S.M.A.R.T. (The Subject of Mind Altering Research and Testing)

Chapter Fourteen

The General looked around his office for something to throw. He settled on a pen holder which he chucked across the room, sending pens flying.

"Fuck!" He shouted, to nobody but himself.

His office was a mediocre sized room, scattered with notes and documents. His desk sat in the middle of the room, it was maple, stained rich dark brown, to match the bookshelves. He had a quill pen, sitting in a holder that shined a royal golden colour, a large based computer setup on top of the desk. He had no name bar. His office was dimly lit, the way he liked it, and there was another chair in front of his desk for meetings, which he rarely had, and another chair in the corner beside a standing lamp, for reading books. There was a telephone on the desk, and the General sat in his chair, distraught from the call he had just had.

"Gates." The voice on the other end had answered.

"Hello, sir, it's me. I'm just calling to give you an update, sir." The General had said back. It was his own commander that he had called.

"Be quick about it, I don't have time right now."

"Well, there has been a bit of progress, sir. The subject showed an interesting ability to analyze wind patterns, but it's yet to be confirmed. That is part of why I called, was there a tornado in the United States last week, sir?"

"You haven't heard yet? Wyoming got hit bad, yesterday. Forty-three dead and twelve missing, why?"

The General's face had gone gaunt when he heard the words. The little lab rat was right. It wasn't the deaths that bothered him, it was that he hadn't believed it was possible that Michael could know that, and this meant his suspicions had to be right. Michael is tampering with these tests. It worked every time in the animal trials, so he had been suspicious from the first time Michael had said he felt nothing. The only reason Michael had shown him anything in the last test was to try and save those people. He felt his control was fading, and he needed to get it back.

"Interesting... That is what the subject said would happen." The General had continued after a pause for his realization.

"Ahem... it's sir." The other voice had said.

"Sorry, sir."

"Better, now, what do you mean, "said would happen"? You're saying that he was able to predict a storm, thousands of miles away from him?"

"Exactly, sir. He licked his finger, put it in the air, his eyes rolled back in his head for a split second, then his face looked terrified, and he told me it would happen, sir. He said there would be a deadly tornado in Wyoming, sir."

"I thought you weren't getting any results!" His commander scolded. "Why didn't you call be as soon you heard this?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think it could be true. It didn't seem possible. It seemed like a lie, his family lives in Wyoming. I thought he was trying to get me to contact you so you would tell somebody, and expose this project. I was only trying to do my job, sir."

"Do you think I'm a fool? Don't ever insult me like that again. Let me make one thing clear to you, and listen carefully. You are to tell me every detail, whether you decide it is some trick, or lie, or just not important. I will be the one who makes those calls, are we clear?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir." The General spat out, wimpish.

"Good, now quit your whimpering, and remember whose hook you bit onto when you were swimming around, looking for something bigger, or have you forgotten how fast I can put you back out on missions?"