Zeta Disconnect: Fetch (chapter 1)

10 May 2045, 1843 GMT / Somewhere in Australia

“You know what I like best about these briefings?” asked the white bearded, long-faced man. The agent merely raised an eyebrow, so the man in the lab coat continued. “I like that I can tell you the same jokes every time, and you always think that they’re funny.”

“I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” the agent said. He was sitting across from the man in the lab coat at a small table in a small white room with a one-way glass window on one wall and white doors in two of the other walls. “I don’t know you, and this is my first mission”

“Ah, well, all will be explained.” the man said, “First off, my name is Doctor Richards.”

“I’m -” the agent began, but stopped himself short.

“You don’t remember who you are.” The doctor finished for him, “That’s right, and that will be explained. You are an agent of the Timeline Correction Office. You are designated Agent Z of Class 4Q.”

“I remember that now, other agents pronounce it ‘Zaq’ – but why don’t I remember my real name?”

“I’m getting to that, if you’ll just be patient and listen” the doctor smiled and continued, “The last thing that you remember is being promoted from the research division to the rank of Timeline Correction Operative. That is a mistake. You are also supposed to remember a briefing that took place immediately after your promotion. Somehow, that got lost.

“At that briefing it was explained to you that after each mission for us, your memory of that mission would be erased. You agreed to that, and signed a form, which I have a copy of with me because you always want to see it.”

“I do want to see it” said Z-4Q , and took the paper that the doctor was offering him. It did have a signature on it, but it was illegible. He did not bother to read the form itself. Instead he asked, “Why?”

“That’s a good question,” the doctor started, “This is standard procedure for TCOs, like yourself. We discovered early on that it was a hindrance for operatives to remember everything from mission to mission. For some reason, people go slightly mad if they time-travel too much. At first this only meant that the agents would have to be retired after only a few missions. Once selective memory erasure was developed, we learned that this eliminated that problem. We are able to erase your memory of the mission itself without removing the experience gained and the lessons learned. In this way, we have fresh agents for each mission, who behave like veterans. An unfortunate side effect is the eventual loss of the agent’s past. At this point you remember nothing of the research you did for us before you were promoted, and you’ve forgotten all of the people who were in your personal life, except for a vague image of your parents, which will probably never fade. You don’t even remember your name anymore. That happened about four missions ago. You understand?” his last words were more of a statement than a question.

“Yes.” said Z-4Q, surprised that he understood perfectly. He opened his mouth to ask the doctor how long he had been an agent, but the doctor interrupted him.

“I know what you are going to ask already, because you always ask the same things, I know it annoys you, so don’t bother telling me about it. Here are the answers: You’ve been an agent for ten years, including a two year mission to ancient Rome. You can see a mirror in just a moment. You have no surviving family that I know of. You are leaving for a new mission today. You have no partner. You have had two partners throughout your career. Both are now dead. Neither death was judged to have been your fault. Finally, I have never been told your real name. That covers your questions, I trust?”

Z-4Q felt annoyed “For the moment, it does,” he agreed.

“Good. This mission is actually quite simple,” Doctor Richards pointed to the door on the wall behind Z-4Q, “I will brief you on your mission while you equip yourself in the next room.”

Both men got up from the table. Doctor Richards stepped toward the far door, and opened it, motioning for Z-4Q to enter before him. Through the door was another white room. This one had many lockers and counters. The agent suddenly knew where everything in this room was, and knew exactly what equipment he was going to need for different types of missions. He turned to the doctor and waited for him to begin the briefing.

While the doctor explained, Z-4Q outfitted himself with the things he felt that he might need “On a previous mission to the year 2279, some operatives accidentally left behind an important piece of technology, which doesn’t belong in that time period. The unique quantum transmitter of that device has been detected in London 48 years later. You are to retrieve it.”

Z-4Q picked up a Quantum Signature Detector, and attached it to his belt, surprised that he knew what it was. “Has the location been narrowed down any further than that?”

“I’m afraid not; too much quantum interference. You’ll have to search for it on foot.”

Z-4Q grabbed a long, skinny shoulder bag labeled ‘RAZOR’, and slung it onto his back. “Why all the interference?”

” London in three hundred years is an abandoned wasteland, like most of Europe.” said the doctor, “The War of the Consonants has decimated the land, and most of the people live underground.”

“I guess this won’t be useful after all,” the agent said as he set the Razor back on the floor, “I don’t see any BLEEX, are they all being used?”

“Yes, but if you want one, I can get one sent over from another department”

Z-4Q thought for a moment then said, “Don’t bother, I’ll get by the old fashioned way,” He picked up a repelling kit. The doctor handed him two days of rations, which he placed in the cargo pockets of his pants.

