Juncture 2.3

I’d been at the OST for a week, and I still didn’t know how much longer I was going to stay there. I had recovered somewhat from my concussion, so my mood swings were much fewer and further in-between. However, my arm was still broken, and would be for a few more weeks.

After the first three days, I was allowed to walk around some of the halls in what I was quickly learning was an absolutely enormous building. I mean seriously, I was only allowed to wander the wing I was in, but that meant I had about a mile of hallway to walk down.

Of course, I wasn’t allowed on these trips by myself. I was escorted by Hans. Everywhere I went, he would follow me like a watchdog. On most of these trips, he would stay silent. I tried talking to him – asking questions, making conversation – for the first day. He would answer with a curt sentence, or a single word, or sometimes he wouldn’t answer at all.

He was kind of a dick. I came to just accept that he didn’t want to talk, and didn’t talk to him. So I would wander down the halls, humming, asking myself rhetorical questions, and generally keeping myself busy.

It was a rather dull week.

I was sitting in the small cafeteria, eating lunch. The food I was given was pretty good. Normal cafeteria food, chicken, veggies, rice, the like, but it was all well-prepared. Hans was sitting next to me, a salad on his plate and a cup of coffee in his hand. The door behind us opened. I turned to look, and saw Major General Siegfried hunch his way into the room. He walked up to the food counter, grabbed a plate, and began piling food on it. I turned away and began eating food in silence.

The Major General walked over and sat at our table, directly opposite me. I looked at his plate. He had filled it with what seemed to be all of the chicken. He didn’t have anything else but a fork and a knife.

“So, Marc,” he said amicably, “Have you considered my offer to join our organization?”

I looked at him with sarcastic, half-lidded eyes. I brought a piece of chicken up to my mouth and began to chew it as I spoke.

“Well, I mean,” I said, “It’s not like I have a choice do I?” I swallowed, then took another bite. “If I don’t you’re probably just going to keep me here, aren’t you?”

Siegfried looked appalled at the mere suggestion.

“Of course not!” he exclaimed, “You’d be free to leave whenever!”

“You mean you’d just let me go, knowing that this whole time-cop deal was taking place?”

“Well, we would have to take precautions to make sure you didn’t tell anybody, but they’re usually mostly harmless.”

“Mostly?” I asked.

“Mostly,” He nodded, “It’s a simple process. We just have to make sure we don’t take too much or you might lose yourself.”

I took another bite of food as I processed this. I would be allowed to leave, but they would perform some sort of surgery on me that would cause me to lose my memories, as far as I could tell.

“And what do I get if I join?”

A small smile crossed the Major General’s lips.

“As a member of the Organization, you would have access to all of our resources. You’d get a monthly stipend, delivered in the currency of your choice. You would get education, room and board, and training. Ah, excuse me for just one second.” He got up, filled a cup with seltzer, and sat back down, taking a large sip as he did so.

“What do you say, Marc? Have I convinced you?” He asked.

“Well,” I furrowed my brow, “I’m gonna keep saying that I don’t have a say in the matter, but I’m in.”

Major General Siegfried smiled a huge, toothy grin. He stood up, walked around the table, and stood next to me.

“Then I’m glad to be able to teach and work with you, Private Antony.” He stuck out one of his enormous hands for a handshake. I placed my good hand inside it, my extended fingers reaching the first joint of his fingers. His shake was surprisingly soft, I assumed that he had to hold himself back when he performed one, to make sure that he didn’t crush anyone’s hands into oblivion.

“Come with me, please. I have someone I want you to meet.” I got up and followed him.

After a short walk through the mostly silent hallways, we arrived at a small office. It looked similar in shape to the Major General’s, but instead of being decorated with bookshelves and couches, this one was sparser. While there wasn’t much on the floor, the walls were covered – and I mean wall-to-wall covered – with individual pictures, each one part of the same landscape. The walls were a lush, green hillscape, with bright azure sky overhead.

It reminded me of the stereotypical computer background more than anything else.

Inside, there was a desk, and four chairs, none of which looked comfortable. Sitting behind the desk, facing away from us working on something on a laptop, was a woman, with the brightest orange hair I’d ever imagined. She apparently didn’t hear us come in, because she didn’t turn around.

The Major General coughed gently, and when that didn’t work, he stepped forward and lightly tapped her on the shoulder with one meaty finger. She turned around and a grin crossed her face. She was wearing big headphones, which I couldn’t see from the back because of her shock of hair. She pulled them down around her neck.

“Siggy, it’s good to see you again! You hardly ever come to visit!” She exclaimed.



“Derry, always a pleasure. Fortunately, I haven’t had a good reason to come visit before now, but I have one here,” he said, and turned to address me, “Marc, this is Derry Dell.”