A Serene Imposter

Irene wished that she was invited to GenNext labs because of her credentials as a writer, or her reputation for precise reporting, or even her connections. 

But no. She knew why she was really invited. 

They called her “Serene Irene”, one of the greatest journalists of the age, humbly giving up credit for her “accomplishments.” But Irene knew if they knew what she really did– they’d hate her. She was just a coward, a failure, and accidentally popular (she “gave up” credit because she knew that she didn’t deserve it). Her entire career, she’d never written anything meaningful, about corruption or brutality or any of the crimes she’d witnessed. In the Free Republic, that’s how the game was played. If you want to get far in life, don’t rock the boat. She stayed quiet, having accepted her place a long time ago– she just needed to play her role. 

The hiss of doors sliding open broke Irene out of her thoughts. As the decontamination finished, she stepped out and took a second to compose herself. Pantsuit smoothed down? Check. Walking shoes tied tightly on? Check. Hair tied neatly back into a bun? Check. 

“Welcome to GenNext, ma’am.” Two younger scientists– interns, Irene realized, as she noticed their nervousness– were waiting for her at the entrance to the lab. She didn’t respond, waiting until they became visibly uncomfortable. One finally continued “so… would you like to continue on with us?” Irene began to tell them to relax– then, stopped herself. Cold. Cold as winter, she told herself. It was what they were expecting, from ‘Serene Irene’. Her voice sounded icy even to herself: “I was expecting a full entourage, composed of experts.” 

Both of them winced. “We’re very sorry ma’am,” the bony one said. “The scientists are tied up with a pressing experiment.”

Irene knew that one of them was Joaquin, and the other was named Ryan. There was a mild moment of panic when she realized she didn’t know which was which. Instead of letting it show, though, she pretended to be annoyed. 

“All of them? At the same time?” One of the interns pursed his lips. The other one, who was significantly chubbier, simply shrugged. Letting out a sigh that was only partially forced, Irene suddenly walked forward, forcing her “tour guides” to follow behind her. 

Looking around at the laboratory she had entered, Irene couldn’t help but notice that the room was far too pristine– not a single piece of glassware or equipment left out. Was it between experiments? She doubted that the research institute of the nation would have set up an entire fake room for her enjoyment. Oh– right. She was supposed to be intimidating right now. Irene  looked around with an air of disdain, impatiently tapping her foot. “Well? Are we to continue?”

The chubbier intern cleared his throat. “Er– yes. Of course, Ms. Irene.” 

“Ms. Soylent, if you’d please.”

Chubby grimaced. “Ms. Soylent, please follow us! Management even gave us permission for Joaquin there to demonstrate some of it firsthand,” he continued, wearing a strained smile. 

Ok, ok: Bony was Joaquin, and Chubby was Ryan. And given how anxious the two looked, Irene could already guess how terrible the tour was going to be. 

Ideal. 

___________________________________________

A few hours later, and all three of them were bored– precisely what Irene was hoping for. She could already see the headline: “GenNext Laboratories Functioning Efficiently and Productively.” She’d write a nice, nonaggressive headline that didn’t say much of anything, get paid, and move on with her life. 

There were, uh… “personal” constraints in what she could write. Politically, things were a bit tense. The two most powerful factions influencing government policy were ripping into each other, and both could ruin her life. The Reformists currently directed the state, and the Technocrats managed GenNext. Write something too positive and she’d anger the faction that controlled the government. Write something too negative and she’d be blacklisted. If she wrote something truly radical? Well, prison lay in wait– or worse.  

With that in mind, she had tuned out her tour ages ago. They had walked her through rooms full of machinery that uh… made plastics? There had also been a robot arm or two. It didn’t matter.

She only started paying attention to the tour again when Joaquin said the magic words: “Any questions?”

Irene thought about it. On the one hand, she hadn’t been paying attention, and so might ask an idiotic question. On the other hand, if she didn’t ask anything, it would imply that she hadn’t listened, which could damage her reputation. 

She decided to default to arrogance. “Of course I don’t. Your tour was more than enough.” Irene tried to put on her best sneer. It was unclear whether it worked, since Joaquin quickly looked away. 

Well, it was a win in her books. “So is there anything else, or is this experience at an end?” She was about to turn away and head for the exit– her mind was already spinning with buzzwords and empty facts she could insert into the article– when something odd happened. 

An intercom system crackled to life. Irene hadn’t even realized there was one. There seemed to be a malfunction. Instead of a voice or automated message blaring from the ceiling, all that emitted was a single buzzing tone, filled with strange warbles that sounded almost like a language. Malfunction?

She turned to look at the interns to see if they had any idea what was going on. They didn’t look as confused. They just seemed– terrified. 

Before she could even open her mouth to ask the interns what was going on, Ryan dropped like a stone. She stared at him in shock. Out of nowhere, Joaquin rushed forwards– not to help his coworker, but instead heading straight at her. 

