We followed the man to the gate of the White House. With a single push, he opened it effortlessly, and the guards stepped aside, letting him through without so much as a question. TFR and I trailed behind, exchanging uneasy glances but staying silent.
He led us to a discreet back door that opened into the White House.
The interior was massive. Through tall windows, I could see the South Lawn stretching out in the distance. Paintings lined the walls, their frames gilded and glimmering under soft lights. The marble floors gleamed, reflecting the faint glow of chandeliers above. Everything about the place felt surreal, like it existed in a world far removed from ours.
TFR's head was on a swivel, his eyes darting to every corner of the space. I'd never seen him so amazed.
The man led us to an elevator, its doors sliding open with a soft chime. As we ascended to the third floor, an eerie silence settled over us. For being the White House, the halls were unnervingly empty. The absence of people made the grand corridors feel vast and hollow, like we were intruding on something secret.
Finally, we stopped in front of a room.
The space was simple yet imposing. At the center stood a massive desk, surrounded by American flags and various symbols of power—eagle emblems, golden seals, and rich mahogany shelves lined with books. The man walked straight to the desk and pulled out a sleek laptop, its screen lighting up as he opened it.
"What are your names?" he asked, his voice casual, as if he were discussing the weather.
I hesitated but answered. "SOB442." I pointed at myself. "And TFR100." I gestured toward TFR, who was still glancing around the room like a lost tourist.
The man didn't look up. "Now I need answers! What is going on, and why did you guys kill that woman?!" I demanded, my voice sharp and shaking.
The man continued typing on his laptop, ignoring my outburst.
"Hey! Answer me!" I snapped, my frustration boiling over.
Finally, he stopped typing and looked at me. His calm voice cut through my anger. "Shirley O'Donnell Beaupre and Tucker Fetcher Riley."
My stomach dropped. "What?"
He leaned back slightly, his pale gray eyes locking with mine. "Those are your real names. The letters in your codes—S, O, B—stand for Shirley, O'Donnell, and Beaupre."
I blinked, my brain struggling to process. "Wait—you're telling me my name is Shirley?" I spat the word, like it didn't belong to me.
"Yes," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
I turned to TFR—no, Tucker—whose wide eyes mirrored my own confusion.
"And his name is Tucker?" I asked, pointing at him.
"Yes."
The man's gaze shifted to my arm, where I clutched the slab. "Let me see that book."
"Book?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "What the heck is a book?"
"You truly do know little," he said, exhaling through his nose. "That is called a book."
Reluctantly, I handed it over. The man opened it and began reading silently from the first page. Tucker and I stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
Without looking up, the man suddenly spoke. "You," he said, pointing at Tucker. "Why haven't you spoken a word since we got here? Are you illiterate?"
Tucker's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"Uh…" I stammered, stepping in to explain. "Tucker doesn't really speak English. He understands it, but he's… kind of glued to his phone all the time, so he never really learned how to talk."
The man raised an eyebrow but didn't seem surprised. "Come," he said, curling his finger to signal Tucker forward.
Tucker hesitated but eventually shuffled over. The man grabbed his hand, set the book down on the desk, and stood.
"Tucker, would you like to learn the English language?"
Tucker nodded, his movements stiff with nervousness.
The man led Tucker to another room. Before leaving, he glanced back at me. "Stay here."
I didn't argue, but I felt a twist of unease as they disappeared through the door.
Shirley's POV
First Hour
I was bored. The room was big, sure, but it had nothing to offer. No distractions. No food.
I sighed and glanced at the desk where the man had left the book. It was still there, sitting untouched. Well, if I was stuck here, I might as well pass the time.
I grabbed the book, sat on the floor, and flipped it open.
The Book
Project UJO has finally ended. It was perfect. Everything went smoothly. Humans are taking a while to adapt, but it's working—and it will work. I know it will.
Today is March 1, 2031. Project UJO launched February 3, 2031. Isn't it amazing how humans can adapt? It's fascinating! I'll be writing in this more, especially since it's gotten so snowy these days. It's much colder now, and we can get up to seven feet of snow! However, there are parts of Choreees that remain warm. The west is hot. I heard it's burning over there. The ACs won't work because it's so hot. They've started calling it "Hell 2.0." It can't be that bad!
Meanwhile, the east is way better. They say it's paradise! Flowers are always blooming, and the weather stays between 65 and 70 degrees—it's basically eternal spring. Crime rates are at an all-time high in the west, but in the east, there's no crime at all! Choreees is really changing, huh?
Now that I think about it, the west and the east are complete opposites. The only thing separating them is the city in the middle of Choreees. It's always snowing there! I hope all this stops soon. The climate is changing like never before.
Oh, and a couple of hours ago, the flag of Choreees was decided. It's a rock with a dent and a hole in it. Weird, right? But some people, like the king, think it's cool—or funny, maybe. I guess the king just has a strange sense of humor.
Oh, and if you're wondering what my new name is, it's MR1, which stands for Michael Rich. Cool, huh? I like it!
Shirley's POV
Interesting. Truly interesting. Only a genius like me could stumble upon this book… though, I had to admit, luck had a lot to do with it.
Seven Hours Later
The man returned, leading Tucker back into the room.
"How do you feel?" the man asked.
"Great!" Tucker replied, his voice hoarse but filled with excitement.