Doctor Faulkner stood in front of the computers and holoscreens, examining the data. He scrolled up and down and back up again through the information files, hoping he could find a flaw in his own experiments. He hoped to delay the inevitable. The evidence for it was too obvious however. No excuses could help him any longer. The government would no doubt now enforce the arbitrary procedures, or what there was left of the government if you could even call it that. Their patience had been worn thin several experiments ago. He would be unable to stop them. Now that all the data had been recorded they hardly needed him. They’ll kill me the thought suddenly flashed through his mind. It scared him. They’ll kill me and steal my work his stomach plummeted. They would. He knew it. They were evil. There was no under estimating them; especially when they had so much power.
“Doctor Faulkner?” A grim feminine voice suddenly spoke in his ear piece. He wiped his sweaty hands on his white doctor’s coat and took a long shaky breath before responding.
“Perfect.” She asserted without enthusiasm. “Overseer Jahks will be in to see you with some of the supervisors in under ten minutes. Are you prepared to entertain them?”
“I’m prepared.” He replied.
His mind was racing. He was living his last minutes right now, stuck in a room with no windows and surrounded by hundreds of screens. His breath became labored as he paced back and forth clutching his skull. Fear gripped him as never before. Screams escaped his throat. He glanced at his wrist: he arguably had about seven more minutes. Goose bumps prickled on his arms.
He scrambled around the room looking for a piece of paper and a pen. He had to write something. He didn’t know why but he felt that in his last seven minutes, maybe recounting his life and ideas and passions might calm him down. His hands shook uncontrollably. Finally he found a piece of paper. A pen lay on his desk and he grabbed it. He sat down and began to narrate his experiences and stories in life. His writing was scribbled. Tears blurred his vision as he scrawled. He told his family he loved them. He told them of what he had accomplished and what he had discovered at work all those days he had been away from home. He told them he hoped they didn’t hate him for being away so much and how he perpetually missed them. He wrote of how sorry he was that he had missed his children’s childhoods and how he wished he had been a better father. He told his friends how much he cherished them. He wrote about what he had hoped to master in life; his goals and ambitions. He recorded what he’d hoped he had accomplished in life; the impact he’d had on people.
A loud resounding knock on the metal door of the room jolted him back to reality. He hastily wiped his eyes and composed himself. If he was to die, he might as well die looking confident. He folded the letter and slipped it in to his pocket, hoping that no one would look there.
A towering man entered the room followed by four other people all dressed in gray jump suits. The man glared at Faulkner. He wore black pants and a long-sleeved shirt with a gray bullet proof vest. His head was completely shaved and his jaw was set tight. His dark harsh eyes went from left to right, taking in the sight of the room and the hundreds of blue transparent holoscreens.
He stepped further into the room and spoke in a deep voice “You have the data that President Holmes needs and we are here to take it.”
“…Yes… of course.” Faulkner whispered. “Now where did I put it?” he glanced around the room as if he had misplaced the nanodrive. He knew exactly where it was and knew he was only delaying his death. Nevertheless, when you’re going to die, every last minute of life is precious. He didn’t want to die.
“You’ve misplaced the data drive?” the man asked.
“No of course not.” Faulkner replied, chuckling. “Ahh, see here it is.” He stuck his hand into one of his coat pockets and brought out the nanodrive, hardly bigger than a penny. As he slid his hand from his pocket, his coat sleeve caught on something. The letter he’d written fell to the floor. The large man’s eyebrows rose.
“What is that?”
“The nanodrive of course.” Faulkner tried. His voice shook.
“What is that?” The man questioned, motioning toward the letter.
“Oh that! It’s nothing of significance sir.”
The man seemed satisfied with the answer and smirked “Give me the nanodrive.”
Faulkner placed it in his hand with his own trembling hands “There you are.” He managed
“Yes… thank you.” The man growled. “Faulkner isn’t it?”
“Yes sir. And you are Jahks?”
“Nice to meet you sir.”
“Believe me, the pleasure is mine.” Jahks rasped. “Which is why it’s so incredibly hard for me to do this.” Jahks’s smirk suddenly turned into a grin. An evil grin. A grin that belonged to someone who should have been kept in an asylum. The grin belonged to someone who had long ago gone insane. Faulkner lost his voice, or rather the will to speak. He knew too well what was about to take place.
“Anthea!” Jahks yelled. A woman stepped out from behind him, holding a gun.
“Do what you were ordered to.” Jahks nodded and began marching out of the room. The woman bowed her head and then shot the gun. The bullet found its mark on the right side of Faulkner’s brow. He blinked twice and then fell to the ground. Blood flooded the floor; pouring around his head and outlining his face. Sounds became echoes. The light became dim and then… there was no light.
The woman called Anthea stared indifferently at the body lying in front of her. A piece of paper lie by his shoulder. The same paper that had fallen out of his pocket. It absorbed blood as it came into contact with the red liquid. She picked it up and skimmed its contents.
She took it and left what had once been Doctor Faulkner’s lab.