“Right,” said Richards, “The rest of the information that you will need, including the quantum signature code of the target device is already programmed into your PHUD.”

Z-4Q opened a locker with his code name on it and saw his jacket on one hook, and his weapon holster with his pistols on the other. On a shelf above these, was his Personal Heads-up Display and the helmet it fits into. He picked up the PHUD and put it on, leaving the optional helmet behind. The device itself looked simply like a pair of expensive goggles from the outside ‘Hello, Agent Z-4Q’, read the text displayed on the inside of the right lens. He extended the boom mic down from the side of the goggles and said “Diagnostic mode”. He watched the system put itself through numerous tests as he put on his holster and jacket. He stepped toward the mirror as the tests finished, and the boom mic retracted on its own. He had no recollection of ever wearing any of this equipment before, but he recognized the view in the mirror. The man had very pale skin, and a wide, mustachioed face with a partially healed wound along the right side of his jaw. He was just under six feet tall, and his hair was jet black. He’d seen the man in that room many times before.

“Where did I get this?” He asked, touching his chin.

“On your last mission. I don’t know how. Ready to go?” the doctor asked.

Z-4Q nodded.

“Then, just one more thing before I put you on the jet to London,” he said, “What’s the last thing to go through a birds mind when it hits the windshield of a supersonic jet?”

The agent only raised an eyebrow. Richards answered it himself, “Its ass!” The old man chuckled.

“That’s awful” Z-4Q pointed out.

“You always say that…” the doctor laughed aloud.

10 May 2045, 2109 GMT / A military complex underneath Lewisham, London

Z-4Q was standing in the doorway of a near-empty room the size of an airplane hangar, staring at the time portal. It didn’t look like much. Standing ten feet high, in the middle of the concrete floor, was an upright ring of metal tubing and wiring. Thousands of wires and cables ran from the ring to the walls and ceiling, where they disappeared to connect with unseen devices. There was a small corrugated metal ramp leading up to the ring. Dozens of technicians scurrying from point to point, and from cable to cable, triple checking every connector and circuit board. One of the technicians approached Z-4Q. His bespectacled face was dark above his stained white lab coat. His ID card hung from is pocket. It said ‘Sanchez’ below a picture of his unsmiling face.

Sanchez had to half-yell to be heard over the noise in the room, “We’ve been instructed to put you down right before the signal is first detectable. It shows up very abruptly, but starts to move around pretty quickly, so you’ll have about an hour to get into the city, then only about a day and a half before the signal moves out of the range of your QSD. We would set you down right in central London, but that base is not in a stable area in the time period that you need to be in. This base remained intact because it is under a hospital. Here’s your red button and a couple of spiders.” Sanchez handed Z-4Q a small metal plate with a small red button set into it, and a small pouch, “I don’t think you’ll really need the spiders but take them just in case.”

Z-4Q nodded, and placed the pouch in his right cargo pocket, alongside that food ration, he then knelt down and rolled up his pant leg. Sanchez looked on awkwardly, as the other man strapped the small metal plate to his ankle, making sure that the clear plastic guard was in place over the button. “What’s it set for?” the agent asked as he stood up again.

“Three days,” said the technician, “Make sure you’re in a safe place when you return, your UPW watch will indicate the places that are safe for return.”

“I know,” said Z-4Q, “and saying ‘UPW watch’ is redundant.”

Sanchez looked momentarily embarrassed, “Is that what I said?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, well, we’ll let you know when you can step through. It should only be a few more minutes.”

“Thanks”, Z-4Q turned toward the gate as Sanchez walked away. He noticed a pretty female technician working near the ring, and concentrated on her while he waited. Once, he even caught her eye, and smiled, but she quickly went back to her work.

Sanchez’s voice rang out over a PA system, All technical personnel, please clear the floor. The men and women in lab coats left the floor quickly. TCO, please approach the yellow line in front of the ramp. Z-4Q walked across the hangar floor to stand before the portal. He stared into it, clenching his teeth. Gate will be active in thirty seconds, please standby to advance on my mark. Z-4Q heard the hum of electricity, and the whine of electromagnetics, as the portal powered up. Twenty seconds. The inside of the ring looked as if it was spinning, but it was still connected fast to the rest of the machinery, the visuals made him slightly nauseous. Ten seconds. Please step onto the ramp. Z-4Q did as Sanchez instructed. 5…4…3…2…1… Z-4Q took another step, and disappeared.

Look for Chapter 2 of Zeta Disconnect next Monday on Short-Media. In the meantime, comment on this chapter in our forums.