Into The Wildlands: Chapter XX - On The Other Side
AA71 grapples with his newfound discoveries.
“Behold, my lord, the newest profession. We call them the 'Acquisitions Agent' model.” A man in a white lab coat waved his arm over carefully regimented rows of men, clad in grey trenchcoats and matching fedoras, standing at attention like soldiers, while a fat, balding man wore the plush red robes of an Emperor. “A far cry from the old Investigations Agents, the AA will do everything the IA did, and more. Investigate and judge the guilty, but also locate lurkers, or even potential escapees in the most sacred Wildlands. And should the need arise, they can fight better than any Combat Unit or previous Agent model. Our tests four-on-one against the AA model showed a 96% recovery rate.”
“Interesting, yes. These seem better trained than the last.”
“Most attentive, my lord. The AA model is so good because of the G-94 centralizer chip. Precision engineered fusion of biological and technological perfection brings unparalleled loyalty, analytic ability, precision and combat prowess, as mentioned previously. The flawed human they were is no longer a concern. They will never waver or falter in their duties. The G-94 is so effective that these Agents don't even need the chip of the masses.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. They profane no one and nothing. They are clean-cut and dedicated only to their duties. They do not require the purchase of anything superfluous, as anything they could need, such as food or drink, is provided for them for their service. However, as many are volunteers for this program, they still retain their previous chips.”
“Naturally.” The Emperor responded casually, eyeing the face of one AA71.
What is the point of life if we do not exist enough to live? What is the point of death if we do not exist enough to die?
Acquisitions Agent 71 sighed heavily and opened his eyes, greeted by the stark grey apartment he dwelt in, as these conflicting memories lapped at his brain like a windy day's surf. Relaxation was his approved activity for the day off, but there was no rest to be had for the weary Agent, even while he melted into his couch watching TV. The body could slow, but the mind never did.
He stood up and stretched, and walked over to the fridge, opening it and retrieving two cans; one of Grapetastic, the other, Spectaculemon, then dropped the door back into its closed position, as the TV prattled on in the background. As he cracked open the purple can, he wandered onto the balcony, a light, cool breeze hitting him as he took a swig. “Tch, Grapetastic. Spectaculemon. Orangeous. Applesome. Aweberry. This stuff sucks.” He commented roughly on it in between sips as he looked out over the city. Towering buildings reached for the sky while the odd drone or flying vehicle zipped by, most labeled clearly on the side exactly what was in them. Beyond the towers, the great blue walls of light gave everything a glowing silhouette, even in the day. What would have been an awe-inspiring futuristic skyline was marred by painful thoughts about what it all meant. His breath could faintly be seen in the cooling October air. He blinked heavily. “Well, I enjoy the purple drink. It is refreshing.”
The thought snapped him from his melancholy. He wandered over to the table next to the couch and pulled a powerful neodymium magnet from the underside of it, and promptly stuck it to the back of his head. An overwhelming feeling washed over him, first of pain, then of relief. He put the magnet back down and sighed a sigh of relief, as if he had just had a satisfying smoke. Returning to the balcony, he leaned on the rail and looked out once more.
“33548... this place looks just like 24932 did. And 26974. And 45266. I never really thought about it. I didn't need to. But, now... it's all just blocks.” Indeed, it was all blocks, the same dreary pre-fab building blocks that comprised 24932 also made up this place. “But out there...” He looked to the glowing blue walls beyond the blocks. “They have houses. Old ones, but they have character. Their lives are hard, full of toil and questioning.” He sighed again, looking down to the world below him. “Ours... no houses, only apartments. They are new, but have no character. Our lives are easy, but full of fear and confusion. Is... is this even an easy life, after all?”
He thought back to other times in his life, memories he had tried to suppress were easy to come back to him now that he was used to toying with his centralizer.
A woman tries to climb the fence and escape. She gets tazed and dragged away, groaning in agony.
A man, naked in an alley, tries to fight bare-fisted. He is run through with the blue hardlight blade, a spatter of blood being left where he stood.
A man stands on the edge of a building, and jumps off when approached, the soft fwip sound of fabric coupled with blowing wind is all that can be heard before a muffled crunch in the distance.
A woman is apprehended in a basement, desperately trying to replace her chip with a stolen one, like a heroin junkie caught with their needle in an alleyway.
A man is dragged out of a washroom screaming for having no credits.
He flashed back to reality with a light head shake. The TV behind him continued to chatter on. An AI-generated character spoke in an obnoxious tone. “And remember, depression hurts us all!”
“Oh, shut up.”
“If you see something, say something!”
“Shut up.”
“We're all in this together!”
“Shut up!” He snapped, turning and pitching his can of Spectaculemon at the TV, hitting it and knocking it off the wall, where it fell and hit the ground with a clatter.
He looked at it for a moment and sighed heavily again. “That's gonna cost me...”
Instead of doing anything about it, he simply laid down on the couch again and stared up at the stucco ceiling. His thoughts came back to him yet again, memories of issuing his report ran through his mind as he stared blankly at the ceiling.
He stood inside of a secure telephone booth, the phone piece to his head.
