"What's my option", I said shrugging my shoulders a little bit. "In case you have forgotten Mr Hall my name is Agen..." "Jones" I finished, "I remember" and he smiled and asked me to follow him. I wasn't sure if he smiled because I remembered his 'name' or because I cut him off in mid-word; like I was in charge. We walked across the room to a doorway leading away from this large room where they originally drove the van into and dropped me off. Sitting beside the door in front of us there was a small table with a glass of milky white liquid. "Please drink this, its a litttle bit distasteful" Jones said as he twisted his head slightly, squinted a little, with a hint of rolled eyes like maybe he couldn't think of the right words to describe it; but he went on, "but its necessary for you to drink a number glasses of this before you leave". "What is it" I said as I picked it up - staring at it - holding it up to the light to see if i could see through it. "Mr Hall, it's now necessary for you to stop asking what everything we ask you to do is for." There was silence for a while, a lot of staring, and my lack of action made it clear I wasn't drinking it. "In this case... it's a liquid... which will help us to ummm... clean out your system; shall we say." which he said in a slightly manufactured perturbed no nonsense forceful way. He knew I won that little battle in our war over the power disparity between us. Having felt like I had just won that little battle I decided to press my win and take as much ground as possible. "I need to know what the fuck is going into my body. Its my body and I have say over what goes into it" I insisted, making a righteous stand against his arrogant stop-asking-questions-directive. I knew it was futile in the back of my head. He had all the cards, and I knew it, and worse and he knew it; and even worse he knew I knew he knew it. Every card I played - he trumped. But I couldn't just give up, could I. Maybe I could salvage some modicum or propriety, and not end up completely helpless and obedient; like a servant. I want to be treated with some respect damn it! He just stared at me, in complete silence, he knew it was an obvious power play, and he knew he wasn't going to loose this one. I sensed Jones was actually getting mad. I wasn't sure where a mad agent Jones would lead, in fact I was of afraid of where that might lead. So I tried to lighten the mood by holding the glass between our faces and saying "is this some sort of liquid - to make me pass out - and then wake up in some other place? Like the Blue-pill in the Matrix?" I had hoped for a little smile like - 'ha, ha, no Mr Hall thats the movies' - but instead, it was met by a steely eyed agent Jones starting right back at me, waiting for me to finish talking.
"Mr Hall, maybe I wasn't clear. Let me correct my failure. You agreed to become our operative, you didn't have to, but you did. What I should have made more clear, before you agreed, was that - we do - in litteral fact - own you. You no longer have any say, whatsoever, in what happens to your body; or your mind for that matter. Since I wasn't clear before, let me spell it out, and give you another chance to back out if you want. We will train you... reshape you... make you into whatever is needed for you to do your job; and keep you able to do your job. Most of what will happen to you will not be pleasant, in fact Mr Hall much of what we do will often be deeply unpleasant; at least in the beginning. But this isn't going to work- if you ask us what each tool is, or why you have to do this, or that. You are a subject - to be trained - nothing more. Your feelings... desires... wishes... and preferences are all gone - if you - willingly step through that door. You will, and must do, what-we-say; when-we-say-it. Have I made myself more clear sir?" He never called me sir. He always used the interminable 'Mr Hall' when addressing me; it was like a recurring drum beat. I have never had my last name used so much in my life. He never called me by my first name, nor has he call me sir before. I sensed he used it here to deliver the 'I'm serious message'. So I shot back at him - with the truth - that his hold on me is actually not much of a hold at all. That his demands of quiet acquiescence on my part were quite unreasonable and that if he is asking for the ultimate sacrifice from me at least do it with me as your equal. "I am probably going to die doing this - right? Your gene splitter thing has never worked - has it? I continued to press on in an honest and unfeigned protest. "And its a devil's choice, if I say no - you will kill me, because I know too much - true?" I felt invited to press on since he was still silent. "if it does work I will be in danger for the rest of my life, possibly killed, and tortured and you begrudge telling me - what it is you're asking me to drink?" Still more silence, followed by no movement or blinking. This was his showdown. In his stare he was calmly saying, without saying it, I'm not going to explain, it-is what-it-is, you lose, we do it my way, I'm sick of you restating the facts, make your decision.
Fuck it, I hated his silence, his knowing he has all the cards. I gagged downed the milky white slurry. "Now that I am 'in' why can't I know your real name?" I asked. "This is a kind of program called 'special-access', when you get to this level of security then information is only shared if you have a-need-to-know. For you... to do your job... you don't need to know my name. In fact, knowing my name would jeopardize me, the agency and our government." "So it's ok for you to know everything about me; and not ok for me to even know your name?" I said with spite, which was again met with more silence - which for some stupid reason I felt I needed to fill "in case I am captured and tortured you can sit at home, comfortably by you fireplace, in your robe. Watching your son open christmas presents while they put a hot iron on my chest and cook my heart. All the while you will know you are safe" I continued as an honest rebuke. "Please follow me" was his unemotional and curt response. We walked a short distance in silence into a huge gigantic room... and a there bigger than life... sat a fucking V-22 Osprey painted all flat black without one mark on it, no numbers or symbols just one big assed black plane - or helicopter - whatever it is. "Mr Hall, you will be taken from here to the training facility" he said. I said "a V fucking 22" incredulously? Isn't that a bit of overkill? How far is it?" I asked. "Mr Hall I wish you could stop with all the questions. I personally dont actually know where the facility they are taking you to is; but there are a few things we have to do before you go" he responded.