A cockroach scuttled over the pile of papers on Dr Terence’s desk. It had been weeks now since any kind of positive report from the field. The General Magic-powered devices were out in the wild, on 53 willing participants, but the desired effect had yet to materialise. Questions were starting to be asked: Why were people disappearing? Why couldn’t we keep the rescue dogs alive beyond thirty days? Why were apports inconsistent in their size and location?
Dr Terence stroked his pointed beard. Pressing a button on the intercom he summoned Janice, his assistant. She dutifully appeared, pen poised above pad like a spear fisherman.
“Yes, Dr Terence?”
“Janice, how long have you worked here?”
“3 years, no – wait – 4 years?” She seemed uncertain, her eyes fogged.
“Do you work here?” asked Terence, raising an eyebrow.
“I-I don’t know. I don’t think so?” Janice’s knees gave way and she slumped to the floor, holding her head, woozy.
“Imbeciles,” muttered Terence under his breath. He punched a button on his desk console and Janice disappeared.
In a fit of pique, Terence snapped the pencil he had been spinning in his fingers. It was time to up the dose, jump on the other side of the risk/reward see-saw. Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out a black box, sprouting wires that terminated in rubberised electrodes. He attached them firmly to his temples and scalp, and activated the device. Sometimes, he thought, when you want something doing properly – you have to do it yourself.