At one time I dated this girl that use to make fun of me whenever I said I was positive about anything. She used to say it was not good to be positive because something could always change. I found out that she was right.
Breathing frantically and with sweat pouring down my face, nothing around me seemed familiar. Splitting myself constantly, it was becoming more difficult to figure out which me was where. Confusion was setting into my unconscious mind at night when while sleeping. Between that and all the half real dreams in strange places, it seemed like I was never in the same place twice.
Baal had been in my dream this time, or nightmare, trying to come through the glass as he had done just a few hours before. Not wearing a suit this time, though, he was not even human. He became a giant lizard form, suiting him, this time along with the traditional cloud of black smoke.
My shirt was soaked with cold sweat and my heart rate slowed with each breath. A lab coat walked in to check on me noticing my panic from the nightmare.
"Are you alright?" nodding and trying to put a thought together.
"Yes, I am fine. It was just a nightmare," swinging my legs of the edge of the metal framed bed.
"Again? That's four nights in a row," she sounded concerned.
"Stalking me?" raising an inquisitive eyebrow. She giggled and her cheeks blushed.
"Sorry. They have us keep track of that stuff. It's a real detailed list of things to watch for." No one ever talked about what it was they were doing behind the glass, it was always just an assumption.
"Yes, I am sure. Probably something like taking all the lab samples from my clothes and toiletries, right?" trying to get her to spill as much information as possible.
"Yeah, but that is even a longer list," she laughed at the thought of the list the clothing and toiletries people had to go through.
"Since you're up, did you want me to order breakfast?" pretty nice of her to ask. Room Service was a bonus.
"Sure," I was a creature of habit most of the time. There were certain orders that were best, "The eggs, bacon," I twirled my hand in the air.
"…And toast with pancakes. Double orders as always?" She had me down pretty good, but as she stated it was in the computer.
"Yes, please." As she walked out of the room, "Thank you." She winked as she shut the door.
Worry still came over me as my abilities became more familiar, my dreams would get me in trouble. Having a dream about Bob and then showing up wherever he was or about the Empire State Building and just waking up on top of it were serious possibilities.
Looking at myself in the mirror, thoughts of things not thought about in some time started whirling through my mind. The people with the black tactical boots were not in this facility, or if they were they were just blending in with everyone else. Those boots were on the feet of a lot of people in the building and all over outside in the other buildings.
In my wanderings around the facility, there were a lot of people wearing boots even with suits on. It stood to reason that a good number of people here were ex-military and probably use to wearing the boots for all occasions. Wearing mine around a lot after buying them, it amazed me how comfortable they were.
The government's involvement in my life was obvious at this point. One thing I had not thought about in awhile was the company that seemed to be hiding from the government and watching me closely. The same company I was sure had Delilah doing things for it, like keeping an eye on me the night of my 20th birthday.
The need for more answers was filling up inside me as the lab coat walked back in with a tray of food, "Here you go."
She put the food on the desk, "Thank you, young lady."
"You're welcome," she blushed and smiled walking out of the room.
Digging into the eggs, my mind was made up. Bob's resources were not usually this slow in getting information. Understanding how well that company was connected in the government, which made it difficult to get information, but this was a ridiculous amount of time. Meeting up with Bob was the only thing to help figure this out.
Downing both sets of eggs and drinking all the coffee, my eyes closed and focused on Bob. Just Bob and every emotion was on meeting with Bob.
Sitting in the passenger seat of one of my town cars, my eyes were focused on Bob driving. Looking back the food was still being shoveled in. The energy would be important for the day. There was no telling how long this was going to take. My focus was on being in the car.
"Here we are?" Swerving the car to the right and then the left, he almost hit an oncoming semi-truck. "You should pay attention to the road."
"Holy Fuck, Michael!" he was yelling out of frustration and surprising shock.
"Sorry. I do not know a way of making this easier on you guys when I move." It was the truth, either the light was on or it was off. There never seemed to be an in between.
"Yeah, I got it, but my heart tries to explode every single time you do that! Can't you leave a note before you show up? Shit." He chuckled a bit.
We needed to get down to business. Closing my eyes and looking back at the room, the lab coat had just walked in again to get the tray.
"Can I get another order of eggs and bacon, please?" she did not look surprised.
"Sure. Hungry today, huh?" she lifted the tray into her arms.
"Very!" smiling at her as she walked out of the room.
