Arnesto Modesto: The World's Most Ineffectual Time Traveler

Sinus Trouble

Location: Unknown

Date: Unknown

Time: Unknown

"Sir, there's something you need to see," Stanfield said.

"Yeah, I know, I'm watching it now," Whiteside said. He restarted the video clip of Father Martin's latest announcement.

"Hello again, I'm Father Martin. I have received another message from my source, the person who speaks through me. My source is also the one to whom I am now speaking. In your message, you said there was another event approaching, and that if I didn't hear from you again by today, that I should make this announcement. Wherever you are, I hope you're safe and will be able to contact me again soon. Thank you and God bless."

"Sir, we know when Father Martin was contacted. Arnesto was here. Are we sure we have the right guy?"

"Positive. He set this up ahead of time. He saw us coming like he sees everything coming."

"What do we do now? People are anxious, sir. The stock market's crashing—"

"You don't think I know that?" Whiteside asked. "Take him to the board room."

"Sir, we both know he's as likely to give us false information—"

"Any information is more than we've got now. If he lies to us, great, at least we'll have something to rule out." He looked up at Stanfield, whose stoic expression betrayed a hint of disapproval. "Out with it."

"Permission to speak freely?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, say it already."

"He's not a terrorist, sir. He's not a spy. Whatever crimes he's committed, he only did so to try to save people. Is this how we treat one of our own?"

"Anything else, Agent Stanfield?"

She stared at him briefly before replying. "No, sir."

"Agent Crowl requested a transfer to another department; are you next?"

"No, sir."

"Good, then take him to the board room. And keep life support standing by. We can't afford to lose him."

Less than five minutes later, Stanfield helped secure Arnesto to a gurney, then lowered one end so his head was below his feet. He seemed a little bit tense to her, even though he wore the same lifeless expression to which the staff had all grown accustomed.

She leaned over him. "You know I don't want to do this," she said. "Give me something — anything — and this can stop."

She walked over to the shower overlooking the gurney and placed her hand on the nozzle. She looked at Arnesto, then nodded to another agent who placed a large rag over Arnesto's face. Then she turned the nozzle to full blast.

Time and again they waterboarded him. He coughed and gagged and sputtered as much as anyone would, but still never talked.

Sometimes Whiteside would be there himself to turn on the water or cover Arnesto's face or simply observe. Sometimes he was absent. It was his way of keeping Arnesto guessing.

One time, he walked in on the middle of a session. Upon entering the room, he immediately stopped and motioned Stanfield to come and talk to him in the hallway.

"Where's the clock that was on the wall?" he asked.

"I took it down. I noticed he was using it to time himself," she said.

"What, like some kind of high score?!" Whiteside put his hand on his head and took a few steps away before walking back. He looked inside at Arnesto. "That guy in there couldn't beat up my six-year-old niece, yet waterboarding can't get him to talk?"

"Maybe he feels he has nothing to confess. Sir, we've tried everything."

"Just about. Stanfield, where are we on the questioning?"

"We've covered all the major events, but—"

"'All the major events.' Great, he's given us next to nothing, while we've told him everything we know about him. He's playing us — again! You know what, cancel the waterboarding. Take him back to his cell. I have some phone calls to make."

For the next few days, Arnesto languished in his cell. Other than the on-site doctor monitoring the sinus infection he had acquired from the waterboarding, he had no contact with anyone. His physical energy was slipping, and his mental state wasn't far behind.

Maybe they were right and he was being selfish. They certainly would have saved more lives if he had worked with them. Maybe. Would they have warned the other countries about the earthquakes, and if they had, what would they have expected in return? How much could he trust them? Right, like the government's ever been trustworthy... What was Whiteside doing now, collecting wood to burn him at the stake?

He didn't have to wait much longer to find out.

Arnesto was half-asleep when the sound of his cell door opening gave him a start. Great, if they were paying attention, and they always were, then they noticed his reaction and probably felt they were, at last, starting to get to him.

They led him to the interrogation room, where Whiteside was already seated. Arnesto sat down and tried to brace himself for whatever the agent was going to throw at him next. It was probably some brand-new torture designed solely for him and approved by some bought out congressperson.

Alright, Whiteside, hit me with it already. Whatever it is you think you've got, I'm ready.

Arnesto was not ready.

Without any emotion, good or bad, with the kind of stoicism only Whiteside could display, he said the two words Arnesto never thought he'd hear.

"You've won."