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Pithos

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by Mark Gardner

Smoke billowed from broken third story windows. Police Officers herded back onlookers. Sawhorse barriers kept the people back, but reporters and cameramen climbed over.

The three-alarm fire was a big story, not because of the potential loss of life or property damage or even the simple primal desire to see and command fire itself, but because of who the Fire Commissioner was. Danny Peterson was the youngest person to ever hold the position of Fire Commissioner in the city’s history. She also happened to be a woman. Women’s rights and equality were all well and good on paper and when scholars discussed and debated it in universities, but in reality, the equality portion of the debate was the most poignant. Women earned less than their male counterparts and women were still considered by many to be fragile. Many difficult jobs, including firefighting, were considered men’s work. Losing a male firefighter in the line of duty was a tragedy, but to lose a woman? People just wouldn’t accept it.

There are those who insist that there is equality, but even in today’s age, a majority of society believes a woman’s job is to maintain the household and pop out male heirs on demand. ‘Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen’ was not just a tongue-in-cheek expression; it was the expectation of not only most men, but also millions of women everywhere. A woman was perfectly suited to be a schoolteacher or a waitress; even a doctor or politician, but not a combat engineer or firefighter. These beliefs were continually perpetuated by a male-dominated culture. There were scant exceptions, and any woman who strayed from these expected societal roles were branded with the scarlet ‘F’ of Feminism.

Danny Peterson knew she wanted to be a firefighter at a very young age. Her parents were not firefighters, nor was anyone in her extended family. She didn’t live in a neighborhood where hero firefighters lived, and otherwise made their presence known. No tragedy in her past compelled her to want to fight fires. She had no reason by society’s expectations to want to be a firefighter. Societal norms reflected what society thought it wanted, but society couldn’t possibly factor the reasons that resulted in Danny Peterson wanting to fight fires.

The desire was planted at an early age when Danny watched a multi-part documentary on a public broadcasting station. That documentary was about the life of firefighters. During the five-day program, many firefighters candidly revealed the tremendous lack of funding to keep these unsung heroes safe. From aging equipment to poor facilities, firefighting was a dangerous occupation, but undeservedly so. So at age seven, Danny knew her life goal was to fight fires and ensure no hero had to perish due to a lack of technology or funding. While many little girls her age were worrying if their outfits matched their shoes, Danny worried about the trials and tribulations of firefighters. Danny consumed books, trade magazines, and websites focusing on firefighters and firefighting technology. She begged her parents to take her to firefighting museums.

When her interest in firefighting lore lasted five or six years, her parents started actively encouraging her interests. Not that they hadn’t encouraged her in the past, but she was a little girl – and little girls were not interested in being firefighters. Firefighting and its accoutrement was the exclusive domain of little boys. She didn’t outgrow her interests in firefighting, and so she started making frequent trips to visit the local volunteer fire department. She became their unofficial mascot, spending more and more time there as her parents permitted. She hated the condescending role as a mascot, but she endured for the sake of the firefighters she knew. Over time she convinced her parents to organize bake sales and junk drives to raise money for the fire department. At age thirteen, while her schoolmates were worrying about which boys liked which girls, Danny worried if she would be accepted to a junior firefighting academy. The academy seemed to be used by the local magistrate to encourage troublemakers or otherwise delinquent youths to do something useful with their lives. Many of them chose the academy to avoid juvenile detention. Danny chose it to hone her passion into a useful skill set.

Danny excelled at the academy; her life moved progressively toward college with degrees and multiple certifications in the art of firefighting. She firmly believed firefighting was not a science, but an art. When she decided to run for the elected position of Fire Commissioner at the age of twenty-two, there was quite the debate. The old arguments of gender roles were on everyone’s minds. She had the backing of any firefighter who had ever met her. The old-timers from that first volunteer fire department were her most vocal supporters – having known her most of her life. The politicos did not like her at all. She fervently and loudly advocated for more funding and training for the improvement and education of firefighting. She was always interested in new technologies, technologies that were usually expensive, and often did not pan out. These politicians feared her election because she definitely had the support of the firefighters, as well as the general population. Her passion for the craft was the most cogent evidence for election.

Danny’s win over the incumbent, and a field of other hopefuls, was historical. This was a city that could never seem to get any policy ratified, or person elected by any means. It seemed as though nothing ever got done. Danny’s popularity was so strong she won not only the majority of the public vote, but she achieved a landslide victory that was considered by many of her supporters to be unanimous. At age twenty-two she was an elected official and had powerful sway over the voting public. The politicos feared this power, claiming it would be her downfall.