Closing my eyes and focusing only on the car and Bob, it was time to get answers on that company. They knew about the NSA facility, they might try to track me once my exit was made and the information about them would help prevent that.
"Bob, about that company Brokerage Entertainment Legal Investment and Linguistics," his face turned a little pale. "It has taken you too long. It seems like it has taken you a purposefully long time to come up with information on them."
Bob focused on the road and driving wherever he was heading. He was trying to avoid talking about the subject but had no place to go.
"Just tell me. It is not like you can jump out of the car," wondering if he was thinking about it.
"It's not that. I've know about them, or at leave enough about them, for awhile. I didn't want to talk about it with you until I could figure more out," he was intensely staring at the road in front of him.
Looking out the window of the car, "Where are you headed?" nothing was recognizable in the way of landmarks. The trees and flowers suggested we were in Virginia.
"The NSA building to talk about the company you just mentioned. My friend's going to meet me," finally, some truth about everything.
"How connected is this company to the government?" wondering if we would ever truly know the impact this company was having on what was going on with me.
"Heavily! The people inside the building you are at know about this company. There are people that work for the company all around you at all times," shock was the only feeling for that statement. All the tactical boots in the building would mean a lot.
"How are they connected to me?" Bob just stared out the window trying to put his thoughts together.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he glanced at me briefly. "Let's do this; you meet with me and my friend. After that I'll fill you in on everything I can. Sound good?"
"Sure," staring out the window again.
We were driving down a long stretch of road in the middle of nowhere. The trees were the birch you would find in middle coastal states. Ahead of us were some buildings. It had to be the place we were heading because it was the only civilization where we were.
As we drove closer, these were not unfamiliar buildings. The bigger one was the building I had been living in for two years. Frantically, my head turned to Bob.
"What the hell are we doing here?!" a low growl was under the words.
"What?" he looked genuinely unknowledgeable about the buildings.
"This is where I have been for the last two years, Bob," he looked ahead at the buildings with his face turning white.
"Which one?" as he squinted looking ahead
Pointing at the one I was in, "Right there. I am on the first floor underground."
"Shit! Do you want me to turn around?" he was anxious as he looked at me and his voice was shaking.
"No. I want to see who it is you know inside. Besides, if they have been around me they will know right away who I am." It would be a good test to see how reliable the information was.
We pulled up to the turnabout in front of the building and waited. Not long after, a man in a black suit came walking out of the building and he did look familiar. Although everyone in the building looked like a copy of one another.
"I know him," waving my hand over my clothes so I had a suit on and a pair of sunglasses. My hair changed to blonde with a blonde goatee.
"When did you learn to do all that?" Bob asked shocked.
Approaching the car was a man that had been in and out of the shift rotation to watch me and drop things off for me. Remembering back, he was in the room during my first day in the facility talking with the director of the NSA and the General. Since he was allowed in the room to hear about John he would have some privileged information.
"He will know some things. This is good." My eyes twitched and in the room the female lab coat was picking up my second tray. A group of lab coats were coming in for testing right as she left. "Good."
"Good, what?" Bob was thinking it had something to do with his friend.
"They are testing me. It will be easy to focus on this." He shook his head in amazement and shrugged it off as the man climbed into the back seat of the car.
"Hey, Bob. Let's get out of here, please." Bob pulled the car away slowly heading out of the turnabout.
"Where are we heading?" Bob asked.
"Just drive the same way you came in," he was nervous. "Who's your friend?"
"Just a guy that works for me. He's fine," Bob lied well. So well that the guy did not even think twice of it. "Okay. Talk."
Pulling off his sunglasses, he got more comfortable. In the reflection in the glass I could see him slinking down in the seat and looking around him every so often. This was good because it meant he thought what he would say was something that should not be shared outside the building or the agency.
"I can confirm the document your man found. That's all true as far as we are concerned. It all checks out." A car was heading toward us down the road and he peaked out to see who it was. "As for inside, I would say about half the people on the project are actually paid by that company."
Bob's foot came off the gas, "That makes no sense at all, Jason. None."
"Hey, I'm just telling you what I know. That's it. I can't help it if you don't like the truth, man." He was looking out the window as the car passed us. He did not seem alarmed, "What's really strange is John."
"Why is he strange?" As he finally mentioned something to peak my interest.
Jason kept going without being phased, "From what I could find, that company is the one that told the NSA about John and how to catch him. Where exactly he would be about two weeks ahead of time."
