She pitied him over her clipboard. "I'll do my best. We all will." 


TeleConference Room, Research Wing 


Ralph peered past steepled fingers at his assembled task force. 
Sitting at a sleek metallic table, each one had their own 
monochrome monitor to share input on. 


David Rosen sat to his left, typing something up on his glowing 
green termial. To the right, Logan Armstrong was looking back 


expectantly and holding a thick stack of black documents. Behind 
both of them, at the other end of the table, Dr. Bonjour waited 
patiently for the meeting to begin. 


"Alright, so... what do we got so far, people?" Ralph pushed back in 
his chair and crossed his arms. "I've... met with Anderson and Blast 
already." 


Armstrong pushed the pack of black paper across the table. "This is 
a summary of our present understanding of Group of Interest 
activity. Not much new, I've also included information on defunct 
groups. Ash fist, Prometheus, and the rest." 


Thumbing through the pages, Ralph squinted at the 11-point text 
bulletins. "This is what you call a summary? I'd hate to see the 
whole kit and kiboodle." 


"| could show you that as well, if you like. Might take a week or two 
for the documents to be shipped, but..." 


Ralph groaned. "Spare me. I'll try to parse this later." 


Turning to Rosen, appearing grossly engaged in his work, Ralph 
waited for him to finish. After a moment, when it became apparent 
that wasn't happening, Rosen found his green screen contrasting 
and brightening before his very eyes. 


"Yo. What've you got for me, Dave?" 


"That's not my name." Rosen grumped "Site-77's communications 
network seems secure. | did a thorough check of the system and 
didn't find any unexpected instances of unauthorized access." 


"Aaaaaand what does that mean?" 


"It means this was probably an inside job. Or at least that our 
perpetrator's plan didn't require any insights into our 
communications network." 


Ralph nodded. "Got any wild hypotheses or interesting guesses?" 


Shrugging, Rosen pushed a few keys on his keyboard. The image of 


the Manna Charitable Foundation, along with a short description, 
appeared on Ralph's screen. "I'm thinking that maybe Manna had 
some way to remotely activate these puppies. But they don't have 
any kind of a motive to instigate the Foundation, they're barely 
holding themselves together as-is." 


"Hurm. Okay. Thanks." Releasing Rosen's digits, Ralph relocated 
his attention to Dr. Bonjour. "Has Lis made any progress?" 


Pursing her lips, she gave Ralph a sympathetic look. "We're making 
some headway, but she's still... unwell. Things like this are never 
easy to undo, without careful and contemplative work. But | am 
confident she will recover enough to return to duty.” 


"With new access restrictions, if | recall correctly.” 

"Uh, yes. She can't be working with cognitohazardous materials any 
longer. If she were to have another incident it would be 
extraordinarily bad for her." 


"Right. | get you.” Ralph swiveled in his chair, facing the whiteboard 
behind him. Uncapping a marker, he set to work, listing the 
suspects, and bullet points such as 'Prometheus?' 'Ash Fisting’ and 
'GOC???' among other things. "So, we got anything else?" 


Collective silence began hanging out in the room. 


"Right, then. Everyone but Armstrong, forward me your 
documentation and what-have-you. I'll look over it in more depth 
later on today." 


Rosen began smiling. "Alright then, I'd say that's lunch?" 


Florida State University, Florida 
"So, why do you have a Buffalo pin in your hat? 
Ralph turned around. There was a young woman there, wearing a 


Pittsburgh Penguins jersey and peering at his headgear. Her face 
was a mixture of pity and disgust. 


"| mean, the blue offsets the red of the Lenin pin." Ralph pulled the 
hat from his head, giving her a close look. "Wouldn't you agree?" 


"Still... blech." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't know if | can 
associate with a Buffalo fan." 


"You're more concerned with the Buffalo pin than the Lenin one?" 
Ralph asked, grinning incredulously. "Seriously?" 


She crossed her arms matter-of-factly "Yeah." 


Sticking the hat back on his head, Ralph's grin widened. "I like you. 
You've got your priorities straight." 


Site-77 Director's Office 


It was another all-nighter. Ralph stared bleary-eyed at the black 
stack of papers filed before him. In all of it, one stood out. 
Prometheus. Some from their ranks had been under investigation 
already, and their research background was troubling him. A 
memeticist, an engineer, and a time distortion specialist(whatever 
that meant). 


Gazing longingly at the clock, Ralph wiped the tired out of his eyes. 
Circumstantial. Everything was circumstantial. Somewhere, 
somehow, there had to be a smoking gun. 


Ralph's gaze returned to the paper. "What does it mean?" 
What does it mean? 
He pondered it with his thinking machine. 


There were other memeticists that have open files as possible 
traitors. None of them developed into leads. One scientist named 
Lee Byron has a listing marked as deceased. Of the group which 
came over from Prometheus Dr. Vang was really the only one left of 
any significance. His compatriots didn't have anything close to his 
experience. Those who had been better, Dr. Raven, Dr. Ersen, and 
Dr. Desai, were all far-flung with strong alibis. It had to be Vang. But 
why? 