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Danny surveyed the scene surrounding the three-alarm fire.

“Get those reporters out of my perimeter,” she shouted.

Police officers immediately moved to round up errant news crews. Many of these officers were older than Danny by several, and in a few cases many, years. Despite this, they did their job efficiently; after all, she was the Fire Commissioner. Danny didn’t lord over the individual fire crews or their captains. She knew many of them personally and trusted their judgment. Her presence was not really needed here, but the freshness of her election and the growing regional and national attention necessitated she be present.

The fire was rapidly contained. The fire itself wasn’t the issue. The size of the building required multiple attacks to contain and suppress the flames. Containment was nearing completion; several crews were entering the building to prevent flare-ups and to continue the suppression effort. Everyone was starting to relax. Many of the units were breaking down and cleaning equipment. They started transporting equipment and personnel to their fire stations around the city.

Suddenly, the ground below the spectators rumbled. It was enough to knock many of them off their feet and set off car alarms blocks away. Danny was glad the perimeter was established in the earliest stages of the suppression effort. A BLEVE, boiling liquid expanding vapor explosion, consumed the bottom floor of the building. The BLEVE scorched vehicles and singed personnel as far away as one hundred meters. The BLEVE moved so quickly that no one had a chance to react, and it burned out quickly. There was still A-triple-F, advanced film forming foam, everywhere so the building didn’t flare up again. Other than some very scared bystanders, no one appeared to be seriously injured.

A commotion from one of the crews attracted Danny’s attention. Something was happening, and there were a lot of professional fire fighters upset about something. The colorful language coming from the crew chief of the unit in the building was carrying; something had gone wrong.

“I want a crew in there yesterday! Get your shit together! Let’s move it! Move! Move! Move!”

Danny recognized the crew chief by the ball cap that was his attempt to conceal his receding hairline. He was supposed to be on vacation, but stopped to assist on the way out of town.

Danny ran up to the group, her duffle flopping against her hip. “Chief, what’s going on?”

“Miss Peterson,” he greeted.

Danny ignored the formal nature he addressed her; he had always called her Danny, but this was a stressful event.

“We think that the BLEVE was the result of the failure of a flammable liquid storage facility under this building. Our team was investigating and we believe they were securing access to the storage tanks. There hasn’t been any radio contact since the explosion. We need a crew in there now!”

The chief returned to barking orders to get a proper crew together to investigate. Without hesitation Danny spoke up, “Chief, I have my gear right here, you get me three other guys, and we’ll get in there.”

The chief turned to make sure he had heard her correctly only to see her suiting up and adjusting the mask to her OBA, or oxygen breathing apparatus. Within seconds of agreeing to go in, Danny had a crew of three and they were running toward the building.

Getting to the basement to assess the storage tank was not any harder than many of the other scenes they witnessed during their careers as professional firefighters. They made good time to the access hatch, and began the search for the missing crew. It was sometimes difficult, and they had to stay in visual contact with each other at all times. They were eager to rescue their missing comrades but safety was paramount – losing another crew wouldn’t help anyone.

They were able to locate all members of the missing crew except one. The search continued as the rescued crewmembers were evacuated to safety. It was painstakingly slow returning for each crewmember, but they were a team and forced themselves to stay together. One firefighter was still unaccounted for and Danny’s crew began to worry they wouldn’t find their comrade in time.

Danny scrutinized the articulated access hatch again. Something doesn’t add up, she thought. There were charred uniform tatters peeking out from the seal. She grasped the latch with both hands and pulled. She hoped the hatch would give way before her back did. The hatch groaned against her efforts, but opened nearly falling on her. She scrambled out from under the path of the opening hatch, and those around began shouting for help. A burned, face down body was floating in who knew what flammable liquid. It appeared they would be recovering remains today.

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At the hospital, Danny spent a lot of her time watching over the unconscious firefighters. Aside from the bruises and burns on some exposed skin, there were four broken ribs, a broken arm, a broken shoulder and a dislocated knee. As the firefighters regained consciousness, they pieced together the chronology of the explosion: The fallen firefighter was in the lead. He was standing inside the open hatch of the flammable liquid storage tank when he saw the ignition of the liquid. It was quicker for him to close the hatch and presumably rely on his gear to protect him from the blast. He successfully closed the hatch cutting off the oxygen, but his uniform coat had snagged on the hatch frame. He had not been fast enough and the existing oxygen mixed with the flammable vapor and exploded before the oxygen was depleted from the tank. The resulting explosion threw the surviving firefighters away from the center of the explosion. It had all happened in scant seconds from discovery to explosion. His quick thinking saved the lives of his fellow firefighters. The firefighter’s name was Terry Mann. He was named after his father, some kind of physician. He had no chance of survival once he made the decision to save his brothers. Plummeting ten meters into a tank of burning liquid and exploding vapor was not a pleasant way to die.

