Teaser: John Rogers is a secret agent with a very unique mission: He risks his life everyday in order to help people he doesn't even know. He's just a little person inside the mysterious organization called "Genesis" that the legal authorities don't even know about. He couldn't let anyone know what he's doing, but once he's arrested during work, he has a tough decision to make..
July 8, 2012 , Manhattan, New York
A young man with grey eyes and a dusty jacket approached the reception desk. He did a brief scan of the hallway, trying to understand all the different signs and doors. He investigated the hallways with his eyes, and tried to peek into the secured rooms.
"Hello, my name is Kelly," the receptionist introduced herself in front of the young man. "Welcome," she said with a smile. "You won't regret joining us."
Kelly gave him all the necessary documents and he started filling his personal information on the application form.
"When you're finished I'll take you to an interview with our CEO. But first, a word of advice from me. If you feel a bit hesitant about joining us," she leaned forward and captured his eyes. "Just know that joining us is starting on a fresh page in your life. It's committing to demand from yourself more than you've ever dreamed. You'll have to be completely dedicated here, and agree to do things you've always wanted to do, but never could." She said it so seriously that it made him feel awkward.
"Promise me, before you get yourself into this, that you're willing to put everything that's in your life aside, and give your every waking hour to doing the impossible for us." She gave him a small polite grin that made him understand that she wasn't joking.
March 24 2020, 09:00PM, Manhattan, New York
Ted was on the verge of a nervous breakdown; he had just come back from work early to watch the seasonal football game he'd been thinking about all day. But as soon as he entered the house he noticed a problem: the TV was gone.
At first, he hurried to the bedroom to check if his laptop and stereo were still there, thinking that there had been a burglar in his house. Both of them were in their usual spots.
His wife Sally rushed into the room worryingly. "I know, the TV…" She sat on the bed and explained. "It's not a theft," she stammered "I...I... was cleaning the house," she said while playing with the tails of her apron, "and when I dusted the TV, it fell backwards and crashed." She bit her lip.
Ted fumed. "How? How could..." When the realization hit him he started yelling. "I can't believe this. I hate your cleaning so much right now. Don't clean anymore! Not the living room, no dusting, ever!"
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"No, no , no! Why did it have to be today? Why?" He kept feeling sorry for himself.
"How 'bout we buy a new one?"
"Shut up!" he ordered "Like that's gonna help: the game's now, and I'm about to miss it!"
An idea popped in his mind. "I'm goin' to check if Adam's in his apartment. He might be watching the game now." He took his suitcase in his hand and ran to the main door to see his neighbor.
"Wh…what's that?" he stood frozen in the middle of the room.
"Sally! Come here, quick!" Ted yelled.
"What did I do this time?" she mumbled as she went through the hallway.
"Do you know what...what's that supposed to mean?" he asked and pointed his finger to the TV cabinet, where a different, much larger, new grey TV stood. "O.K, Sally, please explain," he said in surprise while holding the remote control in his hand and turning on the TV to check that it was all real.
"I have no idea," she said honestly as the screen showed the football game.
Ted sat on the couch and continued as if nothing peculiar had happened .He was curious to know what happened, but preferred to focus on his favorite team's score for now.
"It's a prank right?" he said to her after the game was over.
Sally chuckled. "No. I have no other explanation than the hand of fate came here itself to give you a new TV." She approached the television and touched it. It was real.
Ted was still cranky. "Leave it alone! You've already ruined one today!"
March 24 2020 , 07:30 PM, Times Square, New York
John Rogers was a secret agent in a dream job, and not just because of his paycheck.
He liked the adrenaline running through his veins daily and loved the idea of using special equipment from plotting devices to cameras the size of a needle.
There were times when he felt that his secret life was starting to oppress his heart, and he hated lying to his friends and his wife all the time, but he knew that it was all lucrative at the end of the day. Today he had quite a casual mission, just one out of hundreds he did each month, and he didn't expect it to be one of his last.
