BLUE LITMUS PAPER

I was on my way to work waiting for the bus when a man in his mid-fifties approached me.

“Excuse me, are you Mr Kong by any chance?” he asked.

The man was handsome, somewhat like a salesman, but his spray-on smile, which was cheap to the point of looking obsequious, made him seem a bit simpleminded. I answered yes.

“Thank goodness it’s you, Mr Kong. Thank goodness,” the man said, sounding like a child. He looked so ridiculous I couldn’t help but scoff.

“What’s so good about that? And what’s it to you?”

“It’s very good. Very good, indeed. If you weren’t Mr Kong I would have to look all over this city again for him. I’m sorry for coming to you like this so early in the morning and without notice, but could you spare me a minute? It won’t take long. I’m sorry about this, but the work I do always has to be done immediately. If you’re afraid of being late to work, we can talk while I drive you to work.”

The man pointed to his car in the distance. It was a compact car and very vintage.

“No, if it won’t take long, we can finish our business here. I’ll just take the bus to the subway when we’re done. After all, I don’t even know you.”

“Then perhaps I can give you a ride to the station. I think we’ll have enough time on the ride there.”

The man still had yet to reveal who he was. But even so, I did need to go to the subway station, and it was ten minutes by bus; if that’s how much of my time he was going to take, I didn’t see much of a problem. I accepted the man’s offer and got into his car. His movements were quick as he hopped into the driver’s seat. After starting the car, the man said, as if humming a tune, “I would be very thankful if you could fasten your seatbelt. Belts save lives!”

“What a square,” I muttered to myself as I buckled my seatbelt. The man tried to remove an object from his suit’s breast pocket, but it seemed to be caught on something. I assumed he was trying to remove his wallet to give me his business card. However, the thing he pulled from his pocket looked more like an electric shaver.

“What’s that?” I asked, a little suspicious

“Nothing. Just an electronic device of sorts. It’s made in Germany, but the engineering is just average. Do you want to see for yourself?”

The man held out the device. Despite not being too interested, I craned my neck as I pretended to give it a perfunctory look. The man then suddenly put the device to my neck. All I saw before passing out was a flash and some sparks.

I was in an office when I regained consciousness. My body was tied to a chair and my hands were restrained by handcuffs. Because the blinds were closed, I couldn’t tell where exactly I was, but hearing the sound of cars honking from below, I guessed it was some tall building downtown. The office was clean. There was a telephone, a fax machine, and a desk, as well as a reception room, just like a regular office. A shelf on one wall was packed with books. In the room opposite that wall was an operating table and several tools that looked like medical instruments. It seemed to be a dental office of sorts.

Watching TV was the man I had met that morning. Skinny and of average height, he looked to be in his fifties, and had dull eyes. Because of his gentle and good-natured appearance, he didn’t seem like the sort of person who would stun you with a taser or kidnap you. Then again, I had no idea what a professional kidnapper would look like.

It seemed like he was watching a comedy program. With his arms crossed, he stared at the TV and knitted his brows as though he couldn’t understand something. I had never seen someone watch comedy with such a grave look on their face before.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered to himself. “Why do people find that funny?” He then turned to look at me. “Awake, are we?” His voice was calm, as though he was asking his coworker how they had slept the night before.

I sat there in silence. The man took a cigarette from his coat pocket and stuck it in his mouth. As he brought the lighter close to his face to light the cigarette, his face turned to shock as he exclaimed, “Right!” as if he had just remembered something. “I’ve tried to quit several times, but I always end up failing because I forget that I’ve quit. Habits are a scary thing. Have you experienced that?”

Holding the unlit cigarette, the man made a look of embarrassment, as though he pitied himself for forgetting that he had quit smoking. It was a bit absurd, though. He had tased, kidnapped, and handcuffed another man, and all he had to talk about now was how he couldn’t quit smoking?

“What do you think you’re doing? I already told that K guy I know nothing about the chimera files,” I shouted. The man looked shocked by my shouting.