Tears welled up in Danny’s eyes and she excused herself from the room. Terrance Mann Jr. was one of the most outspoken firefighters in favor of Danny’s run for Fire Commissioner. He attended all her debates and posed some of the most difficult questions. Danny didn’t believe he was being malicious in what questions he asked, and answering those tough questions had solidified some of the people who were on the fence. Terry Mann was a constant presence during her candidacy, and she did not doubt he would be chief of a station soon enough. They had met frequently for coffee and talk. He maintained an aloof nature, but she suspected his façade hid a well of feelings he kept to himself. They managed to meet so frequently; she started looking forward to those future meetings. When schedules or work prevented him from meeting her, she missed him. Their relationship had moved beyond the familiar and was just starting the sparks of an impending romance.

In the hallway she attempted to gather her composure. Less than a week after assuming her duties as Commissioner, she had a fatality. Not just any fatality, but her friend. The whole situation teetered on ironic circumstance.

A nurse rushed up to Danny, “Miss Peterson! I need you to come with me immediately!”

Whatever the emergency was, it was better than thinking about Terry’s last moments. The reprieve, although temporary, was a welcome distraction. She followed the nurse down a few halls and found herself in the intensive care unit. She couldn’t figure out what was so important in the ICU, last she had heard the rescued firefighters had been moved. One of them had even been released, she thought.

As she rushed by groups of firefighters and well-wishers, she picked up fragments of hushed conversation. They all seemed to be talking about Terry Mann. It didn’t make sense – Terry Mann died saving his team. What was so important that she was rushed to the ICU?

The head of the ICU burst out of the room they were all gathered around, “We’ve stabilized him and in a few hours we will be transferring him to a burn unit.” He held up his hands to stem the tide of questions. “Terry is in a medically induced coma, and has third degree burns over seventy-two percent of his body. His chance of survival is less than four percent.”

The eruption of questions and the thundering of news reporters invading the waiting room was lost on Danny. The three sentences the doctor spoke rattled around in her brain. Terry was alive, but for how long? She closed her eyes and tried to envision the closest burn unit with the facilities to care for her friend.

She stood, testing her legs to see if they would do as they were told. She wiped barely perceptible tears from her cheeks and rushed to the parking lot.

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Terry Mann was transferred to the burn unit by helicopter. Danny drove straight to the burn unit. She ignored the ding and the indicator warning of a low fuel level. It was a ninety minute drive, but she made it there in seventy-five. She was one of the first to arrive, and her minor celebrity status gained her access to Terry Mann’s doctors. She felt a minor pang of guilt muscling into their meeting, but she cared enough for Terry to worry about the political repercussions. Perhaps you care too much, a voice in her head chimed. She ignored the chiming voice just as she had the low fuel warning.

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It had been five hours since the initial discovery Terry Mann was still alive, and just shy of three hours since Danny had arrived at the burn unit, when she heard a helicopter approaching. It circled the building twice and landed without anyone but her noticing. Danny was on the roof by the time it landed, but no one was rushing out to greet it, no gurneys or nurses; it was as if a helicopter did not exist.

Three men emerged from the hatch as the door slid back and recessed into the fuselage. The first figure to emerge looked oddly familiar to her, but Danny couldn’t quite place him. The next occupant was in a military uniform. Some sort of Special Forces, she thought as she watched the man conduct himself. The final occupant was a nondescript short man; he must have been a lab tech or other support staff. Their importance obvious, Danny focused her attention of the first two. As the trio got closer, she continued to have flashes of recognition of the first man, but her overtaxed brain was having the worst time identifying him.

When they made their way to the elevator door Danny was standing in, the helicopter departed with the same abruptness as when it landed.

Danny overheard one of the orderlies speak to two of the men. “Colonel Bishop, Doctor Mann, please follow me.”

Her flashes of recognition now made sense; Dr Mann was an older version of Terry Mann. She had never met him, but he was a dead ringer for Terry, or more precisely, Terry was a dead ringer for his father.

