Ron made the finishing touches before emailing the agenda to Mr. McCarthy for a final review. It took longer than usual to finish. He rubbed his forehead before ordering a simple lunch for himself to be delivered to his office. He didn’t feel too much like seeing other people today. He couldn’t deny he was distracted with everything that was going on. Besides, he was plenty busy, it’d be easier to just stay in the office and get work done.

There was a knock on the door before John poked his head inside. “Hey, Dutch.”

Ron tried to smile. “Hey Duke. Doing your rounds?”

“Yeah. It’s a lot quieter today.”

“Yeah.”

The conversation fizzled out as John sat down, staring out the window, watching the trees soak in the summer sun.

“Did you have any suspicions at all toward the end?” John asked.

“Yeah,” Ron said, staring at his desk. “You?”

John still stared out the window. “I could have turned Edgar in weeks ago, but I didn’t have the heart.”

Ron stopped typing. “Really?”

John folded his arms, leaning a little back in his chair. “It was just a few minor things that piled up quickly. I think… I think he had some family who disappeared a while back. An uncle and aunt and a cousin. His last living family by the looks of it. Found his search history about their files. Never reported it. Seemed more out of desperation than of a willingness to destroy what President Arnold created.”

Ron nodded. Throughout the entire conversation, neither one of them looked at each other. John was staring out the window, Ron was staring at his desk.

“It sounded like Albert just wanted the freedom to study science without being labeled a mad scientist,” Ron said.

John grunted. “Seems reasonable enough. Don’t see why President Arnold wanted to get rid of that.”

“Well, he might have become dangerous,” Ron said.

John cocked an eyebrow in Ron’s direction. “Do you honestly think that?”

Ron didn’t look at John, instead staring at his desk. Sadness threatened to take hold of him. “No. No I don’t.”

“All of us are capable of horrible things. Doesn’t mean we get to regulate the hobbies of others.” Ron looked up from his desk to see John staring right at him. “The worst dirt I had on my kid was that the disappearance of his family spooked him and he was desperate to find them because our government refused to help. So he went looking through some files he shouldn’t have. I would have done the same thing if I was in his situation.”

Ron looked away right as the door opened. A secretary walked in with a small tray. “Ronald Reagan?”

“That’s me,” Ron said.

She placed the tray down. Ron picked up his sandwich, no desire to actually eat it, but knowing he had to.

“Lunch?” John asked.

“I’ve been behind today,” Ron said.

“I see.”

Ron ate in silence as John continued to look out the window. “Did we do the right thing?” John asked as Ron finished up.

“We technically didn’t do anything,” Ron said.

“Exactly.”

The bit of sandwich had a hard time going down Ron’s throat. He wondered the same thing, but to have someone else vocalize it made him realize his intuition was right. Albert didn’t deserve to be in prison right now.

The door flew open and two girls came into Ron’s room. Ron recognized them as some of Albert’s peers who were also in the internship.

“Anne, you’ve got to stop. I’m serious. You can’t just-” one of them started to say.

“Shut up, Agatha. This is wrong, and you know it!” the girl named Anne said.

“Is there something we can help you with?” Ron asked.

“Yes!” Anne said with a surprising amount of anger. “Get Albert out of prison! This is ridiculous!”

“This isn’t going to help,” Agatha said.

“He’s fifteen! He shouldn’t be going to prison!” Anne said.

“He committed serious crimes of treason against President Arnold,” Ron said, none of the actual conviction behind it.

“Like what? For liking sciency things? It’s not like he blew anything up! Agatha here loves poisons. Are you going to lock her up because studying poisons means she’s going to kill someone?” Anne asked.

Ron glanced at Agatha, who had gone quite pale. Agatha met Ron’s eyes, terror-stricken. “I’m not… I would never… It's research for my books. I hope to be a mystery writer.”

The fear in Agatha’s voice was a terrible awakening for Ron. Had they all gotten so afraid of science that no one dared be associated with it?

Mr. McCarthy appeared in the doorway. “Are these two bothering you?”

Ron stared at Mr. McCarthy as a feeling of protectiveness came over him. Mr. McCarthy overheard the conversation, and he wouldn’t be nearly as forgiving of Agatha as Ron felt at that moment.

“I got the agenda you sent. It looks good. Go ahead and send it out to the officials. I’ll take care of these two,” Mr. McCarthy said.

Agatha gave one more terrified look at Ron as Mr. McCarthy placed a firm hand on their shoulders.

