"Hello, doctor."
"Good morning, administrator."
"Doctor, I am aware that I was supposed to be indisposed today, but, as you can see, I managed to overcome the minor problems I had and I can talk to you."
"Of course, administrator. I am at your service."
"I'm glad to hear it. Doctor, I invited you into my office - and I don't do that very often - to talk about a phenomenon that has been worrying the Foundation for some time now. I think you know what I mean."
"Conspirational objects."
"Exactly. Now, excuse my ignorance, but as you may know, we administrators and council don't get involved in the affairs of a single sector, Site or terrain only. Our actions usually have a more global impact and given the fact that we can't focus equally on everything we sometimes need information from people as experienced as you, doctor. So please tell me, what are these conspirational objects?"
"Most of all, a grave danger. With the utmost respect of your opinion, administrator, and of the unwritten rules regarding the importance of maintaining one's temper, I think that in their case self-control and phlegmatism, or even good acting don't mean that the Foundation will surely succeed. I see the flash in your eye, administrator, and yes, I have to confess that, since the time when over twenty years ago I was entrusted with the general supervision over the conspirational objects, I am not calm. To be honest, I am afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Lack of stability. People working in the Foundation are used to the fact that even Keters will sooner or later get caught, locked in their containment rooms, and then, in favorable circumstances, be that is our foundation, what allows us — and others, like ordinary civilians — to sleep peacefully. Conspirational objects destroy that orderly chaos. They don't allow themselves to be classified, they slip away from any standards, any procedures. They don't care about the effort we put to contain them. They are omnipresent and influential, and yet we can't do anything about them. We don't know if someone or something is controlling them, as we don't know what their origin is or what they would do if they were to achieve their goal — defeating the Foundation. Actually, the things we do know about them are so few that we don't even use the name "subjects", because we contained too little. And that's what I'm afraid of, administrator: the unavoidable probability, the fact that I could bump into a conspirational object while going back home from work, look into its eyes and not even realize that I'm passing in front of a deadly danger. And believe me, I would know it in any other case."
"You're absolutely right, doctor. You know that administrators don't speak too much about their feelings, but in this case, I'll admit, but only between the two of us — I feel exactly the same since the time I was introduced to their first mentions."
"I've seen many anomalies in my life, administrator. I am aware of what Site I'm in and what its goals are. I'm also responsible, I try to eliminate every doubt and overcome every obstacle as fast as I can. And that's the problem. Because when I think about the conspirational objects, I lack ideas. For anything. They are cleaning the eighty-six all the time for a hundred years. It's still generating new reports. Still, no one came back from the attic. We are stuck in a dead spot. Additionally, I feel like I'm being outplayed every step forward I make. "I" as a member of scientific-explorative personnel."
"Outplayed?"
"Conspirational objects achieved surprising proficiency in tricking the Foundation, but they seem to not know about the particular organization. They don't know what is our organization, what are our IDs, how do we communicate, where do we privately live, how many Class D personnel or council members we have. They are aware, maybe intelligent, but even though it's like someone programmed them to just destroy us, just because, without a reason. "
"You sound very pessimistic, doctor…"
"I can't think differently. Of course, I can't hold back my emotions only in this case, but after I was assigned to the team which examines conspirational objects, problems concerning other, non-conspirational, just ceased to exist. There are just them left…"
"And that's also the thing I wanted to talk about. In general, you're achieving great results. I looked into your documents lately. Besides that, contrary to what you think, since you've been working on conspirational objects significant progress has been made."
"It's nothing, administrator."
"That's what you think, doctor? The council thinks otherwise."
"Really?"
"Indeed. Go ahead, don't hold back that smile."
"It's… good to hear it, administrator, but I won't be satisfied until the conspirational object caught by my team is assigned a Safe classification or, which I would prefer, Neutralized."
"Actually, we considered your retirement."
"What?"
"There are younger people, fresher, with more enthusiasm…"
"Point out at least one."
"I don't think that such an aggressive defensive attitude is necessary."
"First of all, I just don't accept your… your ideas."
"You don't have to. But you know the procedures."
"You will invite me to drink some wine, where I will be escorted by a group of guards, you will raise your chalice for a toast, touching the glass with your lips, but only I will drink, just to wake up the following day next to my wife in a freshly renovated house and drive with a smile on my face to the bakery I became owner of a week earlier? I know the procedures perfectly, I know the types of amnesiacs and their usage, I know how you organize everything. And I know that you shouldn't remind me of such things."
"You need an assistant, doctor. You aren't young anymore."
"I refuse. Tell me, administrator, have you mentioned the topic of conspirational objects and my great achievements just to inform me that you are planning the end of my career? I have the exclusive control over the gathered documentation, and if you are right, only I came so close to the solution of that mystery."
"Your own ambitions exceeded you."
"Nonsense."
"Nonsense is that pile of papers that you call documentation, and after reading some, I almost bursted into laughter."
"How dare you, administrator!"
"Keep calm, please."
"How many guards do you have behind that door? Never mind, I will check it myself!"
"Please, sit down."
"You locked the door?! Now you want to kill me?! I demand an immediate explanation!"
"We haven't finished yet, doctor."
"Even an administrator doesn't have the permission… how did you acquire access to the documentation?"
"It's on the main Foundation server."
"The files are there, but documentation regarding conspirational objects…"
"You are overburdened with work, doctor."
"How did you acquire access? You said that conspirational objects aren't something you have to worry about, and… I didn't send the documentation to the main server. I have the original files in my office…"
"I repeat my request to take a seat."
"You are an O5 Administrator. What's your ID?"
"Please, take a seat."
"You are obligated to answer. You forgot about the access card."
"Please sit down and don't order an administrator around."
"Your ID…"
"I'm glad you decided to sit down."
"What's your ID?"
"Oh-five fifteen, doctor."
"The council has thirteen members…"
"Fine, I just forgot to check."
"…"
"Stop pretending you're that scared now, you surely felt something. Damn it, I almost did it without a… how do you call it? Oh, exposure. See, thanks to you I ex-po-sed-my-self."
"…"
"Can we get back to a more official tone?"
"…"
"Does the silence mean "yes"? Good."
"…"
"So… please, remind me — what are conspirational objects?"
"…"
"What am I?"