Danny followed the group as they walked calmly down the corridor. She fought against demanding that the elevator club hurry to her friend’s side. No one stopped her from following when the trio conferred with Terry’s doctors.

“Miss Peterson here has been making decisions for Terry since her arrival,” the doctor informed the senior Mann. “But now you’re here Doctor Mann, you’ll be assuming that responsibility.”

Dr Mann glanced in Danny’s direction, “Thank you Miss Peterson, you’re welcome to stay and be in the loop. My son has mentioned a fondness for you during your recent campaign.”

Danny smiled, despite her and Terry’s agreement to keep their relationship secret. “You’re most welcome, if you need anything, let me know.”

Dr. Mann gestured to the Special Forces soldier. “That’s what Colonel Bishop is here for, but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.”

Colonel Bishop looked in her direction, but said nothing. He was carrying a large metal suitcase, but he and the lab tech stayed in the background and did their best to stay out of the way.

The lead physician and Dr Mann were in a heated debate. “I’m not sure we should be performing any experimental procedures right now.” He flung a curtain closed between them and potential eavesdroppers. “Your son is stable, but he is at risk for any number of infections. His chances for survival are too low.”

“That’s why we need to do this.” Dr Mann jerked his thumb in the direction of the metal suitcase. “We can find out what his wishes are.”

Danny felt compelled to interrupt. “How can we know what he wants?”

Dr. Mann looked to Colonel Bishop, but the Colonel stoically made no attempt to be part of the conversation.

“We have an experimental technology that allows us to switch bodies, transfer consciousness from one body to another. Joe here is volunteering to trade bodies with Terry for this procedure.”

Danny stared wide-eyed at Terry’s father and Joe. “You can’t possibly be serious? That sounds like science fiction.”

Dr Mann sighed. “Miss Peterson, the only reason you are involved at all is my son expressed a fondness for you. He believes the two of you have a future together.” He stepped forward and placed a hand on the quarantine glass separating him from his son. “If you feel you are unable to control yourself, you’ll have to leave. The decision has already been made. Here is a federal writ of authority authorizing his transfer to our facility if needed. I would prefer to do this here, rather than risk my son’s health by relocating him, but I will if there are any disagreements here. We will start the procedure in thirty minutes.”

Danny knew not to push the issue. If she wanted to stay involved, she was going to have to go along with whatever Terry’s father had planned. She was able to watch the procedure from the next room through a glass window, but it was all very confusing. The device Colonel Bishop and Dr Mann were connecting to Terry and Joe the Tech was the same dimensions of a toaster oven, with a bundle of wires and a harness with electrodes leading to both men. She was skeptical anything would come of this, but she diligently watched and waited as she was expected. If this experiment could save Terry, she would hope for the best.

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At the allotted time, Dr Mann rotated some sort of knob on the device and flipped a switch. She expected more, but nothing seemed to happen.

Joe the lab tech screamed, “Get the fuck outta here!”

His arms and legs were flailing, pulling the electrodes off. He rolled over and off the gurney falling to the floor. He lay there unmoving. No one moved. No one spoke. Everyone was in shock.

A raspy voice came from the floor, “Where’s my gear? What the fuck’s goin’ on? I can’t move, is someone gonna help me up or what?”

Dr Mann and Colonel Bishop rushed over to help the fallen man get him into a sitting position on the gurney.

Dr Mann held the technician’s floppy head in both hands. He tried to speak in soothing tones, but his eyes were welling up with tears. His voice cracked as he whispered, “Boy, I thought I lost you!”

“Dad? What are you doing here? Why can’t I move?”

“Terry, you were in an accident.”

“What happened? Last thing I remember was fighting to close that hatch in the warehouse. It was going to explode.”

Terry reached up to grasp Dr Mann’s hands and saw his own hands for the first time, “What the fuck is this? These aren’t my hands!”

Dr Mann lowered his son’s temporary body to the gurney, “Relax, you were injured, we had to perform an experimental procedure on you.”

“The hell with relaxin’, tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Dr. Mann pointed to Danny and gestured for her to come in the room. Danny ran into the room and peered at Terry, scrutinizing his face for recognition. “Terry? Is it really you? Uh... Terry, you died saving your crew from a BLEVE.”

“Miss Peterson, enough with the theatrics. My son did not die, he was only seriously injured.”

