Chapter 6: Snowscapes and Mindgames
Meanwhile the DPD officers were being led into a far less colorful chamber and ordered to take off their jackets. The coatrack wasn’t a semi-sentient “Coatie” plant like in the cafeteria, but made of sturdy metal. This was a military installation, where playful vines had no place.
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North: “No watches, glasses, piercings, rings and the like. Oh, and you better make yourself comfortable. I wouldn’t suggest wearing a tie.”
Hank: “If I take off my shirt, will I get it back washed and folded?”
North: “No stalling, prisoner!”
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Hank looked around. There were Chris’ uniform and Gavin’s leather jacket, but also clothes belonging to at least three unknown individuals. Whatever went on in the next room, it seemed to be something the Visitors performed routinely. There was no telling how many humans might have gotten subjected to the process already.
Let’s think... When Markus taunted us earlier, he said that he wants us to return to our workplaces. That implies some form of, hm, they’ll call it re-orientation or something, I bet. Torture, maybe, future-teach assisted brainwashing, more like it.
Rika Tachibana was the officer who found Markus and some cronies dead drunk and stripped to the nude in an alleyway that one morning. It’s easy to imagine that their masks have gotten damaged. Rika saw that, so the Visitors did something to her that made her not only forget what she’d seen, but also turned her into a puppet. We just didn’t notice it earlier, because Rika is a natural airhead.
If basic personalities indeed to stay intact through Visitor brainwashing, with a bit of luck this will work...
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While he slowly took off his wristwatch, Hank hit the switch that started the timer, as he routinely did when he expected to get into contact with mind-altering substances. Alcohol, drugs... in fact, the practice had started as a joke during many a party with his co-workers.
Now Hank was praying that the Visitors wouldn’t notice and that the run out timer would make him stop and think later. It was a digital knot in the handkerchief, a reminder that he had forgotten something, with no inkling what exactly that might be.
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Held at gunpoint the DPD officers had to wait for minutes that were stretching to hours in their minds. Nobody spoke a word, or did so much as grunt. Suddenly the Winged Krenshar got agitated, a moment later the door to the next room opened and a female Visitor emerged.
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Lucy: “Aw, want scratchies? Okay, but only real quick! I’m still on duty, sweetie.”
Krenshar: “Mrrr.... rao?”
Lucy: “Oh... oh, no! I think I know what those sad noises are about. But the humans have forgotten you. I’m so sorry... I know you liked them.”
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Lucy: “I’m Lucy, the veterinarian in charge of the Conversion Chamber. The previous clients are resting right now, ready to get released back into the wild later today. You can have a look and see for yourself, if you don’t believe me.”
Gavin: “I hope the first thing they’ll do back in Detroit is to buy a cat and send you photos of it!”
Lucy: “Joke’s on you, because that’s exactly what I programmed them to do! Not the sending phonepics part, of course.”
Hank: “Why’d they want to send you pictures of their phone anyway?”
North: “Pfft. Barbarians!”
The “Winged Krenshar” is a dog, by the way, a Doberman by name of Daisy that in my gameplay save is owned by the male guard, John.