“Ah, yes! We’ll get to that in a bit. There’ll be a phone call any minute now. I think it best only to talk once I’ve heard from them. To be honest, I’m also not quite sure what we’re doing here. Anyhow, what was it that we were discussing? It’s going to kill me if I don’t remember it.”

The man tightly knitted his brows, trying to recall what he had been talking about. Looking at him, I couldn’t help but think he was an idiot. Then suddenly, the man began speaking again as if he had finally remembered.

“Ah, yes! I asked if you had ever tried to quit smoking but failed to quit smoking because you forgot that you had quit smoking. That was it. So, have you?”

“Never.”

I answered his question despite how ridiculously he was acting.

“That’s very strange. Everyone’s tried to quit smoking at least once. Sometimes just for kicks, you know.”

“If you’ve quit smoking, why do you carry around cigarettes?” I asked testily.

“Not carrying around cigarettes makes it unclear whether I’ve ever quit smoking at all. And I can’t stand things that are unclear.”

“Do you know how serious what you’re doing is? This is a crime. It’s kidnapping. I hope you have a good plan to get out of this.”

“I already told you; we’ll talk about that later. After I get the call.”

The man said this with a smile. He then returned to the TV, sat down on the sofa, and focused on the comedy program as if he weren’t bothered in the least by the crime he was committing. Each time audience laughter roared out of the television set, the man’s face went cross. “What on Earth is so funny? Damn, this is getting on my nerves. Everyone’s laughing and I’m here alone missing the joke,” the man muttered under his breath. Listening to him talking to himself, I thought to myself, “That’s because you’re too stupid to get it.” His face looked so naïve as he focused on the television.

The man would look at the clock from time to time as he watched TV and make a “What’s taking so long?” sort of face. He had been waiting for several minutes now. But I couldn’t tell what it was exactly he was waiting for, and I wanted to know. Only when the thing he was waiting for arrived could my situation change, be it for better or worse. And if my situation didn’t change, I would have to continue sitting here with that man watching a comedy program with a grave face. To make things worse, my hands were numb because the handcuffs were so tight.

“Maybe you’re right,” the man spoke up suddenly. “Maybe quitting smoking is a fool’s errand. After all, you’re more likely to die in a car crash than from smoking.”

When he finished, he took out another cigarette and lit it. Then sitting back and relaxing, he took a long satisfying drag on the cigarette before blowing out a stream of smoke. The cigarette smoke had a very pleasant aroma.

“Oh, how rude of me. Do you want one?”

“I’d rather you take these handcuffs off me.”

“No can do, kiddo.”

“Then at least loosen them a bit. My arms are going numb.”

Initially, the handcuffs had actually been quite loose, but by wriggling my fingers around I had accidently tightened them to the point where I couldn’t move. The reason I had moved my fingers so much was because of the silly hope that I might be able to unlock them myself. But because of the teeth on the inside of the cuffs, once they ratcheted tighter, there was no going back. In other words, the handcuffs could move only in one direction, and that direction was tighter. The man came over to me, fiddled with the handcuffs, unlocked them with his keys, then loosely handcuffed me again. He also stuck a cigarette in my mouth and lit it for me.

“Do you know what handcuffs and quagmires have in common?” the man asked as he lit my cigarette.

I took a long drag on the cigarette before saying, “What do they have in common?” Truthfully, I had little interest in the commonalities between handcuffs and quagmires.

“The more you struggle, the deeper you sink.”

The man grinned slightly as if to tell me he knew the handcuffs hadn’t become tighter on their own. At that moment, the phone rang. The man turned off the TV with the remote and answered the phone. He stood there for a while with the receiver next to his ear. The person on the other end of the line was doing most of the talking.

“Yes, yes. And that’s as far as I’m going. I don’t want any more involvement in this.”

The man then hung up the phone. As far as what…? The man peered through the blinds with his finger, then lit another cigarette.

“I like this place. It’s in the city; it’s high up and the view is nice; it gets a lot of sunlight; and all the cars and people look like ants from here. It’s much better than talking in some dark dank office. Conversations go much more smoothly in a place like this. If you decide to get revenge on me after all this is over, you should start looking for me here. I always do my work here. But it won’t be easy. Seoul’s a big city with lots of skyscrapers and lots of offices.”

