Mayhem in a PillChapter 58 Hiccups are Unexpected
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Mayhem In A PillChapter 14: Frustration Creates Opportunities free porn video
"I know you guys are keeping the pain receptors turned off during my questioning, but are there any problems with maintaining the status quo? I ask because I am starting to feel some of the pain," Tim whispered to himself while he held a pillow over his own face in a mock effort to fall asleep.
"All efforts to minimize, and even counteract, the effects of the enhanced interrogation techniques are within their limits, and all nanites are performing at optimum levels. If you are, in fact, feeling any pain, it is undoubtedly psychosomatic pain. Short of a frontal lobotomy, there is little we can do to counter those effects. Besides, a second frontal lobotomy would not be recommended," was printed across the bottom of Tim's vision and, even with his eyes closed, was easily readable. "End of message."
The nanites had also started a morale program to keep Tim's disposition from lowering to a level where suicidal thoughts could become likely. To Tim, their jokes were actually very effective, and when they were properly timed, they worked perfectly.
To anyone who happened to be watching the video feeds of Tim's cell, they would have thought maybe the enhanced interrogation techniques may have finally begun to work, and the subject was beginning to crack. After a few minutes, he began to feel better. He pulled himself back together, half remembering that everything he did in the cell was being monitored. "Thanks. I needed that. So how about a status update on both your and my systems?"
"All systems in the green, Tim. Although I believe the word is worried. Yes, we are worried about you beginning to feel pain. Psychosomatic pain at the onset of the enhanced interrogation techniques show a possible weakness, not in our ability to stop the pain and later make repairs, but rather your mental breakdown at your situation. Do you have any ideas on how to improve this situation?" A brief pause. "End of message."
"Nothing as of yet, but I think George might be the only way out of this. I can tell he is not happy with what they are doing to me, I'm sure of that. When we used to talk before he was strongly against torture, since the only thing it did was make someone say something just to make the torture stop. I can feel the anger seething off of him when we are returning to the lab." Tim still had the pillow to his mouth and was miming pain and discomfort for whomever happened to be watching on the security feed. "I am open to suggestions."
George Johnson was once again having trouble enjoying his enchilada plate dinner, after another shift of delivering the prisoner for his daily torture. He had no trouble calling it torture and not the preferred 'enhanced interrogation techniques.' What was really bothering George was, even though he knew that dick colonel and his lap dog sergeant were doing all kinds of horrific stuff to him, Tim never complained.
George did find out that, in the rush to complete the new tunnel and its addition under the old library, the video feeds of the transfer tunnel did not always work. In fact, they would actually take down several other systems whenever they tried to watch the rather boring delivery of their guest. So, rather than rewire the security video systems in the middle of a tunnel with only a few entrances or exits, the decision was made to not watch over the transportation of the prisoner. About fifty yards outside of the entrance to the library, the cart would be caught again on the security surveillance from another camera row in another system.
"Why wouldn't this guy just tell these military assholes what they wanted to know? All that fat son-of-a-bitch had to do was tell them how he got into the lab in the first place, and the torture would stop." George wasn't naive enough to think they would ever let him go, but hell, the daily beatings and God knows what else would stop. Also, it would get them the hell out of his hair and work could go back to normal.
With the final bite of his dinner, he realized he did not even remember what it tasted like since he was so distracted. This was one of the things he always had in this life, the simple enjoyment of a wonderful meal. Now that was being taken away from him, along with his anonymous life as the night guard of a secret lab where nothing ever happened. Now he was the head of security for the entire lab and needed to keep track of everything and everybody.
He waved goodbye and went out to his car. He did not even remember the drive home, since muscle memory got him back. Once back in his chair, though, he decided it was time to do something. He needed to convince Tim to tell the interrogators whatever they wanted to hear so that the torture would stop. George decided to start talking to Tim during the blackout in security. Besides there was no other way to go, since the tunnel is shut down and closed while they are going through.
"No, sir. So far, the new interrogation techniques have not worked out, but we have been garnering new information from the subject's non-verbal responses." Colonel Kevin Price was in his office using secured video conference software to update several people at the Pentagon simultaneously.
