of the members will have selective memory loss and will be locked in a deep sleep. This special project member will be instilled with something I’m not sure is possible. Even so, I’d like you to watch over him. I imagine when he wakes up he may become somewhat of a national threat so I’m going to make sure he remembers his identity after a period of time.
After the projects begin, he may be the only one who can keep things in check. I need you to find him and take care of him until he heals from the extensive surgeries and the confusion it causes. His name, is Nicholas Bridgestone and he joined the project in order to save his life and his wife’s after they were caught in a house fire. After he signed the papers on his death bed, we administered stem cell regeneration therapy and nursed him and his wife back to health. The bad news is, they had an unborn child. I asked a lot of the other doctors and researchers what happened to her and they all said she passed away but I never saw anything of it. No signing of death records, no funeral service, or no burial; no memorial service. Not even a bouquette of flowers sitting in his wife’s room. It’s a mad world, Verdante, and indirectly, I’m creating it.
Remember the attached file in this message. Trust no one with it. Please, look after Nicholas. Please, do not contact the feds. I have reason to believe they won’t care.
- Edgar Thompson.
I send the message from my computer in my office and I lay my head on my arms as I slump over on my desk and rest my eyes. I fall asleep for perhaps a half hour and suddenly someone is pounding on my door.
“Open up, Thompson!!”
“What? What’s going on?”
“Open the god damn door!!” It was Reinhardt.
I jump out of my chair and open the door and two men in army uniforms come in an grab both of my arms. They drag me back to my seat and set me down.
“I don’t know what I should do right now. I’m so angry. I trusted someone with a very special job. I invested millions of dollars in his cause and he bad mouths me to his friend!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“You told several of the guys here that you have no say around here. Edgar, you’re half the fucking operation! You tell them that I’m doing whatever the hell I want to and pushing you to do things you don’t agree with! I’m not creating a mess you don’t want to have if this is what all you believe it to be. Just a mess? You’ve been playing god all your life! I read your case files, I’ve read your research documents, and I’ve seen countless hours of video footage of you in action with those creatures you’ve created. Why can’t mankind benefit?” Reinhardt is fifty shades of red bright than usual.
I take a deep breath and realize he’s not mad for the reason I initially thought. If he knew I had been talking to Verdante, he’d have my head. I swallow hard and reply, “I’m sorry. But, it’s the way I feel.”
“How much have you made this year?” He asks me.
“About seven hundred thousand...” I say quietly.
“What!?” He yells.
“About seven hundred thousand!” I repeat myself.
“How much did make before I was interested in your work, Edgar?”
“About fifty grand, sir,” I say. “I don’t care about the money.”
“Bullshit, you do. You change your attitude. Last warning,” he says with a scowl.
“Alright,” I nod.
“I’m not kidding. You want me to take over, keep it up, then you won’t get what you want out of this. You have the brains for this and I need them. I’ve got the vehicle to make things move and you need that from me. I believe that’s what you biology nerds call a perfect symbiotic relationship, right? Let’s make it happen,” he says. “Let’s go.”
He and the two men in uniform head out the door. I lean back in my chair and rub my forehead. I wish I could talk to my father about all of this. I wonder where he is.