Instinctively, she threw up her arms to prevent him from slamming into her at a run. She was startled, then, when he unexpectedly grabbed her arm and kept running– away from Ryan. 

Joaquin was a lot stronger than he looked, and yanked her down the hallway. Still, even with the speed he was pulling her at, Irene couldn’t help but see Ryan out of the corner of her eye, on the ground. He had been lifeless and frozen a second ago, but he had… started twitching? The strange buzzing noise was still sounding over the intercom, and Ryan’s body almost seemed to be pulsing along with the speakers. 

Then, silence. 

Ryan stood up, started screaming. 

And sprinted towards her. 

Irene had no idea what was happening, and she could figure it out later. Forcing her gaze forward, she started running as fast as she could with Joaquin, to get away from the thing chasing her.

Suddenly, the intern screeched to a stop in front of a door and began struggling with the lock. Breathing heavily, Irene looked around the corner and immediately regretted it. Ryan’s face was twisted in rage, teeth bared, his mouth stretched inhumanly wide as a strangled noise came out of it. His pupils were dilated to pinpricks in his eyes, and his eyes seemed forced open even as they were looking right at her.

Irene scrambled back to where Joaquin was still fiddling with the lock. 

“Come on, come on, come on, come on…” she couldn’t tell who was muttering it. Irene kept her eyes fixed tightly on the door, ready to jump. She could begin to hear Ryan’s footsteps, and the low-pitching screams he was emitting, and she knew that if she saw him coming again– 

The door unlocked. 

Moving faster than she ever had moved in her life, she ran in, followed by Joaquin. He slammed shut the door just in time, and locked it even as they heard pounding on the other side. Ryan seemed to be slamming the door with his entire body, over and over. 

Irene held her breath, and– the door held.

They were safe.

___________________________________________

“What the– what was that?"

Oop, she almost let a curse slip. Even in the worst of times, Irene forced herself to remember protocol. Especially in the worst of times. She needed to act like the journalist she pretended to be, because if she started to let things show– where would she be?

Luckily, it seemed like Joaquin was too emotional to have noticed the slip. He was currently pacing back and forth in the broom closet they had ended up in. “There’s something huge going on, and I don’t know what to do, everything’s about to go to bits and pieces, and this is going to be terrible, and–”

Irene’s heart stuttered a few beats. Dammit. This was exactly what she wanted to fucking avoid. Quietly, she looked around to see if there was any way she could just cut and run, but no. The two had ended up in a single, cramped room. Ryan– or whatever he was now– had stopped smashing into the door, but she’d be just as screwed if she was caught wandering around the most restricted location in the Republic. 

So, putting on a mask of calm, Irene stopped the scared intern from babbling. “Snap out of it. What’s happening?”

Joaquin, to his credit, calmed down. After taking a few breaths, he started over. “A Technocrat coup. The Reformists recently brought up a proposal to put GenNext labs under scrutiny. The Technocrats are terrified of what they might find.”

The intern seemed to come to a conclusion of some sort. Changing the subject, he turned around and opened a small door at the back of the broom closet that Irene hadn’t noticed. 

“Let’s walk and talk.” With that, he left the room. 

Irene didn’t get a chance to interject, and so she had no choice but to follow behind. “Won’t we get caught?” she hissed at him. 

“The scientists are genuinely all busy right now preparing for the coup.” Joaquin grimaced. “There are uh, large projects going on. You just saw one of those..” 

“Wait,” Irene asked. “What had happened to Ryan–”

“Everyone in the building other than the scientists was given a trigger.” Joaquin was staring into space as he spoke. “You– you– the conditioning warps your emotions. You lose control when you hear a tone, and become a passenger inside your own body as you give in to the anger.”

He shook his head, snapping out of it. “I thought they just wanted to test the conditioning on us. What they really want is to condition key individuals in the army and the government before the coup.”

Irene felt her blood run cold. The chaos that would happen if a chunk of the army and the leaders of the nation went insane– she didn’t even want to think about it. But why did the Technocrats trigger Ryan? “Did Ryan go insane… because of me?” She was afraid to hear the answer.

“It’d be another reason why none of the scientists were present. They may have decided that the risk of the best journalist in the country finding their secret projects was too large, and poor, insane Ryan would have killed both of us.” Joaquin grimly confirmed. 

At this point, Irene realized that she had two choices. Curl up into a fetal position, or run as fast as she could. 

“I need to leave, then.” Wait, that’s not a very good reason to leave. Uh… oh! “I, of course, put you in danger by my very presence.” She smiled inwardly. Very clever. 

Joaquin, the fool, actually smiled at her. “I knew it was the right decision trusting you, Ms. Soylent.”

That was not the response she was expecting. “What do you mean?”

“We’re heading towards documents that detail GenNext plans,” Joaquin said with a smile. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure, but you were so coldly professional during our tour that I’m now certain you’re capable of exposing the nightmares we built.”

