"Those who don't know history are destined to repeat it"

Edmund Burke

“So, you’re not dead.”

They were sitting in a luxury apartment somewhere in the suburbs of Rome. The sound of daily life filtered in through the window, the honking of car horns and laughing of people enjoying the sun that remained bright and warm despite a chill wind echoing up to their fourth floor room.

The Gen… Matthews was carrying 2 steaming mugs of coffee from the kitchen unit into the well-lit room as Trials sat uneasily on the edge of a soft white leather sofa. The whole room was a contrast of black and whites, a monochrome testament to the expense of the place.

Trials knew the type - this was another Ministry safe house. One he had not known about, but then not every agent was told the location of every Ministry property. Secrecy was much easier to maintain when no single person knew everything.

“No, not dead,” replied Matthews, setting the mugs down and taking a chair across the coffee table from Trials.

“You were shot in the stomach. I saw you, saw how much blood you lost, and now you’re standing here as if nothing happened. That’s not possible.”

“It is possible for you, Jake. You do it all the time.”

Trials winced inwardly at the familiarity.

“I do,” he answered, “but that’s because…”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at Matthews in sudden realisation.

“I thought I was the only person with the nanites.”

“You were, Trials,” Matthews replied, “but time moves on. We finally managed to work out how to design our own.”

“Which is why I didn’t hear you move at the villa.”

Matthews looked surprised. “You didn’t? I was sure you had, despite your questions. I merely assumed you hadn’t been paying attention.”

“Hadn’t been paying attention?” hissed Trials. “My friend was locked in there somewhere and you think I wasn’t paying attention!?” His voice rose in anger.

“Your attachment to your old friends does surprise me at times, I must say. I understand you care very much for them, yet though you have lost two of them in quick succession I see no evidence of emotional pain in you. I could only think you were strong enough to let the pain of losing them go.”

“I am strong enough for that, but I wouldn’t want to,” Trials snarled. “And that is why I will not see another one murdered. I can grieve later, but for now it is vital I get Mike out of the hands of your son. Where is he?”

“I am afraid I don’t know,” said Matthews, and he did genuinely look troubled. “But we will soon. I need you to come with me, he won't have got far.”

“How did he get away?” sighed Trials, strength sapping from his body and slumping down into the sofa.

“He was gone before we arrived. He must have contacts within the Italian forces. I kept it as low profile as I could, but there’s no way to keep diplomatic requests completely off the radar.”

“Diplomatic?”

“The Ministry is recovering, Trials,” replied Matthews. “We still have our connections, we still have the support from above. It will take a while to rebuild the staff, but for now Ray is running a skeleton crew. They’re dedicated to helping you and you alone, Jake. The rest of our agents have been stood down. We will get Matterson.”

“He’s your son, Matthews. What the hell?”

“He was my son, Trials, once. But he’s… abnormal. He possesses no empathy, no concept of compassion or comradery save as a means to further his own ends.”

“He said you taught him how to control people.”

“I… did.” Matthews’ shoulders slumped. “I wanted him to have the best chances in life, to be the best. The rate he absorbed knowledge… incredible. You know our line of work, Trials. What was I meant to teach him? This world is full of dangerous concepts, memes that infect and mutate and create endless cycles of violence and suffering. I wanted him to know how to defend himself from them.”

Matthews stared at his palms, looking inwardly at the memories flashing past his eyes.

“He was a brilliant student. Everything I gave him he absorbed until he understood it completely, until he understood it better than me. I was aware his school life had been surrounded by a series of unique events, but he was never involved. Children would hurt each other, hurt their teachers. The brightest would rebel and abandon their studies, and low-achievers would suddenly excel. I didn’t realise the worldview he was forming until it was too late, until he chose to reveal it to me. I remember the day he told me how he had convinced a fellow student to disfigure a friend, all through carefully planned manipulation. He was so pleased, Trials. I should have seen.”

Matthews looked up at Jake.

“The instant he realised I did not approve he switched personalities, became once more the studious young man I knew. He convinced me it was a joke in bad taste. I forgot about it for the longest time, gave him everything he ever wished for, and when the time came I introduced him to my work. He disappeared soon afterwards, and reappeared as ‘Nigel Matterson’ years later. I nearly collapsed the first time I saw his face in the paper.”

“He said he was doing this for a bet. What did he mean?” Trials asked, watching carefully for Matthews’ reaction.

There…

Matthews’ face went blank, a brief flicker that was almost instantly replaced by a look of puzzlement, but Trials knew he had seen it. Matthews was preparing to lie.

“I… don’t know. What kind of wager could possibly require all this?”

Trials felt the anger boil inside of him, and forced it down where it compressed and burned ever-hotter.

Matthew’s was lying to him. He knew what Matterson had meant, and he wasn’t going to tell Trials.

“We’ll find out when we catch him, I suppose,” said Trials in deliberately calm tones, “But how am I supposed to help you when I can’t step outside without the polizia coming for me?”

“You’re in the clear there. The bodies are hidden deep in the wine cellar of the house…”

“...another of your old houses, I assume,” Trials cut in. Matthews nodded.

“...and will not be found for some time.”

“How did you get the NOCS to raid where I was being held?”

“I told them we had received intelligence that a terrorist cell was using the property to prepare for an imminent attack."

“Won’t that lead back to you?”

“Haha, no, my boy. That paperwork on that house is a bureaucratic marvel. I’d frankly be surprised if they could prove anyone had ever lived there. Now…” said Matthews, as his phone buzzed, “that will be the location of Matterson. Shall we go?”

It was only later that Trials realised he had been smoothly distracted from asking more about the nanites in Matthews’ blood.