The Conversation-Part 1

The Director was seated at the head of the conference table with a rather thick looking file laying open in front of him. I could glimpse enough of the file as I approached to see that it was mine.

He nodded almost imperceptibly to a chair to his right, so I sat down without further ado. I was nervous and a little anxious, and I know that bastard was enjoying every moment of it, even if he didn’t show it.

I tried to get comfortable as he resumed examining the contents of the file, flipping from one page to the next as if I weren’t sitting right there next to him.

After about a minute of unnerving silence, I cleared my throat and sat up, determined not to be intimidated, in case he was trying to test me in some way.

“I see that you have passed all of the required tests,” he started without notice, “and that you have not had any trouble meeting the requirements of the program up to now. So tell me, is this what you expected?”

I was a little shocked that he actually asked me a question, but I was cautious, “Sir, to be honest, I think the program has been pretty well run, but I’m not sure I understand everything up to this point.”

His eyes seemed to light up at this, “So Officer Smith, what is it that you don’t understand about the program?”

“Well, sir, to be honest, I can’t understand why you have chosen us in the way that you did. I know that I am damn good cop, and so are my fellow team members, but when all is said and done, we are all still local cops, we’re not federal agents. Heck many of the guys don’t even have a college degree, and I know that most of your FBI agents have master’s degrees. So why do you want a bunch of locals, even high-speed locals, running a special response unit of the FBI?”

He let my words trail off for a moment before answering in that slow, deliberate manner that I now find so annoying, “That, Officer Smith, is perhaps the best question I have heard from anyone on the team. The answers to that question, are in large part the reason for these meetings and for this evaluation.

“I have received permission from my superiors,” he said with a sneer at that last word, “to move on to the next phase of this program. You and your remaining team members have gone as far as you can in this program with the knowledge that you have been given. It is now my turn to share some additional goals of this program with you, and it is time for you to make a choice as to whether to continue forward past this point.”

I shifted in my seat, sat up a little straighter, waiting for him to continue.

“Everyone on the team was recruited on the basis of several criteria. The first of which, is that you had to be a person who professed no particular faith in any religion. The second of which was that you had to be good officers, between the ages of 30 and 50 years old, Third, you had to be willing and able to complete the rather rigorous training program we had in mind.

“You have met all of these requirements, and done very well indeed. But the next step requires a further commitment to a rather radical idea. One that you may, or may not be prepared to accept and embrace.”

My curiousity was aroused now, “What is this idea, sir?”

“I am prepared to offer you an opportunity to become immortal.”

“Say again, sir, ...immortal...what exactly do you mean by that?”

“If you accept this agreement, and sign the contracts and consent forms that I have for you here, you will have an opportunity to become immortal. By that, I mean that your consciousness will be able to continue to exist past your natural death, and that you will have an unprecedented opportunity to interact with, and continue to take an active role in, this world as you now know it. Your soul, if you will accept the religious term for it for a moment, will be preseved and contained within a vessel that will allow this agency to give you a new, or enhanced body, to operate with.”

“Hold on,” I interrupted, “is this some sort of sick joke? You did select us because we didn’t believe in any of this stuff, didn’t you? What do you mean by preserving my soul? I don’t even accept the fact that I have a soul...”

He held up a very bony looking hand, silencing me for the moment, “Yes, yes, I understand your shock and even your disbelief. But I can assure you that you do indeed have a soul, of sorts, and that we now have the means to quantify that and to actually contain that spirit within a special device.

“The reason that only men of no professed faith were selected for this project, is that you and others like you would have no pre-conceived objection to undertaking this project. Since you have not yet been concerned with your soul and where it would, or wouldn’t go after your death, it was felt that you and the other team members selected would be more open to the possibilities of this project.”

“Now,” I spoke up again, “wait a minute.. Are you saying that you picked me because I was some sort of heathen who is consigned to Hell because I don’t believe in any of that shit in the first place?”

“Well, that is a very crass, and blunt way of putting it, but yes, that was part of the decision process on who got selected for this program.”

“Well, I’ll be damned...”

“Precisely. Since you have no vested interest in any afterlife beyond this world, why face that possibility when you don’t have to?”

I was pretty stunned at this point, but I wasn’t quite speechless yet, “OK, I’ll play along with this crap for a moment,” I was quickly losing any respect I had for the man at this point. “Why the Hell would the Federal Government want to get involved with my spiritual immortality, and what does that have to do with this program. I thought we were about stopping religious terrorists and protecting this country!”

“Yes, well, to be honest, the government’s interest in your spirit is puely practical. The government has seen a potential use for intelligent, creative beings who have no fear of being injured or of getting killed in the face of highly dangerous missions. But this is not something that the government can allow just anyone to attempt. We feel that it should be limited to men of strong principles and proven character. Additionally, if your spirit can kept from passing to the next world, whatever that may be, when you die and kept available for use in a new body, then all of the expenses the government has gone to train and educate highly skilled officers can be made to pay off for generations to come.

“Think of it, man, all of the knowledge, the skills you have attained up to now as an officer of the law, can be preserved in a body that will not hunger, tha twill not need to sleep, that will not grow old, that cannot be killed, and that can be repaired if it is injured or damaged. Everything that you have learned up to now, and in the future, will be available to you in a new body that is stronger, faster, more capable than you are now. You could truly become immortal!”

His eyes seemed to be glowing as he spoke, getting more and more intense as his voice grew louder. He appeared almost fanatical in his belief that this project, whatever the Hell it really was, would work.

“You’re talking about making me, and these other guys some sort of robots. Sir, I think you’ve been watching too many movies. Robo-Cop was a movie man, the best damn robots I’ve seen are those stupid furry toys my kids wanted so bad for Christmas. How are you gonna pull this shit off?”

“That’s just it, we are not creating a robot, per se, you won’t be a machine subject to any sort of programming, but a freely thinking person, who happens to be in a body that is modified. This is more than technology run amuck, this is a fusion of magick and technology that will be unprecedented in human history!”

Part 2 to follow tomorrow, time permitting.