MindMatter x Meo

[meomeo]

They have remained the same for decades: dull black metallic fences extending 20 feet above ground, a mass of entangled barbed wire crowning its top, neon yellow sign with thick black letters saying "NO TRESPASS" or "GOVERNMENT PROPERTY" every 20 yards apart. It is intended to be intimidating and inhospitable, and for decades it has succeeded. It also seemed to be guarding nothing in particular - until you strain your eyes and spot the shapes of nondescript buildings a few hundred yards down the road.

A hovering vehicle with a shimmery silver body that glittered in the late afternoon sun whooshed towards the entrance, and with a soft whine the engine slowed down and the 'car' came to a halt. The vehicle's body is aerodynamic perfection and its black windows kept the identity of its passengers a secret to the outside. The whole thing is the embodiment of futuristic cool and, hovering in front of the imposing rough-hewn gate, stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Exit the vehicle and display your I.D." said a mechanical voice from an unseen source.

Both doors to the vehicle opened with a hiss and lifted up vertically. The soft "ding ding ding..." chime - the car manufacturers had kept that in - was the only sound heard. This is literally in the middle of nowhere.

An unremarkable middle-aged man got out from the driver's side. His name is Robert and he worked as a photographer. It was only his third week on the job... he was told working with his demanding co-traveller is daunting and to tell the truth even he himself didn't expect to last long. The good thing: it pays well while it lasts. And it gives him good stories to tell while picking up women... such as a visit to a top secret military base.

The first thing to come out from the passenger side is a gorgeous cherry red, peep toe, 4-inch high-heel shoe, extending from the end of a model-worthy right calf. Then the other leg came out. The next second the woman came into view. All she was seen wearing - except those pumps - is a beige double-breasted trench coat that was buttoned up and came down to an inch above her knees, hiding whatever she wore underneath. But even then the coat's tightness gave a hint of the curvaceous body she had going on. With her combed back sleek blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and powdered cheeks, she had that icy, all-business look down pat. A pair of large sunglasses was perched above her forehead.

She already had her designer purse out and ready. She unclasped it and raised it to eye-level. Behind a clear piece of plastic was her I.D. The first line reads Tara LARSON.

For a brief moment Tara wondered what they use to scan 'em these days. Probably the same technology they use to spy on innocent citizens. She filed that thought for later. That'll be a story for another time.

"I'm doing an interview. It's scheduled." Tara spoke in a clear, no-nonsense voice to no one in particular. But she knew whoever mattered can hear her just fine.

"Ding-ding-ding..." chimed the car. Wind whooshed. The reporter and her photographer held up their I.Ds on both sides of their vehicle, unmoving and waiting.

Then, with a loud groan, the metal door starts to slide open.

 

[MindMatter]

As the metal door slid slowly open a pair of soldiers approached, both of them only looking at the meek Robert for half a second before veering over to Tara Larson. It was very evident who was in charge between the two.

They were a pair of young, strapping men, fit even by military standards, and a couple of inches taller than the average male. It was difficult to discern their age with their faces obstructed by those imposing black helmets. They moved almost in unison, both carrying their high-powered electromagnetic rifles against their chests, each gun slanted against their black armored chests at the same angle, swinging together in almost a rhythm.

"Ma'am," one said as they both nodded to Tara. "We'll have someone take your vehicle from here. If you'll follow us." Even though the speaker said follow 'us', the young man who didn't speak moved behind, and as the first turned and said "this way," walking forward past the now-open gate, the second silent man stood still and waited until Tara and Robert began walking for himself to follow.

The two intrepid journalists were ushered a few dozen yards inside before the gate closed. Usually at this point non military personnel were given quite the thorough pat-down, something the second guard very much looked forward to upon seeing the gorgeous young reporter. He very much wanted to see what the woman was hiding under that pesky trench coat.

Unfortunately for the horny young man his aspirations were squashed as his commanding officer directed the two guests into the nearby transport vehicle without even asking if they had any weapons. He had been instructed upon their arrival not to do so, and to just bring them to the administrative office as quickly as possible. The base's captain did not want to give Ms. Larson any excuse to be in a foul mood at their meeting.

The transport was much like the ones found as a means for mass transit in smaller cities; a small white hovering bus, which was shaped more like a rounded fish than a box. The two security guards stood by the entrance to the transport as Tara and Robert got on, and then simply said "have a nice day, Ma'am" as the door closed and the automated vehicle lurched forward, speeding away shortly after moving in a straight line towards the only modern-looking building at the base. The transport accelerated very quickly, and moved at a speed much faster than normal, the navigation system having been programmed to do so early this morning. The people here did not want Ms. Larson having any more time than was absolutely necessary to examine the base or its people.

