Part 23 – Sweet success
March 11th 2007 10:44
Back in Borenore, the strange lights were just a couple of farm boys making the most of the crowds who’d come to see the “Magical field of mystery”, as it had become known. You must remember it was the 1950s and there was little to do in country Australia. The concept of spending your weekends in front of a television watching The Olympics and football wouldn’t be invented for another couple of years.
Like any of the locals, I was hooked on the ‘Magical field of mystery’. I came back the next night and the night after that and the following night too. Actually I’d probably still be there trying to work out what it was, why other people walked into the field and seemed to become trapped while I could wander in and out in perfect safety. For me, my apparent link with the field was a greater mystery than the field itself.
But I soon got the call from Bert to return to the city. I protested that my field research was certainly more important than any mission he could give me back in town, but he spoke of orders directly from the Prime Minister, the blustering of the Ministry’s Minister and the crying and wailing of all the other little Ministers about the shortage of police, and the shortage of our ability to prove our worth. Before you knew it I was back in my black leather body suit, wandering around Glebe and Annandale looking for the cat burglaress.
Weeks and months passed with mundane monotony and little success. But you already know where that part of my story goes.
Let me tell you; don’t ever go into the desert wearing black leather. You will sweat. The walk from my car to the corrugated iron shed that marked the entrance the secret underground facility was painfully slow. I had to unzip the top of my body suit almost all the way down to my navel to keep from over heating.
I was met at the lift by the three interrogators who had been working with Re. They introduced themselves as Darren, Warren and Niall. They looked stuffy in their grey suits and white shirts as they ushered me into an airless lift, which clunked and clanged as we descended.
“Where is he now?” I asked.
“We have him locked in a cell. He’s not talking to anybody,” said Niall, the most senior of the three.
“Why?” I asked.
Niall looked at Darren and Warren before answering, “There was an incident.”
“An incident?” my forehead was wet and I could feel sweat gathering in the crevice at the base of my spine I didn’t have the patience for this.
“Um, yes. We were using our usual interrogation techniques but it wasn’t working.”
“You mean you were torturing him?”
At length Niall answered, “We do not torture, we question.”
“He seemed very chatty when I last saw him, what could you have done to him to make him suddenly silent?”
“Forced withdrawal; we fed him and offered him no toilet, standard procedure in our operations manual.”
“He’d never heard of a toilet,” Warren blurted. Niall silenced him with a look that was cold despite the stifling heat.
“There was some sort of mechanical malfunction. After six days he asked for the bathroom. We took him to the depravation chamber,” he paused again, “It was impossible!”
“The floor was covered in shit!” said Darren. “We opened the door and it was everywhere.”
“I got it on my shoes,” sobbed Warren.
“We don’t know how it got there,” Niall continued. “The alien was mortified. We didn’t know what to do so we continued with the plan and locked him in the room. He was bound to speak soon enough.”
There was the sound of a bell from outside and we rattled to a halt.
“How long did you leave him in there?” I asked.
“Just a couple of hours,” said Niall. “He hasn’t said a word since.”
The lift doors shuddered open and the cool air from the hallway filled the chamber. I refastened my zipper.
“He’s an alien from another world. You tortured him and locked him in a room full of faeces. I wouldn’t talk to you either. Take me to him.” I waited for Niall to lead the way but he didn’t move.
“There’s something else you need to know,” he said reluctantly.
“What is it? Quickly!” I had little time for these three; they had traumatised Re to his wits end with their pointless taunting. I longed to get out of the sweatbox of a lift, shower and get into some cooler clothes and their coyness was playing with my temper.
I stepped out of the lift, and not knowing which way to go turned right and marched down the hall, the three interrogators followed.
“He has a machine,” Niall was struggling to keep up. “At first we thought it was a gun. He won’t give it up but he hasn’t threatened anyone with it.”
“So when you tell me he’s not talking to anyone, what you really mean is that now you’ve played mind games with him made his life an utter hell, you’re too scared to get near him and find out what it is just in case it is a gun and he lets off a few rounds.”
“Well, it’s not exactly like that,” Niall puffed.
