After a few moments of intense contemplation, Sam finally turned his attention back to the screen, asking Gaia, "What's the current status of the people on board the cargo ship?"
Her response was immediate.
[All of them are asleep, other than William Archer.]
Sam nodded, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. "I expected as much. I want the robots to take control of the ship now. Guide them to navigate towards Death Island. The journey will be dangerous, and it's a path no human can navigate without being affected by their emotions. Also, send one of the robots to William Archer. I want to have a chat with him."
[On it, Big Brother.] Gaia responded obediently.
Sam then reached for a sleek, black mask that sat on his desk, the same one he had worn when he first met William. Donning it, he looked back at the screen, his eyes hidden behind the cold anonymity of the mask.
A few moments later, Sam's screen displayed an image of William Archer. His face was a picture of terror, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.
-
In the depths of the cargo ship, William Archer was grappling with the puzzling situation he found himself in. He had complied with all the requirements and followed every instruction to the letter. However, there were still many aspects of the mission that he found elusive. Unbeknownst to him, his life was about to take a significant turn, a twist brought on by the impending conversation with the enigmatic Sam.
'Why should I take this sleeping drug as well? I want to see what unfolds.' William thought, curiosity gnawing at his patience. In the end, he'd given the drug to the rest of the crew, carefully mixing it into their meals, ensuring they would be fast asleep in minutes. But he had abstained, staying wide awake, waiting, watching.
Minutes ticked by, and then out of nowhere, something moved with lightning speed, appearing before him. Startled, he reeled back, heart pounding as he took in sight before him - a robot, and on the screen on the robot, an image of the masked man, the enigmatic Mr. Anon.
"You seem to have made a choice," Mr. Anon's voice echoed through the room, as cold and impassive as the mask that hid his face.
A cold shiver ran down William's spine. He had defied the instructions given to him; would this be his end?
Instead, to his shock, the masked man gave him a choice. "You can stay on this ship, see where this journey takes you, and become part of my plan. Or, you can take a lifeboat and leave. If you're lucky, you might return to the land and regain your freedom," Sam's voice resonated, giving William an unexpected choice.
William couldn't help but gawk. In the face of this advanced robot, he had expected punishment, not a choice. He had defied the mysterious Mr. Anon; shouldn't he be facing retribution? Wasn't he a mere bug that the masked man could squash without a second thought?
"But regardless of your choice," Mr. Anon continued, cutting into William's spiraling thoughts, "I assure you, your desire for revenge will be fulfilled. So, choose now. You have exactly one minute."
With that, the room fell into silence, the only sound being the ticking of the clock, counting down the seconds as William grappled with the monumental decision before him.
In the ship's oppressive silence, the clock ticking was all William could hear. It was loud, a deafening reminder of the gravity of the situation, each tick followed by a tock that seemed to gnaw at his sanity, leaving him barely any time to reason through his circumstances.
William swallowed as the clock counted down to the final five seconds, his throat dry. A profound quietness took over him, and he breathed out, the air shaky from his lips.
"I choose option 1," he finally managed, the words coming out in an exasperated rush.
"An interesting choice, Mr. William," Mr. Anon's voice was steady, almost encouraging. "It should be a pleasure working with you. But, pray tell, why option 1?"
William blinked, his heart still racing from the decision he had made. After a moment, he began to speak, "It was. . . it was instinctive, I suppose. But now that I reflect on it, it feels right. The second option would have given me the freedom I desired, but it would have also painted a bull's eye on my back. I've seen things that were not meant for my eyes. That would have put me squarely in your crosshairs. I would rather stand by your side than be on the opposing team."
A low chuckle echoed from Mr. Anon, an unexpected sound in the stillness. "Clever reasoning, William. But being on my side doesn't necessarily equate to loyalty."
His statement was simple, but the underlying meaning was clear. William nodded in understanding, "True. There is no guarantee in such matters. How do we proceed from here?"
His question hung in the air, the tension building as he awaited Mr. Anon's response. The clock was no longer ticking, but time seemed to move faster as the moment of truth approached.
