“A guilty man sweats,
his mind wanders back to his secret
like a tongue to an ulcer.”
- Sister Losovic on Interrogation
Master Pietro's eyes were like fire, Master Theodore's like ice.
“Br... Brother Farnham?” blustered Master Theodore, “Surely he is not part of this treachery! I cannot believe it. I simply cannot believe it!”
“Believe it, brother. Do not let your emotions guide you on this.”
“I still... yes, yes, you are right. Yes, we must continue to find the cause, at all costs. Hmm, interrogating Brother Farnham must be done thoroughly. False information is worse than none.”
“We must be careful with our questions, then. Brother Renee, open the door,” said Master Pietro.
The cell block door slid silently open and the two walked to Brother Farnham's cell. He sat on his bunk, his eyes were swollen from crying and he looked unkempt. At their approach he scrambled to his knees.
“I swear, I swear, I am no traitor!” he blurted, bowing his head low. His crying was pitiful.
“We shall see, Brother Farnham,” said Master Theodore, shaking him off from his feet, “We shall see. You do understand the gravity of your situation? Nine of our brothers and sisters are dead and two have been severely wounded as a direct consequence of your actions. Not only that, but a wicked mind has been released from our custody without being traced.”
Master Pietro lifted Brother Farnham's face. A trail of drool connected with the floor.
“We are against the salvation of humanity through violence, Brother Farnham, but we will use force when necessary. I, for one, have no hesitation to use barbaric means of interrogation.”
Brother Farnham looked mortified, “Please, Master Pietro, I will gladly tell you anything you wish to know. I offer my knowledge freely and unreservedly! I am no traitor to the Brotherhood!”
“Then you will not object to an injection of truth serum?” asked Master Pietro, raising his eyebrows.
Brother Farnham licked his lips, “Yes, of course, of course!”
A short time later Brother Farnham was restrained to a chair in a quiet room with Master Theodore sitting in front of him, his hands clasped together.
Master Pietro was in the next room, watching Brother Farnham on a screen next to vital statistics worming their way along a monitor. His heart rate, skin conductivity and eye motion fluctuated, then settled to a rhythm as the serum began to work its magic.
His eyes started to glaze.
“Brother Farnham. For the most part I do not believe you,” said Master Theodore, “You say you brought the book to Brother Petroclus as a gift.”
Brother Farhnam's eyes flickered involuntarily.
He sighed, “Yes. A gift, I brought it to him. He reads, he likes to read books. Not electronic books, but books made out of paper.”
“So he reads many books?”
“Yes, he reads a lot. He reads when he is bored. He reads at night. He says it helps him fall asleep. My eyes are... are strange. I think I am staring.”
Master Theodore ignored his complaint, “Why this book in particular?”
“It was a proper Greek translation. Brother Petroclus wanted an older text. He liked the pages, he liked the older language. Why am I staring?”
“Have you often brought books over for Brother Petroclus?”
“Yes. Often. Other books. Many other books, I can think of them. Other books, the Iliad, another the Peloponnesian War, of course it was hard to find. Homer. He likes the Greek classics, he likes...”
“On every run?”
Brother Farnham's head began to spin. He breathed deeply, talking involuntarily as he did so.
“Yes, not always, often is more correct, often is the word, but yes,” he managed, “I do not mean to offend if you think I am being rude.”
“You are not offending me. It is the serum. Ignore its effects and think only of my questions.”
Brother Farnham closed his eyes and grunted while his head swam about the room.
Master Theodore's eyes narrowed.
“Do not try to fight the serum, Brother. It will be more painful if you do. Now, does anyone else know you bring books?”
“Others will know. Greek classics. I am not fighting, but I am not comfortable. Yes, they know, people talk. They talk all the time. There are no secrets, no secrets of mine. I will tell you anything.”
“Who?”
“Who? Who? Everyone will know, but he wants specifics, a person, a name. Brother Xavier knows. He knows. Brother Xavier and Sister Ping of the library. Of course, those who work in the library. They give me the books for Brother Petroclus, it is arranged. It was arranged. I have but to ask. Others know. Such an odd feeling.”
