Sheila’s New Project

     By youre1st

     MC, MD ,FD, MF, FF,

This is really the beginning of an e-novella. I’ve never written anything like it before and I’d appreciate any feedback. It develops slowly, but I promise it’ll get to the elements you all read this stuff for. It’s got good guys and bad guys and damsels in distress. Feedback: [email protected]

Chapter 1

     Sheila Johnson fidgeted a little in her seat. The interview would be any minute now and there was a lot riding on it. She knew she had all the qualifications the job required, all the necessary experience in the field anyone could reasonably expect. In short, her future depended on someone else’s whim and mood at the moment. “There’s a first time for everything,” she said just loudly enough for the receptionist to hear her. “I’m sure that Ms. Hood will be right with you,” said Sara, the receptionist, in a friendly upbeat way. “Don’t worry hon, she only looks scary, you’ll do fine.” Sara smiled very sweetly and Sheila could tell that Sara was being sincere.

     “Thank you ...Sara is it?” Sheila said, pointedly looking at the young woman’s ID badge. “Oh, I’m sorry for not introducing myself,” Sara said, a little less sincerely but still smiling. “I’m a little preoccupied at the moment, please forgive me.” “It’s ok, I’m sure you have dozens of people through here like me, waiting here for an interview.” “Actually, we don’t get many that make it as far as an interview. Ms. Hood is real picky and most resumes we get end up in this file,” Sara said with a laugh and pointed to the trash can next to her desk.

     Just then, the door behind the receptionist opened and a tall, severely dressed woman appeared. “Right this way Miss Johnson,” said the woman, whose ID read Barbara Kelly. The two women moved silently down a quiet hallway until they reached the door to an office, labeled Monica Hood Executive VP. “Wait here and Ms. Hood will be right in.” Barbara said, closing the door behind her, leaving Sheila alone in the office. Sheila looked around, taking in the austere, tasteful space. It was a little disconcerting to be in a space that betrayed so little about it’s occupant. “I’d never guess this was a woman’s office,” Sheila thought to herself .

     Monica Hood entered her office, crossing the space between them in a single stride and offering her hand to Sheila, “like a man would,” Sheila thought to herself. “Monica Hood, Executive VP in charge of Human Resources and Personnel Development.” said Monica by way of introduction. “Sheila Johnson, job applicant,” replied Sheila, in an attempt to lighten the mood in the sterile office. Monica smiled faintly, acknowledging the effort Sheila made without betraying much interest one way or the other. “Take a seat please,” Ms. Hood said, pointing at a seat in front of the desk.

     “I’ve reviewed your resume, checked into your references and. Your experience and education are first rate, you’ve got good credit and a clean Police record. You could certainly do better than an entry level filing position I’m looking to fill.” said Ms. Hood, holding the file with Sheila’s resume and background check. Sheila, hesitated a moment, knowing the whole interview hinged on her answer and how Ms. Hood received it. “Since the Institute lost it’s research grant, jobs doing the kind of work I do are few and far between and until I sell my townhouse, I can’t relocate,” Sheila began “I’ve still got bills to pay and this is a well respected and stable workplace.”

     “Let’s talk about your work at the Institute, shall we?” Monica said, examining Sheila’s resume and placing it on the desk between them. “What were your actual duties there?” “I was a file clerk, most of what I did putting the files in the right order.” “Of course, but which research projects did you work on?” “All of the files were encoded, so besides the numbers, I could never tell..” It wasn’t Sheila’s first lie of the interview, but it was a big one. The truth would’ve ended the interview, along with Sheila’s plans, there and then. And that would not do. “It was all secret government work and they did all they could to keep it secret from all of us, especially the low-level people like me,” said Sheila, fleshing out the lie with more detail and reading Monica’s reaction to what she’d said so far. “So you know nothing of the experiments in Project Catalyst?” “Catalyst Project?” said Sheila, doing her best to feign ignorance of her brainchild, her greatest accomplishment, her continuing passion. “Yes dear, Project Catalyst, the reason the Institute lost it’s grants, it’s reputation and all of it’s funding. I’ll have you know that I was on the Board of Inquiry and I recommended the harshest possible sanctions be imposed.”

