“Good morning, Mister Breen. Try not to be alarmed, you’re going to be nauseous, you’re going to be disoriented, this is normal.”
The man in the cot jerks against his restraints and looks to Dr. Mayreder in a helpless way.
“Please remain calm Breen. You’ve been in a bit of trouble. You’re experiencing a bit of psychosis, side effect of your treatments. It should go away in a few seconds.”
The man in the cot relaxes and starts to speak before being cut off by Dr. Mayreder.
“ Let’s skip the 'where am I who am I'. Dr. Sanders will tell you that after you leave the room.“
“You’ve worked for the Foundation since you were 29. The Foundation is a counter-terrorist organization; you’re sort of like a secret agent. Isn’t that exciting.”
The man in the cot takes in his surroundings for a brief moment; a sterile white room with a single cot. He’s hooked up to an EKG, there are no windows, and a fairly sturdy looking metallic door is a few feet away. In front of him stands a dark skinned man in a white lab coat, holding a clipboard at his side.
“…” the man tries to speak, but it just doesn’t seem to be happening for him.
“Another side-effect of the treatment. You’ll regain your voice shortly. Until then I’ll need you to humor me for a while.”
“There should be some pain in your head. There was an accident with one of the subjects you were working with, you’re lucky to have made it out alive. There were explosions and… the alarm sounded… deaths… You activated the escape pod just in time but you were still captured.”
The man in the cot gives the doctor a tired, confused look.
“You don’t remember any of the projects you were working on, do you? No? Good. You’re even luckier than I thought. You worked on some terrible things. Eventually you were captured, they held you captive for years, they tortured you psychologically… they really messed you up upstairs in the end. This is definitely a fortunate turn of events for you, this new, clean slate. Try to think of it as a second chance at life.”
The man finally manages to produce a few words. “I can’t remember anything.”
“You still remember your training, though, don’t you? Good. All the important bits are still there then. You don’t remember how to kill a man with a pinky do you? No? Shame.”
“Let’s take those restraints away. You are completely cooperative now, Agent Breen.”
Dr. Mayreder’s inflection doesn’t strike the man as strange at all. He feels comforted as he’s unhooked from the EKG and the leather bounds around his arms and legs are removed. “Get up, move around a bit. While you’re doing this I’m going to brief you.”
“Let’s start simple. You’re an agent in Disinformation, you handle some delicate things with civilians and you make sure they don’t know things that they shouldn’t. Sometimes you have to do a bit more than pop or pump an amnesiac into them, sometimes you’d have to pull strings, talk to people. You have the training for that. You’re one of the best at it. I don’t mean to flatter you, but you have quite the reputation around here. You’re prepared for anything, well, except one thing. This is actually where you erred last time.”
“Sure Doc. Tell me everything I should know,” the man says vacantly, pacing back and forth along the walls of the room.
“Excellent.” Dr. Mayreder spits, jotting something down on his clipboard. “Sometimes in the field you’ll run into a few hostiles. Sometimes the Foundation is wrong, and the area isn’t clear, not completely safe. At that point you’re in a bit of trouble. You could die, or worse. But I’ll be honest with you here, that’s not what the Foundation is worried about. See, sometimes we run into other groups –terrorists- that are after the same things we are, and if they can’t get it, then they’ll go after the next best thing – information. Your training mandates you say the X word in this situation and swallow your ‘sugar pill’, but a lot of the time it’s not that simple. Should you successfully self-terminate as per protocol, they still have ways of getting you to talk. “
“Sure thing doc,” the man says quietly, pausing to lean his back on the wall and staring blankly at the still moving lines on his EKG.
“Let me ask you some questions: do you know the location of Site 18?”
“No,” the man says.
“You don’t have a mother. What is your mother’s maiden name?”
“I don’t have a mother,” the man replies.
“When did you first come into contact with the Foundation?”
“I’m not sure about that,” the man says, tilting his head “tell me?”
“You’ve been here since you were 25. You were recruited from the US Army.”
“That makes perfect sense now that I think about it,” the man replies calmly.
“What do you know of the SCPs you worked with, documented, and recovered?” Dr. Mayreder says with some unease in his voice.
“I don’t know what an SCP is.”
“Fantastic, Agent Breen. I was only testing you. The acronym was nonsensical.”
A small chuckle escapes Agent Breen. “Oh alright.”
Dr. Mayreder puts one arm around Agent Breen and leads him out of the chamber.
“Meet with Dr. Sanders on the way out, he’ll handle the breadth of your orientation. Take these pills as well. You’re required to take one after each assignment has been completed. They keep you fresh.“
The man smiles, turning away toward the other doctor.
“Welcome to Disinformation.”
"…I guess you weren’t really given much of a choice. Usually it’s not an agent scheduled for termination – they usually end up terminating themselves in one way or another. You saw some things you shouldn’t have seen didn’t you? Skipped your meds maybe? Fucked up somehow, somewhere?
“Let’s get right to it. This is Disinformation, and you’ll be working here now.
“I’ll be a good sport and tell you what you’re getting yourself into, although there’s’ no real point in saying any of this to you as you're just going to forget it. Makes me feel better at least explaining it beforehand.
“First and foremost, it’s hard to replace someone like you. Secondly, should you run into those other kooks they’re gonna bleed you for info, and you know a hell of a lot. We have to wipe you. It’s this or a lethal injection.
"You're not going to be an agent per se - I like to joke around with the term 'C-Class'. You won't know SCP exists after your missions are through. You're primarily going to be sticking people with needles and interrogating them, not necessarily in that order.
“The key here is forgetting. Swallow these pills. You’re familiar with them; oral amnesiacs. You’re not going to remember jack shit save for your training. A chemical is gonna float around your brain, taking its pick of memories.
“You should be drifting off to sleep in a few moments. I’ll meet you on the other side. You’ve made a wise choice, transferring here.”
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Next: 2. Needle Jockey
