Knowing Too Much
Week 4 entry for brigits_flame .
Prompt: Those who do not remember the past...
Wordcount: 2,400
Last week of collaboration with vyvyan_wilde . His grand idea was to write about a group of people in any line of work, and one or more of them, for whatever reason, begin to forget something they should know. Please don't take the scienc-y parts TOO seriously, I know it's far-fetched.
Thanks for a great month of writing, V. It's been a lot of fun!
Knowing Too Much
It was two weeks ago when I first noticed something strange was going on. Heather came to work that day seeming a little out of sorts.
“I can’t remember what I did last night,” she admitted when I asked how she was.
We laughed it off, saying she’s probably been at a bar and had too much to drink, but somehow I knew that wasn’t it.
It started on a Wednesday afternoon. Heather, Brian and I were in the break room discussing the usual stuff. Bob, our boss walked in just as our conversation turned to work matters.
“I don’t care if the cells split on contact,” Brian was saying. “It could still be the answer to the aging process.”
Heather and I nodded in agreement.
“Besides,” I added, sucking down the last bit of my coffee, “whether it works or not, the fact that they’re just that much closer to possibly unraveling the aging mystery will have everyone excited.
Just then Bob stepped over.
“What are you guys talking about?”
He sounded casual, I thought, but there was a hit of something else in his voice.
“We were down in the cell studies department yesterday and saw some of the research they’re working on down there,” Brian said, tossing his styrofoam cup into the waste basket.
“It’s really fascinating,” said Heather. “I had no idea we were coming so close to figuring out what goes into aging and how it can be slowed down.”
All the while they talked, Bob’s eyes got bigger and bigger and his jaw clenched tighter and tighter. I frowned. Apparently he wasn’t pleased.
“How many other people know about this?” He asked tersely.
Heather shrugged. “Don’t know. Probably just us and whoever’s working on it. We were the only ones down there at the time."
Bob clenched his fists. “I see.”
Without another word, he strode from the room. We all exchanged glances.
“That was weird,” said Brian.
“Yeah,” added Heather. “What do you think’s up with him, Jess?”
I shrugged and shook my head.
Five days later, Heather couldn’t remember what she had done the night before. For a brief time, she also seemed to have difficultly remembering our names, where we worked, or how to get from one lab to another to deliver messages or supplies. This got very frustrating as Heather was Bob’s personal secretary, I was a receptionist at the front desk and Brian was on the security detail. Messages kept getting screwed up or didn’t make it to where they were supposed to go.
After a couple days of this, just as I was really beginning to worry, Heather seemed to be back to her normal self and I thought everything was fine until Brian brought up the cell-splitting thing again.
Heather had no idea what he was talking about and couldn’t even seem to maintain her thoughts in the conversation. It was like every word we said bounced off and invisible wall in her head.
Brian and I exchanged concerned glances and he changed the subject.
“I’ve got a dinner meeting with Bob tonight,” he said enthusiastically.
“Really?”
“Yup! I’m thinking a promotion.” He grinned like a kid who was just given a brand new car for his sixteenth birthday.
I studied his beaming face for a moment and glanced to Heather who was absentmindedly stirring creamer into her coffee. I looked back to Brian who was still smiling. A thought began to form in my head. I stepped close to Brian and he raised an eyebrow in question.
“I don’t think you should go,” I murmured softly, peering at Heather over his shoulder. She was still working with her coffee.
Brian gave a nervous chuckle. “Why not?”
I gave a meaningful look to the woman behind him and he looked over his shoulder.
“You don’t think--”
I gave him a quelling stare.
“You mean?”
I nodded.
It was a tense moment, but then Brian started to laugh.
“Oh, come on, Jess! Don’t be so ridiculous!” He laughed again and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “I’ve gotta get back. I’ll see you guys later.” He left the room, still chortling to himself.
Heather watched him go then looked back at me. “Want to go shopping this weekend?” she asked, smiling her cute smile.