He started on a main street in New York, making his way through the crowded pavement into a large department store that stood near the intersection of the sixth avenue and 45th street, east from Times Square. Once inside, he wanted to be both cautious and fast; he checked around on the first floor but only ended up having to take the escalator upstairs. He walked to the kitchen department and passed through beds and sheets into the electrical department, where he examined the different appliances, looking as though he was considering what to buy.
After a minute he called one of the employees and pointed at the product he chose.
"No problem, sir," the boy replied and climbed a ladder to reach a newer model to the object he wanted.
"Thank you," John muttered as the employee carried it for him to the cash registers.
After paying, the clerk asked John, "Would you want a delivery service, sir? I don't suggest that you take it with your bare hands."
"No thanks, I'll be fine," he said and picked it up with both hands, pretending that it was heavy for him.
He walked a few meters to the closest bus station and sat down to wait for the bus to arrive, while placing the big brown cardboard box on his knees. John took out the small note from his pocket to double-check: 55 Liberty Street, apartment 2B. He remembered correctly, now he just needed to wait for the bus to take him there. There were other people at the station, and John had to carefully scan their eyes and expression, just to be sure no one suspected him or knew his true intentions .He was satisfied to see that he was not attracting any attention with the huge box he clung to. Good thing it's New York, where everyone thinks only of themselves.
John took the bus to the southern part of the city, and he rehearsed his plan in his head while crossing the city: Madison Park, Washington square and The city hall. He got off the bus at lower Manhattan. Just one more street from here.
He reached the main stage of his plan: he tried the code in the door while looking in all directions. No one was watching him as he entered through the door. He checked that the electrical cabinet's door was open so that he would be able to hide there in case someone saw him, and then entered the elevator. On floor B, he stood behind door number 2 and listened to the inside.
'He's already inside, I'll have to wait for an opportunity,' he thought to himself.
When he heard the voices inside get further away, probably in another room, he started his work.
He crouched behind the door while pulling out a sharp instrument from the pocket of his jacket. He used the instrument to insert two pegs into the gap between the lock and the door. He turned the instrument a few times, and the door opened up.
The couple was still arguing in another room, but he still had to be faster than them.
He placed the television on the large cabinet and inserted the plug into the socket. Then he plugged in the cables quickly and threw two matching remote controls on the coffee table right before running out and closing the door.
The instrument was still on the door, he turned it clockwise, and the lock was back in its spot.
John took the stairs into the lobby and approached the trash container, where pieces of the old shattered TV were. He covered it up with the other black bags that were there until they covered it entirely. Mission complete.
March 25 2020 , 00:15 AM, Lower Manhattan, New York
Ted was confused. Nothing like that ever happened to him, so he didn't know what to do or to say. "Are you sure you broke our TV this morning? Maybe you're just fooling me and you got us a newer one this afternoon?" He asked when both of them were in bed.
"I wish I could say it's me. But I swear I have no idea how that happened." She turned around to face him. "You saw yourself that it wasn't here when you came from work". "Maybe it's time to start believing in miracles," she said, excited.
March 25 2020 , 00:15 AM, Brooklyn, New York
John Rogers finally arrived back home for dinner, tired but pleased. He was eating a sandwich while half listening to the stories of his wife.
He recalled all the things he had done today, and went to sleep content, imagining an even rougher tomorrow.
March 25 2020 , 12:30 AM, Midtown, New York
John was loaded with work, and he absolutely loved it.
He had meetings all morning, instead of missions, so he was planning the upcoming missions in the meantime.
At noon was their concluding staff meeting: just Matthew, Bruce, Emma and him.
They were all gazing the screen that showed their summed up daily missions for that day, that each one of them had to split up with his own team members to complete. Only 1,023 had to be done by today, and that was just in their field of expertise that dealt with property.
John looked out of the window while Emma was summing up the successes of yesterday. He gazed at the plain men that went across the street, some of them with happy smiles, some with sad smiles… Would they still be alive without him?