“This is Emperor Silver. General 9 has insisted I speak with you personally. Identify yourself.”
“Your highness, this is Acquisitions Agent 71, returned from The Wildlands mission.”
“Acknowledged. Acquisitions Agent 71, report.”
“Acquisitions Agent 242 was located in a dense thicket, deceased. I have recovered his chips.”
“Cause of death?”
“Eyewitness reports indicate that he was aggressive towards the locals due to lack of information regarding his target, Erik Barnes, and was attacked. He did not survive.”
A slight sound of shock on the other end of the phone. “That's two Agents lost... have you anything else to report?”
“Yes, my lord. I resumed the investigation and followed up on Acquisitions Agent 242's initial leads. Local villagers found Erik Barnes dead shortly after escaping from 24932, killed by wolves.” He kept his word after all.
“Truly?”
He knew he had to make something up. “Their evidence was thorough. I have also returned with the ID chip he shed before being killed by wildlife. They understand the wound he gave himself removing it was what allowed the wolves to trace him to begin with.”
“And why are you not using your chip to contact me securely?”
“When I was found, I was treated as any other human, agent or otherwise, and stripped of my chip. They returned them when I peaceably acquired the information and I was allowed to leave.”
“Hmm. Well, I suppose an Acquisitions Agent doesn't need one. But, they know about the chips... they are too aggressive. Perhaps they need to be taught a lesson.”
“I must disagree, your highness.” He knew he needed an excuse. “The aggression is not theirs, it is ours. Nature is sacred. We must leave them.”
“Yes, yes, I suppose that's true.”
He woke from the daydream he was having, looking up at the ceiling again.
“It's played over and over... I can't get it out of my head.” He sighed. “He... wanted to attack them. Nature is supposed to be sacred. But... they don't really care, do they? It's just an excuse to keep people out of there. They don't want people to go there because they might find out humanoid life still exists, they might... be free.” He sat up finally and faced where the TV would have been. “This... this is all a big lie. This rotten edifice. A cage we're all trapped in, isn't it?” He held his head in his hands and looked down to his feet. “I never wanted to believe it. We're the bad guys. We trap people in these cities, never let them leave, never let them think, never let them live, control everything about their lives... and kill them if they get too far out of line. Or they kill themselves. Those anthros out there, they're not the monsters... We're the monsters. The little monsters... who do what the big monsters want. Puppet monsters.”
His doorbell suddenly rang, and he jumped a bit, straightening himself up. Nobody could see him in this condition. He quickly grabbed the can of Spectaculemon off the ground and put it on the table, then rushed over to the door to answer it. A man in a grey mechanic sort of outfit waited on the other side.
“Good afternoon, Acquisitions Agent 71, I am from The Maintenance Company. Our records indicate your television has been irreparably damaged. May I inspect the unit?”
“Of course.”
He stepped aside to allow the maintenance worker in, who wandered in and looked at the TV on the ground, a large dent in the side, and spilled lemonade around it.
“I see, quite the accident. I will order you a new one right away. In the meantime, a removal professional will arrive shortly to properly dispose of this.” He checked some things on a tablet quickly. “You should receive a visit from our representative today, between the hours of 9 and 5. If you do not, please report the infraction to The Maintenance Company headquarters.”
“Right. I'll be here.” He responded, as the man turned and left quickly. He shut the door and locked it again as he headed back to the couch and sat back down with a sigh. He didn't like feeling like he was hiding something in his life, for the first time ever, but he was. He had been changed. Broken. He wanted to cry, thinking about it, but he couldn't yet do that. The only emotion he could feel was a dragging moroseness. It would only be a minute before there was another ring at his door.
“Is that the 'removal professional' already?” He got back up and opened the door.
An Acquisitions Agent stood on the other side and coolly flashed his badge. “I am Acquisitions Agent 597. I am here to ask you some questions. I am entering the home.” He ended his statement simply and pushed his way into the apartment, closing the door behind him. This was standard operating procedure for the agents and their home investigations, so 71 knew to expect it, but simply did not expect it to be at his own home.
He entered into the living room and looked at the wreckage, marring the otherwise stark and pristine environment of his apartment. “What happened to your TV?”
“I tripped and accidentally knocked it off. I spilled my Spectaculemon, too. Someone's coming to replace it soon.”
“I see. Your television registered an act of violence a little while ago and reported the event. Can you explain this?”
“It must have seen my trip as a false positive.”
“Hmm, I see.” He responded, thinking about the situation quickly. “Would you like to know what I think happened?”
“I believe you will tell me anyway.”
“The dent in the side is consistent with the shape of the can, but not the velocity of tripping. I believe you threw your Spectaculemon at the TV in an uncharacteristic fit of rage.” He explained. It was easy to tell what happened.
“What does this mean to me, junior agent?” He responded, menacing over the fresher number.
“It means there may be a problem with your centralizer and you are due for maintenance on more than just your TV. You may be impaired by an older model.” He returned with the same snide jab. “I will schedule a repair date for you now, if you would like, or you can visit one of the walk-in repair facilities.”