She got glimpses though, seeing all of the Federation's finest buzzing about, going about their duties and exercises. She noticed how every building other than the one directly in front was from an age long gone, as minimalist as possible. Only the bare necessities of a roof, a couple of windows, and some paint.

The building on the horizon however was positively marvelous; a beautiful multi-towered structure of silver metal and clear glass, constituted by sweeping arches and exciting slashes of support. It looked to rise out of the ground and glisten in the dawn light like a celestial castle, beckoning home its distant master.

The transport came to a slow stop finally as it reached its destination. The door was opened and Tara was now greeted by another military gentleman, this time older, without the armor but instead a fine uniform that resembled a tight-fitting navy blue suit without the tie.

"Ms. Larson!" the man forced himself to exclaim, gleefully, "Captain Jason Jones, at your service." He said 'at your service' as if it were a standup line he spent weeks crafting. "Thank you so much for coming out here to meet with us. We really appreciate that you're willing to hear our side of the story. This way, this way, please." He swept his arm out and directed the two of them -- though he did not even glance at Robert once -- towards the front entrance, a door made of nothing but crystal, it seemed.

Captain Jones walked right next to Tara as he escorted them into the Administration Building, forcing the brightest smile he could, making small talk as he tried to keep Tara's eyes from wandering about. Not that it would do much good.

 

[meomeo]

As the transport vehicle sped towards the cluster of buildings, Tara put one hand in her trench coat pocket while the other clutched a clipboard to her left breast, her stare focused on a blank space on the vehicle wall. There is no need - no point - to glance around and look at this top secret facility... there are much more pressing matters on her mind.

"Ms. Larson! Captain Jason Jones, at your service."

Tara gave the man one of her trademark icy smiles. Her lips curled up but her eyes remained as cold as the stare she was just practicing on the wall. This was getting a bit weird, Tara thought silently to herself, for someone about to tear this place down with a 5000-word article, they sure rolled out the red carpet treatment.

"Good afternoon Captain. After you."

Her red heels clicked on the floor as she followed the Captain into the building... those bright pumps possible the most glamorous, expensive footwear to ever walk this floor. And from the small steps she took Tara couldn't have worn a very loose skirt under the coat. She still kept her eyes ahead without much looking around. There are much bigger fish to fry this afternoon.

But as they ventured deeper into the complex Tara couldn't resist any longer. "I must say, I'm rather surprised the military budget's spent on such... showy decor. I'm sure there are more crucial items of expenditure. Won't you agree Captain?" She said it matter-of-factly, her tone not matching her pointed words.

Robert, walking behind, let out a chuckle, but realizing it's not quite appropriate, tried to close his mouth and disguise it as a cough.

 

[MindMatter]

Captain Jones was extremely pleasant and affable as he guided his guests throughout the Administrative Building. The only way he could have been more friendly would have been if his feelings were genuine, not an order. He made small talk about the weather, how their trip was, how delighted he was to see them, everything the handbook told him to say.

"I must say, I'm rather surprised the military budget's spent on such... showy decor. I'm sure there are more crucial items of expenditure. Won't you agree Captain?"

He deflected, "Well nothing's more important to us than making sure our boys get the best support they can! That's why I'm glad you came here to talk to us, Ms. Larson. I'm hoping we can find some common ground in theeees..."

Captain Jones trailed off as they took a step past an intersection of hallways, his trajectory at first leading them straight-ahead, but something down the hall caught his eye and made him turn on his heel and direct his guests to the left instead.

"Oh, um... sssorry. I think it's this way instead. Yes, come, this way, please Ms. Larson." He paused after taking a few steps in the new direction. He double-backed and took her forcefully by the arm, pulling her with him, his face for just a split second looking like white hot rage incarnate... before returning to that handsome, young, phony smile.

He cleared his throat as he let her go and apologized with a few little head-bows. "Ssssorry, sorry, about that, Ms. Larson. I... I wouldn't want you to walk in on some pissed-off general and have him throw you in the brig, now would I?" He laughed at himself as he tried to spur them along while walking again, and motioning with his arms. "My fault, my fault, I'm so sorry. Won't happen again."

His speed noticeably increased after the incident, and after a few right-hand turns they arrived to his intended destination.

"Ah, here we are," he said happily as he leaned in for the iris scan and the grey door to a rather impressive, albeit empty, office slid open. It was a few hundred square feet in size, sparsely decorated, but with a lovely view on one side of the office, and a massive telescreen that comprised the entire wall on the other. There were just three seats available, one behind the desk, two in front, and Captain Jones motioned for both his guests to sit before he himself let his feet rest.