I tried to smile back, but I think it came out more like a grimace. “I don’t think so,” I said, trying to sound apologetic. “A lot to do,” I added.
She shrugged, and nodded, and left the room.
My thoughts began to race wildly. What do I do? Should I call the police? No, I have no proof. I have no idea what’s going on. For all I know Heather just hit her head during her drunken night out. Maybe I should have her see a doctor. But she seems okay now. Maybe I should follow Brian to his meeting. No, that’ll look suspicious if he sees me. Should I confront Bob? Oh, that’ll be sure to put me on the top of his hit list if he is behind this. My thoughts went round and round in this vein for the rest of the day and for lack of anything better to do, I decided to just wait it out and see.
The next morning Brian was haggard and grey-faced when he entered the break room for our customary morning meet ‘n greet..
“Rough night?” I asked hesitantly.
He gazed blearily at me. “I think so.”
“How’d the meeting go with Bob?” I was afraid to ask, afraid to know, but I had to.
Brian stared blankly at me. “What meeting?”
“I thought you said you had a meeting with him.”
He shook his head and then clutched it and sank to a chair with a groan. “Sorry, Jess. Don’t know what gave you that idea. Was just out with my buddies last night.”
“What do you think about that cell bonding and splicing theory?” I asked suddenly.
He looked at me as though I’d just grown an extra arm out the top of my head.
“What are you talking about? God, Jess, you know I don’t keep up with that crap.”
I filled a cup with coffee and set it in front of him. “Yeah. Of course. Sorry. Hope you feel better,” I said, and left.
Brian exhibited the same symptoms as Heather had after her “night on the town.” Heather was completely back to normal now. She acted just like her usual self,and the only side effect was her apparent inability to retain any information regarding the supposed anti-aging miracle. I was becoming increasingly concerned however for my own safety. I had to be next, I thought. We specifically told Bob we were the only three that knew about the procedure apart from the scientists actually working on it. I found myself becoming increasingly paranoid and agitated. It was hard to focus and I had never been so happy when Friday afternoon came and I could go home.
I was just gathering my things together when I heard the elevator bell ding. My stomach dropped. I knew who it would be without looking.
“Jess!” came the jovial voice of Bob. I would have known something was up even if the memories of my friends hadn’t been tampered with the last couple weeks. Bob never sounded that cheerful.
I turned to face him with a manufactured smile on my face.
“I was wondering if you would do me the honor of having dinner with me Sunday night?”
I gave him a level look and didn’t answer.
“I, er, insist,” he added. “Trying to get to know my employees better, you know.”
I still didn’t answer and his eyes turned steely. His tone turned from friendly to abrupt.
“A car will be sent to pick you up at 7 o’ clock. You would do well to be ready at that time.”
His face said plainly that far worse would happen than memory modification if I failed to be standing on my doorstep at the designated time.
The rest of that evening and all of Saturday passed in a haze. I again went through the possible courses of action I could take, but again, nothing presented itself as a sure way to escape my meeting. I decided in the end that Bob could surely be reasoned with. Once he understood that I was no threat, he wouldn’t see any reason to silence me. With this positive outlook, I showered, carefully applied my makeup, did up my hair just so, and wore my most flattering dress.
A black sedan pulled up in front of my house at 7 on the button. The driver got out and opened the door for me. I had half expected Bob to be inside, but I was alone. The drive was short one. We stopped at a fancy restaurant: one that has white linen tablecloths, real silver and crystal, where multiple courses are served and all the waiters wear tuxedos.
The host led me to a secluded table where Bob was already seated. He rose and greeted me politely as I sat.
The next hour passed uneventfully. Topics that we discussed were benign: weather, the city park cleanup day, Trout fishing. The latter I knew nothing about, but I smiled and nodded my head and feigned interest. The salad, soup, dinner and dessert were brought and taken away, and still Bob did not so much as hint at the real reason we were here.