"John, are you listening?" Emma asked while pointing on the screen with a laser light. "Do you want to take Carrey's case? They've been robbed yesterday and from what we've researched we should return a pearl neckla-"
"Yeah, I'll take it." This case wouldn't be much of a challenge to him.
"Bruce, you'll take the Highbridge swimming pool incident?" The four of them continued to discuss on the division of the missions.
"I'll take it, no problem" said Bruce, the youngest between them four team leaders.
After the meeting he went to the cafeteria to drink coffee. He sat down in front Claudia, one of the new secretaries and started a conversation.
"Another crazy day, huh?" he grinned.
"John, I owe you so much. That job changed my life," she admitted. "Suddenly my former workplace seems the dullest place ever." She took a sip from her black coffee.
"Claudia, you've only been here for two days. You still don't know if you're gonna hold on handling the pressure." He opened his suitcase and pulled out a stack of papers. "Look, that was just from last week." He waved the papers at her. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, I love my job, just wanted you to know that we won't be able to go easy on you if you'll feel you can't keep up with us." He drank his espresso in one sip.
"Hey! Don't underestimate me." She smiled and her golden curls reflected the strong sun that sneaked into the room. "Well, my break is over." She pulled back her chair. "Good luck with that," she pointed at the papers and went out of sight.
John admitted to himself that he liked her from the first time they had met, and every time she was gone she left in him the desire for more.
It was 02:30 PM and John was on his way to his first task in the "Nine Shoes" store in Newark, a 30 minute bus ride away and he'd be there.
He stood in front of the store showcase and observed her insides: an electric short circuit caused a fire that tore down half of the place. It was a total wrack. Police officers and journalists gathered inside the store for interview purposes.
'Good, too many people in one place, they'll barely notice me' he thought and entered.
He walked silently inside, and made his way into the cashiers. A frightened woman was staring at the journalists from the far "Employees only" door, considering if she should move closer into the scene. John hid himself behind a high shelf until she finally left, and then went to the employee's only area, and closed the door quietly behind him.
Inside, he opened his briefcase and pulled out from it a tiny briefcase, similar to his. He left it on the desk and made his way back outside, trying to avoid the only security camera that survived the fire so it would not catch his face.
He didn't know for sure if the suitcase's content would eventually reach the right person or if it would compensate all the troubles he was in, but he hoped to see the story on the news later, for it would prove that he succeeded.
'That wasn't too complicated' he thought and moved on, without knowing that the frightened woman saw him the whole time.
'Second part' he thought and made his way to a bus station that would lead him to the other side of the town. He gazed at his watch: it was 04:00 PM and his pace was good.
He paid the driver and sat in the front, memorizing the phases of the second plan: busting the front door, breaking into the house, filling the jewelry boxes and the safe that had been robbed, and then retreating to the shadows.
John held his suitcase close to his heart. He had already collected the pearl necklace earlier and it was waiting quietly for its new owners. He got off the bus and walked through two streets until he found the address. While scanning the area for people, he noticed two neighbors talking in the lobby of the building. 'I'll have to go with plan B – emergency stairs' he thought.
He hid behind the trash containers and called the organization.
"Hello, Katie speaking."
"Hi Katie, it's me, I'm on Plan B. Please check for me that none of them are in the house. Try making a phone call to the Carreys." He waited a minute for her to call back.
"John, no one's answering. Enter cautiously," she said as he hung up and headed to the stairs.
It was a late afternoon, but the sun was still in the sky, watching them all. John looked around before climbing, but no one was there to gaze back at him. When he reached the window of the fourth floor, he took out a small crowbar and used it to push aside the window.
John thought about the poor family before breaking into their house: they'd been mugged just yesterday and they would be totally devastated if they thought it was happening to them again with him. The window led him straight into their living room. He didn't see anyone in there so he slowly placed his legs on the carpet floor.