"No, sir. I can not go over those responses even over this secured lines. The information is unusual at best and frankly, sir, a little troubling. I do request permission to go into more intense forms of interrogation."
One of the nameless Generals on the conference asked, "I thought you already had carte blanche to do whatever was necessary, short of killing the subject, to get the information. Are you asking for permission to terminate the subject so soon into the process?"
"Sir, yes, I have been given a wide road to get the job done, but it was requested that no extreme evidence of our advanced interrogation techniques be found on the subject's person. That is currently hampering the process since that restriction is severely limiting the tools at our disposal. I am simply requesting that the restrictions be removed and we be allowed to do the job thoroughly. The subject has proven to be not only familiar with the majority of our techniques but able to weather the storm, so to speak. Basically, sirs, I want to ratchet it up a few notches, just short of killing the man."
Another voice from the conference, this time an admiral, "Colonel, you are the one on the ground, and our earlier attempts to break this individual did not work. I, for one, say yes to removing the governor holding you back."
"Thank you, sir."
"But Colonel, since this is an extraordinary situation, we will be demanding extraordinary information. And frankly, if you have something else to report, and you are worried about even our secure conference line here, then I want to know what has you so worked up to beat this man to within an inch of his life. With that said, I feel it might be a good idea for a small quorum of our group to visit and get a first hand report from you, and maybe watch an interrogation. Some of the daily reports sound almost unbelievable. If they are true, maybe we should think about recruitment rather than interrogation."
"Admiral, of course a visit would be fine with me and, because of the nature of the work, I would suggest a low key approach since we don't want anyone asking why so many high level members of our military have shown up out of the blue. Maybe we can find a cover for you being here."
"Make it so, Colonel, and give us an idea of a date for some of us on our next teleconference, then we can decide who will come to you."
After a few more minutes, the teleconference ended and Colonel Price opened the door to the office to let his right-hand man, Sergeant John Thomas, back into the office. He was right outside the door, standing guard and making sure no one entered the office during the high level conference, which featured many members of the military's upper-echelon who are not officially a part of the group.
"Okay, thank you, Sergeant. You can come back to your desk now." Both men sat themselves back at their respective desks. "We have permission to ratchet up the damage now, but we can't kill him. Yet."
"Of course, sir. We just need to get him talking, and stronger persuasion will work."
"Also, JT, we need to find a reason to have a few of the muckity-mucks come for a visit. It has to be something that would provide them a PR reason for so much brass to be in town at the same time. We need to come up with something before the next meeting, then we can set everything up."
"No problem, sir."
George recognized the ringtone immediately, and scrambled out of bed. On his way to the ringing phone on the desk in his bedroom, George noticed the time was just after three. With the darkness outside and the small single-dot indicator glowing on the face of the digital clock, George now understood the lab's security line was calling him, a good four hours early, before starting the new workday.
"This is Johnson."
"Is the line secure, Johnson?"
"One moment, please."
George recognized the colonel's voice immediately. He looked at the icons on his government-issued cell phone and double-tapped the lock icon. A moment later, the application launched with an alpha-numeric keyboard and a waiting security prompt. He quickly dialed in a security code and selected a secure line for the current call. A small, high-pitched tone came from the phone, and George knew not to have the phone right up to his ear when the tone started. The screen now read as secure.
"Line is now secure. Go ahead." George initially heard a muffled wail of obscenities on the other end. He tried hard not to smile, but not that hard. He enjoyed the small bit of sophomoric redemption at waking him from what was a nice sleep.
"Damn. I always forget about the switch over tone when the call goes to secure. Johnson, we need you to come in this morning a couple of hours earlier so you can transport our guest. I am informing your entire crew scheduled for today to come in a couple of hours early. Maybe a small shake up in the routine will help with our guest's pliability."
"Of course, sir. Do I feed him breakfast, or should we start changing his diet as well? I'm sure you saw the report that we had to order new clothes for the guest since his recent weight loss. I suspect our control on what he eats is significantly stronger than what he was used to on his own."
