Last night I had a Nightmare: I was writhing on a cold stone floor, thrashing around trying to get the sleeves of my straitjacket undone as I locked the door the my cell. As I walked away, I kept telling myself that it was for the best, but my voice rings hollow in my ears as the sunlight coming through my cell windows dies and I cry out with a raw voice to be freed.
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When I was in warehouse 13 and was investigating the machines I had a memory return to me:
Methane, carbon dioxide, and water, with flickering in the PNL band. I made a note of it on the schematic; for a portable device, it's good, but better harmonization of nongaseous signal display would be absolutely vital for widespread adoption. Besides, if they're going to hand me fifteen-pound spectral goggles, they'd damn well better make them easy to read.
A flicker is usable, though, if I know what I'm looking for. "It's the same pattern as the last four, albeit considerably bigger."
"He's getting used to the process."
"An expansion in scope is likely imminent."
"He will begin to target urban areas as the rush continues to cloud his judgment."
"It will be more efficient to concentrate our efforts there."
My subordinates were beginning to adopt my methodology. "Getting in their heads" was bullshit for newbies separating spies from dirt farmers. When I get a target handed down, there's not a human thought left to drive them other than blind rage, and treating them as such had much more predictive value.
Besides, it's easier to kill a monster than a man.
Usually.
As the flashback faded, I was newly cognizant of a lump in one of the pockets of my duster.
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