“Mr. McCarthy,” Ron blurted out.

Mr. McCarthy turned, giving Ron a discomforting smile. “Yes, Ron? What is it?”

Ron moved around his desk, approaching the two girls. “Let them return to their internship. They did nothing wrong. They’re just worried about their friend.”

The discomforting smile widened, filling Ron with dread. “That’s exactly what I was going to do, Ron.” Mr. McCarthy gave a laugh. “What did you think I was going to do with them?”

Despite already being large, Agatha’s eyes got even larger as she stared at Ron. She hadn’t blinked once since Mr. McCarthy came. “Take them back to their Junior Officials, please,” Ron said.

“Absolutely,” Mr. McCarthy said as he turned around and took the girls with him. Mr. McCarthy closed the door, and Ron simply stared at it, feeling nauseous.

John appeared at his side. “Would you like me to follow them and keep an eye on those two girls?”

It was paranoia. There was no other explanation for it. Ron had no grounds to believe those girls were in any harm except for the look of terror in Agatha’s eyes and a feeling in his gut. Every logical part of him said to drop it, but against his better judgment, Ron gave a small nod. “Yes, please.”

***

Marie pounded her fist into her forehead. There was probably a red mark on there now as she tried to hold back an ugly sob. The guilt and the memories would not leave her alone. She wasn’t sure she should let them. She didn’t realize she was capable of doing such cruel things to other people, let alone her friends. Holding back the sobs, as well as her stomach in constant turmoil from the guilt, made her feel sick.

She let out a portion of the sob she was holding in before she tried to cover it up again. A shadow crossed the door and it opened. “Marie?” her dad asked.

Marie said nothing, just closed her eyes and covered her head. Her dad approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “What do you need?”

“Time travel,” Marie whispered as more tears came. “Travel back in time. Make it never happen. It never should have happened.” She dissolved into tears as her dad held her.

***

The woman finished feeding Abe and was cleaning up the station.

“What time is it?” Abe asked.

The woman said nothing. Abe tried to get her to talk with smaller questions, one that seemed ridiculous not to answer, but the woman stayed silent as she gathered the tray. Honestly, Abe didn’t even know what meal she was feeding him, whether lunch or dinner.

“What day is it?” Abe asked.

The woman walked out the door, softly closing it behind her. Abe stared at the door, feeling the loneliness set back in. He had about an hour before the head official over security, Mr. Holmes, came in to untie him and let him walk around the room. All under close supervision, of course.

Abe immediately went back to fiddling with the straps. His wrists were raw, but something drove him to do this. He was held prisoner here. He wiggled his long fingers, trying to push them back to get the strap around his wrist.

The loop came out, and Abe grabbed it, trying to pull it back. The strap dug deeper into his wrist as he closed his eyes and dealt with the pain. His escape was more important. It didn’t matter that he didn’t remember who he was. He could not stay here a moment longer.

With a gasp, the strap came free. Abe quickly shook off the strap and undid the other one. He leapt out of bed, his legs quivered as he made his way to the door. He checked his wrist. It was bleeding, but it didn’t look like he hit an artery. He wore loose clothes, so he used his shirt to press against his wrist. He opened the door a crack, trying to see as best he could through it. How many people knew about him in this room, he wasn’t sure.

There was a bit of blood on his shirt, and he wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks. His pants were a few inches too short, but that was normal.

His train of thought paused as a frown creased his face. How did he know that was normal? How did he remember that because of his height, it was a common occurrence that most pants he wore would be short. Why didn’t he remember anything worthwhile, like what happened to make him in this situation?

Abe shook his head as he focused on what he needed to do. He didn’t know where he was. He needed to figure that out before he could escape. There were no windows in this room. Abe took a deep breath and slipped out of the hospital room. There weren’t many people in the halls. Abe would have preferred more people. It would have been easier to blend in.

Abe kept walking, glancing out windows, acting like he knew what he was doing. He was high up, probably in one of the tallest buildings in this city. He needed to find an elevator or stairs. He kept his head down.

The sign for stairs came closer, and Abe picked up his pace. He made one more glance around the room before he opened it and slid into the stairwell. It was quiet, so he began his descent. At first he went slow so as not to make too much noise, but the drive to get out of here forced him to go faster. His feet barely hit the concrete stairs as he began to run.

He was on the fifteenth floor when a door opened. Abe tried to dodge it, but a gentleman stepped through. They almost ran into each other.