I stopped walking and faced him, “So tell me exactly what is it like?”
“He sits on the floor of his cell and uses the device to turn sugar into metal. We’re not sure it’s entirely safe for anyone.”
Like any of the locals, I was hooked on the ‘Magical field of mystery’. I came back the next night and the night after that and the following night too. Actually I’d probably still be there trying to work out what it was, why other people walked into the field and seemed to become trapped while I could wander in and out in perfect safety. For me, my apparent link with the field was a greater mystery than the field itself.
But I soon got the call from Bert to return to the city. I protested that my field research was certainly more important than any mission he could give me back in town, but he spoke of orders directly from the Prime Minister, the blustering of the Ministry’s Minister and the crying and wailing of all the other little Ministers about the shortage of police, and the shortage of our ability to prove our worth. Before you knew it I was back in my black leather body suit, wandering around Glebe and Annandale looking for the cat burglaress.
Weeks and months passed with mundane monotony and little success. But you already know where that part of my story goes.
-o0o-
Let me tell you; don’t ever go into the desert wearing black leather. You will sweat. The walk from my car to the corrugated iron shed that marked the entrance the secret underground facility was painfully slow. I had to unzip the top of my body suit almost all the way down to my navel to keep from over heating.
I was met at the lift by the three interrogators who had been working with Re. They introduced themselves as Darren, Warren and Niall. They looked stuffy in their grey suits and white shirts as they ushered me into an airless lift, which clunked and clanged as we descended.
“Where is he now?” I asked.
“We have him locked in a cell. He’s not talking to anybody,” said Niall, the most senior of the three.
“Why?” I asked.
Niall looked at Darren and Warren before answering, “There was an incident.”
“An incident?” my forehead was wet and I could feel sweat gathering in the crevice at the base of my spine I didn’t have the patience for this.
“Um, yes. We were using our usual interrogation techniques but it wasn’t working.”
“You mean you were torturing him?”
At length Niall answered, “We do not torture, we question.”
“He seemed very chatty when I last saw him, what could you have done to him to make him suddenly silent?”
“Forced withdrawal; we fed him and offered him no toilet, standard procedure in our operations manual.”
“He’d never heard of a toilet,” Warren blurted. Niall silenced him with a look that was cold despite the stifling heat.
“There was some sort of mechanical malfunction. After six days he asked for the bathroom. We took him to the depravation chamber,” he paused again, “It was impossible!”
“The floor was covered in shit!” said Darren. “We opened the door and it was everywhere.”
“I got it on my shoes,” sobbed Warren.
“We don’t know how it got there,” Niall continued. “The alien was mortified. We didn’t know what to do so we continued with the plan and locked him in the room. He was bound to speak soon enough.”
There was the sound of a bell from outside and we rattled to a halt.
“How long did you leave him in there?” I asked.
“Just a couple of hours,” said Niall. “He hasn’t said a word since.”
The lift doors shuddered open and the cool air from the hallway filled the chamber. I refastened my zipper.
“He’s an alien from another world. You tortured him and locked him in a room full of faeces. I wouldn’t talk to you either. Take me to him.” I waited for Niall to lead the way but he didn’t move.
“There’s something else you need to know,” he said reluctantly.
“What is it? Quickly!” I had little time for these three; they had traumatised Re to his wits end with their pointless taunting. I longed to get out of the sweatbox of a lift, shower and get into some cooler clothes and their coyness was playing with my temper.
I stepped out of the lift, and not knowing which way to go turned right and marched down the hall, the three interrogators followed.
“He has a machine,” Niall was struggling to keep up. “At first we thought it was a gun. He won’t give it up but he hasn’t threatened anyone with it.”
“So when you tell me he’s not talking to anyone, what you really mean is that now you’ve played mind games with him made his life an utter hell, you’re too scared to get near him and find out what it is just in case it is a gun and he lets off a few rounds.”
“Well, it’s not exactly like that,” Niall puffed.
I stopped walking and faced him, “So tell me exactly what is it like?”
“He sits on the floor of his cell and uses the device to turn sugar into metal. We’re not sure it’s entirely safe for anyone.”
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