The Enthusiasts

19

Maxim sat at a long, hardened-glass research table, alone, in the dark, save a few luminescent research pods. He was surrounded by empty and half-empty pill bottles that had all once been full of time-release adrenaline doses to keep him from drifting off during this highly sensitive time that required constant alertness. Everything was in place for him to enact his plan and celebrate his long-awaited coming out party as the next world leader. Then, I will finally have a moment of rest, he assured himself. The unmanned military bombers were set to drop the gas that would cleanse the Earth of all vermin. Afterwards, things could become peaceful again. The people of Spectra would live in harmony with the Earth, and everything would return to balance around him. He wouldn't need to be seen much. He didn't crave the limelight. Someone else can have it, he thought, as long as his vision and understanding of how to keep the peace was followed to the letter. And if his newest tweak on the mind control serum he was working tirelessly on in his laboratory worked as well on the Executives as it had on his legion of test subject detainees, the world would be in good hands soon.

Maxim caught himself staring again at the single snap placed at the right side of his holoport. He had removed all other memories and reminders from his personal life. All that remained now was the framed picture of the former Executive and mentor who embodied all the values of the company he'd grown to love. The company is nothing without the people who embody the values, he remembered. The ideals that this great organization protected were only those of the individuals within the company. So he really only loved that man in the photo. He was who Maxim was doing all this for. Maxim had long ago severed any digital connection tethering him to his former boss after he couldn't bear seeing the reminders each year of the passing birthdays and company service anniversaries popping up in his otherwise friendless social feeds. Staring into that incredible man's deep, caring eyes he was momentarily frozen before tearing himself away from the glossy print. He returned it to his table drawer, placing it facedown before shutting it away in order to avoid any further distractions.

Maxim popped another dose of adrenaline pills and tapped out some nervous energy at his terminal. He reviewed the experimental subject data logs which dated back several years now and remained, for the most part, still cloaked in secrecy. He had made markings under each test subject who had successfully taken to the drug formulation he'd composed. Some of them went back to the early days of his research, where a particular subject had become fully compliant and able to function completely while under the mild Underlying Suggestive Quality (USQ). He'd coined this term after observing its intended effects on the subjects he'd administered the drug to, those subjects who obliviously performed orders given out by the serum's linked administrator which was always he, Maxim, given the obvious need for secrecy. So, why aren't the Executives fully immersed yet? They'd been given up to ten times the dosage of other men in the same age range and physical categories, men who'd never returned with this dumbfounding "mistrust"-recurring failure in their subjective posture. Maxim knew from experience that if he were unable to solve this "mistrust" response from the subjects, he would never get them to perform anything outside of the lethargic idiot state that everyone appeared to be in when their cells were not fully "committed" to the treatment. If the Executives weren't able to function as normal out in the world, then they would be both useless and potentially dangerous to the entire company. Maxim hated writing the word "committed" about human DNA, as if it had a mind of its own, but after years of trying to perfect the formula to a "one-size-fits-all", he had to eventually break down and finally create the "non-committal" category in his progress notes. A twinge of anger struck him as he thought about having to push back Project Clean Sweep yet again. Every time he was sure that everything was in place, it would seem that one puzzle piece in his plan would pop out and get lost in the carpet somewhere while he searched to replace it. As he continued analyzing the test data, he reassured himself that the other problem which remained out of his hands would soon be fixed as well. One floor below Maxim's research lab was the world's largest computer server. Maxim didn't know much about that sort of thing, but he knew he had the world's smartest minds on the subject working night and day to fix whatever had gone wrong within the server over the past several weeks. Until the autonomous working super computer was functioning properly and back online, the unmanned bombers would not be able to dump the gas to cleanse the outsiders. But that felt like a minor setback to Maxim as he refocused on the work he had in front of him now. Having so many test subjects successfully take to the serum, but never being able to fully control the ones he most needed, was deeply frustrating to him. It just doesn't make sense, he thought.