“Whoa, it’s alright. It’s alright. Are you okay?” this new gentleman asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I need to get out of here,” Abe said, his feet already itching to start running.

“It’s okay. What’s your name?” the gentleman asked.

“It’s Abe.”

The gentleman looked confused, but something of familiarity seemed to cross his face. “Abe what?”

Abe winced. “I don’t remember.”

“Okay, don’t worry. It actually happens a lot here. I’m Josef McCarthy. I know it can be scary, but we’re here to help.”

Abe’s heart sank. “Do you know Mr. Germain?”

“Yes! He’s my boss. Let’s take you back to him,” Mr. McCarthy said as his hand tightened on Abe’s shoulder. Abe’s chance for a successful escape would disappear if he listened to Mr. McCarthy for one more minute.

“No, I can’t go back there,” Abe continued his descent down the stairs when Mr. McCarthy grabbed his shirt and more forcibly pinned him to a wall.

“I don’t want to have to do this, Abe, but I need you to understand, we’re trying to help you,” Mr. McCarthy said.

Abe raised his hands and forced his raw wrists in Mr. McCarthy’s face. “You call this help? You call being walked around by a man who never lets go of his gun help? You call being fed twice a day help? This is insanity! You have no right to hold me here!”

“It may seem unconventional, but I promise, we are helping,” Mr. McCarthy said as he tightened his grip over Abe’s shirt.

Abe narrowed his eyes. “Then where are the medical professionals checking my head? Who’s checking my memories? Who’s making sure my memories even come back.”

Mr. McCarthy gave a sigh. “Look, it’s all the fault of those stupid mad scientists who tortured you in the clearing.”

Abe’s eyes widened. “What? What mad scientists? What clearing?”

Mr. McCarthy was confused for a moment, before realization dawned on him. “Oh, um, no. Macbeth, that wasn’t the story they said for you, was it. Sorry. Like I said, memory loss happens here a lot.”

Abe stared at the bumbling man before him, terrified. “Memory loss happening a lot isn’t a good thing. You should be working on stopping it.”

Mr. McCarthy plowed on as though Abe didn’t say anything. “A rock. A rock hit your head. But you’ll get your memories back soon. I promise.”

Abe stared at Mr. McCarthy, something stirred in his memories. Like everything, he couldn’t quite place it. The feeling was familiar, though. He had a conversation with an older gentleman once. One where he knew the gentleman was lying blatantly to his face, and if he followed the gentleman, somehow horrible things would happen. Abe stared at Mr. McCarthy, not entirely certain it was the same gentleman, but the gut feeling was the same. Something told him he needed to leave. A foggy memory told him last time he didn’t cause enough pain. This time he needed to make sure he wasn’t followed.

“I understand,” Abe said, placing his hand on Mr. McCarthy’s shoulder.

Mr. McCarthy smiled, until Abe rammed his knee between Mr. McCarthy’s legs. Abe didn’t wait to see how much damage he caused, but he heard Mr. McCarthy try to gasp as he collapsed. Abe sprinted down the stairs as fast as he possibly could. He still had another fifteen flights, and he was going to use his long legs to their full potential.

“Down there!” Mr. McCarthy groaned. “Get him!”

Abe couldn’t trust the stairs anymore. He burst through the door and ran through the halls, desperately looking for an escape. He was still in a skyscraper. He couldn’t simply go down the elevator. They would be waiting for him.

Someone grabbed Abe from behind and threw him against the wall. He collapsed to the ground, his head spinning. Multiple hands grabbed him.

“No!” Abe screamed, feeling his mind trying to right itself as his arms were pinned behind him. “Let me go! You can’t do this to me!”

“Knock him out and take him back up the stairs!” It was Mr. Germain. He sounded angry. “We’ll try this again!”

“Why are you doing this to me!” Abe screamed. “This isn’t respect! This is far from it!”

Mr. Germain looked at Abe, annoyance clear on his face. “Oh Abe, we are treating you with respect. Humanely, even. We need to save you from yourself and your unfortunate need to help those who have dangerous talents. We will reform you, even if it means starting over with a completely clean slate. We don’t kill people unless we have to.” Mr. Germain nodded to one of the people pinning his arms. Someone covered his nose and mouth with a rag. Abe struggled, trying to hold his breath to keep himself from breathing anything in, but he couldn’t last forever. Dots were beginning to cover his sight as a sense of failure hit him. It sickened him to realize this feeling of failure was familiar to him. He tried to fight, but the blackness covered him and he lost consciousness.