"Stop!" yelled a man in uniform and jumped in his direction, directing a gun at his face.
A cop, John's heart began to pound heavily and he forced himself to stay alert.
"We thought to ourselves that you'd come back to take the key that you dropped while robbing this house, but it's hard to believe you were so stupid to do it less than twenty four hours after breaking in here the first time. Chloe! Dale! Put the cuffs on him please."
John thought about attacking them now in order to complete that mission and the following ones, but it might also expose him and his true motivations.
He'd just have to lie, and maybe even destroy what he had worked so hard to get, so the others could continue on…
"God, that's the stupidest burglar I've ever heard of," laughed the prison guard while locking him behind bars.
Luckily, the cops didn't recognize the objects that he had concealed in his suitcase. They continued to believe he was a robber, although the investigation department was surprised to find the stolen necklace free of its owners' fingerprints. The investigators were frustrated and were forced to announce that he wasn't the robber. But still the police were convinced that he should be held captive.
Meanwhile, he could hear the news from the jailor's room right next to him. A terrorist attack was thwarted in the Newark International Airport. John was relieved. 'At least the rest of the organization is still functioning! It's not the end of Genesis, not yet, if I fail it'll be just the end of me'., he thought to himself. Another news story was on about a bank robbery. . Just the usual .he held inside a smile. After it, just as he expected, came a report about the shoe store he visited earlier that day.
He listened to the story: "Right next to me is Melody Tyson, who works in "Nine Shoes" in Newark. Melody, yesterday there was a serious fire in this very store we are in right now. You've only managed to save a small amount of your stock. Have you considered that the arson may have been deliberate?"
"No…so far, the investigation proves that...the… the fire was… caused by p....poor maintenance of the electrical system," Melody said, stuttering as she was too nervous from the live broadcast. "B…but some employees think that it w-was on purpose, I mean…that s-someone did it and…but…t-then regretted his deeds," poor girl couldn't stand the thought of being on television.
"Can you tell us your point of view of what you've seen?" the reporter held the microphone for shy Melody.
"I saw a tall man, dressed in a b-black suit and…he entered the store. I thought he was a-a camera man or part of s-some crew but then he went to the opposite direction and…he went to the e-employees only door with a black suitcase, and after a few minutes when I looked again, he was gone."
"And what did you do?" the reporter said while bringing the microphone back in front of the witness's mouth.
"I-I immediately told everyone that he entered our room. It could have been dangerous, you know…maybe it's the man who caused the fire yesterday, but when we came to that back room he wasn't there. But his suitcase was. We ordered sappers to examine what's inside it but when they opened it, they only found a bulk of dollar bills."
"What an unbelievable story!" the reporter exaggerated. "What do you think were the true intentions of that mysterious man?"
"I really don't know. I mean, it's hard to believe that he left all that money just by mistake, but on the other hand…no, I don't…don't know," she admitted.
"Well, it is a good ending to our story, isn't it? The owner will use the money to rebuild the store…"
And it went on and on.
John prayed that the news story would end already; of course, on any other day he would rejoice while watching it, but not today when he was seen in action and it was only a matter of time until they would make an identikit of him with that woman's description. It was also a matter of time until they found that the man they were looking for was already in their hands under lock and key. If no one would come to free him he would just have to escape, and then he'd have to handle the other troubles Genesis got into in the past few days.
.Well, it's too late for regrets .he sighed.
Over the next twelve hours John avoided talking to the other prisoners and he did his best no to come into contact with anyone, because he didn't want to be recognized.
His wife came after fifteen hours, she seemed rattled and worried. As usual.
"Can I hasten things up with this?" she asked one of the jailors and waved a bundle of green dollars in front of his face.
"No ma'am I'm sorry, you can't do that. He should be in trial in a few hours from now."
"Fine," she gave up. "Can I at least talk to him?"
"Yeah, I'll call him."