He was getting used to the feeling of understanding the world, and allowing his centralizer to be repaired would ruin that all for him, and likely reveal he had been magnetizing it heavily. He didn't have much of a choice left. The silence between the two filled the room with a heavy pressure. They both knew something was about to go down. “Well?”
He reached for the magnet and as he pulled it off the table, 597 activated his blades with an electric fwip sound. 71 was not prepared for a fight in his own home, but he lunged forward with the magnet anyway, swiping it past the glove and interfering with the projection of the blade, saving himself from what would have been a well-placed jab to the chest. The other blade came at him, crossed over the arm, as 71 dodged it, slipping back and kicking the junior agent in the side of the knee, taking him down to the knee. Even while down, he still kept attacking, but 71 grabbed the other agent's arm and pulled him in, then wrapped him in a headlock and stuck the magnet to his centralizer before 597 could flip him off and strike back.
“Be free, dammit! Be free!” 71 snarled as he forced the magnet to stay in position. 597 grit his teeth at the sudden pain of the mighty magnet wreaking havoc on his brain, but could hardly fight back, the feeling was too overwhelming. “I'm overriding your centralizer, 597. You can hear me now, so listen to me, Agent to Agent! They've been lying to you! To us! They don't hold the Wildlands sacred! They're full of humanoids living lives just like humans did before! They live simple and happy lives, they're free! Do you understand what that means, 597? Free! They don't have to answer to any chip! They don't have the centralizer owning their minds! Just like the old days, they're their own people!”
“H- F-” He could barely force out a sound.
“You hear me? Happy and free, my friend. That could be us, that should be us. We can be people again. We have the technology, we should be happy, we should be free. Not enslaved like we are now. Not hunting down people and butchering them, or forcing them back into their cages. We can be ourselves... Happy.”
“H-ha-p-”
“That's right! Happy! Do you remember what that emotion even is?”
He forced out a reply. “N-o.”
“I was just like you. I didn't know it either. Centralized away long ago. But I saw it out there. I saw happiness. I saw freedom. I saw love. All it took... was stopping the centralizer.”
“S-stop... the centralizer...?”
“Stop the chip. Just like I did, my friend. Get a magnet, a strong one. You get used to the hit on the chip but... freeing your mind is a different feeling. You feel it?”
“Y-yes...”
“The control is slipping away. Your mind is finally able to be understood again.”
“Y-yes...”
71 relented on his grasp and backed off, looking to the younger agent, as he wheezed and stumbled, catching his breath.
“Y-you... you can be free?”
“You can free yourself when nobody's looking.”
“Nnng, I feel bad. I am... disoriented. I need to report this malfuncti-”
“No, it's no malfunction. Use the magnet.” He handed it forward, waiting to see how 597 would react. He quickly reached out and snatched it from his hands, and put it back on his head.
“Hh... I... I can beat it. I can beat the centralizer. With just a magnet...” He looked back to 71. “H-how did you figure this out?”
“I learned it in the Wildlands.”
The answer seemed absurd. “Learned it in the Wildlands?”
“Uh huh. There's a lot of things that we could all learn from each other, it seems.”
“I... can't believe it. And you can build up a tolerance to the pain?”
“Yeah. It doesn't really bother me anymore, and I go longer stretches without it.”
He looked about nervously. He had just learned a very dark secret. “I... need to find a magnet.”
71 waved his hand. “Keep that one, I have more.” He nodded. “We were two of a kind before: agents... now we're two of a kind again. Minds opened, for once in our lives. And yet, we are a secret. You'll need to keep up an act. You can't act out of the usual when interacting with your superiors.”
“Yes... nobody can know.”
“Unless you're going to free them. The same way I freed you. Then they need to know. It's a threshold you can't cross back from.”
“Yes...” He mumbled, still getting over the feeling of being liberated. “Hey, Agent 71? I don't actually care that you broke your TV.”
“Good. I don't either. Hate that thing. And Spectaculemon.”
“Yeah! Yeah, I hate those drinks too, they're awful!”
“They are! Just because they're 'approved' doesn't mean they're any good.” 71 responded, then nodded, and sat down on the couch again, looking to the younger agent.
“I have to ask, while I can... what's it like out of the walls?”
“In the Wildlands? Lots of animals, and animal people, too.”
“Animal people?”
“Yeah. They seem like they're reasonable folks, living on the scraps of the human civilization from the Before Times.”
The agent was silent as he processed this information. “Interesting...”
71 smirked. “Now that's freedom. A thought in your mind that's up to you to like it or not. Take that as your payment and head on out. Don't get caught.”
“R-right. No problems here.” He corrected his clothing a bit and left the room, approaching the door. He stopped for a moment, resting his hand on the doorknob. “Thanks, 71.”
“Uh huh.”
The door opened, then shut, and he locked it again, wandering over to the couch and laying back down with a heavy sigh, staring up at the stucco ceiling again. “This is getting out of hand. I think. I don't know what I'm doing, I'm no revolutionary.” He closed his eyes, hoping to see better imagery than stucco. All he could think about was this revolutionary thing he was doing, however. “Is this the right thing to do? Waking people up against their will? Can I actually pull this off?”