Mister Carson

If anything, their vast lands, however arid, and the large quantity of minerals would be useful to either side. Peace for now, but the ugliness will come in time."

It was easy to think Doctor Harrison enjoyed being obscure about the details. It certainly served to point out just how little Carson knew about the world outside.

He opened his mouth, but snapped it shut. One question allowed. He regretted it instantly.

"Next time, perhaps." The man sounded neither happy for the slip nor angry with Carson for nearly breaking the rules.

* * *

The familiar drum of the boots on the floor aroused Carson from a light rest. He swung his legs over the side and sat on the bed. As he had hoped, Ruben Harrison had to come further into the room than before. The Doctor looked warily at the chair and decided to stand. "What is your occupation?"

"I don't have one," Carson was forced to reply.

"If you weren't here, what would it be?"

He had no idea how to answer it. He considered himself intelligent, a thinker. "Something that involves using my mind."

A slight nod was all the confirmation the Doctor gave him. Silence ensued, so Carson posed his question. "Computer technology. What level have we achieved?"

For whatever reason, Doctor Harrison became animated, almost eager. "Computers-personal, corporate or mobile-are fast enough for our society's needs, but quantum computing is about to be introduced into mainstream. It provides raw processing power beyond imagining and eradicates all previous problems and limitations. An exciting prospect and I myself am one of those who have used this wonder. The future is limitless; only narrow minds can stand in the way."

He cut off abruptly there, unwilling to divulge anything further.

More time passed before the next meeting. By this time it felt to Carson like an interview, with the employer having unfair insight into his life. He decided to test the boundaries and ask about the year.

"The year is 626."

It was good to know, but meaningless without context. Strangely, Doctor Harrison asked no questions, only inquiring about his health.

More time passed and Carson was left alone. It seemed an eternity since he had come to in the chair, to discover he was as good as a prisoner. Sure, the cell was clean, there were no bars, and he was far from uncomfortable-even the food was palatable, if uninspired-but he was finding it harder to concentrate and to stay awake. Confinement and boredom were gradually wearing him down.

The Doctor came sporadically, and Carson wasted many an opportunity to ask important questions. It was as if his senses had been knocked about and he could no longer think straight. Was this how caged animals felt? They had to let him out soon or before his mental state deteriorated to the point of no return.

* * *

It happened again. He shielded his eyes from the blinding white light that appeared to come from nowhere and everywhere. Two weeks he had subjected to it. Despite the shock to his eyes it was a comfort. He judged that the lights came on for a couple of hours each day.

Doctor Harrison soon changed the terms on him. He could ask a question, but in return he must undertake various mental and physical tests. The variety he did not mind, but they were delving deeper into his psyche and his control was slipping.

Carson's questions mostly pertained to landmarks and business and historic events. It seemed religion had reigned until 6000, when a great religious war called for change and conformity. Borders moved, nations merged and allies were made. Battles were fought and lost.