I began to allow myself to think I had been silly and overreacting. Obviously my boss had just wanted to have a nice dinner to get to know me better, just as he said. I might have continued this line of thought, but no sooner had the dessert plate been cleared away, Bob’s voice changed from amicable to serious.
My heart sank.
“Now, Jess, I’m sure you know why we’re here.”
No reason to beat around the bush or pretend I don’t, I thought. I folded my hand in front of me and rested them on the table. Now was not the time to be meek.
“It appears that for some reason you are concerned about my knowledge of the cell splicing theory linked to aging.”
“Yes, yes, you are quite right. You understand why this bothers me?”
“Honestly, sir, I have no idea.”
Bob looked slightly surprised, as thought he had assumed I’d worked this part out on my own.
“Well, if this knowledge were to get out, scientists from countries around the world would be breaking my door down, demanding the information. We have to keep it safe!”
I stared at him, nonplussed. “Sir?”
“Don’t you see, Jess? If others were to learn what we discovered, there’d be a riot! Stampedes! You name it! Our valuable information wouldn’t be safe any longer. Anyone off the street would be able to just walk in a take it!”
There was a slightly manic gleam in Bob’s eyes and I suddenly realized that I was no longer dealing with Bob-from-the-office.
I cleared my throat and said gently, “But wouldn’t the point of an aging cure be to distribute it among the people?” I asked.
“Well, yes,” Bob conceded, “but we can’t let people know about it. They’d steal it! They’d steal all our hard work and claim it as their own. These are very crafty people, you know, Jess. They’d see a charming girl like yourself, they’d see that you have a little information, know a little too much and they’d take advantage of you! I shudder to think of the methods they might use to extract that information.”
“But…Bob…I don’t know anything. I really don’t. All I can do is repeat back what I saw. I don’t know how it works or anything.”
“That’s enough, though!” Bob’s face had gone very red and he was nearly shouting. A vein was pulsing in his neck and he eyes were glassy and crazed. “You must be kept safe!”
He pounded the table with a fist and I jumped. His tone softened to that of a father speaking to a favorite child.
“You understand, don’t you Jess? You understand that this is the only way to keep you safe, to keep the company safe?”
“You’re crazy!” I gasped.
Bob frowned. “I have to do what’s best for all parties involved, my dear. You must be silenced.”
“You’d kill me?” I asked.
Bob looked wounded. “Certainly not! I’m not a murderer, Jess. But you can’t be allowed to remember the things you know.”
“But Bob, no one cares! And even if they did, they’re not going to try to steal if from you!”
“Yes!” he snapped, “yes they will! Even now, they’re watching us! Watching to see what we-see what I do, waiting for me to slip up. Jess, this has to be done. It will be done.”
“And if I refuse?”
Bob’s eyes narrowed. “Then more drastic measures will be taken. We can do this one of two ways, Jess. The easy way or the hard way. I’d suggest the easy way. Brian and Heather did.”
“I knew you’d done something to them!” I spat.
Bob chuckled. “Yes, I knew you would. I had to think it out very carefully, you see. Heather’s a dear, but we all know she’s a bit of an airhead and loves her parties. I talked to her first because it would seem the least suspicious. If you had gone first the other two would be more apt to notice. And I couldn’t modify you before Brian or he would think something odd and possibly alert security. I couldn’t let that happen because then they would notice and think we had something to hide. But now, you are the last bell to silence.”
“What about the scientists?” I asked in a small voice.
Bob swigged back the last of his champagne. “They understand the stakes,” he said simply. “Now my dear, if you’ll just follow me. I promise it will go quite smoothly if you simply cooperate.”
He rose from his chair and offered me a hand. I glanced around the now-empty restaurant. There wasn't so much as a waiter to be seen and I wondered exactly how far Bob's influence went in all this. I looked back into his eyes. Can’t argue with a madman, I told myself at last, and took his hand.
~*~
It’s Monday morning. I have a headache to end all headaches. I can’t remember what I did last night.