“I guess it’s the syndicate who’s ordered you to do this, but you’ve got it all wrong. I don’t know anything about the chimera files.”

“I see you’re going to make me repeat myself. I have to do things in order. If I don’t, everything’s going to get out of whack. And if that happens, I’m going to get pissed. Besides, I have no idea who you are or why you’ve been brought here. How do you expect me to know about your situation? If this job required me know the reason for your being here, I’d know all about it, sure. But it doesn’t, so I don’t. I’m sure there’s someone who’s paid to know why it is you’ve been brought here. After all, there’s a job for everyone. If you want an answer to your question, you should talk to them. That’s all I’m going to say about that. It’s not my job to answer your questions, so don’t even ask. All I’ve been hired to do is interrogations. Receive instructions and debriefings, know what’s permissible and what’s not, and the occasional beating or use of torture – those are my duties. There’s no need for me to make any tough decisions. I’ll say it once more, I don’t know why you’re here.”

Beating or torture? Not being able to process the man’s words, my eyes glazed over for a moment.

“Coffee?” the man asked.

I didn’t answer. Having taken my blank expression as a yes, the man brewed two cups of coffee. He placed the two cups of coffee on the small tea table, as well as an ash tray and some cigarettes. To allow me to drink, the man uncuffed my hands from behind the chair, brought my hands to the front, then handcuffed them again. The whole time I let him do as he asked.

“Cream? Sugar?”

He sounded as if he was talking to a houseguest. I shook my head slightly to indicate that I wouldn’t have either. After all, was this really the time to have a friendly cup of coffee with sugar and cream?

“So, what is it you’re going to do now? Are you going to torture me, or something?” The moment I asked this, the fear suddenly became more palpable.

“I don’t particularly like hitting people or making them scream. I prefer having a nice, calm conversation. Besides, brute force isn’t that effective.”

“That’s a relief.”

“If I can believe what you tell me, they’ll be no need for all that cumbersome stuff. The most important thing is trust. But trusting another human isn’t easy. Don’t you agree?”

I nodded slightly to show that I partially agreed with him.

“Have you finished your coffee?” the man asked.

Actually, I hadn’t even touched my coffee. Regardless, after glancing at the clock, the man took the cup from my hands. He dumped the coffee into the sink, rinsed out the two cups with water, placed them on the rack, and dried his hands with a towel.

Tearing open a sealed envelope, the man read a piece of paper for a moment before jotting something down in a notebook. He then opened the closet and changed into a white gown. Going into the operating room next door, he picked up a few medical instruments and inspected them under the fluorescent lights. He brought over a medical cart and placed six medicine bottles and several different sized syringes on it. He also placed forceps, scissors, and a scalpel on the cart. After placing a few more things which I couldn’t identify on the cart, he positioned it next to the operating table. Seeing the mysterious medicine bottles and tools, I became even more frightened. What was he planning to do to me? Was he going to perform brain surgery on me? My heart began to pound violently. The man walked over to me, lifted me to my feet, then led me to the operating table. Now that I was closer to the cart, I could see a terrifyingly sharp scalpel and pair of shears, the kind used to cut branches. At that moment, indescribably surreal and horrific thoughts started to dance in my head. The man laid me down on the operating table. To restrain me to the rails on the operating table, the man uncuffed me. But as soon as he unlocked the cuffs with his keys, I lunged forward with my fists. I never thought I was capable of such a thing. Perhaps it was the man’s somewhat small frame that propelled me forward, or perhaps it was the unconscious desperation knowing that now was going to be my only chance. But the man easily avoided my first, which I had thrown at him with all my strength, and quickly countered by sticking out his thumb and jamming it deep into my larynx. His movements were nimble and practiced. I let out a heaving gasp as I fell to the ground. My head was spinning with vertigo and I couldn’t breathe.

“You’re more fun than I thought you’d be. I like that,” the man said with a smile.