My own questions would get us there faster, "A lot of people plan things out well in advance. If a person were so inclined to get a plan from a person like that, they would then know where a person would be on given dates. Such as someone with a planned out schedule like the President."
"Who are you? Sherlock Holmes?" I waved my hand over my face getting rid of the sunglasses, blonde hair and goatee and then spun around. "Fuck! I just saw you in your room before I left."
"Yes. Technically I am still there, too," giving him a little wink. "Now, what else did you find out?"
Jason sat up and looked all around the car. He was becoming very anxious and it made me second guess letting him know it was me sitting there.
"Focus, Jason. What else did you find out?" trying to pull him back to reality right then and stay the course.
"I," he looked at me shaking, "I found that all these people Bob was asking me about, that you guys thought were chasing you, are on the payroll for the company. Even that woman Delilah."
The relevance of all this was escaping me, but it was written all over Bob's face as if he had seen a ghost. He was staring straight forward, in shock, driving down the road.
"I do not understand anything you are talking about," shaking my head.
Bob reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Jax hacked into the IRS and found this," he handed it to me.
At the top was the Internal Revenue Service header. It was some sort of tax liability statement for a company. The name of the company was Brokerage Entertainment Legal Investment and Linguistics. Listing out each were parents to that company which was a subsidiary. Having had so many companies formed now I was use to seeing these kind of documents. At the bottom of the list was the listed owner.
"Is this some sort of joke, Bob?" asking him sternly. At the bottom was my own name.
Bob shook his head, "I wish it was, Michael. It would make this a lot simpler."
Pacing myself through the possibilities of what this could mean, the scenery flew by the car. No beginning and no end, it just went around in circles throughout my mind.
"So, either someone is setting me up or I am some kind of multiple personality case," covering my face with my hands. The reality of this possibility was setting in. The being in two places at one time The dreams that seemed so real.
Bob jumped in quickly, "You don't have multiple personalities. I've seen the things you can do and yes you have spent days over the last two years with me around you," he stared in the rearview mirror. "I'm guessing you guys have never seen him missing from the room you have him in?"
Jason shook his head, "Never. He's always there. Every single day for the last two years."
"There you go. I wouldn't worry about that." Bob had a way of using his ex-cop mind in a way that could help me feel better, but the idea and possibility of it were still there.
"Okay. Okay. So, let's say someone is setting me up," staring at the paper in my hand. "Why would a company with this kind of financial stability want to set me up?"
No matter which way it was thought about, the motive for setting me up was just not compelling. If a rival company set me up, then why would they put together a huge corporation that made hundreds of millions of dollars in order to put my name on the bottom line? Then, if the goal was to get me out of the picture for the businesses, why would they set me up with the NSA who has been keeping this on the secret end for so long? Right now I am visible to the company and have been for a year and a half. Which brings up the next question, why has no one come after me again? Then add to that the company's people inside to watch me. Who would pay a bunch of people to do that?
"Michael, what if you setup the company and don't remember doing it? Remember the before fifteen memory issue." That was true.
"No," said resoundingly negative. "Someone would have to be running it right now during all of this? I know that I am not. So, who would that be?" sitting there, thinking, and staring out the window at the trees. Then it came to me.
Bob and I turned to each other at the same time, "Matt!"
"Jason, thank you," looking into his eyes. "Please, do not let anyone know that I am outside or about anything in this conversation. I would have to permanently leave and Bob and his family would be in danger." Jason nodded with his lips tightly sealed. "Good. Now, Jason, can you drive this car back and leave it in the parking garage?"
"I think I can do that. I'll tell the guard it was my buddy's car that I had to drop at the airfield. I know an agent who just went out of town."
"Bob, pull the car over here," pointing at a field area off the shoulder.
We all climbed out of the car and Jason came over to the passenger side. Bob handed him the keys as we headed off to the open field. Jason got in the car and started it, but stayed to watch us through the windshield.
We were in the middle of the field, when my focus became Matt. "Now, you will have to hug me. Sorry, I have only done this once before and it was on accident."
"Oh, man. Are you telling me you haven't tried this since?" he sounded very nervous.
"Yes. I think I have it, though. Maybe," I grabbed him and hug him against me.
Focusing everything all emotion on Matt, my vision hazed with everything twitching. Right away it was a familiar place to feel and see. Letting go of the field, we were only at the Stage. Bob was still in my arms looking down at me, it obviously worked.