In the conversation with his wife, John felt like he was lying more than he'd expected. He hated lying to her. But one day, he would be able to tell her the whole truth, once everything will be fixed.
And he prayed that she'd forgive him for that.
At his trial John had to lie even more. Before joining the organization, even before he got the job, John had to pass a "lying test" to examine in what situations he was able to lie, and if he was able to do so while withstanding pressure, and if he was able to lie so well that even a polygraph machine couldn't distinguish the reality from his made up stories. Without too much effort the trial was over, but just when he was expecting to be released as not guilty, new evidence popped up, just like he'd feared sitting in his cell.
One of the investigators approached the judge. "Your honor, May I?" The judge nodded and he continued. "We have one more bit of evidence that suggests that the defendant is not the robber." The investigator laid some documents on the table, and the judge took off his glasses to browse them.
"Continue please," the judge demanded.
"This man," explained the investigator to the audience, "donated 500,000 million dollars to a shoe store that was destroyed in a fire two days ago." He raised the Identikit of John made by the witness description.
"Well, would you care to explain?" the judge turned to John.
John placed his hand on his forehead in frustration. "Don't know what you're talking about, this isn't me," he replied.
"Interesting," said the judge said and lapsed into deep thought.
"You're not a thief," he said to John as if he was still processing it all in his head. "If you were guilty, you would have jumped on the opportunity to say that you're the donator in order to mitigate your sentence, but you didn't…what is your motive?" The judge leaned his hands of the desk. "Why would you donate hundreds of thousands of dollars to a wrecked store, Mr. Rogers?"
"I...mmm…" He moistened his throat and continued. "I was j-just trying to help," he spoke in an unconfident mutter, "that shop was in debt."
"And where did you get the money from?" asked the judge.
"It's from my personal ac-count." John projected nervousness.
"Fair enough, we'll verify that." He pointed with his pen on one of the documents that the investigator held and the latter wrote something on the paper in response.
"Just one last question for you, a question I wish to ask you again." His tone turned severe. "What were you doing in the Carrey's house at four PM with a stolen pearl necklace in your suitcase?"
"I found the stolen jewelry and I wanted to return it to its owners."
"If I may say something?" another investigator requested. "We did some checks in our lab and there were no fingerprints on the necklace except yours and another person that isn't one of the Carreys.
"Well, I guess that the fingerprints were blurred because the thief held it in his hand a long time, and they became even more blurred when I took it from him."
"Continue," the judge ordered.
"I ran into him by accident, and I recognized him from the description in the news so I snatched it from him," he tried to support the lies from earlier.
"It's very unlikely that something like that happened; a person like that would have been lying low as long as the police were after him."
"Excuse me Mr. Rogers, but your explanation still doesn't make sense to us. If you really had found the necklace you should have returned it straight to the police, like every normal citizen would have done. Instead, you broke into the victims' home."
John was annoyed: this was not how he wanted things to turn out. He knew that he had better come up with a plan to escape this place, before the truth came out.
A tall blonde woman with black framed sunglasses and a short mini-skirt entered into the prison reception. "Hello, I'm here to visit Mr. John Rogers please. "
"Who wants to visit him?" the policeman said surly.
She moved her sunglasses to her forehead. "My name is Kelly Davis; I'm a friend of his."
"You can talk to him on the phone. You have five minutes," said the jailor and went to call him.
Kelly followed her down the hall, and sat in front of the telephone booth, waiting for him. After five minutes, the pale man sat in front of her.
"Kelly," he said in surprise after picking up the phone while examining her through the glass window.
"Hi, John," she smiled. "I don't believe it either."
"No. No. It's nothing. Worst thing that can happen is that you'll just have to continue without me."
"It won't be the same without you. You know it." She smirked. "You know that Claudia kept bugging me the whole time that she wants to visit you in jail. And I had to turn her down over and over. "
"Wow, she's worried about me?"
"We all are."