The man lifted me up as I gasped for air, leaned me up against the operating table, then with one hand pressed down gently on my chest as he grabbed my belt with the other hand. Then, as if he were a cornerman standing in front of his boxer at the end of a round, he pulled my belt toward him as he said, “Breathe–”

After he did this about ten times, I finally raised my hand to tell him I was fine. The man laid me down on the operating table and restrained both my arms and legs to the rails. This time I didn’t fight him. To be honest, I had no more strength left in me, so I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Once I was resting on the table, the man started inspecting the drugs and operating tools. He then shoved the cart to the wall, went over to the blinds to look out as he had earlier, and lit a cigarette. He came back toward me after he finished.

“Let’s get started, shall we? Quick and easy, for both you and me. The longer things like this take, the more uncomfortable and tiresome it’ll be. I’m not asking for any help. Let’s just do what’s best for both of us. I know this isn’t the most pleasant situation for you, but we should avoid making it any worse. Don’t you agree?”

I couldn’t quite place my finger on it, but the man’s gentle tone was somehow reminiscent of a soldier’s.

“Here are the rules for this little tête-à-tête. First, I want short answers. Avoid as much as possible any unnecessary modifiers or conjunctions like ‘but,’ ‘however,’ ‘nevertheless.’ And, if possible, don’t use adverbs or adjectives. I don’t like overly descriptive language. So, answer in the simplest, most concise sentences you know how to make. Understood?”

Lying on the table, I nodded my head.

“Second, tell me as much as you can. And if you have any secrets that you must guard, you better hope they’re kept perfectly hidden in a place I can’t find them. Because if I get even the slightest inkling that you’re hiding something, it’s going to be a long day for you. And you will tell me all your secrets, believe me. Just for your information, I’ve been professionally trained for this. From my experience, there’s only a handful of people in the whole entire world who could walk out of this room with their secrets. In other words, if you aren’t one of those people, you better just tell me everything from the get-go. If you make me wait, you’re going to pay the price. Understood?”

Again, I nodded my head.

“Third, don’t change your story in the middle. If you change your story, we’re going to need to start over again so I can get the real story. That means we’ll need to go through everything a second time. It’s only going to result in more pain, for the both of us. Understood?”

I nodded my head once more.

“Please remember these rules. If you follow them closely, we’ll be able to finish this without any pain. My teacher taught me that good questions result in good answers. I’ll try my best to ask you specific questions. I only ask that you try your best to give me good answers. Are you ready?”

I nodded my head. But ready for what? I had no idea what I was nodding for. The man walked over to the desk and brought over a document. He then began his interrogation.

“Are you familiar with the chimera files?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever seen the chimera files?”

“No.”

“Do you know a man by the name of Kim Woo-sang?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember for how long you were in contact with Mr Kim?”

“From July of 1998 to October of 2001. We met once a month.”

“Good. You’re doing great. Just keep answering just like you are now. According to the report I have here, you managed Mr Kim’s lab data for three years. Is this correct?”

“Yes.”

“The name of the file you managed for Mr Kim – its title was ‘CHIMERA D303417 – GINKGO TREE MAN KIM WOO-SANG.’ Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Well, isn’t that strange. Didn’t you just say you have never seen a chimera file? So, which one is it?”

“The documents I wrote up were consultation logs and records of observation. Basic documents. They’re not the chimera files the syndicate is looking for. What the syndicate wants are documents containing genetic engineering technology for hybrid humans, right? I’ve never been involved with any such research. I didn’t even know Professor Kwon was doing such research.”

“So, let me get this straight, you did basic research together, but you didn’t know the goals of that research or where the data is? Is that right?”

“I’m not a scientist, so I was never actually capable of doing any research. I didn’t do any basic research together with Professor Kwon; I only organized the files.”

“You’re the only assistant to Professor Kwon, are you not?”

“I am.”

“There were no other assistants?”

“None.”

“That must mean he destroyed forty years’ worth of data. And because you were only his assistant for seven years, you don’t know whether those files still exist?”