He brushed his jacket before sitting, easing up to his desk, folding his hands on top of it, and then smiling to Tara, as if Robert weren't even there.

"So... I read your story... annnd..." he sighed again, looking away, shaking his head before meeting her eyes again, "well, we here at the military we have some... issues with it."

 

[meomeo]

Tara participated in the small talk as detachedly as possible without coming off as rude, her voice cool and aloof at the same time. Often the only sound coming from her is the loud clicks of her red heels on the glossy marble floor.

"WHOA!" yelled Tara as she is pulled at her arm and spun off in a direction, almost losing her footing in those high heels. "Easy Captain." she said after she regaining her composure, "It's not like anything here's gonna surprise me anymore." It was part-joke, part-offhand insult on the issues in her soon-to-be published article.

Of course, Tara didn't become one of the most well-known journalists by mouthing off acerbic comments at every opportunity. But there's something in this genetic engineering scoop that upset her on a personal level; and everything in this Administrative Building is a tad too... polished for her tastes. As if this is all staged... a set up.

After they arrived at the office Tara briskly took off her trench coat, her attire underneath finally revealed. She was wearing a crispy white blouse with the top button undone - so a hint of her cleavage showed - tucked into a small pale beige pencil skirt. That tight little outfit, bright red pumps and sleek hair made her appear more like a runway model than a professional journalist. But Tara didn't get where she is today by taking the traditional route. Her glamour was a big part of her celebrity, and in turn a big reason why she keeps getting the inside scoops.

"well, we here at the military we have some... issues with it."

Tara unfurled her clipboard and clicked open a silver pen. There are much more technologically advanced ways of taking notes nowadays... but Tara loved to do it the retro way. She loves the sight of her own handwriting.

"Yes, I would have thought so, Captain." she replied. "But I've rechecked everything, they're all substantiated, and the public does have a right to know."

She crossed her legs, causing the skirt to ride up a bit. "As I've explained in my e-mail, I'm really here today for the military's side of the story."

 

[MindMatter]

Captain Jones tried his best to seem as relaxed and inviting as possible, like he was hosting the two visitors for a family dinner, just like he had been trained to. He minded his posture, his mannerisms, he made sure not make any sudden movements or act in any way shifty, his smiled more than he had all week. ... It wasn't working so well.

"I've rechecked everything, they're all substantiated, and the public does have a right to know."

The young military man laughed and flicked his hand at the comment, not to dismiss it, but as if to underline its obviousness. "Well, of COURSE they have a RIGHT to know. But sometimes we must ask ourselves if it's BEST for them to know, Ms. Larson. Knowledge is power, after all, and we all know what happens with humans and power.

"Not to mention the serious, grave harm such a... a... scandalous, tabloid-like story would cause the Federation's reputation not just in the nation, but across the entire system. Then who would be around to protect the rights of the people in the first place?"

If such a remarks had any chance of persuading Tara, it would surely be lost with the way Jason leaned back smugly in his chair and smirked, so incredibly proud with his delivery. He even glanced up at one of the hidden cameras while doing so, hoping his superiors would be watching, giving them a cocky nod, the way a high school athlete does to his doormat parents.

The intrepid journalist was clearly not convinced in the slightest.

"As I've explained in my e-mail, I'm really here today for the military's side of the story."

Captain Jones' eyes narrowed a bit as he leaned forward once again, his smile slowly dissipating as his face took a more grave look.

"... I believe I just gave you the military's side of the story, Ms. Larson. ... But if you'd like me to clarify more... fine. Your so-called 'story,' is sensationalist nonsense from a science fiction book. It's irrational fairy tale foolishness, especially your bits on 'genetic manipulation of soldiers.'

"Ms Larson, I know you and your colleagues love to stand around and babble on and on about human rights and charity, and you all love to make yourselves feel so important. But the fact of the matter is there is absolutely no reason for the government to spend its money on engineering of human beings. The last time a human soldier was useful in a war was over three centuries ago. We have machines for that now, you realize? You know, like the big pretty metal one that brought you over here, sweetie?

"That's what is most insulting about your silly little piece; as if we would be so stupid as to waste money creating something with no purpose. Frankly, that is the military's position; your story doesn't even merit commentary because it is so incredibly fucking stupid that it is insulting to even recognize it.

"Honestly, you should just do yourself a favor and scrap the entire thing, before you ruin your career. And then? You should thank me for saving you the embarrassment."

The captain now looked more cold and calm than ever before. And far more honest.

"Oh... and you might want to recheck those sources? I... I may be speaking out of turn here, but... just between us? I heard that one Javier Seong is having some serious tax issues. And Jennifer Albright? Well... I hear she's under investigation... for treason..."