It must have been getting pulled out of bed early, but George was about to bring up the doctor reports hinting the healed minor tissue damage from small cigarette sized burns and bruising consistent with prolonged beatings up and down his torso also showing signs of fast healing, but he quickly thought better of it, and stayed at general terms of just Tim looking skinnier.
"Normal prisoner breakfast rations from here on out, Mr. Johnson. We are going on to new procedures within the interrogations, and lack of tacos should help. Possibly reintroduction of the breakfast treats at a future date will help with his, um, what did I call it?"
"Pliability."
"Yes, pliability. I'm sure you understand what that means don't you, Mr. Johnson?"
"Of course, sir. I'll have him to you at six, rather than eight. Is that acceptable?"
"Excellent." The car dealer fake smile was back in the colonel's voice. "See you in a few, Mr. Johnson." The call ended, and the phone flashed for George to re-enter the security code and terminate the call's security measures and any evidence it was ever made.
With the light of the phone making the room glow, George saw himself in the mirror and actually had a difficult time looking himself in the eye because he understood what 'going on to new procedures' with the interrogation meant, especially for Tim. He did not like it one bit, but that was the job.
"Why doesn't he just tell them what they want to know?" he asked his reflection, but got no answer.
George replaced the phone on the charger to finish its job and decided to go ahead and get ready for work. As he pulled a fresh uniform out of the closet, he thought to himself, "Damn, it's gonna be a rough day. I sure as hell am gonna get my ass back to the lab as soon as freakin' possible!"
"We have reason to believe the new 'powers that be' are going to affect a change in their rituals. Increased communications on their new 'scrambled' cellular frequencies would indicate possible changes on the horizon as to how they treat you. The psychological makeup of the men interrogating you indicate the use of more brutal techniques are preferred, and are probably forthcoming. We feel a change in how they treat you is coming. You need to be prepared to face the new techniques." The words slowly faded from his line of sight. "End of message."
Tim raised the pillow to his face so he could speak softly to the nanites in his body. These were abridged versions of the government created nanites whose basic job was to increase the problem-solving and intelligence of its recipient at least ten-fold. Tim's nanites were also programmed to increase his strength, agility and his body's own immune system, and to actively make any bodily repairs. These enhanced nanites were inserted into Tim in the beginning because of his obesity. Actually, besides his rotund appearance, Tim was the picture of health. In the past, George and Tim would joke that he was not out of shape ... round was a shape.
"Okay, guys, what do you think is going to happen?"
After a few moments, the closed captioning came across the bottom of his vision, even though he still laying on his back with the pillow pressed to his face.
"The psychological profile of the men interrogating you suggest they are accustomed to using more physical means of retrieving information from their interrogations. They are obviously not used to trying psychological methods to gain information. That might be the best way to antagonize them into a mistake of some kind."
"However, we feel you might not be able to withstand too much of the physical interrogations, before they realize there is something different about you." A brief pause. "End of message."
Tim sat up and used the toilet, using the time to go over his options. The built-in metal cot creaked under his weight when he gently slid down to bring the pillow to his face again. "Yes. I agree with your assessment. Can you continue current levels of pain reduction and regenerative properties once the interrogators begin their upgraded physical techniques?"
"Affirmative. We do have good news for you. With the new more physical techniques coming, we will be able to pull energy and create new nanites, as necessary, by utilizing your body's stored fat." A brief pause. "End of message."
Tim grinned under his pillow. "So the more they beat up on me, the more I'll start losing weight, because you can use my fat for energy to create more nanites, help stop pain, and fix whatever these guys break while beating on me."
"Affirmative." A brief pause. "End of message."
"Well at least I got that going for me. Now all we need is for them to start beating on me, and we can get this show on the road."
After what seemed just a few minutes later, the flood lights in the cell turned on to wake Tim.
"They have broken with their schedule and are waking you a good two and a half hours earlier than normal. This could be the sign that enhanced interrogation techniques have been approved by their superiors. Should we get ourselves ready for increased harm to your body?" A brief pause. "End of message."
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