Amygdala Hijack - A Genetic Engineering Sci-Fi Story of Impending Dystopia

EP. 21 - THE BROKERS

ON THURSDAY MORNING, THE condo's front office notified Ears of a package downstairs. He ran out to retrieve it.

"Peter," he exhaled after darting up the stairs. "This one's for you. Hope you were expecting something since we can't be too careful. Good with it?"

Peter searched for the return address. "It took a few days, but it's timely for our next interview."

He opened the box and extracted an assortment of wigs, mustaches, beards, and hats.

"You didn't," Ears urged. "Is Molli aware?"

"With regard to what?" she asked, exiting the bedroom with her hair up in curlers.

"You might as well take those things out," Ears snorted.

She spied the array of hairpieces spread out on the table.

"Why those? Oh no. Peter, are you serious? You want me to wear an old wig?"

Peter was enthused. "Absolutely! And they're new, not used."

"Where did you get this idea? Some spy magazine?"

"Safety, my dear. These might just save our lives. The face putty those mechs were wearing made me think we should do something like that as well."

"You bought face putty?" she queried.

"No, no, but I considered it."

"I imagine you did. But you're serious – wigs?"

Peter knew he might get chastised by them, and he was trying to wiggle-through the best he could. He glanced over at Ears who was signaling no displeasure.

"Molli, I'd like to say I'm insistent. Think of the scary oddballs your friends have turned away at our door. Then there's the hate mail we're getting, which is picking up more after The Bard. I only want us to be safe."

"Peter, I can't. Never wore a wig, and I love my hair. I just washed it, and look at these wonderful locks!" she exclaimed, removing a few of the curlers.

"Lovely, Molli. Lovely," Ears agreed.

"Ears, you're not helping me," he pleaded. "Okay, I'll give you a different perspective. You've seen what the national media types do when undercover; how they sometimes wear garb like this. It's part of being in the business, the dress code when required. Besides, we'll have only a few more interviews in the city, a less and less comfortable place to visit. Does that give it context?"

Molli pressed her lips together and shook her head in disgust. "Shit. Which one?" She was rummaging through the assortment.

"I bought you three."

"A redhead? Are you nuts? My skin isn't that of a redhead's. Do these arms look light-skinned and freckled to you?"

"I'll wear it," Ears volunteered. "You just described my skin."

"I didn't mean anything by that, Ears."

"I understand."

Without saying anything else, Molli pulled the redhead wig from the pile, walked into her bedroom, and slammed the door.

Peter was surprised at her reaction. "Hmm, that didn't go as planned. I thought she'd appreciate the gift."

Ears was searching through the pile and grabbed a short, brown wig. "Found one. Good with this?"

"Yeah."

He laughed at Peter's insensitivity. "She's not so miffed at having to wear the wig, but she'd like to have been consulted, I imagine."