Chapter 11 — The Envelope
366 Words
The envelope lay on the foot of the bed like it had weight beyond paper. Evelyn hesitated before sliding her finger under the seal.
Inside was a single folded sheet. She opened it slowly, bracing for orders, for threats.
The top line was clinical: Retrieval Order — Asset #93
Her breath caught. Below it, in bold black ink, was her father’s name: Daniel Hart.
“No,” she whispered.
Blackwell took the paper from her hands, scanning it with sharp eyes. His jaw tightened. “It’s not a patient record. It’s an inventory.”
Evelyn blinked at him. “An… inventory?”
He nodded grimly. “Cindral doesn’t see him as a man. He’s a numbered asset. #93.”
Beneath the order, a short paragraph:
Directive: Subject’s neural data must be recovered. Custodian (E. Hart) to deliver backup disc within 24 hours.
Evelyn’s stomach knotted. “Neural data? They want his brain?”
“They already have part of it,” Blackwell said quietly. “See this?” He pointed at the last line, a list of dates. “These are upload timestamps. The last one… was three months ago.”
Her head spun. “He… he was giving them data? My father?”
“Not willingly.” Blackwell’s tone was certain. “They tethered him. That’s why the amber dose worked—it’s not medicine, it’s a synchronization compound.”
Evelyn felt the floor tilt under her. “So he’s been… paired? All this time?”
“Yes.” Blackwell folded the sheet. “And they’re telling you to finish what he refused to give.”
At the bottom of the page was a list of other names, blurred in her vision until she forced herself to read.
Asset #87 — Marcus Liu
Asset #88 — Clara Voss
Asset #92 — Daniel Hart
Asset #94 — Pending
She froze. “There’s another one. #94.”
Blackwell’s eyes narrowed. “And they’re not done recruiting.”
Evelyn’s throat went dry. “They want me next.”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the steady beep of Daniel’s portable monitor.
Finally, Blackwell said, “Then we change the game. We stop being the assets.”
- Writer