“Yes.”

“You’re aware that those files are immensely valuable, yes?”

“I don’t know how valuable they are precisely. But I was offered two billion won.”

“Were you aware that fourteen years ago, Professor Kwon attempted deals with the former Soviet Union once, and with a German company three times?”

“I was not.”

“Then what exactly do you know about the chimera files?”

“I know that they no longer exist.”

“How can you be sure they don’t exist anymore?”

“Because Professor Kwon told me that he burned them all.”

“I’m a sensible man. And a sensible man would not be able to understand the things you’ve told me up to this point. Professor Kwon cancelled the contract during negotiations with the German company because the price and terms were not to his liking. And you’re telling me he just threw them in a fire?”

“As I said, I wasn’t aware that he tried to make deals with the Soviet Union or some German company, as you say. I wasn’t even employed at this company at that time. All I told you was what Professor Kwon told me.”

“Then why did he burn them?”

“He thought that they weren’t of use to humanity. He might have thought that the syndicate would use them for evil; or maybe he finally realized later that he had made a monster, like Frankenstein.”

“How romantic. Fourteen years ago, he tried to sell them, and then over the next fourteen years he changed his mind and burned them – those files that were worth trillions, maybe tens of trillions of won. I have a hard time believing that.”

“Believe it or don’t, that’s what he told me.”

“Then I’ll ask you again. Are there any chimera files?”

“I told you, they don’t exist anymore.”

“Perhaps they do exist, and you just don’t know where they are.”

“They don’t exist.”

“Professor Kwon didn’t give you – his only successor – any clues?”

“How many times do I have to say it? He gave me no such thing.”

“And everything you told me is the truth?”

“Yes.”

“And you have no interest in changing your story?”

“Obviously. It’s the truth.”

“Tell me, do you know that hot water freezes faster than cold water?”

“Come again?”

“It’s really strange. How can boiling water turn to ice faster than water that’s been sitting in the refrigerator? I’ve never been able to wrap my head around it.”

“What are you talking about?”

The man didn’t answer my question. Instead, he dragged the cart with its surgical tools next to the operating table. He then put on some latex surgical gloves. On the cart were an assortment of surgical tools, six neatly aligned bottles of medicine, and an icebox with packs of blood used for transfusions.

“It says you’re type O blood on the chart. Is that correct?”

“What are you doing?”

My question clearly made him annoyed.

“What I asked of you was simple. Anyone could do it with a bit of care. If you followed my rules, no harm would come to you. Just give me straightforward answers. Everything in order. Is that such a difficult request? You’re really starting to get on my nerves. You better watch it. I’ll ask you again. Are you type O blood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m now going to perform a little experiment with you. Don’t worry. I’ll use anesthetic so you won’t feel any pain. I don’t like playing stupid games by beating people to a pulp with a club or giving them electric shocks. It’s a waste of time. And that’s because easily repeatable injuries never made someone talk. No, I plan to cut off a part of your body. But don’t worry, it won’t be a vital part. I’ll take a toe, a finger, an ear, your nose, then your cock – in that order. Think about it carefully. Think about whether what you’re protecting is worth it, Mr Kong. Think long and hard about how much you can take. If what you’re saying is true, you better try everything in your power to convince me of it. If I believe you only after I’ve cut off a finger or a toe, it’ll be a damn shame for the both of us.”

At that moment, I should have spoken up, but everything the man was saying was so unreal, and I was so overcome with fear. As my surroundings started to fade into blackness, all I could see was the man’s lips as they moved on their own like some cartoon character. I couldn’t understand what he was saying anymore. Strangely enough, I thought to myself how good of a talker he was. Why was he explaining everything to me in such detail? The man lifted my foot and stuck my pinky toe with an anesthetic needle. He then poked at my toe with the needle and watched my expression. All the feeling in my pinky toe had been lost. He picked up the shears. I heard a metallic snip come from the shears as one of my toes fell to the floor. As there was no pain when the toe was severed, it didn’t feel like it had been my toe that had dropped off. I looked at the toe, then back at the man with utter astonishment. The man had no expression on his face as he picked my toe up off the ground with a pair of forceps and showed it to me.