Prompt: Those who do not remember the past...
Wordcount: 2,400
Last week of collaboration with vyvyan_wilde . His grand idea was to write about a group of people in any line of work, and one or more of them, for whatever reason, begin to forget something they should know. Please don't take the scienc-y parts TOO seriously, I know it's far-fetched.
Thanks for a great month of writing, V. It's been a lot of fun!
Knowing Too Much
It was two weeks ago when I first noticed something strange was going on. Heather came to work that day seeming a little out of sorts.
“I can’t remember what I did last night,” she admitted when I asked how she was.
We laughed it off, saying she’s probably been at a bar and had too much to drink, but somehow I knew that wasn’t it.
It started on a Wednesday afternoon. Heather, Brian and I were in the break room discussing the usual stuff. Bob, our boss walked in just as our conversation turned to work matters.
“I don’t care if the cells split on contact,” Brian was saying. “It could still be the answer to the aging process.”
Heather and I nodded in agreement.
“Besides,” I added, sucking down the last bit of my coffee, “whether it works or not, the fact that they’re just that much closer to possibly unraveling the aging mystery will have everyone excited.
Just then Bob stepped over.
“What are you guys talking about?”
He sounded casual, I thought, but there was a hit of something else in his voice.
“We were down in the cell studies department yesterday and saw some of the research they’re working on down there,” Brian said, tossing his styrofoam cup into the waste basket.
“It’s really fascinating,” said Heather. “I had no idea we were coming so close to figuring out what goes into aging and how it can be slowed down.”
All the while they talked, Bob’s eyes got bigger and bigger and his jaw clenched tighter and tighter. I frowned. Apparently he wasn’t pleased.
“How many other people know about this?” He asked tersely.
Heather shrugged. “Don’t know. Probably just us and whoever’s working on it. We were the only ones down there at the time."
Bob clenched his fists. “I see.”
Without another word, he strode from the room. We all exchanged glances.
“That was weird,” said Brian.
“Yeah,” added Heather. “What do you think’s up with him, Jess?”
I shrugged and shook my head.
Five days later, Heather couldn’t remember what she had done the night before. For a brief time, she also seemed to have difficultly remembering our names, where we worked, or how to get from one lab to another to deliver messages or supplies. This got very frustrating as Heather was Bob’s personal secretary, I was a receptionist at the front desk and Brian was on the security detail. Messages kept getting screwed up or didn’t make it to where they were supposed to go.
After a couple days of this, just as I was really beginning to worry, Heather seemed to be back to her normal self and I thought everything was fine until Brian brought up the cell-splitting thing again.
Heather had no idea what he was talking about and couldn’t even seem to maintain her thoughts in the conversation. It was like every word we said bounced off and invisible wall in her head.
Brian and I exchanged concerned glances and he changed the subject.
“I’ve got a dinner meeting with Bob tonight,” he said enthusiastically.
“Really?”
“Yup! I’m thinking a promotion.” He grinned like a kid who was just given a brand new car for his sixteenth birthday.
I studied his beaming face for a moment and glanced to Heather who was absentmindedly stirring creamer into her coffee. I looked back to Brian who was still smiling. A thought began to form in my head. I stepped close to Brian and he raised an eyebrow in question.
“I don’t think you should go,” I murmured softly, peering at Heather over his shoulder. She was still working with her coffee.
Brian gave a nervous chuckle. “Why not?”
I gave a meaningful look to the woman behind him and he looked over his shoulder.
“You don’t think--”
I gave him a quelling stare.
“You mean?”
I nodded.
It was a tense moment, but then Brian started to laugh.
“Oh, come on, Jess! Don’t be so ridiculous!” He laughed again and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “I’ve gotta get back. I’ll see you guys later.” He left the room, still chortling to himself.
Heather watched him go then looked back at me. “Want to go shopping this weekend?” she asked, smiling her cute smile.
