The Shell of Casper

- 8 - Actress

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In her office, merely a cubicle among a hundred others, Rose Lowery shoved her belongings into her book bag. Pencils, pens, a mug, and her photocopy of her green-stamped scholarship contract. She glared at the cubicle around her. She hated it with more ferocity than there was fire in Hell. Casper June's face was tattooed into her mind, the look of betrayal when she stood by the new stunt employee. As if she was standing with them willingly. Rosie couldn't tell which end of the In A Blink simulation was more painful. Believing your eyes could kill or lying over and over to your best friend, forcefully playing along to implant the idea of freedom or loyalty or rebellion or obedience or whatever tactic they ordered you to use.

Jones waltzed into her cubicle, pulling the wrist-device controlling the perception effects. One sensor that would all-to-easily make him appear rotted with the click of a button.

"Free at last, Josie?" Jones smirked through his crooked teeth. "Guess your service confirmed enough. We'll start a new route in two days no doubt. Enjoy the money." He strode out with a chuckle before she could correct him.

Rosie threw her mug into the wall, glass cascading onto her empty desk. She had completed the program, a scholarship in hand. But when would Casper be freed? When would they simulate the perfect scenario in which they can assure the absence of rebellion? But ARC could take no risk in the creation of such a catastrophic potential weapon.

If only Casper had sagged to his knees, raised his palms, bowed his head. It could have been over. In some way, she wished she would be sent home and called back in a month: Casper a new work in progress, just adjusting to what he thought had been changed about him. A soldier who had no need for a gun, or for real strategy. To see him light up when he heard her voice beneath his headset. A hundred others were in the same situation. But a new start would end in her watching him be throttled away again, mind wiped and eyes covered. They were all just marionettes, dancing around on a stage and performing a scene with deep-rooted, manipulating lies. 

Sergeant Abe thumped up to her when she slung her bag over her shoulder. She leered at him.

"Good work, Lowery." He mumbled with kindness. She wanted nothing more than to punch his mustache and her scholarship-contract down his throat.

"We've gotten what we've needed with your participation. Only a few are left in the In A Blink II program. Most counterfeit Reapers break easily or eventually with some resistance. 67-J is just one of the more stubborn ones."

"Casper," Rosie corrected through her clenched jaw. "is determined. You can't break him."

Abe stayed quiet, motionless. Then pushed back, "67-J may break once we remove having relations within contact. Our initial thought was that they might be thankful and more likely to stay if they had someone they knew here. More willing to obey if they had someone here to get through this with." Abe crossed his arms. "I'd say he'll shatter when he has no one to talk to."

Rosie bit her tongue. Casper was one of the most personal and chatty people she knew. He loved to listen and to be honest. To imagine him scared and alone aside from training...

She hoped he would break. If only to have him tossed back into his house, a memory freshly cleaned. There was no need to have him remember these horrors.

"Ready?" Sergeant Abe held up a headset. Rosie stiffened and urged her face into neutrality.

"Yes." She said without emotion. He clamped it onto her head when she sat down into her chair.

"ARC is run by the government, but we need to keep things confidential. You understand."

Rosie nodded smoothly, her voluminous hair flattened beneath the technological goggles.

"Stay relaxed. Three, two, one." The screen before her eyes went dark and a high-pitched beep sounded in less than a second, indicating the job completed. Memory wiped.

Rosie slumped back and faked an astonished gasp when the headset came off. Abe held out his hand.

"Thank you for coming to the meeting, Ms. Lowery. It was nice meeting you. All things are in order and we will stay in contact to assure all aspects of the scholarship are properly carried out."

    Rosie pretended to be amazed. She grasped his hand and shook it enthusiastically.

"Thank you," She paused and tilted her head. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

"Abraham Wells." He smiled. "I thought you should know if you have anyone you know in this program that some scholarships only correspond with schools out of state. We supply transportation, so don't be surprised if some were eager to jump into their courses."

"How exciting!" Rosie grinned. "Well, thank you again, Mr. Wells."

 Rosie strutted out of the cubicle now empty. There were no signs of it being hers previously. She kept her face beaming and positive, like she had no idea what was happening on the other side of those walls. Like this was the day after she had received her scholarship service-exchange notice in the mail. Like she thought that it was that easy.

Abe didn't have to know that the memory-adjusting device hadn't worked on her since day one. No one had to know that the maps, layouts, information, and secrets she could still recall and recite. Five years of being an "oblivious"and eager security employee had shown her everything. ARC may not have actually done anything to Casper—or any subject—'s eyes, but with each picture Rosie had in the shoebox beneath her bed, one after another over the years, the growing burden carried in his eyes was real. And now she was relieved from the binding. They would not expect to see her again. Too bad the most dangerous weapon they created was not the future Reaper army, nor the counterfeit ones they made from children to experiment outcomes on, but a dismissed pawn—Rose Lowery. She would make them pay.