“Terry, they did something, and you are in someone else’s body. Someone get me a mirror!” There was some shuffling and a flurry of activity while the assembled staff attempted to locate a mirror. By the time they got her a mirror, Terry was able to manipulate Joe’s arms and fingers. He grasped the mirror and looked into it to see Joe’s face looking back. Terry was obviously doing okay; he was sticking out his tongue and making faces at the mirror.

Dr Mann scowled at his son’s frivolity, “Well it appears he is able to manipulate the host body. Okay, that’s enough fun for now.” Dr Mann took the mirror away, “Can you sit up and wiggle your fingers and toes?”

Terry complied and expertly moved Joe’s fingers and toes.

“Now touch your thumb to each of your fingers, starting with your index finger an moving down to your pinkie.” Terry found he was not able to perform this request as easily as he had dispatched the first one. His fingers felt sluggish, as if there was some kind of delay between the thought and the execution. He smirked and thought this must be what law enforcement looked for when conducting a field sobriety test.

Suddenly Terry Jr asked, “What happened to the dude whose body I am using?”

Danny pointed towards the oxygen tent, “He is occupying your body.”

Terry rolled over to see his burned and mangled body, “I didn’t make it out of that warehouse, did I?”

“Well you did, but it will only be temporary. You have third degree burns over seventy-two percent of your body and you are at high risk of infection. If you beat the rapidly dwindling odds, you will end up being permanently disfigured...” She trailed off, knowing he knew what was going to happen. They had both known firefighters burned less severely than he was. They ended up with permanent disfigurements. Some were also addicted to pain killers; that was no way to live.

Terry demanded, “So, how’s this gonna go down?”

Dr Mann took his son’s hand, “This is a combination chance to say goodbye and an experiment to see if this procedure would even work. I guess you are going to get into the history books for this one.”

Danny took that opportunity to chime in, “He already is a hero to all of us, and a history book no one will ever read does not compare to his selflessness in saving everyone at that warehouse.”

“Danielle Michelle Gazelle,” Danny cringed at his pet name for her, “I appreciate what you are doing for me, but it isn’t about glory or history books, it is about doing the right thing. This could be my last opportunity to talk to you, to tell you how I feel...”

Danny interrupted him saying, “There will be time for that later, right now you just need to focus on healing.”

Suddenly the machines monitoring Terry’s burned body began to sound alarms. The burned body began to spasm, and nurses and doctors rushed in. The harness and electrodes on his head were tossed aside as their training kicked in attempting to resuscitate him. Danny, Dr Mann, Terry in Joe’s body and Colonel Bishop could only watch from their side of the room.

Terry was the first to speak, “What happens to me if my body dies?”

His father hesitated, “We, uh, we don’t know.” By now the flurry of activity around Terry’s body was intensifying. The quartet of non-medical personnel was escorted out of the room to give the medical staff additional room to work.

Back in the room behind the glass window, Terry continued performing the finger dexterity test. Danny was watching him intently. He was getting pretty good at it now. It appeared the initial control issues were now fading away; he appeared to have complete control over his borrowed body. When the news of the medical staff’s inability to resuscitate Terry’s body reached them, they were in shock. Terry Mann was pronounced dead eleven hours after arriving at the burn unit.

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Danny started the drive back to the city. Terry, Colonel Bishop and Dr Mann left the burn unit the same way they arrived, by unmarked helicopter. Danny was advised in the strongest language not to reveal anything she had witnessed that day. No one threatened her directly, but it was insinuated there would be quite a bit of trouble if word were to get out. She was awestruck by the events that day. The implication of her new knowledge was astounding, but she couldn’t tell anyone about it.

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Terry Mann received a hero’s parade, and was buried with full honors. Danny wrote and recited a speech. It was a moving speech touting a firefighter’s endless service to others and a renewed commitment toward training and education. When she concluded her speech, the gathered crowd jumped to their feet, cheering and clapping wildly.

Dr Mann, Colonel Bishop and Terry attended the funeral. Danny had a brief opportunity to see Terry before the mourners disbanded. Colonel Bishop started to speak with Danny, but the flash of a camera ended their brief encounter. Dr Mann and Colonel Bishop drew back a few paces to allow Terry and Danny a little privacy.

Terry grinned at Danny. “This is some weird mojo, huh? I liked your speech a lot. I really appreciate it.”

“So what happens now? You just continue as Joe the lab tech?”

“Joe knew the risks involved, and everyone at the facility knows I am Terry and not Joe. It’s basically ‘business as usual.’ They tested out the procedure a few more times with no glitches. It appears to work best if the hosts are unconscious for the transfer. Makes the transfer less traumatic to the senses and allows quicker motor control.”