     Sheila had expected this approach. She’d done her homework well. Of course it helped that the Institute had conducted psychological profiling for Memory Dynamics, the organization Monica had worked her way up through . “She’s smart, but she has a high opinion of herself,” Sheila thought to herself. Sheila knew from Monica’s profile that she was diligent and resourceful. Unfortunately, the information that Monica needed to protect her was not available in any data base, and she so denied her feminine side that her intuition, if she had it at all, was likely to be ignored.

     “Look,” began Sheila, pretending to be the sort of woman who was victimized, “I don’t know what those crazy people did or who they did it to, all I know is I really needed that job to pay off my loans, make my car payment and get by in the world. All I know about any of the unpleasantness I read in the newspapers like everybody else.” she said looking into her lap and doing her best pretend sob. It was a ruse built to play to Monica Hood’s profile. Monica took the bait hook, line and sinker.

     “There now Miss Johnson, compose yourself. I know from my role in the investigation that you had nothing to do with stealing the grant money.” Sheila smiled a real smile. She knew what Ms. Hood would never guess. The theft of funds was the cover story those idiots in the CIA used to shut down the Institute. The investigation was a sham, with competent but clueless dupes brought in from related disciplines to lend it an air of authenticity. The CIA was still trying to find their Manchurian Candidate and the Institute had a major role in developing real world technologies for their dirty work..

     Far from being a scam or a theft of funds, “Project Catalyst” had been an unqualified success. Much of what had been learned would never see the light of day, especially now when all the key scientists had been victims of tragic “accidents” and sad untimely deaths. Of the original 7 key researchers, she knew for a fact three were dead.. Reynolds, Wallace and Howard were good people, solid citizens and patriotic Americans. The sad thing is none of them knew that the CIA was footing the bill for their research. As far as they knew, they were developing cutting edge psychological profiling techniques.

     As for the others, it was clear to her they were CIA plants from the beginning. Marx, Thomas and Reed had taken “Project Catalyst” and all of it’s power into officially sanctioned governmental oblivion, along with their ethics. “Fuck them, they’ll get theirs,” thought Sheila, pretending to wipe away the tears from her fake meltdown for Ms. Hood’s consumption, seemingly regaining her composure and once again focusing on the present: getting a foot in the door.

     Ms Hood waited what she thought was a decent interval before continuing with the interview. “As you may know,” she began a little too self importantly, “Memory Dynamics is on the leading edge of brain research and technology. This is a fast moving field and the sky is the limit. Memory Dynamics is a major player and there is a lot of competition. If you accept this job, you will sign a confidentiality agreement and also a non-competitive agreement. Sheila knew the rap, she’d given it herself in what seemed like another lifetime now. “Of course, Ms. Hood, I’m familiar with such things,” Sheila said, her voice tailing off, “we had them in my previous job with the Institute.”

     “Let’s hope this job works out better for you. I do want to say a word about our dress code. I know it will be hard for a girl like you, but you’ll have to dress very conservatively. As well endowed as you are, you should avoid anything revealing.” Ms. Hood said, telling Sheila what Sheila had known for several minutes already; the job was hers. “Ms. Kelly will show you around and introduce you to the man you will be working with. She’ll get you badged, assign you parking and answer any questions you may have.” Ms Hood rose from her seat to show Sheila out of the office and Sheila followed her to the door. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me...” Sheila said, completing the rest of her thought silently “...or I’d have to kill you.”