“So it is most likely common knowledge, then?”
“Such an odd feeling. I want to think, or not think...”
Master Theodore patiently repeated his question, “Is it common knowledge?”
“Yes! Knowledge. Everyone is knowing, knowledge is power. The books, Sister Ping is in the library. Power is knowledge, the people are therefore powerful. Stop it! Stop it!”
Brother Farnham writhed in his chair, trying desperately to free his hands. It was an instinctive reaction to the elixir flowing in his veins.
Master Theodore sat back in his chair. Truth serum was an effective technique. Developed by the Vigils over many years, truth serum seventeen achieved a fine balance between allowing the subject to remain coherent while at the same time arresting their ability to censor their words.
It was an effective tool, but as with any tool it required skill to be wielded properly.
Earlier versions of the truth serum had subjects babbling incoherently, producing every word and sound that entered their mind. Trained liars, it was found, could befuddle the process by thinking of everything and anything, letting the truth be mottled by discord.
Further improvements slowed the path of selective thought, while opening the channels of memory and auditory processing.
“Tell me, Brother Farnham. Brother? Brother? Stay with me now. Brother!” yelled Master Theodore, snapping Brother Farnham out of his daze, “If you, as you claim, have any love for Brother Petroclus, you will put your efforts into answering the questions. Do you know, or have ever heard of, a Brother Isaac of the Paris Chapter?”
“Isaac, try and think. Isaac. No. Isaac, Brother Hissam. Son of Abraham, the ram, the bush. He was sacrificed, but I do not know him. I know no Isaac.”
“Think carefully. Isaac. You have met him, have you not?”
Brother Farnham's pulse remained constant as he searched his mind.
“No. No. No, Isaac I would have remembered his name, Isaac, I can imagine. Like worms in my head, they wriggle,” he said.
Master Theodore insisted, “Focus, Brother. Isaac! Think of Isaac!”
“No. N-no. There is no Isaac. He is not a Brother, perhaps, is this a trick? He is from Paris, I would not have known him. I could not have known him, I have never visited the Paris chapter. France, it is in France. Isaac is a ruse, maybe?”
Satisfied, Master Theodore moved on, “Where in the library did you find the book?”
“The book was not in the library, so I looked. I do not know Isaac. Surely we have many brothers and sisters, surely I would have heard of him...”
“Enough of Isaac. Think now of the book. Where in the library did you find the book?”
“No. I looked. I searched, I wanted to please Brother Petroclus. He is a good Brother, an excellent Vigil. A friend. The book, I looked and found it elsewhere in Brother Holland's room. In his room, I was frustrated. I went in, I broke in. I swear I broke in!”
“You broke in?”
“I did! Brother Holland is strange. I was suspicious of his intentions toward Sister Gertrude. I do not trust him, do not say that! Damn! I do not trust him! Think of the book, that was the question! Holland had the book in his room on his desk! Hn! Isaac! No! Ah!”
He slipped one hand from its restraint and repeatedly slapped the desk in frustration, trying to concentrate. Brother Farnham took a breath, babbling while doing so. His eyes rolled to the ceiling as he tried to clear his thoughts. Master Theodore signaled to Master Pietro to let him continue.
“Be calm, Brother Farnham, be calm. It is so much easier if you do not fight the elixir. You will be tired from talking, to be sure, but it will pass.”
“Pass? I am worried that it will not. And even if it does not, I must be calm. Calm and think. Think of the book, of Isaac.”
“No, do not think of Isaac, Brother. You do not know him, and he is not your concern now. Think of your Brother Petroclus. Tell me, though, did Brother Petroclus deserve to die?”
A fresh well of pain gushed from Brother Farnham, “My dearest brother, I knew him a long time and he is dead! He did not deserve to die, no, no, he was a good man, better than me. I look up to him, I looked up to him, no, and whoever killed him deserves to die. By my hands or another I would gladly see them dead. My dearest Brother Petroclus, I wish I had never given you the damn book!”