“They’ve tried it again?”

“Yeah. First one day, then two and three. As long as I’m alive and kickin’, they’ll keep trying to do it longer. I’m the first, so they haven’t tried it again with me, but it looks like I will always be the longest swap. Anyway I gotta go, we had to fight to get this outing, and they are eager to have us back. I won’t be able to see you again, so I wanted to say goodbye.”

Terry leaned in and gave Danny a quick kiss on the lips. He was wearing the cologne she had purchased for him. A swell of emotions surged through her with that kiss, but it was brief, and the dull loneliness and sadness quickly returned.

Terry walked away. Colonel Bishop walked behind him toward Dr Mann waiting at a sedan. The trio got in; Terry paused to look at Danny once again before closing the door. The sedan drove away. As it disappeared down the driveway, Danny’s eyes teared up. Many mourners mistook those tears for tears of the loss of a close colleague, but they were not. They were tears mourning a colleague’s loss of freedom. She suspected Terry would never again feel free, and the world had lost a great firefighter again.

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In the months that followed, Danny went about doing the job she was elected to do. She was expected to do a lot of politicking. She hated every minute of it, but that was how things got done. She had looked forward to her new position, but it felt empty without Terry Mann. She managed to win a few federal grants that lessened the impact of the new training programs she instituted. The Terrance Mann, Jr Memorial Fund received a large anonymous donation. She suspected it was hush money, but even if she did tell someone about Terry, no one would believe her. She operated as if Terry were gone; she knew she would never see him again. She would just have to move on, as many of Terry’s friends were now doing.

Her job became commonplace. She threw herself into her work. Better to focus on the work at hand than to focus on the surreal events surrounding Terry’s ‘death.’ Everything was running smoothly until one day about six months after her experience at the burn ward. She arrived at her office like every other morning and a familiar face smiled at her in the waiting area to her office.

“Colonel Bishop, what can I do for you?”

Bishop glanced around the room, “Can we speak privately?”

Danny motioned towards her office door, “Right this way, Colonel.”

Bishop waited until Danny had closed the door before asking, “Have you seen Doctor Mann?”

“What, Recently?”

“Yes, he has been missing from our facility for about four weeks now. We believe he has gone rogue.”

“Why, what happened?”

“Well, there is a flaw with the swapping process. It seems when the switch happens, the original consciousness of both bodies is suppressed, but that suppression is only temporary. By day one hundred-twenty, the host consciousness starts to regain control over the body.”

“What happened to Terry?”

“Uh Miss Peterson, I don’t know to tell you this, but Terry Mann developed a severe case of paranoid schizophrenia and dissociative identity disorder. None of the existing anti-psychotic drugs were able to help him. His mental state was rapidly deteriorating. Eight weeks ago he assaulted some staff members, abducted Dr Mann and was able to elude us for about two weeks.”

“And you’re telling me this because...”

“Because, the retrieval of Doctor Mann is a high priority. During a standoff, Terry was holding Doctor Mann hostage. Terry was shot and killed to ensure Doctor Mann’s safety. A week later, Doctor Mann escaped custody with one of the early prototypes he developed. That was four weeks ago. We discovered he stockpiled a significant amount of cash. He had also stolen some equipment and parts needed to build another device. We think he blames us for his son’s death. His captivity and the resulting death of his son may have been too much for him to bear. There has been intel circulating he is attempting to sell the technology to the highest bidder. Attempts to retrieve him have failed. We were able to apprehend several switched bodies and restore them, but we suspect he has financial backing from a criminal syndicate and may be able to elude us indefinitely.”

Danny looked at the ceiling, “Pithos Pandora.”

“Excuse me?”

Danny fixed Colonel Bishop with an icy stare, “You know, the Greek myth: Pandora’s Box. Pandora was given a jar that contained all the evils of the world. She opened it against the wishes of the Greek gods, releasing evil into the world.”

“I hope this nation can survive this particular kind of evil.”

Danny shook her head, “When Pandora opened the jar, it wasn’t just Greece that suffered, it was the entire world.”

Colonel Bishop stood, touched Danny briefly on the arm, and walked out of her office. He closed her office door behind him and she never saw him or Dr Mann again.

-o-

Mark Gardner is a US Navy veteran. He lives in northern Arizona with his wife, three children and a pair of spoiled dogs. Mark holds a degree in Computer Systems and Applications, and is the Chief Operator for an Arizona radio group.

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