Irene felt her heart rate spike. Her poor decisions, coming back to bite her. Forgetting composure for a moment, she responded in an unfortunately whiny voice. “Me? I’m just a journalist. At this point, I’m not sure an article would change much.”

Joaquin stumbled for a second, looking into her eyes. “You– you’re Irene Soylent. Nobody is more respected. Your writing reaches millions. This is the best chance to end this peacefully. With that kind of pressure from the government and the public, the Technocrats would fold.”

Irene pursed her lips, not saying anything. They continued, stopping in front of a set of double doors.

“Here we are. Now give me a second,” the intern declared, “to get this thing unlocked.” 

As he said that, the doors swung open. 

Both Irene and Joaquin stood there for a moment, stunned. The person in a white lab coat– a scientist– was equally as shocked, but reacted faster. She dropped the documents and pulled a walkie talkie out.”

“Soylent is still alive! Ryan wasn’t able to get either of them! Trigger Joaquin Valencia, now.”

A shrill screaming started echoing down the intercom, different from the last announcement. It grew louder, and louder, piercing Irene’s head. The scientist collapsed too, holding her ears, only a few feet away from Joaquin. 

The screaming grew deeper. It warped, pulsed louder. Irene knew she should have been moving, but at that moment, she could think of nothing but the nails-on-chalkboard sound echoing down the hallways. 

Forcing herself to look up, she saw that Joaquin‘s eyes were darting this way and that, unfocused, his entire body shivering. In a strained voice, he said “Room 513. Look for a green USB. Window exit.”

“What?”

“RUN!” Joaquin yelled. 

With that, he dropped to the floor, and the mind-shattering intercom stopped. Irene immediately broke into a sprint as the scientist behind her started to scream. 

By this point, she knew better than to look back. 513, 513, 513, she thought. On her right was a sign that read Laboratories 400-550. She spun and ran down the hall as fast as she could. 

The scientist had stopped screaming, replaced by a more baritone roar. Joaquin. 

On her right passed 473– 485– 499. She wanted to slow down, catch her breath and find the lab, but even above the pounding of her beating heart, she heard screaming behind her. It got louder, and louder, and louder, and louder, until…

There! 513! Irene scrambled to a stop in front of it and tried the handle. It was locked. She felt her heart drop as the screaming got even closer. In desperation, she rammed into the door, and to her surprise, it started to give. Again, and again, she hit the door, until the lock came right out and she fell through into the room. 

Immediately, she closed the door, and with an adrenaline-fueled push, put a nearby table in front of the door. Turning around, though, she understood Joaquin’s message. There was a window at the back of the room and a lime green USB plugged into a running computer. Dull thuds sounded at the door, along with blurry screaming. 

Making a split-second decision, Irene grabbed USB, and ran for Joaquin’s “window exit.” But when she looked out, she was at least three floors up, overlooking a massive lake. She was still hesitating when the door gave way and an enraged Joaquin burst into the room. 

Irene grimaced, and ran full force at the glass. It shattered as she felt shards fly past her head, and the wind blowing against her face, and pain as she hit the water– then, nothing. 

She’d blacked out. 

___________________________________________

Two weeks later

Irene was a coward. Even after the fall, waking up flailing in the water, and reaching her office and newspaper– she couldn’t do it. 

She didn’t publish the USB. 

Even when the nurse came into her room to tell her that she was allowed into the patient’s room, it barely halted her train of thought. It all felt like a dream as Irene walked, helped by an orderly. 

Only when she came into the room did she stop dwelling on what had happened. Joaquin sat in the bed, looking up with a dazed expression. 

“Joaquin?”

He looked at her– and grinned. “You did it, Ms. Soylent. I can’t believe it.”

Irene stared at him in shock. She hadn’t done anything. As soon as she made it to safety, she had told her staff everything, showed them the USBs, and collapsed, letting others deal with it. By complete chance, and only because Irene had decided to give up, the contents of the USBs were leaked to the public and to Reformist elements. 

She was in the hospital for what happened next, but apparently, the government had come down hard on GenNext. Even recovering in the hospital, she had heard sirens, and saw a fleet of troop carriers drive past her window. 

Since then, all she knew was that Joaquin had been checked into the hospital, and the doctors there were working to remove whatever conditioning the scientists had created. 

Irene scrunched up her face. She thought about lying, of taking the credit– but she remembered Joaquin on the floor, using his last few seconds to give her a chance to live. Sighing, she admitted it. “I… I didn’t even do anything. I gave up, Joaquin. And because I failed, it all worked.”

She braced herself for an outburst, but Joaquin only cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry, was it a hallucination, or did I see you jump out of a building to get the USB out? Besides,“ Joaquin grinned, “now I know that you were responsible. Only Serene Irene could have given up all of the credit for saving the Free Republic from a goddamn coup.” 

There was silence. Then, Irene began to laugh. Joaquin joined in. He was right. It wasn’t her writing, but she’d finally exposed the brutality she’d seen. She had really been a journalist worth being proud of.  

And in that perfect moment, Irene felt… serene.