Episode 2: Closer Friends

“Here he is, the man of the hour. How was your trip to the 129?” Asked Kate Chatadke dryly as Adam climbed the sandstone steps of the building that housed the infamous Department of Memes and Propaganda.



Adam had come directly to the department, stopping only to sleep in his hammock by the side of the road at nights, avoiding the rural towns and their Mocos which filled him with revulsion. Along the way, at a railroad outpost, he’d located a telephone from which he could call his colleague and arch frenemy Kate, whom he had worked alongside in the Division of Social Archaeology for eight years. She had relayed news of his findings to her new comrade supervisors in the DMP, who had been eager to obtain the documents for study and analysis.



“Hot.” Adam said in answer to her question. “Hot and dusty. Did I mention it was hot?”



“Yes you did.” Kate confirmed, holding out a hand.



“Fuckin’ dusty too.” He pointed out as he handed her the envelope with the documents inside.



“I see. Well you stink like shit and look like a mud golem, but you were that way before you left so it’s not a huge shock. Comrade deputy director is in a meeting though, so you’ve got fifteen minutes to shower and change before he wants to see you.



“No clean clothes.” Adam said, shrugging dejectedly.



“I know, that’s why I went and got some from your apartment this morning. They are in my office, I’ll bring them down.”



“You went into my apartment?” Adam frowned.



“Yeah I did, and now I know why you drink so much.”



“Fuck off, it’s cosy.”



“It looks like a hospital waiting room.”



“It’s minimalist.”



“It’s so bleak and depressing I wanted to slash my wrists just to put a little colour on the walls.”



“If you slashed your wrists in my house, I’d consider it an early birthday present. You better not have touched any of my stuff.”



“I rubbed my butthole on everything you own. Go fuck off to the showers you filthy hobo, you’ve now only got fourteen minutes.” Kate turned and went back into the building, sliding confidently between two armed guards, both of whom frowned at him. Adam made a move to follow her, but the moai-faced guards closed up, blocking his path.



“I’ll just use the service entrance then.” he said to the guards. Their frowns only deepened.

With a sigh, he turned and circled around to the side of the building to a heavily armored steel door. He punched in his newly acquired access code on the keypad, and the door slid open. He passed the loading dock, the kitchen, and the trash incinerator before finding the service elevator, which he rode down to the basement. He made his way through the claustrophobic passageways leading to the changing and shower rooms, usually only used for kitchen staff and guards. They were musty and poorly lit, with rusted lockers lining many of the walls and half-rotted wooden benches. Aside from himself, it was completely empty.



He peeled off his stiff, grimy jacket and jeans, and folded them on a bench. Then he yanked off his boots and dropped them on top. A noticeable puff of dust emanated from them. He got into the shower still wearing his shirt, socks and underwear, and turned the water on. As it flowed, he peeled these off too, wringing the red muddy water out of them and tossing them in the general direction of his other clothes. The hot water almost stung as it chipped away at the dust and grime on his skin, and the quiet hiss of the shower was soothing to hear, a nice change from the distressed rattle of the motorcycle engine and the roar of highway-speed wind past his ears. He moved slowly as he cleaned the grime from his hair and skin, feeling his aching muscles relax slightly as the hot water warmed them

He had been leaning against one wall of the shower with closed his eyes for about ten minutes, and had begun to zone out when he heard the door to the changing rooms crash open. He pushed his wet hair out of his face and peeked around the edge of the privacy curtain. Kate was hanging up his fresh clothes on hooks above the benches.



“These are the least shitty things I could find.” She informed him, then stalked over and pulled the privacy curtain open wide. “How much longer are you gonna be?”



“Hey what the fuck!” He protested.



She reached across and turned off the water faucet, handed him a toothbrush, already pasted, and then sprayed him with a can of deodorant, the way one might use a fire extinguisher – leaning back, squinting, and with dubious hope for its effectiveness. “Come on, hurry up and finish, you’re going to make me late.” She insisted.



“If I had a dollar.” he said, sticking the toothbrush in his mouth.

There were nine comrade agents from the DMP at the meeting on the fourth floor of the DMP building, one of whom was its deputy director, and three, including Kate and Adam, from the division of social archaeology. The small group of men and women were seated around the immense Jarrah conference table in the deputy directors’ office. The third member from the Division of Social Archaeology was a woman named Fredricia, formerly Adams’ comrade supervisor, now a relic of bygone years searching for a place of meaning in the new order of the DMP. Adam didn’t hold too much hope for her survival.



The deputy director, Arne Kane, was leafing casually through the journal of the ANU student Kelly Arnold, along with the other documents recovered. The remainder of the attendees sat in patient silence, waiting for Kane to begin. Eventually, he did.



“So tell us, comrade Inoch, how was your journey to the 129?” Asked deputy director Kane.



Adam bit his tongue before it had a chance to spill an unpleasant account of the burning, oppressive outback wasteland, the billions of flies, and the drool-chinned and barely communicative subhumans that scratched out an existence there. He glanced at the bookshelves that lined the walls of the office and read some of the spines.



“It was quite the experience. Breathtaking, even.” Adam began. “I can’t begin to describe its beauty.”



Breathtaking, because it seemed to perpetually stink either of salt marsh, of unwashed humans, or of roadkilled wildlife festering in the hot sun. Indescribable beauty, because he’d seen none to describe.



“I was reminded of the worth of our proud nation and the fortune of those lucky enough to live within its borders. it It truly was enlightening to serve my country in this endeavour.”



Kate glared at him. Fredricia looked confused. The deputy director smiled.



“Moreover, the information I was able to secure at the border appears to be of great importance.”



The deputy director’s smile faded.