I tried to smile back, but I think it came out more like a grimace. “I don’t think so,” I said, trying to sound apologetic. “A lot to do,” I added.
She shrugged, and nodded, and left the room.
My thoughts began to race wildly. What do I do? Should I call the police? No, I have no proof. I have no idea what’s going on. For all I know Heather just hit her head during her drunken night out. Maybe I should have her see a doctor. But she seems okay now. Maybe I should follow Brian to his meeting. No, that’ll look suspicious if he sees me. Should I confront Bob? Oh, that’ll be sure to put me on the top of his hit list if he is behind this. My thoughts went round and round in this vein for the rest of the day and for lack of anything better to do, I decided to just wait it out and see.
The next morning Brian was haggard and grey-faced when he entered the break room for our customary morning meet ‘n greet..
“Rough night?” I asked hesitantly.
He gazed blearily at me. “I think so.”
“How’d the meeting go with Bob?” I was afraid to ask, afraid to know, but I had to.
Brian stared blankly at me. “What meeting?”
“I thought you said you had a meeting with him.”
He shook his head and then clutched it and sank to a chair with a groan. “Sorry, Jess. Don’t know what gave you that idea. Was just out with my buddies last night.”
“What do you think about that cell bonding and splicing theory?” I asked suddenly.
He looked at me as though I’d just grown an extra arm out the top of my head.
“What are you talking about? God, Jess, you know I don’t keep up with that crap.”
I filled a cup with coffee and set it in front of him. “Yeah. Of course. Sorry. Hope you feel better,” I said, and left.
Brian exhibited the same symptoms as Heather had after her “night on the town.” Heather was completely back to normal now. She acted just like her usual self,and the only side effect was her apparent inability to retain any information regarding the supposed anti-aging miracle. I was becoming increasingly concerned however for my own safety. I had to be next, I thought. We specifically told Bob we were the only three that knew about the procedure apart from the scientists actually working on it. I found myself becoming increasingly paranoid and agitated. It was hard to focus and I had never been so happy when Friday afternoon came and I could go home.
I was just gathering my things together when I heard the elevator bell ding. My stomach dropped. I knew who it would be without looking.
“Jess!” came the jovial voice of Bob. I would have known something was up even if the memories of my friends hadn’t been tampered with the last couple weeks. Bob never sounded that cheerful.
I turned to face him with a manufactured smile on my face.
“I was wondering if you would do me the honor of having dinner with me Sunday night?”
I gave him a level look and didn’t answer.
“I, er, insist,” he added. “Trying to get to know my employees better, you know.”
I still didn’t answer and his eyes turned steely. His tone turned from friendly to abrupt.
“A car will be sent to pick you up at 7 o’ clock. You would do well to be ready at that time.”
His face said plainly that far worse would happen than memory modification if I failed to be standing on my doorstep at the designated time.
The rest of that evening and all of Saturday passed in a haze. I again went through the possible courses of action I could take, but again, nothing presented itself as a sure way to escape my meeting. I decided in the end that Bob could surely be reasoned with. Once he understood that I was no threat, he wouldn’t see any reason to silence me. With this positive outlook, I showered, carefully applied my makeup, did up my hair just so, and wore my most flattering dress.
A black sedan pulled up in front of my house at 7 on the button. The driver got out and opened the door for me. I had half expected Bob to be inside, but I was alone. The drive was short one. We stopped at a fancy restaurant: one that has white linen tablecloths, real silver and crystal, where multiple courses are served and all the waiters wear tuxedos.
The host led me to a secluded table where Bob was already seated. He rose and greeted me politely as I sat.
The next hour passed uneventfully. Topics that we discussed were benign: weather, the city park cleanup day, Trout fishing. The latter I knew nothing about, but I smiled and nodded my head and feigned interest. The salad, soup, dinner and dessert were brought and taken away, and still Bob did not so much as hint at the real reason we were here.
