The asset stared at Parkerson with that slack expression of his. “Go on,” Parkerson told him. “Do it.”
Friday night. The asset had been at the lake house for five days. He’d responded well to the training so far. It was time to advance the regimen.
“Do it,” Parkerson told him. “You don’t want the visions to continue, do you?”
The asset looked exhausted. He’d been locked in the room with the visions for five days and four nights. Probably hadn’t slept more than twenty minutes at a stretch.
He’d stopped trashing the room, though. The bed remained fully made. The waste bucket stayed upright. He seemed to calm down when Parkerson came in the room. He seemed to trust Parkerson, seemed grateful for the food, for the reprieve.
“Do it,” Parkerson told him. “Do it for me.”
Slowly, the asset turned to the cardboard box beside the bed. Parkerson had picked it up on his way to the lake house. A gift for the asset. A test.
The asset reached inside the box and pulled out an orange cat. The cat purred and nuzzled the asset. The asset held it. Looked at it.
“Do it now,” Parkerson told him.
The asset gripped the cat tighter. The cat struggled. Yowled and clawed at the asset. The asset clenched hard and twisted the cat’s neck. Bones snapped and the cat spasmed once. Then it dropped, lifeless, into the cardboard box.
Parkerson nodded. “Good work,” he said. The asset seemed to relax a little. Parkerson kicked the box away. Held up the McDonald’s bag. “Let’s eat.”