My god. He had really cut if off! My toe!

“Felt like nothing, didn’t it?” he asked with a smile. I just continued to look at him with a blank stare. Everything felt so surreal.

“I use anesthetic,” the man began, “because I value efficiency. The pain caused by cutting off toes willy-nilly only wastes a bunch of time. People kick and scream and do all sorts of unnecessary whining. That only prolongs the interrogation. And I hate loud noises. It all makes for a very tiresome and bothersome experience for me. But if you numb them, they can approach pain and loss more rationally. To help you, I’m going place each of your severed body parts here for you to see.”

The man placed my severed pinky toe atop a white illuminated table. The toe, which changed to a strange color in the fluorescent light, was still trickling blood. The man took off his latex gloves and went over to the blinds again for a smoke. I continued to look at my pinky toe on the illuminated table. As I stared at it, my chest felt like it was going to burst with fear. The man returned to the operating table after he had finished his cigarette.

“Let’s start from the top again. Where are the chimera files?”

“Just tell me what to do. I’ll do whatever you want.”

I was discombobulated and desperate.

“All you need to do is tell the truth. That’s all I need. I’ll ask it again. Where are the chimera files?”

“I don’t know. But if they do exist, I can find them for you. Really.”

“I hate when people repeat themselves. And you changed your story. That’ll cost you. This time, it’ll be a finger as punishment.”

The man put anesthesia in my left pinky. He then checked with the tip of the needle to see if the anesthetic had kicked in. “I’m sorry! Please give me another chance,” I screamed as I twisted my body. The man didn’t answer. Instead, he started to scowl as though my screaming was annoying him. The man took the sheers and cut off my left pinky with another metallic snip. He then picked up the finger with his pair of forceps, showed it to me, and placed it alongside my pinky toe on the lit table. And just as before, he took off his gloves, went over to the blinds, peered out for a quick glance, then began smoking another cigarette. When he finished the cigarette, he read the document on top of the desk again, then tapped the document twice with his finger. Walking over to me again, he adjusted the operating table by raising my legs and the arm rests. He then tied a rubber ring tourniquet around my ankle, and then my wrist.

“To stop the bleeding. Well, shall we? From what you divulged just a minute ago, it seems there’s a possibility there are some chimera files after all?”

I thought for a moment about how I should answer. My mind was working faster than it ever had. I thought about countless scenarios, my speech habits, his possible reactions. What did he want? Did I have what he was demanding from me? How could I avoid losing all my fingers today? If I said now that there were chimera files, won’t he chop off my ear? On the other hand, he’ll probably chop it off if I say there aren’t…

“Yes, there might be,” I said shaking.

“Since I’ve already cut off one of your fingers, let’s get things straight before continuing. First, you said there were none. Now you say there might be. So, which one is it? Are you going to stick with that there might be some chimera files?”

I nodded my head.

“So, the chimera files could exist; you just don’t quite know where they are. There are only two people who handle Cabinet 13, but, being one of them, you still have no idea where they are. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“At least until now. I mean, until now I haven’t really given the chimera files much thought.”

“A man named K offered you two billion won for the files, and you’re telling me you still didn’t give the chimera files much thought? You didn’t even try looking for them?”

“I did think about it, but I didn’t try too hard to find them. I thought they might not even exist. And because I have a steady income, I didn’t really need all that money. Of course, if I did have them, I would have sold them. But Professor Kwon’s such a scrupulous person that, if he had decided to hide them, they’d probably be hidden in a place I’d never be able to find them. And–”

“You’re talking too much; you’re not getting to the point; and you’re contradicting yourself. Tell me the truth. That’s the only way out of this. You’re going to leave this place in pieces if you play tricks trying to save a few fingers.”

The man numbed another toe and cut if off with the shears. I closed my eyes as he cut off the toe. My entire body was shaking. When I opened my eyes, another toe had been added to the growing collection.

