or truth serum, in tablet form; its yellow crystals were dissolved in water or alcohol, emitting a slight garlic odour. This short-term anaesthetic inhibited the central nervous system; it lowered the heart rate slightly and depressed the respiration centre. Contrary to popular belief, Sodium Pentothal, in a dose smaller than that needed to cause unconsciousness, made the person more communicative rather than simply obliging them to tell only the truth, and nothing but the truth. It suppressed the inhibitory system
— not the drone's control — so information was freely given but was not always truthful.
The second drug was scopolamine, allegedly used in South America for mind control. This drug was colourless, odourless and tasteless so if necessary it could be ingested without the drone's knowledge. The effects of this drug were phenomenal; the correct dosage resulted in a total loss of will; the subject automatically did as he was told. And afterwards he had no memory of what had occurred.
Dreams, or memories, were then drawn out using a mixture of harsh interrogation and gentle counselling. The interrogation technique used was past life regression therapy, commonly known as PLR, in combination with the psychological approach used in suspect interrogations.
PLR drew the memory to the forefront of the mind while the harsher interrogation focused the thoughts and emotions on the moral aspect of the memory, questioning where it has come from as well as its validity. The combined use of these two techniques was an exhausting process for all involved, and could normally only be safely administered twice a month. But the results were worth the trouble
— at least for the clones' handlers.
***
Dr Viktor Borgoff read his e-mail with trepidation. How did they find my e-mail address? he wondered. He hit the link and went through to the web page. As he read, his interest grew; his facility was more than capable of fulfilling the challenge, although the government would need to be left out of the loop on this one.
He called the heads of departments together and they spent the rest of the day mapping out what would be needed from each of them.
The head of the Memory Data Extraction Department showed the greatest concern. 'Our techniques are unorthodox; they certainly cross
Geneva Convention boundaries. I'm not sure that we should share our methods with the rest of the world,' he said.
Viktor understood the implications, but leading the world in this challenge would put them on the map — maybe they would no longer have to hide out in the hills. 'The global unification of cloning data and techniques would surely be worth that risk,' he said. Everyone present eventually agreed.
7
C HAMPAGNE REGION, F RANCE
His leather-gloved hand shook slightly as he tapped in the alarm code.
It was the only part of the plan that had been left in the hands of his employer, and therefore outside his direct control. The fee offered for this job was far too good to turn down but it still made him nervous to have anything unverified, especially since they wanted the job done so urgently. As he punched the final number, the flashing red light on the keypad turned green, indicating the code had been accepted. A huge sigh of relief left his lungs, and his shoulders dropped. Closing the plastic door on the control box, he turned to take in the full beauty of the château.
Never one to take things at face value, he'd done his homework on the place. Originally owned by an aristocratic family, the château had been passed down through generations and, though a little tired looking, its elegance and splendour were still awe-inspiring. Over the past week, while researching the job, he'd begun to fall in love with the building. Its extensive grounds had been the scene of a variety of battles during the civil war known as the Fronde and the Napoleonic wars, and now produced some of the finest wines in France. The building, with its bay windows and stately
— not the drone's control — so information was freely given but was not always truthful.
The second drug was scopolamine, allegedly used in South America for mind control. This drug was colourless, odourless and tasteless so if necessary it could be ingested without the drone's knowledge. The effects of this drug were phenomenal; the correct dosage resulted in a total loss of will; the subject automatically did as he was told. And afterwards he had no memory of what had occurred.
Dreams, or memories, were then drawn out using a mixture of harsh interrogation and gentle counselling. The interrogation technique used was past life regression therapy, commonly known as PLR, in combination with the psychological approach used in suspect interrogations.
PLR drew the memory to the forefront of the mind while the harsher interrogation focused the thoughts and emotions on the moral aspect of the memory, questioning where it has come from as well as its validity. The combined use of these two techniques was an exhausting process for all involved, and could normally only be safely administered twice a month. But the results were worth the trouble
— at least for the clones' handlers.
***
Dr Viktor Borgoff read his e-mail with trepidation. How did they find my e-mail address? he wondered. He hit the link and went through to the web page. As he read, his interest grew; his facility was more than capable of fulfilling the challenge, although the government would need to be left out of the loop on this one.
He called the heads of departments together and they spent the rest of the day mapping out what would be needed from each of them.
The head of the Memory Data Extraction Department showed the greatest concern. 'Our techniques are unorthodox; they certainly cross
Geneva Convention boundaries. I'm not sure that we should share our methods with the rest of the world,' he said.
Viktor understood the implications, but leading the world in this challenge would put them on the map — maybe they would no longer have to hide out in the hills. 'The global unification of cloning data and techniques would surely be worth that risk,' he said. Everyone present eventually agreed.
7
C HAMPAGNE REGION, F RANCE
His leather-gloved hand shook slightly as he tapped in the alarm code.
It was the only part of the plan that had been left in the hands of his employer, and therefore outside his direct control. The fee offered for this job was far too good to turn down but it still made him nervous to have anything unverified, especially since they wanted the job done so urgently. As he punched the final number, the flashing red light on the keypad turned green, indicating the code had been accepted. A huge sigh of relief left his lungs, and his shoulders dropped. Closing the plastic door on the control box, he turned to take in the full beauty of the château.
Never one to take things at face value, he'd done his homework on the place. Originally owned by an aristocratic family, the château had been passed down through generations and, though a little tired looking, its elegance and splendour were still awe-inspiring. Over the past week, while researching the job, he'd begun to fall in love with the building. Its extensive grounds had been the scene of a variety of battles during the civil war known as the Fronde and the Napoleonic wars, and now produced some of the finest wines in France. The building, with its bay windows and stately
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