Bradburn stared at the man for a moment, unable to think of what he should say or do next. A month earlier, one of his nurses hadn’t shown up for work. Only a week later had the doctor learned that men from the Tyranny had taken her away. It turned out that her husband had spoken out against the Tyranny passing laws that the public wasn’t allowed to know about. Her offense had been being married to someone who would dare question the Tyranny.
“It wasn’t as if he thought he could do anything about it,” his nurse had said, crying. This was after they had taken her husband away but before they decided to take her as well for being married to him. “He was just saying that if the Tyranny is going to pass whatever laws it wants anyway, why keep them secret until the last minute?”
In the Tyranny’s eyes, she would have been defending a Thinker. Personally, Bradburn had no sympathy for the woman. After all, the Tyranny said it was in the public’s best interest to pass laws this way. They didn’t have to explain why. His former nurse should have known better than to complain about it —rules were rules.
“Don’t you have anything you wanna say?” the Tyranny’s agent said.
“What makes you think one of my new patients is a threat?”
It was the first thing that had popped into his mind—some kind of proof that a seemingly mentally unstable man, under his care no less, might be a risk to the Tyranny. He could tell, though, from the way the agent sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, that it hadn’t been the correct response.
The agent’s eyebrows raised. “Are you doubting the Tyranny’s ability to identify threats and keep everyone safe?”
“Of course not,” Bradburn said, his palms out to show he meant nothing by the comment. “I only thought it might help me identify which patient you’re talking about.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I can’t tell you much, I’m afraid,” the agent said, a smirk to indicate he quite liked knowing things that average people weren’t allowed to know.
“Well, maybe if you could tell me why you think someone would want to pretend to be insane?”
“Doctor, doctor, doctor,” the man in the black suit said.
Bradburn knew he had somehow messed up again. “It’s just that”—
The man from the Tyranny raised a hand for silence, then said, “You want to know an awful lot, doctor. It makes me wonder why.”
“No,” Bradburn said, leaning forward, accidently knocking over a jar of pens, then scrambling to pick them up. “I just thought—”
“You’ll know what the Tyranny wants you to know.”
“I realize that. I just—”
“Where are the three men right now?”
“What?”
“The three new patients. Where are they?”
“They’re—I’m sorry—what’s your name?”
The agent leaned forward, staring hard at the doctor. “My name?” He sighed again. “My name?”
Bradburn grimaced. He had only wanted to get on a first name basis with the man across from him. To become his ally in this search. He knew, though, of the reputation that men from the Tyranny had, and he knew immediately that he had made another mistake. The Tyranny’s agents liked their anonymity. It had made it harder, back in the early days of the Tyranny, to make a formal complaint against an agent who beat your head in, touched you inappropriately, stole your belongings after searching you, or any of the other things they got away with. Almost no one was foolish enough to make a complaint anymore, not after the way people tended to disappear or end up in secret prisons. But asking for an agent’s name was a reminder that someone might want to report them. For the Tyranny’s men this was enough to take offense.
“I only meant so I knew what to call you,” Bradburn said, taking quick breaths, wiping sweat from his brow.
Seeing the reaction he had earned, the Tyranny’s agent smiled. “Agent Cooper.”
“Great! It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, Agent Cooper. Please be assured I’ll help however I can. When I ask questions, I’m just trying to get a better idea of what to look for. I’ve always been a supporter of the Tyranny. Just last year I reported a staff member who I thought might be engaging in suspicious activities. Never saw him again, so I suppose he had been. And I always cooperate when—”
Cooper held up a hand. “You don’t have to look for anything,” the agent said. He reached into the briefcase that was on the chair beside him, withdrew a folder, and slid it across the desk toward Bradburn.
“What’s this?” the doctor said.
“These are the questions you’ll ask each patient.”
“Questions?”
“Precisely.”
“I don’t understand.”
Cooper was already closing his briefcase. Standing. Getting ready to leave.
“Lucky for you, you don’t need to understand. You’ll ask each of your three new patients these questions. I’ll be back tomorrow to hear their answers. There are instructions in the folder for how to record the sessions.”
“And?”
Agent Cooper smiled. After putting on a pair of sunglasses, Cooper’s eyes were no longer visible. Instead, silver discs reflected Doctor Bradburn’s confusion back at himself.
“And that will tell me which of the three men is the Thinker.”
Then Cooper was gone, leaving Bradburn to consider everything he had just been told. As if to ensure the doctor did what he was supposed to, or, at least, didn’t do something he wasn’t supposed to, an AeroCam hovered outside his window, its camera pointed right at Bradburn.
Rather than acknowledge the flying robot he knew was still outside his window, he forced himself to look down at the folder Agent Cooper had given him. Opening the folder, he began to read.
That was when things that had already made little sense began to seem utterly insane.
4