This torture continued for the better part of a day. The man asked the same question again and again, and I said whatever I could trying to get out of the situation. Sometimes I spoke carefully, sometimes I fumbled with my words and contradicted myself, sometimes I mumbled to him in utter despair, and sometimes I cursed at him in vain. Sometimes I said I knew where the files were, sometimes I said I didn’t, sometimes I said I was sorry or asked for forgiveness, and sometimes I said I would get revenge on him if I ever got out of there. And each time, the man just shook his head as he cut off another one of my fingers or toes. After several hours of this, five toes and four fingers were congregating on the table. The man showed me his collection of fingers and toes as he spoke:

“It’s been five hours and I still haven’t heard any of the answers I’ve been looking for. You have five toes and six fingers left. Do you know what that means? It means if you can’t figure it out soon, you’re doing to lose all your toes and fingers. How many fingers can you have cut off before you cease to be human? In my experience, about four. Up until that point, you’re still a human, but once you’ve lost five or six, you’re more monster than human. Mr Kong, how do you see yourself now?”

I was so paralyzed by fear, so foggy in the head with disbelief. I was lost in a maze. It felt like I was playing a game of Russian roulette and had lost more than half my fingers and toes in the process. I was so beaten down. I didn’t answer the man’s question. I had no answer to his question, nor could I even understand what it meant. I couldn’t form thoughts because all the words in my head were shattered like broken glass.

“You bastard, you should have just cut off the whole fucking arm,” I spat at the man.

The man turned my face toward him and look into my eyes. He then shook his head in disapproval. The man took the cart to the wall cabinet and took several minutes to pick out more medicines. The vials he returned with were different from what he had been using so far.

“This serum was designed to help extract secrets. It was first developed during the cold war by the Americans and the Russians. It also helps the individual who takes it to have a conversation with their inner ego. Today I’m considering using serum made in Russia and Germany. The Americans think theirs is the best, but the CIA doesn’t know as much about fear as they think; the KGB, they know what fear is.”

The man gave me an injection. Immediately my mind went fuzzy. My body became light as if I were in a dreamlike state, and my mood even seemed to improve. The man asked me how I felt. I told him I felt great. He then asked me if I was ready to talk. “Of course. I feel like I could ramble on for hours!” I said. The man continued to ask me questions, and my tongue began to move on its own. It felt like magic. As he continued his questioning, he suddenly stopped and said, “This isn’t working,” and brought over the shears again. Intoxicated from the serum, I begged in a weak voice, “No, please don’t.” He ignored my pleading and cut off another finger. I tried counting my remaining fingers, but I kept losing count. When he placed my severed finger atop the table, I thought to myself the absurd thought that I wished I could feel the pain when he cut off my fingers.

“You’re a cruel person,” I said. “Actually, you’re a nice man. Always kindly explaining everything to me in such detail.”

“It’s what I do,” the man said politely. “I’m a janitor, a public servant, and a delivery man.”

“Right, the modern job market is very diverse,” I said. Thick rain clouds were forming and floating inside my head. Rain fell, and lightning struck, and I could hear thunder. The falling rain turned to snowflakes and fell backwards up into the sky.

It was nighttime when I awoke. I had a skull-splitting headache. The man must have given me pain medication because I still couldn’t feel the pain from my missing body parts. The man was watching television. After I let out a groan, he came over to me to speak.

“I guess you don’t have the chimera files after all. I’m sorry that things have turned out this way. As I said at the beginning, it’s not easy for humans to trust one another. I know you don’t have the files, but I’m not so sure they will believe that. If the syndicate isn’t convinced by the report I’m going to submit to them, they’re going to send another person. You need to be careful. If you can’t find the chimera files, you’ll be on the run for the rest of your life. Get some more rest. While you’re asleep, I’ll call a doctor to stich up your hands and feet. Unfortunately, the doctor I usually work with is away on a business trip right now. He could have made your hands look pretty again.”

The man stuck another needle into my arm. I slowly drifted into sleep. I probably would have fallen asleep even without the medicine. I was so tired and beaten down.