Retrograde

Chapter 7 • Project Octagon

• Chapter Seven •
Project Octagon

Again. 

Again, Cael had to sit through the obvious and loud suffering of the man from the video. The Burning Man, as Cael so cryptically called the man when Cael would think of him. Sabin had given him a transparent tablet with the video pulled up. "Do you not recognize the voice from the intercom? Do you not recognize it as your voice?" Sabin asked. The first time Cael watched the video, he hadn't realized that at all, too focused on the man that he knew not by name, but by letters and numbers that...dehumanized him. OS 0032.

But now? Cael could hear that the tone of that voice matched him. The only difference was that the voice on the intercom—Dominick's voice—held more life than Cael's did, despite the fact that the words themselves that Dominick spoke were supposed to be simple, mechanical...ominous. Dominick held a curiosity in his voice that was more out of eagerness, whereas Cael's curiosity was out of skepticism, and the frustration on his face showed that it was hard to reconcile the two.

Cael slowly stood up from the table, setting down the tablet. He walked away, his hand covering his mouth. Part of him fought the truth that he knew he would have to accept. The other part taunted him:

You wanted the truth, did you not? Here it is, being spoon-fed to you. 

Open up. Swallow.

"Cae--," Sabin began, trying to break the silence and push on. 

"I did not do this. I mean, I couldn't ha--this is not ME!" He balled his fists up as the pieces to the puzzle were snapping together. The video, the thesis, Clarice. Clarice—was that even her real name? He had felt the emotional consequences of killing her when it first happened, but not to the extent that he probably should have. This was rectified by the angry tears rolling down his face. He had been overrun by action—being hit on the head, being tied up, having to kill her to save himself.  But now, he was up-close and personal with the truth.

With soft eyes, Sabin approached him and took one of Cael's fists. Cael looked ready to move away, arm muscles tensing and hand ready to pull away, but Sabin kept him there. The strength in Sabin's two hands as he uncurled Cael's fingers held authority. It didn't bother Cael as much that Sabin's touch was authoritative. What bothered him was that it was also comforting, and this made Cael feel that much more guilt. 

Sabin squeezed his hand. "Therein lies the irony, Cael: the person you've been for eight years up to this point is not you, and you must know that. Dominick Harris is who you are. I cannot tell you that the things you've done are alright; you are part of the reason why the Cipher exists. But I would not have ignited a fire under your life as Cael Barnett if I did not think that you could redeem yourself." Sabin released his hand and Cael wiped the hand down his face. "It will take time and work, but you can help us put things right." Then, Sabin said something in his native tongue, which he translated after seeing Cael's confused face. "Ek yut-esen jakoy, yuta hefen sukmuri gamur mascani resco: if you are breathing, you have time to make things right."

Cael took a moment to gather himself, clearing his throat. There was no going back. He had already killed someone, and whether or not the Syndicate knew that it was him that did it, Cael had just disappeared out of nowhere. They were probably trying to figure out how to get Cael—Dominick—back in their clutches. "Octagon Subject 0032—what does it mean? How did you get that video?" he asked gravely, giving Sabin a look that said he was ready.

Sabin nodded resolutely, recognizing the body language of a person wanting to get their hands dirty. "The man you saw in the video was your 32nd test subject, and obviously...you failed. Octagon is in reference to the name of the operation that you were overseeing—Project Octagon. Project Octagon is connected to a hospital program called the Debt Forgiveness Plan, and that's usually how Pro-Oct gets their test subjects, along with criminals in prisons."

Cael swallowed. "And they would exchange debt forgiveness for consent to test on patients."

Sabin nodded gravely. "For the video, I tend to get some...inside information. Usually these tests are proposed to patients as a cure for most illnesses. The Syndicate didn't lie about that part—it does cure. But what they don't tell these patients is that something else replaces those illnesses—the DNA of the Alusif—beings from Alusek. This causes the humans to change and adopt some of the supernatural qualities of my kind, depending from which Alusif race the DNA is extracted."

Cael began to rub his chin and pace, chewing on the information. "But how is that possible? Mixing DNA is difficult, especially when it comes to adults." Sabin rose a brow at him, seemingly amused with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Well, clearly, you were able to figure something out. That is more your expertise than mine." And the fact that it was his expertise confused Cael.

"Wait," Cael said, finally stilling his pacing body, "if my memory was erased, then how would I know this?"

Sabin made a gesture with his hand in the air, as if the answer was in the room. "They needed you in case things went wrong, so they couldn't erase your skill-set in the biology field or the memory of that skill-set. That's why they kept you alive and erased the memory of Dominick, putting the memory of Cael Barnett the Professor in its place." So, Cael was just a puzzle piece that the Syndicate got to choose when to take out or put in place at anytime. 

"So, how will I fix this? How can I stop it?"

Sabin's brows turned down as he shook his head. He folded his hands behind his back, his glistening green, scaly body coiling around itself. He was silent for a while, and it made Cael uncomfortable to the point that he shifted from foot to foot. While Cael was trying to decide whether to keep his hands in or out of his pockets, Sabin finally spoke again. "Realize, Cael...it is not just up to you to stop it. The Cipher is here to help, and we've been here for a while. But, that's enough for right now. I won't overload you longer because you ought to eat at the Phelps's. Go to Oscar—he will give you the pass code to the shed entrance."

"Wait, wait," Cael said, just as Sabin's body was turning away like a slow rivulet. "What does a successful test look like from Pro-Oct?"

"What do you mean?"

"I want to see it. I want to see what I've created when the patient doesn't die." If Sabin had legs, it would have looked as if he shifted from foot to foot, face conflicted and hands balling into fists several times. There was a reluctance to show Cael what he wanted to see. "Please..."

Sabin budged. He went to pick up the tablet that Cael put down and started to tap on it, bringing up a new video, Cael supposed. Sabin held out the tablet, and Cael came forward to take it. A click of the play button showed him the same room the Burning Man had been in. This time? OS 0047. 13:23 — 2 May 2351. 

Everything was the same: the room, the smoke, the banging on the door in a desperate attempt to find out what the fuck had happened to them. The only things that were different was that the subject was a woman, and when she became inflamed by the shrouding of smoke, she pressed her hands against the door as if to push it.

The door did not budge—it melted. The door was burned through, using her hands. If she was shocked by it, that wasn't made clear as she made a war cry.

A war cry made from Reena herself.