What was their prerogative? Why Lis? Why Gram? There was no 
rhyme or reason behind it. These people shouldn't even be aware of 
Alpha-9, let alone be in a position to obstruct it. Maybe there was 
some kind of psychological reason? 


Ralph stood, stretching. Maybe... maybe it was time to bring them in 
for questioning. Might be a little too strong tipping his hand already, 
but it was either this or the case going cold. Picking up a phone, he 
dialed a familiar number and waited exactly six rings. 


"Get me Dr. Blast. Psi-7 has a mission tonight." 


Site-64, Mentalist Research Division 


Dr. Vang was in his office when they came. He'd tried to do a "cool 
guy thing" and sit with a shotgun propped at the door to fire at 
agents when they came for him, but unfortunately for Vang, the 
recoil was a bit much for a man who'd never held a firearm. As it 
sent him flailing into a wall, Psi-7 agents rushed in to finish the job. 


An agent slammed Vang's head into his desk as his limbs flailed like 
detached lizard tails. "Back off, man! You don't know what you're 
dealing with!" 


They took him for a drag out of the office, Vang screaming out 
obscenities and threats. "Fuck you guys! Goddamn patronizing shit- 
heels! I've weaponized memes, you know! I've got weaponized 
memes! The house of inconsistent horses has a-" 


At that moment, an agent slapped a gag into his gob, letting him 
keep screaming behind a gagged face. Dragged in silence, Dr. Vang 
became a prisoner of Mobile Task Force Psi-7. 


Vang didn't show it, but he was filled with glee. Caught then and 
there, it was quite possibly the best thing that could've happened to 
him. 

Somewhere over Canada 


The first person to know that something was amiss was Agent 


Ekblad. His comrades, courageous as they were, had no inclination 
of their captive being more intrepid than they expected until they lay 
unconscious in a plane's belly. 


Agent Ekblad had always prided himself on his piloting skills. Since 
that first time enlisting, with his mother and grandmother at his side, 
he had honed his skills and worked his way up the ladder. First the 
Air Force, now the Foundation. Smiling to himself, he didn't notice 
the scruffy man entering the cockpit until he sat down in the co- 
pilot's seat. 


There was cold steel resting on Ekblad's temple before he could 
react. This was when he noticed. 


"Now, you're probably wondering why I've brought you here today" 
said a sing-song voice, as a hand began beeping away at the flight 
terminal. "I'm not a fan of going to jail. Especially since the 
Foundation doesn't exactly have a great track record with 
incarcerated persons. No pension plan, no office, and best-case- 
scenario is catching a bullet to the brain." 


Ekblad said nothing, his eyes darting behind his visor, looking for a 
moment of opportunity to take action against his captor. 


"So..." Vang gesticulated vaguely with his free hand, "Long story 
short is you need to fly me to Pyongyang today." 


"And if | refuse?" 


Vang paused, a thoughtful expression crossing onto his face as he 
put a finger on his bottom lip. "Well, | hadn't really thought that far 
ahead. | could shoot you, and fly it myself. | could also autopilot this 
and hope for the best. | could crash it, assume the crash position, 
hope | live, wander the Canadian tundra until | find a Way or die or 
whatever, and then figure it out from there. So, | have options." 


Deciding silence was the best plan in this scenario Ekblad clenched 
his eyes shut, ready for the moment of adrenaline when he finally 
pulled the trigger. It was at that moment that the cold piece of metal 
on his head began to be rubbed around, revealing itself not to be a 
firearm but a single, deadly bullet. 


Chimpanzee made its way to a tree and proceeded to climb upward 
until it reached a branch eye-level with observer and approximately 
30 meters away, before sitting. For the rest of the event, the 
chimpanzee stared intently at the pages within the book, 
occasionally sipping from its smoothie and checking its smartphone. 
This continued for 37 minutes until it suddenly stood and climbed 
back down, leaving from where it entered. 


Name: Researcher Charon 

Date: 06/05/2012 

Time: 11:32 

Duration: 23 minutes approx. 

Observed: A group of five Suricata suricatta (meerkat), riding an 
assortment of four wheeled vehicles, similar to "quad-runners". All 
were wearing leather vests, on the backs of which were 
embroidered a large sun in the middle with a halo on top, the words 
"Sun Angels" surrounding. Coordinating via unintelligible chirrups 
and barks, they seemed to be searching for something. After about 
10 minutes, they formed a large circle, dismounted their vehicles, 
and began moving inward. When the circle was about 25 meters in 
diameter, something sprang from the under brush at about the 
center, and tried to escape. After turning around and seeing that it 
was surrounded, it tried to make a last stand. The central figure 
looked like a wolf hominid. The five clan members closed in and 
eviscerated the wolf creature using their long claws, claiming victory 
when one of the clan held the wolf's head aloft. 

