!"
Third hypothesis: J. may not have been expecting to see D. and A. together – because he seemed to displaying some reactions himself.
D. said nothing as she walked quickly towards main entrance.
"Take care."
It was doubtful that D. heard A.
––––––––
Situation Report:
07:00 hours, 09/06/1976.
That the day after the muscle car manifestation, A. began strategically tracking D. in the much same way that we’ve been monitoring him.
At 07:04, A. observed J. and D. in the main lobby. Given their by-now extremely complex and emotionally-laden relationships, none of them attempted any form of greeting or communication. However, J. and D. paused at the doorway long enough for A. to note that D. now had two black eyes. Before A. could get any closer, J. pulled D. into the parking lot and the two were soon driving away in J.'s new car.
A. boarded the #3A bus at 07:22 (as usual), but once downtown, he did not transfer to the University express. Instead, A. elected to skip his morning classes and remain in the city. Our team was caught by surprise. That day’s shift was already on-site at the campus and we only had one part-time observer stationed on the #3A (which had already driven off). By the time we had people redeployed (32 minutes), A. was more-or-less out of range.
Eventually, we picked him up leaving the Greyhound Inter-City transit station on 4th Street—heading toward the shopping district. Once there, A. used the Yellow Pages in a telephone booth – presumably to find an address.
The one available observer followed A. (doing his best to stay unseen by our subject) into a mini-mall where he saw A. waving into the window of a beauty salon. Less than one minute later, D. emerged, wearing a pink polyester apron that identified her as a salon employee.
It was now 10:29, which may have been why D. joined A. in the food court for a coffee. There was a very old and very loud vending machine nearby (probably due to a defective refrigeration unit) so our observer was only able to pick occasional words and sentence fragments:
"—isn't good—"
"—doesn't understand—"
"—love?"
"—danger—"
"—helpless!"
"—away?"
Nine minutes and 48 seconds later, A. took and envelop out his jacket pocket and handed it to D.
"—use—"
"—how can I—?"
"—please..."
D. kept the envelope and they walked back to the salon. Before she entered, D. suddenly hugged A. Our observer noticed that both of them kept their eyes open when they embraced – as if they were looking over each other's shoulders.
At 11:10, A. took the express to the University, which would give enough time for A. to sit in on his afternoon classes and study at the library. His return to something resembling his usual routine gave us a chance to re-position the full team for optimum coverage.
––––––––
Situation Report:
20:46 hours, 09/06/1976.
A. had finished his evening's studying and was reading from the latest selection from the Science Fiction Book Club while listening to a well-worn LP of Handel harpsichord concertos. Typical week-night recreation for A.
Then something less typical, or at least less frequent, happened: A very loud hammering on the apartment door. A. looked annoyed but not alarmed as he got up to answer.
"What the FUCK did you do with her?!"
It was J. He was almost vibrating with rage.[2]
"Do what? With who?" A. asked calmly. Possibly because he knew it would get J. even angrier.
"I've been all over fucking town and she’s fucking gone!
"Do you mean D.?"
"Who the fuck else would I mean?!"
"She's your girlfriend..." J. was now pulling on A.'s shirt with enough force to lift him off the floor. A. did not seem particularly phased. "...if she didn't tell you, I don't why I would know."
For 0.15 seconds, J. seemed unable to speak, but his expression suggested that A.'s life might be in danger.
A. still appeared unconcerned. He looked curious – as if he was wondering what J. might do next.
Eventually, J. took a very long, very ragged breath and spoke in a much quieter voice. Perhaps he realized he should avoid attracting attention from other residents.
"If I don't find her, asshole..." J. let go of A.'s shirt. "...you're gonna be well and truly fucked."
"Good luck with that." We're pretty sure that A. wasn't being very sincere.
J. growled something we couldn't pick up on the microphone and walked away.
––––––––
Situation Report:
13:55 hours, 09/06/1976.
Owing to the sheer intensity of the interpersonal exchanges between A. and J., we took the unusual step of entering A.'s apartment to determine if he might be preparing some form of defense against J.'s inevitable retaliation. Please note that like all observer teams, we are reluctant to venture this far into a subject's personal sphere, but given the very real risk of serious physical violence, we decided that we needed any possible advance information.
We found no evidence that A. was doing anything to protect himself. If he was taking any steps, he was doing so off-site. However, we did discover the following:
Someone had entered A's apartment before us. Very likely J.
Unlike our team, the interloper (again, probably J.) was intent on making A. aware that he had been there.
The refrigerator door was open and food was scattered all over the kitchen floor.
The living room floor was covered with the remains of A.'s record collection. Most of the vinyl disks looked badly scratched, some were cracked and shattered.
The stereo was also in multiple pieces.
We found an explosion of printed pages all over A.s bedroom: the remains of his paperbacks.
Someone (J. probably) had gone to considerable effort some to destroy as much as possible.
What we found on A.’s bed was perhaps the most disturbing. There was an old blue plush toy, a sentimental object from A.'s childhood most likely. It had been ripped open, and its stuffing was stained a dirty yellow—probably caused by urine.
There was no ambiguity about what had been left in the middle of the bed. A large dark brown coil of excrement, most likely human. Regardless of the donor species, the message was clear: ‘Come and get me and let’s finish this’.
At this point, there was very little we could do except exit, leaving as few traces as possible.
A. was due back from his classes in less than an hour.
––––––––
Situation Report:
22:14 hours, 11/06/1976.
We had been on high alert for the past two days, working double shifts in anticipation of some form of Neighbourhood Mutually Assured Destruction. J. was getting increasingly violent, and we were completely unable to predict what actions A. might take. Quite a few people – not just A. and J. - could get hurt if the conflict continues to escalate.