"Kelly, we better not talk anymore. Thanks for coming to visit me, but I just don't want my mistake to ruin…you know...everything else."
"I just came to make sure you know that you're not with us anymore… you know…you're a free man now." She gave him a feeble smile. "You can do whatever you want, just don't come back to…you know." She raised her eyebrows discretely.
"I'll try to fix what I can," he sighed. "Though I completely understand if none of you stay in touch with me."
"N...No!" she insisted. "I'm releasing you right now, just to be clear. You thought I came to say goodbye?" She lowered her voice. "There's nothing that money can't buy, even freedom."
"How do you like the way I acted?" she asked while driving both of them onto the highway. "And another thing," said the veteran organization member. "I brought your suitcase, it's in the trunk."
"You bribed one of the jailors?" he asked dryly.
"Well, yeah. A little bit: they'll be in trouble, I know, but someone else will take care of them, if you know what I mean."
"Where are we going right now?" he asked when the car turned right at the intersection.
"Straight to the airport. Your wife is waiting for you there."
"What if we fail?" Things hadn't gone exactly as expected and he was a bit worried.
"Well, we have to try. Just don't think about it."
"How much time do we have until the flight?" he asked.
"Don't be nervous, we have enough time." She had been in the organization longer than him. John guessed that that was the reason he left everything in her hands so easily.
"Where did you buy us tickets?" He drank from a bottle of water he had taken from the glove compartment.
"To Croatia. Not such a bad place for a vacation, huh?" She put on her sunglasses as they turned to drive facing the sun.
"Croatia could use a branch of the organization," he reflected the idea out loud.
"Let's hope it will all go according to the plan."
"Kelly, I really appreciate you doing all this for me. I'm starting to…to doubt everything." He looked through the window and continued. "I just thought about it in jail- how life is like a long staircase and each day you get a challenge a little bit harder than yesterday. But you just gotta keep climbing…"
"That's right, climbing advances you to the highest place. As much as we try to control life - especially in a work like ours - there's always the inevitable," she said while still driving. "Oh, and don't worry. I didn't forget about your passport."
"That's exactly why we have to use these last minute changes to our advantage." He pointed at the airport. "Just yesterday there was an attempted terrorist attack, so-"
"I know; no flights. We're going to take advantage of that. It's gonna be a total mess inside and it'll be easier to just slip through."
"Do you have something planned in case someone recognizes me before I manage to get on the plane?"
"Yes, but there's no need for a second plan. There are hundreds of people cranky because their flights were canceled; the clerks just want to get this over with. I assume they won't ask you much," she said confidently as she stopped the car in front of the Newark airport.
She opened her purse and took out a bundle of papers tied in a rubber band. "Here's your plane ticket."
"Thanks," he nodded in appreciation.
After he got out of the car and took a big suitcase from the trunk, she sent him a kiss in the air, wished him good luck and drove away.
Kelly was right; there were too many people inside and no one looked at John as he passed between the huge lines into the VIP department. No one recognized him as the mysterious donator from the news, or as an escaping prisoner. He quickly passed the whole procedure of the Passport control and ran excitedly to his wife who was already strolling down the duty free.
"John!" She kissed him softly. "You've finally listened to me; the summer is such a great time to take a vacation." She was delighted.
"Trudy! Yes, I hope you liked the surprise." He placed a hand on her waist and started searching for their terminal.
"I got you an amazing cologne," she said struggling to keep up with him, but John's thoughts were elsewhere.
It was best to follow the vacation cover story, though he decided to stay alert anyway.
"Thanks honey," he thanked her for the gift belatedly. "I'm glad you thought of me while waiting here." He hugged her. "So, you're excited about our time off?" he whispered in her ear.
"It's been a long time since we had...free time. Just the two of us," she said in a low voice as they walked in the jet bridge.
.We'll have a few hours of relaxation in the first class; we might even get some sleep , . he thought, trying to elevate his mood.