A visibly shaken Researcher Charon noted: "I'm never going to be 
able to watch The Lion King after THAT!" 


Name: Dr. Zara 

Date: 04/10/2012 

Time: 11:17 

Duration: 45 minutes approx. 

Observed: Plant life unchanged. Fauna not visible, except for a 
single, enormous horse slowly trekking to the west. Atmospheric 
dimming suggests horse to be at least twenty kilometers away and 
more than five kilometers in height. 


Name: Researcher Ford 
Date: 12/10/2012 


At that moment, Vang leaned in, and whispered "A bullet can be 
deadlier than you think, skink." 


Vang's victim felt a dissociation slip into his mind. Gagging, he tried 
to utter his training, but before he could react a forceful futility 
funneled inside his gray matter. Sitting in the pilot's seat, a man who 
knew he was named Ekblad knew just as much that the bullet 
perched against his temple was the most dangerous thing in the 
world. 


Then, a word entered his ear. Pyongyang. 


The second people to realize something was amiss were the 
Foundation air traffic controllers, who saw some of their precious 
cargo drift out to the Pacific. 


Site-77, Administrative Conference Room 
"The fuck do you mean, he got away?" 


Ralph's eyes were burning a hole through Blast's body. "How? What 
is your explanation, the reason a man suspected of assassination 
was able to overpower experienced, veteran Foundation agents and 
commandeer an airplane ?" 


Blast was nonplussed. "Well, fer starters, there was no plan for this 
mission. You just called me up, said that we needed to take the 
brother of a Site Director into custody immediately. We had to fly all 
night to get there, and when we did he was ready for us. Funny how 
operating without planning ahead does that to a person. 


"Well we need to fix this, fast!" 


"Whaddaya mean, we? What's all this we stuff? You're the one who 
screwed the pooch on this one, Ralphie boy. The rest of us, we're 
going to be continuing workin’ on the shit that's gotta be done here. 
But if you want to save face, here, kid, you gotta go get that son of a 
bitch." 


"... What?" 


"Think about it. If he's runnin’ that means he's got somethin’ to hide. 
On account of you bein’ the one who sparked his flight, he's 
probably got somethin’ to do with this whole mess." 


"So why should | personally go chase this asshole down?" 


"The onus is on you now, kid. Grandma's gonna know you let a 
would-be killer get away and slip through our fingers. If you don't go 
while the trail is hot who knows when it'll get done?" 


"... But | need to be here, Site-77 has a lot going on..." 


"| can handle the investigation while yer away. | know the whole 
Task Force, they're all buddies'o mine and | can handle any power 
play Anderson'd make while yer gone. | Know there's a bit of history 
between the two's of ya." 


Ralph gazed intensely at the table top. If he left now, the 
investigation wouldn't be a holding pattern because... Blast says so. 
Looking up, Ralph saw in the wrinkled, oily face the look of someone 
who knew what they were doing. "Alright. I'll go tonight." 


Blast grinned. "Atta'boy." 


"But why can't | come with you?" 


Shirley paused as she slid her coat over her shoulders. "Because it's 
not safe for you. It's not even safe for me." 


"But whyyyyyyyyyyy?" Ralph whined, holding the 'y' over Shirley's 
head and rolling it around up there. 


Shirley got on her knee, and put her hand on the boy's head. "There 
are a lot of bad and mad people in this world, Ralphie. You'll see it 
for yourself one day, and | promise you there isn't anything there for 
you now." 


Sniffling, Ralph looked at the floor. "... Okay." 


Smiling, she tousled his hair. "But that doesn't mean | won't bring 
you back a present." 


"Yay!" 


Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean 


Foundation flights tended to be rather sparse. No in-flight manuals, 
meals or movie. Just rows of seats lined up along two sides, and an 
open conference space in between. Ralph sat in the center of this 
space, poring over a map of Kyoto. Vang's flight had taken him 
there, and it was likely that he still hid out in the city. 


Fuzzy footage from a bank's ATM showed a hoodie-wearing Vang 
trying to access his account, only to be locked out. Another photo 
from a shop depicted their fugitive attempting to shoplift some fruit 
juice, only to be thwarted by a broom-wielding shop owner. 
Whatever he was doing in Kyoto. 


Ralph was jolted from his planning by a hand on the shoulder. He 
looked up to see the face of Jacob Conwell, a researcher had been 
selected to be a part of the investigation on account of his robotics 
knowledge. 


Sitting down across from Ralph and clearing his throat, Conwell 
extended a hand. "Greetings. | suppose we are together by 
convenience, it is nice to get a free trip to Korea." 


Grabbing and shaking the hand, Ralph pursed his lips slightly. "Don't 
forget, this isn't a pleasure trip. Vang somehow got a meeting with 
him, so something is definitely up." 


Nodding, Conwell shot Ralph a small smile while stretching in his 
seat. "Of course. It is quite an honor, | guess. It's so odd, | 
remember reading about North Korea when | was a kid. | never 
imagined actually going there."