     Ms. Kelly offered what seemed to be a genuine welcome, walking her through the various work areas and introducing a few of her new coworkers. They completed the paperwork, Sheila playing along, asking about 401k and insurance, profit sharing and dress code. “It seems like the dress code is very conservative around here,” said Sheila, making conversation. “Ms Hood sets the pace for the rest of us, she’s all business and believes that in our competitive industry we’ve got no time to waste on the usual office interactions. If she’s right and Memory Dynamics performs in the next five years like it did in the last five, we’ll all be able to retire rich. I for one can dress like a woman on my own time if that’s what it takes.” Just then, a man passed the office door. Ms. Kelly called after him, and a moment later, he stuck his head in.

     “Hi Barbara, who do you have here?” said the man, pleasantly . “Dave, this is Sheila Johnson, the assistant you’ve been promised now for 5 months. Sheila, this is Dave Miller, Information Systems Director for the research and development arm of Memory Dynamics. You’ll be working under him... I mean for him.” There was a moment of awkward silence, then in the same instant, they all broke up laughing. “So much for being PC.” said Dave, blushing just a little at the thought of such a pretty woman “working under him.” “I’m so glad to meet you Sheila,” Dave said sincerely. “Have I got a job for you!” Sheila smiled a real smile and said “great, I can’t wait to get started. Is Monday soon enough?” Dave checked his clipboard and said “sure Sheila, once you’ve completed the profiling process, you can start right away.” “Profiling?” said Sheila, trying not to betray her feelings. “Don’t worry hon, everybody does it before they start work. It’s no big deal, just answering a few questions on a simple questionnaire. Dave lead Sheila to a small room, setting her up with a blank questionnaire and a #2 pencil. “Take as long as you like. There are no right or wrong answers, just pick the answer the best fits you. If any of the questions seem too personal, just skip them. When you’re finished, just press the call button and I’ll be right in.” Sheila was concerned at first when they mentioned profiling. She was afraid that Memory Dynamics had made the critical connection she had made herself at the Institute. Having a good personality profile of any subject was more important than the various types of mind control technologies that could be used. An understanding of what a subject aspired to and as importantly, what they worked hardest to repress in their personalities was crucial. With a start, Sheila realized that the majority of the questions on the profile were ones she’d written herself. With the right hardware, and a trained observer, she knew that Memory Dynamics could derive from her responses an amazingly clear and accurate assessment of who she was, of who she could be.

     She took a moment, then laughed. As long as they relied solely on a subject’s written responses, they’d get nothing of value from the most sophisticated personality inventory system yet devised. Like most people, it seemed that Memory Dynamics missed the boat. At the Institute, it was how a subject reacted mentally to each question that mattered. People spent a great deal of time thinking about each of the questions, and that data was carefully gathered and analyzed, nobody even bothered to read the subject’s answers. The brain wave capturing hardware, which the subject wore on his or her head was missing from this setting, It was fun, taking the personality inventory she herself invented. It was certainly a waste of time and could give Memory Dynamics nothing of value.

     Sheila completed the inventory and pressed the call button when she was finished. Dave came and collected the questionnaire. Sheila was about to leave and Dave called after her “hon, we’re short of pencils just now, I need that one back.” Sheila laughed and said “Sure Dave. If you like I can bring some from home on Monday.” “ That’s ok Sheila,” said Dave laughing as well, “we’ve got some more here somewhere.” He continued the thought silently “besides... I doubt very seriously you have a pencil anything like this one.” Sheila made her way out of the office suite and Dave picked up the nearby phone and dialed a 4 digit extension. “Mr. Reed, Miller here... yes she just left...yes, I think you’ll be quite pleased with her test results. 15 minutes... sure I can swing it...you want the test chamber video and audio as well? Yes sir, 15 minutes.

     Sheila made her way out of the office. She’d built up the day so much in her anticipation of it that once it had come to pass, it seemed anti-climatic. They’ll never suspect a thing. As she got in her car and drove home, the newest member of the Memory Dynamics team smiled and planned the next step in it’s destruction. Little did she know Memory Dynamics planned as well, if not her destruction, certainly her enslavement.