"Did that feel strange?" he still had his eyes closed.
"Are we there?" leaving hi eyes closed, he sounded panicked.
"Yes," and he opened his eyes looking around the room.
"Wow! I didn't feel anything but a little breeze," he spun around. "Are we in New York?"
"I think so," heading for the stairs. "Matt?!" yelling extremely loud. "Matt, damnit!"
He came out of the billiard room with a drink in his hand. "What?!" He was a little surprised to see Bob and I. He looked from Bob to me. "Did you just move both of you here?"
"Yes. Still working on getting hold of that one as well." He looked pleasantly surprised.
"Cool. If you can get a control of that, we don't have to fly anymore." He took a sip.
"Matt," Bob started but he was coming in aggressively.
"Matt," cutting Bob off. "I was wondering a couple of things," we followed him back into the billiard room where he picked a stick up off the table and started shooting at the balls again. "I want you to know that you can talk to me in front of Bob about this. Do you understand?"
He dropped the stick again and lit up a cigarette. "Sure, mate. Whatever you say."
Nodding slowly, "Good. Now, I want you to tell me if I ever told you not to talk about something in front of me or anyone else unless I started to talk about it first."
"Okay," he took a drag.
"I want to know this about Brokerage Entertainment Legal Investment and Linguistics," he dropped the cigarette on the floor and started to cough. "That sounds like a yes to me."
"Are you sure," he took another sip to clear his cough, "you want to talk about this? You have told me so many times to never talk about it in front of anyone." My jaw dropped open. Not one time was there even a hint of memory about talking to him about anything like that.
"Are you saying we have had detailed conversations about this?" He just nodded and chugged his drink down. "Was this before I was fifteen?" He shook his head.
Pulling out the document that Bob gave me as he walked up to me and looked over my shoulder. Overlooking the end of it, I was staring at my name, earlier. The company was established the year I was sixteen. The conversations would have happened during the time I could remember.
"Well, what does that mean, then?" Bob asked a little befuddled and headed for the bar.
"I have sat down with you in the room and had detailed conversations about this company and how I wanted you to run it before?" Matt just nodded his head. "When was the last time?"
"The day before your birthday," that was a shock. I stayed in the facility all day because they had so many tests going based around the fact it was my birthday coming up.
"Bob, you better pour me one," shooting him a distasteful look. "Matt, did you ever wonder if I had split personality disorder with some of the things that have been going on?"
"No. I just figured you were a really good actor," he said quickly and honestly.
"Did you setup the group who was watching me on my birthday?" he nodded. Bob threw a glass across the room shattering it on the wall. "What about Delilah?"
"No, mate. All you told me was to put a girl with really hypnotic translucent blue eyes and black hair on the team. That was it." He walked over to the vodka and just grabbed the bottle. "Dude, you lead and I follow. I figured you had your reasons for all of this."
Twilight Zone episodes were never close to that bizarre. It was the strangest feeling. There was no recollection of any conversations or any knowledge about any of what Matt described. Living as a split personality might have been my own reality. Bob handed me the drink. Shooting an odd glance at him, it was Scotch.
Splitting it out, "What the hell is this?"
"What? You said the other day you wanted to switch it up to Scotch for awhile," he took a sip.
"When was this?" He looked at me strangely.
"The day before your birthday," dropping the glass on the floor.
"Dear God, I do have a split personality," feeling really dizzy. "And he drinks Scotch."
Bob helped me over to the couch to sit down. It was stunning to think about leaving the room and talking to them but making up stories for the time in my own mind that had nothing to do with the truth.
"I thought you were acting funny that day," he got up and walked over to the bar and poured some vodka in a glass. He walked back over and handed it to me.
Taking a drink, "So, I wonder how many people I have talked to in this state?" feeling dazed and staring off to the other side of the room at nothing.
Matt hopped up on the pool table and looked over at me. "Split Personality disorder usually doesn't have a personality that acts exactly like another personality remembering everything the other personality or personalities are doing and thinking," both Bob and I looked at him shocked that he would have that much perceptive analysis of it. "Remember, I did take some psychology." There where memories that he did take some classes for that subject.
"How else would you explain that, though? I am interacting with you and yet I have no knowledge of it what so ever," as my frustration mounted.
"Maybe you should look in the Library in your head, mate," he laughed. Not a bad idea at all actually. "So, when you were talking to me you seemed fine. The only thing that ever noticed being off was how you talked sometimes. You'd sound like an aristocrat or like you were from the early 1900's."