The stewardess gazed at their tickets and led them to their seats. John continued to check his surroundings with paranoia, as though he was ready to hunt down the first man who dared to recognize or challenge him. The couple got seats in the front row, closest to the huge flat screens on the wall in front of them. Trudy ordered Martinis for both of them as soon as the stewardess passed near her.
Ten minutes later, John opened the plastic bag under his seat containing his headset: he was checking if it was possible to hear music even before the flight started. A young stewardess approached him and motioned for him to take the headsets off.
"Can you show me your personal identification and passport please?"
John had a few fake identification documents in his coat and probably in his suitcase too, but he guessed that it could get him in trouble if she chose to search it in the list of passengers on the plane.
He pulled out the documents of John Rogers and pretended to be very angry about it.
"Can you follow me please?" she asked politely.
"To where?" He raised his voice in irritation. "I…I don't know, sir, I'm just following the pilot's orders."
"I'll be back soon," he apologized to his wife and got up from his seat.
While he waited near the pilot's booth, two thugs came from behind him and put handcuffs on him. "Where are you taking me? What about my wife?" he growled as they took him off the airplane.
"We'll notify her that you won't be joining her on the flight," lied one of them.
"She doesn't want to-"
"Shut up! You're talking too much." The taller between the two pushed him forward into a side door in the terminal.
"I'll ask you again," said one of the interrogators aggressively after tying him to the chair. "Is your name John Rogers?"
"Yes," he replied.
"Really? Great name for a secret agent you got there," said the other interrogator. "But I think it's time for you to reveal your real name."
John trembled. He started panting and held the arms of his chair, to contain his physical reaction.
"That's my real name," he said in a weak voice, dragging the words out of his mouth.
"Morgan." John jumped as the interrogator called him by his real name, feeling his stomach drop. "It's about time we hear your story, from the beginning to the end. Without keeping any details from us, without making things up," explained the patient one of them.
"We don't need any polygraph to know when you are lying," whispered the other one in his ear. "Your eyes can't conceal anything from us."
"Start from the beginning." He motioned with his eyes and sat on a black leather chair in front of Morgan. "From the day you joined the organization to be an agent."
Morgan started reluctantly. "I was young and poor," he admitted. "I came to New York with dreams that were bigger than me in a few sizes: dreams of success, getting rich, and mostly feeling important. That was when I ran into an odd and mysterious organization, that I had never heard of my entire life." He stopped talking for a long time, as though he was wondering if he should continue or maybe seeking for other options than the truth.
"Morgan Chapman, until now you were very cooperative. Continue. You don't really want us to make you speak…or scream." He said in apathy.
"I…I fulfilled my dream." He bowed his head in embarrassment. "And now I'm ruining it by telling you this."
The angry interrogator threatened him. "You can either tell it now or in the next world. I suggest that you move on with your story."
"Alright, I got into this organization, where they promised me that they'll pay me more than I can imagine. But I would only know exactly what I was doing after I joined them. I was scared then that I would end up doing someone else's dirty work, getting involved with the mafia, stuff like that. But it wasn't." he was tied and could barely move, but he managed to place his elbows on the interrogation table and leant a little bit on it.
"I met the nicest most decant friends I have ever had. I learned what dedication means." The truth sounded weird to him, maybe because he couldn't acknowledge the fact that he was not hiding it for the first time in his life.
"Please get to the point. Explain your job," the thug said restlessly.
"I'm getting to it. I had a training period of ten months where I learned all the secrets you already know: about camouflage, evasion, how to think fast and to give answers that people want to her…that's no novelty to you.. I guess." He paused to think. "I passed my tests and got the certification to start the actual job: saving lives day after day, whether it's 'physically' so that they won't die prematurely or 'mentally': preventing the destruction of the supporting pillars that are holding their lives together. Things like Career, relationships and property - anything that isn't you, but that you define your identity with. Friendships are a good example of that."
