Close Remembrance

Chapter 2-3

After the noise and crowds in Shanghai, the stark landscape of the Siberian tundra was almost soothing. If it hadn’t been for the cold, Saret would’ve probably enjoyed visiting this remote northern region of Russia.

But it was cold. The temperature here, just above the Arctic Circle, was never warm enough for a Krinar, not even on the hottest summer day. Today, though, it was actually below freezing, and Saret made sure every part of his body was covered with thermal clothing before he stepped out of his ship.

The large grey building in front of him was one of the ugliest examples of Soviet-era architecture. Barbed wire and guard towers on every corner marked it as exactly what it was—a maximum security prison for the worst violent offenders in all of Russia. Few people knew this place existed, which is why Saret had chosen it for his experiment.

He openly approached the gate, not worrying about being seen by any cameras or satellites. For this outing, he was wearing a disguise, one of a couple he had developed over the years. It changed not only his appearance, but even the outer layer of his DNA, making it nearly impossible to divine his true identity. The humans knew he was a Krinar, of course, but they didn’t know anything else about him.

At his approach, the gate swung open, letting him in. Saret walked briskly to the building, where he was greeted by the warden—a pot-bellied, middle-aged human who stank of alcohol and cigarettes.

Without saying a word, the warden led him to his office and closed the door.

“Well?” Saret asked in Russian as soon as they had privacy. “Do you have the data I requested?”

“Yes,” the warden said slowly. “The results are quite... unusual.”

“Unusual how?”

“It’s been six weeks since your last visit,” the human said, his hands nervously playing with a pen. “In the past month, we haven’t had a single homicide. In the past three weeks, there have been no fights. I’ve been running this place for twenty years, and I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Saret smiled. “No, I’m sure you haven’t. What was the homicide rate before?”

The man opened a folder and took out a sheet of paper, handing it to Saret. “Take a look. There are usually two or three murders a month and about a fight a day. We can’t figure it out. It’s like all of them had a personality transplant.”

Saret’s smile widened. If only the human knew the truth. Satisfied, he folded the sheet and put it in the pocket of his thermal pants. “You can expect the final payment by tomorrow,” he told the warden and walked out of the room.

He couldn’t wait to get back on his ship and out of the cold.