“Though of course, this is for the intelligence analysts to decide.” He quickly added.



“Indeed.” Nodded Kane. “Fine work, I must say.”



Adam caught a glimpse of Kate rolling her eyes so hard he wondered how she hadn’t pulled a muscle in her face.



“Of course, this matter is to be kept confidential for now, and shall not be spoken of outside this room.” Kane added. “When the time is right, you shall be officially honoured for your role, but until such time, this information shall be classified most secret.”



The attendees around the table all nodded their affirmations.



“What is most important is that this mission is the first of many which shall amalgamate the Division of Social Archaeology into the DMP in a lasting and meaningful way. This is the start of a new chapter in Westralian bureaucracy, and we are quite excited to have you all onboard. Except of course, the former division chief. What was her name, Freida, Frau-something? Anyway, there is no need for top level management, and a loose end is not desirable. Charges will be levied against her and she will be liquidated.”



There was a low murmur around the the room and a whimper from Fredricia.



“What is it?” asked Kane.



“C…comrade deputy director, I am the Division chief.” She sobbed.



Kane looked shocked. “Oh my dear, I do apologize. This is a most embarrassing gaffe on my part. I had no idea you were present. I meant no offence to speak of you as if you weren’t here.” He said. Then leaning forward, and looking pointedly at her. “Frieda, charges will be levied against you and you will be liquidated.”



“It’s Fredricia.” She whimpered meekly.



“That doesn’t matter, and don’t contradict me,” Said Kane. “Guards, please remove Freida from the office.”



Two stout, tank-jawed guards stalked forward and dragged Freida by the wrists and shoulders from the room as she sobbed desperately. The attendees’ eyes did not follow her, instead, all present remained fixated on Kane. When the former DSA chief had been removed from the office, he continued.



“Now that that nastiness is behind us, we may continue.” Kane said, checking his notes. “Kate… Chat-a-dyke?”



“Chatadke.” Kate corrected. “Like ‘Cha-da-kee’.”



‘For the love of Gods, Kate, don’t correct him!’ Thought Adam with alarm.



“Good. Strong name. Russian?” Kane asked, apparently unphased.



“No, just speaking quickly.” Kate replied, expressionless.



‘Fucks sake Kate!’ Adam thought with horror.



Kane glared at her silently for several seconds, then slammed his hand on the desk and hollered laughter. Slowly, the others seated around the table also began to laugh. Adam silently stared at her, wide-eyed, and with an expression of incredulity. She just smiled and winked at him. Eventually, comrade deputy director had compiled himself once again.



“Miss Chatadke, funny Kate, you shall be the head liaison for the DSA team. Your role will be to accumulate top level human intelligence from the Division and brief DMP agents and analysts at various levels within the Department, including, at times, myself.”



“Thank you comrade deputy director.” Kate said. “It is an honour.”



“Very good.” He replied. “Now, Comrade Inoch, Adam… Did I say that correctly.”



Adam was flustered and unfunny. “Yes Comrade Deputy Director.” He stuttered.



“Hmm.” Muttered Kane. “You have proved yourself a reliable field asset. Your role will be the Provisional Operations Officer, and you shall oversee and command all field operations of the division, at least for the time being until several reliable expeditionary teams can be organized to free you up for a full time managerial position.”



“Thank you, comrade Deputy Director.” Adam replied.



“As such, you shall aggregate field intelligence on a tactical and operational level. You shall report directly to…”



‘Please don’t say Kate…’ he thought desperately.



‘…Miss Chatadke.’ He finished.



‘FUCK!’ Adam screamed inside his head. “Of course.” He said calmly.



The remainder of the meeting proceeded with Kane introducing the various members of the DMP who sat around the table, but Adam paid little attention to them. His thoughts centered on the outrageous fact that Kate, his long time colleague, two years his junior, was now his boss. Her face was passive and attentive, but Adam knew she was silently bubbling with glee. ‘Maybe I should have defected.’ he thought.

When the meeting ended and its attendees had been dismissed Adam hastily slipped from the room and made his way down the corridor towards his new office, but he wasn’t quite fast enough.



“Hey, Adam.” Kate shouted down the hallway at him. “Where are you going?”



Adam grimaced, and reluctantly stopped walking. “I’ve got work to do.”



“No you don’t.” Kate said. “I should know, I’m your boss. Now come here, I command it!”



“Kate, people don’t say ‘I command it’ in real life. Don’t do that.”



“Don’t tell me what to do, underling. I said come here.” She continued.



Adam sighed and walked back to her. “Congratulations on the promotion.” He said reluctantly.



“You should be proud too. Provisional Operations Officer.” She said.



“Kate, don’t…” He started, but she cut him off.



“Great title. I’ll have a sign made up for your door. Probably won’t be able to fit the whole thing on it though. Not unless I just have the initials printed up.”



“Kate…”



“P.O.O Adam Inoch.” She said, spelling out the letters.



“Fucking leave off, would you?” Adam said exasperated.



“That way, when agents come to meet with you, they’ll know where to find your POO office, and you can type up POO reports at your POO desk.”



“Fuck this shit.” Adam growled, throwing up his hands and walking away.



“Oh come on dude, it’s funny!” Kate insisted. “Alright, I’ll stop making fun of you, I promise. I promise! I’ll get them to change it.”

“Will you though?” Adam asked.



“I really will.” She said with sincerity. “Comrade Deputy Director seems to like me, I’m sure I can convince him.”



“Thank you.” Adam said cautiously.



“Now come check out my new office with me.” She insisted.



“No, I’ve really got to…“



“Got to what, do a poo?” She grabbed him by the shirt sleeve and led him down the hallway behind her. “C’mon, you can help me unpack everything. I command it.”

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