"Wait a second," said the interrogator in confusion. "You mean your job was to prevent everyday crisis for people? So that they won't end up destroying their relationships? That's what you dedicated your life to?" he scoffed.
"Not just that, actual life saving too."
"Yeah, we got it. So you actually withheld negative experiences that could have toughened them and prepared them for the rest of their lives and you called it 'helping them'. Not that I understand how you did that." the interrogator disparaged him. "Sounds like falsehood to me," he negated the idea, "but I have to say that it does explain the case in the shoe store."
"How did you know who to help?" asked the cranky one. "And don't you dare lie to me with explanations like 'I read it in the paper', and other kinds of crap, because you helped people who weren't famous, and sometimes even a few minutes before the bad things happened to them."
"I can't tell you that," he apologized. "It will ruin us … if you know our method we won't be able to help people anymore. Please don't ask that." he confessed.
"Why?" the interrogator yelled. Morgan knew he was hooked up to the story.
"Because you will exploit it for your own egoistical, personal needs like war," he leaned his head forward and looked at them in the eyes. "I beg you, for the last drop of humanity that might be in you, please let this secret stay confidential."
Both of them stayed silent, thinking.
"I'm sorry. I can't tell you anything further." He pressed his mouth into a thin line and started trembling.
"Morgan! Morgan!" the interrogator tried to calm him down from the strike he might have had. He was shaking uncontrollably. "Don't you get it? now that you've told us about the organization we can take anyone from there, just like we did with you, and force him to tell us. So it won't really matter if you die with that secret."
The other interrogator added in amusement, "We already know the secret, we just want you to confirm it for us, to have an irrefutable proof." He laughed wildly.
"We have a special source," Morgan confessed unwillingly "We talk about it using the code name "L", shortcut of PIL : Prospective Incidents Locator. He can see…um...forward." he wasn't decisive about continuing, but the words left his mouth. "Yes, it's against the laws of physics, a man whose preemptive …it's a Class III of impossibilities, it violates the known laws of physics, but he does it. For eight years he's done it. He was born with that ability."
"Carry on," said the interrogator, disguising his inquisitiveness.
"He's a Chinese immigrant, who wanted to become a magician. He has a really tragic life story. For his misfortune he can be utilized for good causes, just as much as dark ones, and when the founder of Genesis met him-"
"Wait, today you are the CEO, right?"
"Yes," he replied hesitantly. "and I assume it was a mistake to pass it on to me like that. That's the end of the organization. I can only imagine that you'll want to contact that man to guess the lottery for you, making you the richest most influential people in the world. Or worse, to exploit him for global war purposes."
"Look," the angry interrogator was so shocked that he forgot to mistreat Morgan. "That organization, Genesis, I'm really surprised that it survived for so long, considering the fact that it is utterly illegal!"
"Yeah," the other one completed his sentence. "You had no permission from the New York Department of State to operate such thing."
.'He thinks we're only in New York'. Morgan swallowed the need to brag.
"Anyway, it slipped past somebody's notice, but at least we got confirmation regarding the information we already had before. Just one last question – what for? Did you have some ultimate goal you wanted to reach? You know, returning someone's stolen money, so he won't be pissed at the universe and decide to commit a massacre? That's where it ends?"
"No. " Morgan tilted his head down in sorrow, and held his breath for a few seconds. "You see, it's much more complicated than what you could ever apprehend. I'll even give you an example: we've seen the near and far future. That means that right now, outside, a few of my partners should already be waiting, so you have two choices: One – you can join Genesis, earn money, help people completely fulfill themselves, prevent useless pain, make the world a better place, cause people to feel like they're already in heaven, to buy debts from those who are on the brink of bankruptcy, to buy a new TV for the family who accidently broke it, to fly through half of the world just to bring people together. Or just die." He gave them a piercing look, to assure them that he was telling the truth.
"So what do you choose?" he asked and after a few seconds, as the sounds of a many loaded pistols was heard from behind the investigation room. He was serious.