Brother Farnham beat his breast as tears streamed down his face. Saliva rolled out one side of his downturned mouth. He wiped it away hurriedly, nattering all the while. Master Theodore watched him like a hawk.
“We were together, he and I, under Brother Warren. And Brother Drewen, we were together. I must tell Brother Drewen, does he know? Does he know?”
“No,” said Master Theodore, “He does not know. If you like, you can inform him. But not now, not in your state. The serum will pass in a short while, and then you will be fit to tell him.”
“I will, he will be sad to hear, as I am, but he must know. He will want justice like I do. I want justice for my Brother!”
“Yes, I understand completely. Justice is something upon which we can all agree. Now Brother Farnham, you said that you do not trust Brother Holland.”
“I did not mean to say it, but I did and I do and you know it now because I have said it. I said it! I should trust my Brothers but I do not. Not all, not Brother Holland. He knows it now, I must elaborate, yes, he knows. Sister Gertrude. She is pretty. Have you seen her?”
“Yes, I have.”
“He has looked at Sister Gertrude in ways unclean when she has turned her back. He thinks that nobody has seen him but I have, and it angers me greatly!”
His fists clenched, “She has already refused him publicly, she said no, she said no, but he pesters her, I see these things. Sister Gertrude cannot abide him. He does not think with his head, he thinks with his cock! And now I am speaking in a vulgar tongue. I am sorry!”
Master Theodore leaned forward, “I have no concern for your method of speech, Brother. But I have concern about your intent. Have you worries for Sister Gertrude for your own reasons?”
Brother Farnham shook his head, “No, I love her like a sister. She is a Sister. She is beautiful and wise, wiser than me, I love her deeply, and I know Brother Holland does not respect her. His youth has a hold of him, he knows it but does not care. She is strong but I fear for her safety. She is not safe.”
“Do you think he is acting selfishly?” asked Master Theodore, raising his eyebrows.
“I do, I do, that seems right! The way he acts is selfish. His actions are solely for himself. Not just for Sister, not just for her. His actions are not pure. I trust him even less, and now I suspect he has had something to do with Brother Petroclus, my dear Petroclus! He cannot have, but he must have!”
Brother Farnham caught his breath and stared wildly at Master Theodore.
“The book,” he gasped, “The book. It was him! He tricked me, he let me know where it was! He wanted me to find it!”
“Really? How?”
“The library, tricked, yes. I was asking Sister Ping at the library, she smelled like almonds. Concentrate! Hn! She said he had borrowed it but when I asked he denied he had it. The way he talked, he was lying and I could tell and I thought it was strange that he would lie. I thought I was clever, I thought I was so clever, but I did exactly what he wanted. So now I know, he wanted me to search for it! He wanted me to give it to my Brother Petroclus. Dear Petroclus, I am a fool! A bumbling fool!”
“I see. If it had gone back through the library, they would have detected the tampering for sure. He needed you to steal it and deliver it directly to the facility.”
Master Theodore got up from his seat and walked behind Brother Farnham. He said, “Dry your tears, Brother. Sister Marianna will be in shortly to undo your restraints and apply a countering serum. We shall find whoever is responsible, and we shall bring them to justice. You will remain here until the serum has worn off and then you will be free to talk to Brother Drewen. Try to settle down. And drink water.”
He left the room and went to speak with Master Pietro.
“Well?” he asked.
Master Pietro looked satisfied, “Either he is an expert liar, which I disbelieve strongly, or his heart is pure. We must talk to Brother Holland immediately.”
“My thoughts exactly. Aptitude for mental or corporeal control are neither one of Brother Farnham's strong points. I do agree that it is very unlikely he has converted, and that he has performed a favor only via trickery. Let us question Brother Holland at once!”
Masters Theodore and Pietro left the interrogation area and walked briskly to a hall lit by soft lighting. The floor was of old marble, laid out hundreds of years ago, slightly bowed in tracks from years of passage. As they walked they passed portrait after portrait of faces staring back at them. These faces belonged to Vigils of repute.