I began to allow myself to think I had been silly and overreacting. Obviously my boss had just wanted to have a nice dinner to get to know me better, just as he said. I might have continued this line of thought, but no sooner had the dessert plate been cleared away, Bob’s voice changed from amicable to serious.
My heart sank.
“Now, Jess, I’m sure you know why we’re here.”
No reason to beat around the bush or pretend I don’t, I thought. I folded my hand in front of me and rested them on the table. Now was not the time to be meek.
“It appears that for some reason you are concerned about my knowledge of the cell splicing theory linked to aging.”
“Yes, yes, you are quite right. You understand why this bothers me?”
“Honestly, sir, I have no idea.”
Bob looked slightly surprised, as thought he had assumed I’d worked this part out on my own.
“Well, if this knowledge were to get out, scientists from countries around the world would be breaking my door down, demanding the information. We have to keep it safe!”
I stared at him, nonplussed. “Sir?”
“Don’t you see, Jess? If others were to learn what we discovered, there’d be a riot! Stampedes! You name it! Our valuable information wouldn’t be safe any longer. Anyone off the street would be able to just walk in a take it!”
There was a slightly manic gleam in Bob’s eyes and I suddenly realized that I was no longer dealing with Bob-from-the-office.
I cleared my throat and said gently, “But wouldn’t the point of an aging cure be to distribute it among the people?” I asked.
“Well, yes,” Bob conceded, “but we can’t let people know about it. They’d steal it! They’d steal all our hard work and claim it as their own. These are very crafty people, you know, Jess. They’d see a charming girl like yourself, they’d see that you have a little information, know a little too much and they’d take advantage of you! I shudder to think of the methods they might use to extract that information.”
“But…Bob…I don’t know anything. I really don’t. All I can do is repeat back what I saw. I don’t know how it works or anything.”
“That’s enough, though!” Bob’s face had gone very red and he was nearly shouting. A vein was pulsing in his neck and he eyes were glassy and crazed. “You must be kept safe!”
He pounded the table with a fist and I jumped. His tone softened to that of a father speaking to a favorite child.
“You understand, don’t you Jess? You understand that this is the only way to keep you safe, to keep the company safe?”
“You’re crazy!” I gasped.
Bob frowned. “I have to do what’s best for all parties involved, my dear. You must be silenced.”
“You’d kill me?” I asked.
Bob looked wounded. “Certainly not! I’m not a murderer, Jess. But you can’t be allowed to remember the things you know.”
“But Bob, no one cares! And even if they did, they’re not going to try to steal if from you!”
“Yes!” he snapped, “yes they will! Even now, they’re watching us! Watching to see what we-see what I do, waiting for me to slip up. Jess, this has to be done. It will be done.”
“And if I refuse?”
Bob’s eyes narrowed. “Then more drastic measures will be taken. We can do this one of two ways, Jess. The easy way or the hard way. I’d suggest the easy way. Brian and Heather did.”
“I knew you’d done something to them!” I spat.
Bob chuckled. “Yes, I knew you would. I had to think it out very carefully, you see. Heather’s a dear, but we all know she’s a bit of an airhead and loves her parties. I talked to her first because it would seem the least suspicious. If you had gone first the other two would be more apt to notice. And I couldn’t modify you before Brian or he would think something odd and possibly alert security. I couldn’t let that happen because then they would notice and think we had something to hide. But now, you are the last bell to silence.”
“What about the scientists?” I asked in a small voice.
Bob swigged back the last of his champagne. “They understand the stakes,” he said simply. “Now my dear, if you’ll just follow me. I promise it will go quite smoothly if you simply cooperate.”
He rose from his chair and offered me a hand. I glanced around the now-empty restaurant. There wasn't so much as a waiter to be seen and I wondered exactly how far Bob's influence went in all this. I looked back into his eyes. Can’t argue with a madman, I told myself at last, and took his hand.
~*~
It’s Monday morning. I have a headache to end all headaches. I can’t remember what I did last night.