"Maybe that's the personality. I did notice the same thing," Bob said from beside me.
"At least it was not the personality of a woman," we all kind of laughed at that. "I would hate to see myself in a dress," taking another sip of the vodka.
Some other things did not make any sense about this, "Why would I create a company, with my split personality, and then have myself followed around by people in the company?" there was only more confusion at each conclusion.
"Not only following yourself around, but you would tell some of them to do certain things. It's making more sense talking to you about it now than it did then." Matt lit up another cigarette. Walking over to him, my hand ripped it out of his mouth. Not smoking very often, it was rough on my throat.
Standing in front of Matt, "Like what?"
Shaking his head, "You setup the doorman in LA the day you got shot at. The guys that had dinner with Fred Willis the night you had dinner and that little chair trip. Even the guy that got pissed off was on the payroll. You told him to find something to after you for. You even suggested you might just pay the bill and that would be the signal for it."
No bug in the world could have had bug eyes as large as mine at that exact moment. Shock and awe would be an understatement. Turning to Bob, his face looked like how I felt mine looked.
"Reynolds', the guy you took the suit from in the building, he works for the company. You told him to leave some dry cleaning you gave him behind his office door. Those weren't even his suits. They were yours." At that point there was no bottom to the glass.
Things not making sense were one thing, but this was something completely different. It took me back to the dream about my mother and ended up in Canada. At the time there were questions whether it was made up in my own mind in order to justify some things that were going on. Later, it felt real, but this was making me feel differently.
"So, now I have fabricated an alternate personality that is running around setting up strange shit for me? How did the other me know that I would take the suit during that week?" More drinking, around the room, was involved in the next few seconds.
Matt's psychology classes were getting a work out tonight, "Maybe the other you is driving you to do certain things to take advantage of what he is setting up?"
"To what end? Do you see my problem?" raising my arms in frustration.
"I do," the only ex-cop in the room chimed in. "What is the motive? There is no motive that could explain this amount of trouble. It's so calculated and planned out, for years. What would the end goal be?" Bob was echoing my sentiments.
"Exactly!" pouring the vodka from the bottle in Matt's hand. "It sounds to me like this other me," getting excited and spirited waving my arms around, "is not an idiot. Why would he set all this up for me if there was not some magnificent reason for it in the end?"
"You know, you've always spoke more like this when you've talked to me about this company," his eyebrows went up. "Just, it was even more polished," he pretended to mold my face in the air.
Shrugging him off, "Does either of you have an idea before we all become too drunk?"
Bob decided he was not drunk yet, "What about a double? Some company makes someone look just like you, but they are more refined with their speech."
It stirred the thought, "Really, that makes even less sense. Think about it. At least with the split personality idea I am pushing myself and can make myself take something like the suit. If it is not me, then how would they know to have me take the suit during that week? And then you come to the same question we had before. What is the end goal? I am still running the companies. If they wanted me out of the picture they have had the last year and a half to try again. Instead they just keep going with the original plan as soon as a couple of days ago?"
Smoking the rest of the cigarette, I drank more vodka. We were all drinking pretty fast around the room. Every scenario made less sense than the previous one. What was really getting me was just the simple fact there was no goal for anything. We could not come up with any reason, for someone else or myself, to have started this company and have gone through all the events leading up to this point. It had taken too long and so much time, money and effort to setup and keep going.
"When I was talking to you guys, did I move?" an idea was forming.
They looked at each other and both nodded.
"Okay. That tells us something, then. It could not be a double because I am the only person I know of or even heard of that can do that."
"Okay, you're right about that. Guess it has to be this split personality idea," Bob might have been drinking faster than Matt and I combined.
"I wish you guys could strap me down for a couple of days just to watch me and see what it was like to be the other personality," taking another drink and sitting back down next to Bob.
"Hey, how long did you say you would stay 21?" Matt brought up out of the blue.
"Basically, 990 years. Why?" It was a very strange time to go over the details I learned from John.
"So, in 100 years you will still look 21, right?" He poured more vodka in his glass.
Looking away from him, "Yes. That is the general idea."
"I know a reason that someone would create a company and go through all the trouble of setting up these clues. It just hit me," he looked as Bob and I were waiting intently for the answer. "Because you had to in order to live." Okay, that is a good reason, but it did make one bold assumption.
"But how would I know I was going to die. I mean, unless...."