One was Brother Neebo, famous within the Order for being instrumental in resolving an escalating war between neighbors Pakistan and India.
The infighting had diminished the powers of both countries to the point where an invasion by the Russian empire, under the guise of peace keeping, could have led to the dissolution of both countries and the unquestionable dominance of the Russian empire of the Asian state. Such a consequence would have upset the balance of an entire continent.
Another was Master Vanessa of Spain, whose skills of persuasion were still used as examples within texts for Acolytes and Brothers alike.
One notable example was when she and her members halted the construction of the San Diego hyper-fusion reactor. By her subtle intervention the flaws and potential safety issues of the hyper-fusion theory were revealed publicly by scientist Yan Wei Chan, saving mankind the disgrace of wiping out millions of square kilometers in the blink of an eye.
The portraits were always performed post-mortem, as fame within the Brotherhood was held for deeds performed, not those yet to be performed.
The living could look to the dead as inspiration rather than being satisfied with their own achievements.
“I have a bad feeling about all of this,” grunted Master Pietro as the pair marched down the hall, their robes flying about them, “I hardly wish to say it, but if the words of Isaac have reach the ears of the young, we may be looking at another schism.”
Master Theodore kept his eyes fixed down the hall, “Then we cannot let his words go any further. Mankind is still recovering and cannot survive without direction. I share your bad feeling, especially considering the utter violence surrounding anything to do with Ryan.”
They reached the library. Old wooden shelves and stone floors quietly allowed themselves to be accompanied by the sharp lines of new benches, consoles and viewing equipment.
While many of the older books on the shelves were rotten, they had, at least, been scanned in or painstakingly transcribed and stored digitally. The sea of books were made up by entries from across the world, some very rare indeed.
The knowledge of the Brotherhood did not stop at the library housed under the roof of the Harrisburg Chapter. Across the globe, within many other libraries just like it, sat a wealth of books, recordings and transcriptions that had been rescued from the unforgiving teeth of war, crime and neglect.
Brother Xavier was busy cataloging the latest additions.
“Hello, Master Theodore, Master Pietro. What may I do for you?” he said.
“Hello, Brother Xavier. Is Brother Holland in here?” asked Master Theodore.
Brother Xavier shrugged, “Let me think. Brother Holland, you say? No, I have not seen him all morning. Have you tried his chambers or the dining hall?”
“No, this is the first place we have looked. If you see him, tell him to come to me at once.”
“I will, Master Theodore. Is there anything else? We have a new collection of Prahbreet and Harshiet and a couple of Lily Ungbert just in, having been saved from the ruins of New Delhi if you are interested. I know you are a fan of Indian Poetry.”
“Oh. Thank you, but no, no right now. Tell me, Brother Xavier, do you examine each book as it comes in or out?”
“If not me, then Sister Ping. But each book, yes. Sometimes there are dog ears on the pages, and these have to be straightened out before they are put back on the shelf otherwise they would permanently crease. Other times the covers are damaged or torn, or there are pages missing.”
Master Pietro asked, “Do you have any works referencing the siege of Troy?”
“Oh yes, Master Pietro. There is a lovely, leather bound 'Aeneid' if you like, very well preserved.”
“What about 'The Odyssey'?”
Brother Xavier rolled his eyes, sighing loudly.
“Oh great. Yes, Master Pietro, we have a nice copy of it, translated by none other than Federico Vasquez accompanying the original text, but you will unfortunately have to settle for the digital version like everyone else.”
“Why not the book itself?”
“Why does everyone insist... I am sorry, but currently it has been borrowed by Brother Holland. I have asked for it back but he insists that he has misplaced it at another Chapter. And, if it ever does comes back, Brother Farnham has expressed his desire to get a hold of it. It has been sitting on the shelf for goodness knows how long, and now all of a sudden everyone wants to read it,” said Brother Xavier, exasperated, “If you wish, I will ask Brother Farnham if he can do without so that you may get it first, Master Pietro.”
“That will not be necessary. It would not be fair, for starters.”