The reality of the situation began to sink in for William, a harsh clarity that made him understand his insignificant position in the grand scheme of things. He was merely a pawn in the vast chessboard of Mr. Anon's plan, a single gear in the massive, well-oiled machine that was this mysterious figure's enterprise. His only hope for survival now was to fully integrate himself into the machinery, to become a cog so essential that it could not be discarded.
"You seem to have a quick mind, William, and you recover fast. Perhaps I should give your potential more consideration," Mr. Anon's words broke through his train of thought. "Anyway, let's get back to our immediate agenda."
"What is to be done now?" William asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his mind.
"Let the robots take control of the ship. As for the people you brought with you. . ." Mr. Anon trailed off, letting the unspoken question hang in the air.
"They are of no consequence," William replied, understanding this conversation's direction. "They are orphans, the forgotten ones of society."
William could see the logic of the plan taking shape. If the crew was not deemed valuable, they would remain asleep until they returned to port. It was not a death sentence but a coma of ignorance. Unconscious, they wouldn't be a threat or a liability.
He had been aware of the need for a crew since receiving Mr. Anon's package. He knew just the people - his fellow orphans, his comrades who were still struggling to make a living in a world that had cast them aside. He offered them a chance, a glimmer of hope, and they jumped at it.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized he might have stumbled upon an unexpected goldmine by aligning himself with Mr. Anon. It was a risky gamble, but a risk that promised immense rewards if it played out right. All he needed to do was to ensure he played his cards right.
Something in the way William reasoned and responded impressed Mr. Anon, something about the teenager's street-smart quickness appealed to him. He couldn't help but give him a nod of approval, an unspoken acknowledgment of his potential.
"Well done, William," Mr. Anon said, his voice carrying a hint of surprise. "Now, let the robots guide you to the final destination."
Before ending the conversation, he added a note of caution, "You might want to take the sleep-inducing drug now. If you don't, the horrors you might witness could overwhelm you."
William paused for a second, mulling over the words. The phrase 'faint out of horror' echoed in his mind, sending shivers down his spine. But he had made his choice and would stick to it, no matter what.
"Alright, Mr. Anon." His voice didn't waver, and he reached out to take the drug.
As he fell into a deep, drug-induced sleep, Mr. Anon watched him, silently contemplating his decision. There was a calculated risk to trusting someone like William, but he felt it was worth taking.
"Gaia," he said, his tone firm and resolute, "proceed with the plan. Instruct the robots to navigate to Death Island."
The apartment echoed with the digital confirmation of his AI companion.
[Understood, Big Brother. Navigating towards Death Island.]
This was the next move in a larger game.
The idea of building an underground base on Death Island had long been brewing in Sam's mind. The thought of having his operations center on an isolated island, away from prying eyes, was necessary for him. It was a challenge he was ready to take on.
The weather conditions around and on the island were treacherous, known for sudden, violent storms. Sam knew he had to devise a system to bypass these conditions for incoming and outgoing travel. The cargo ship would make a few more trips, though he had no certainty of its survival post the maiden voyage. It was a gamble, but one he was willing to stake his plans on. The anticipation of what was to come was a deliciously exciting prospect.
Sam mulled over his plans in the quiet solitude of his apartment. His eyes drifted toward the digital clock on his wall. The hands of the clock seemed to be crawling at an agonizingly slow pace.
"Gaia," he said, breaking the silence, "how long would it take them to reach Death Island?"
Gaia's response was prompt.
[The estimated time of arrival is tomorrow afternoon. However, considering the unpredictable weather, the latest they should reach by is evening.]
Sam nodded at the response, his gaze lingering on the clock a little longer. There was nothing more he could do but wait. The rest was up to the journey and the elements.
"Alright then," he sighed, rubbing his tired eyes, "there's nothing we can do now but wait. I need some sleep. We still have a lot of work to do tomorrow."
With that, he rose from his desk and went to his bedroom. His thoughts were a whirlwind of plans and possibilities as he lay down on his bed. Sleep, however, quickly took over.