––––––––
Situation Report:
22:14 hours, 11/06/1976.
Still no form of aggression action by A.
He confined his activities to removing large garbage bags of debris from his apartment to the dumpster at the far corner of the parking lot. His facial expression was calm, even placid. Maybe downright serene.
We, however, were not feeling calm, placid or serene. Something terrible was going to happen.
Admittedly, A.'s "go slow/do nothing” response may been helpful as we worked through different scenarios if we had to intervene in an effort to protect A. But so far, we had not been able to formulate any operation that did not compromise the Program’s Core Objectives.
One of the observers described our predicament as a case of S.N.N.A.F.U.
Situation Not Normal (but still) All Fucked Up.
––––––––
Situation Report:
07:34 hours, 16/06/1976.
Not much action from A.
On the way to the bus stop, he did stop in the parking lot and look at J.'s car for 43.3 seconds. We wondered if he might take out his keys and scratch the paint on one of the doors. But no, A. just took a deep breath and walked on to the bus stop. Also, A. has not started replacing his collection of records or science fiction paperbacks. At least we don't see him reading anything on the bus. He just sat by himself and watched the traffic go by from the window.
––––––––
Situation Report:
18:44 hours, 22/06/1976.
Nothing of note from A. to report.
Alternatively, J. has started encroaching on A.'s personal space with more classic bullying tactics:
Hammering on A.'s door and leaving before A. can answer.
Pressing the intercom and yelling obscenities at A.
Our remote mikes are picking up A.'s phone ringing at early hours in the morning. We don't need to arrange any wiretaps to be reasonably sure that J. is the one making the calls.
We are debating whether we are not looking at a MAD Scenario (where A. will initiate some form of retaliatory strike) but rather that A. is far more passive or at least pathologically resistant to responding to threats with any form of physical aggression. Our concerns now are:
A. may be in even more danger than we anticipated.
Our analysis for A.'s personality may be inaccurate, which may call into question the validity of our personality testing methodology.
Neither possibility is particularly appealing.
Situation Report:
23:55 hours, 25/06/1976.
Notable activity at the Ashgrove Apartments, but not what we were expecting.
A. started the day with the same Saturday morning routine that he established at the age 10:
Alarm clock sounded at 05:45, giving him sufficient time to get out of bed, use the bathroom and eat a bowl of breakfast cereal (usually Cheerios or Shreddies, but very occasionally Applejacks) by 05:59.
A. was now ready to watch television for the next six to seven hours. A typical program schedule would include:
06:00: Open university course from the University of Montana on the history of science fiction.
07:00: Local station broadcast reruns of either Time Tunnel or Lost in Space.
08:00: Cable stations offer a selection of programs including an animated version of Star Trek, then something with dinosaurs titled Land of the Lost, a live-action program about a family of Neanderthals called Korg: 70,000 B.C. and then an hour of The Super Friends on ABC.
A. didn’t do or watch any of the above on this particular Saturday – although it took us at least 3.5 minutes to realize that things were not proceeding as normal.
A.'s clock started ringing away as usual – except his alarm clock alarm clock was not doing the ringing.
The high-pitched metallic scream was the fire alert system for Ashgrove Apartments apartment. Within 2.7 minutes, the entire floor was filled with thick and dark smoke—not unexpected given the poor quality of the materials used to construct the building. We did get a brief image of A. waking up and pulling on his jeans, but after that our cameras were unable to pick anything up. We were confident that A. would be able to evacuate without too much difficulty.
4.2 minutes later, the smoke had spread to every floor and at least 70% of the residents were standing out in the parking lot, all in various states of undress.
After 5.35 minutes, trucks from the Fire Prevention Service arrived and entered the building wearing oxygen tanks and full-protective gear. Meanwhile, other fighters started connecting hoses to adjacent fire hydrants.
Before the emergency service workers could start spraying the building, the first fireman emerged from the main entrance, waving his arms and shaking his head.
The other firefighters seemed to understand this signal and uncoupled the hoses from the hydrants and started winding them back into the trucks.
The smoke from the entrance grew was dissipating.
Another 5.7 minutes later, three police cars arrived and four law-enforcement officers entered the building. In 3.8 seconds, they reappeared in the parking lot escorting a man towards one of the police cars. The man was wearing only handcuffs and pair of bikini-style underpants.
It was J.
As the officers were leveraging J. into the car, our team noticed something significant.
There was no sign of A.
––––––––
Situation Report:
17:00 hours, 02/08/1976.
The landlord of the Ashgrove Apartments has arranged for all of A.'s remaining furniture and processions to be removed, sold or junked. We will, as quickly and covertly as possible, arrange to visit the local landfills and thrift stories to be sure that none of these items contain any dangerous compounds or experimental technologies. We must avoid any risk of exposure to the general population, although given A.'s methodical nature, this possibility seems remote in the extreme.
Our investigation of the building after the departure of the Fire and Police departments did reveal a minimal amount of (temporary) smoke damage, but no indications of any form of combustion; in other words, a lot of smoke but no fire. Another outcome of one of A.’s inventions no doubt. The smoke must have started near J.'s apartment, leading authorities to J.’s huge supply of narcotics and amphetamines – as well as the crude lab equipment used to process and package the same.
Please refer to local print and broadcast media for the more than generous coverage of J.'s arrest and upcoming trial. Based on the evidence discovered by the firefighters, a conviction seems inevitable. For the foreseeable future, we are going to know exactly where to find J.
A. continues to stay off our radar.
We are complying with your directive to shut down this field office. By this time next week, it will be someone else's responsibility to find A. plus any other roaming subjects you may not have told us about.
Frankly, none of the team is optimistic as to the likelihood or recovering any of the scientific investments made in the original Program.
But good luck anyway.