So, the first three things I got to know were: one, the Order was a secret service thing, kind of like MI6 and all the Bond setups. Even though it was subservient to the government, most people in the government didn’t even know of its existence.
Two, by my interaction with the strange box, not only had I imprinted my biometrics on the box, marking myself as its owner, but I had also unwittingly enrolled myself in the Order. Such boxes were only operated by two people: the Director of the Order (yes, I mean the CEO, or president, or whatever you want to call him or her). A freshman was inducted into the Order when he was given such a box, and he activated it and imprinted his biometrics on it.
Three, I had two choices now. I could either join the Order and undergo training to become an operative, with my specific talents being put to use in the field I was most inclined to, or they could attempt to remove my memories.
I initially opted for the latter. I mean, these guys are spies, right? High tech stuff and all that. They should have one of those Men In Black pen things that deleted memories. Yeah, until they told me that the way to remove my memory would be to hit me on the head with a very big stick, and hope that didn’t kill me. If it killed me, well, somehow corpses don’t share secrets, so it was a win-win situation for the Order, either way.
Of course I joined. Enthusiastically too. I mean, when this meant a paid job (I was quite unemployed at the moment, and the salary was quite nice), as opposed to being made, at best, a vegetable for the rest of my life, there wasn’t much to think about.
I think though, that they may have been joking when they made that statement. However, I’m sure I don’t want to find out. In any case, the old man who got me into this mess seems quite confident that I will do well in this new job, especially when he heard how I had handled myself with the fellow who had tried to take the box from me. They’ve already sent agents to round up the guy and bring him in for questioning. Sucks to be him.
Did I mention that all of my action-hero stunt was a ‘spur of the moment’ fluke? No? Well, nobody needs to know. Let’s just hope that this job, so far my most lucrative, isn’t going to have a short tenure.
The End...
Thanks for coming!
That little boy,