“I think he will not mind. It is not for him, you see, he borrows books to send to Brother Petroclus and Brother Christopher at the Remote Facility, you know, where they used to do the sanitations. So it is really up to them. I am sure I could send them something equally as interesting. We have a whole library of books, after all.”
“Thank you, Brother Xavier, but I guess I will have to wait my turn. You have been most helpful.”
“No, thank you, Master Pietro. May your path be straight,” he said.
“And yours be balanced,” said Master Pietro, ushering Master Theodore out of the library.
“Well,” he said, getting clear of the heavy library doors, “That matches Brother Farnham's story well enough. I do not think we need to waste time talking to Sister Ping, but instead find Brother Holland without delay!”
After poking their heads into the dining hall and scanning the few heads enjoying their meals, they walked briskly to the dormitories.
Sister Hunter walked by and bowed her head. They did the same, and continued on. Respect within the Order flowed in both directions, under the principle that age is merely an indicator of how many deeds may yet be performed.
As the Acolytes were given respect and trust, they learned quickly the value of the words of the experienced. The pride of youth was happily tempered by the wisdom of the elderly, and the exhaustion of age was moderated by the energy of the young.
They reached the dormitory wing and knocked roughly on Brother Holland's door.
They waited for one minute before trying again. There was no response. Brother Alexis came out from next door, coughing up phlegm.
“It is about time... Oh, Master Pietro, Master Theodore, forgive me. I thought you was young Brother Holland,” he said, clearing his throat.
Master Theodore said, “I am not. Why would you think we were he?”
“The knocking, I thought it must be Brother Holland a-fiddlin' with his lock or a-bumpin' the door with that silly cane he insists on carrying. My old ears are not what they once were, you know, but he makes such a racket sometimes.”
“Why did you say, 'It is about time' before?” asked Master Pietro.
“Well, I have been a-waiting, eh? I wanted to discuss some matters with him last night, but he did not arrive. So I knocks on his door at eleven last night, no, half past eleven it was,” said Brother Alexis, looking at his bare wrist, “Where did I put my watch? Anyway, you see, I wanted to pick his brain about a few things, nothing terribly interestin' mind you, but he seems to be avoiding me. Either he is a-sleepin' off whatever he got up to last night and not answering his door, or he did not come back to sleep at all! Perhaps he has fallen asleep in the library again. I will go and get me shoes on and go see...”
“Thank you, that will not be necessary, Brother Alexis. We have just now come from the library and Brother Xavier assured us that he was not there.”
“Hmm. He is always sniffin' about over there. Well maybe he is hovering somewhere around the technology wing. I know of a few spots where he might occupy that mind of 'is for a good while. Might give me a reason to go stretch me legs,” said Brother Alexis, wiggling his bushy eyebrows.
“Yes, well, perhaps you could go and look for us, Brother Alexis, if that is not too much hassle.”
“Not at all, Master, not at all.”
“If you do see him, please send him to me at once,” said Master Theodore. They watched as Brother Alexis hobbled off down the hall. He was old, tired, but had an inquisitive nature that time could not tame.
After he had turned the corner, Master Theodore took out a resonance lock pick, “Keep a lookout, Master Pietro, and I will open this door. This matter must be resolved before the attack of the sanitation facility becomes common knowledge. Rumor is a beast best slaughtered in the womb.”
The lock clicked.
“There. Whatever secrets Brother Holland is hiding, we will find out.”
He slipped the lock pick back into his robe and pushed on the handle. The door swung easily, revealing a view to Brother Holland's desk.
Masters Pietro and Theodore stepped carefully inside, closing the door behind themselves.
Without a word they looked over the room. Nothing seemed unusual. Brother Holland's personal touchpad lay on his desk amongst a few empty cups of coffee, recharging from the outlet.
The lamp was glowing softly against his bed head, revealing unkempt sheets and a pillow thrown to one side.
Master Theodore walked to the touchpad and flipped through a few entries while Master Pietro went to look in the wardrobe.
A shuffle through th