Starring:
Guest Starring Agent Smith
Date: January 16, 2010
Summary:
A small and rather fruitless interview of a boy who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Not Quite the Matrix"
Building 27
Holding cell #5, not the most comfortable of places. The room is stark white with a small table and 2 folding metal chair that are positioned to face each other. In one of them sits Robin, handcuffed one one side. It's likely that he could probably stand and drag the chair around with him… but the door is locked and there's really nowhere to go. This is exactly the reason why he's been left alone for about 5 hours in the middle of the night with nothing but a guard on the opposite side of the two way mirror.
There is a small click and a mousy little man with a brown suit walks into the room to sit in the other chair. His large glasses magnify his eyes to such a degree, they seem to take over his face. He carries with him a small black case that is zippered on one side, a legal notepad, and a pen. The case is set onto the table while he keeps hold of the other two items. "Hello young man, my name is Agent Smith. For the record, I'd like you to state your name and occupation, if you would?"
Silence. Something Robin hasn't truly known for years. For the first couple of hours, he's agitated, though he does nothing to indicate that it's anything more than fear from being arrested. Then, though, he relaxes, as he starts to get used to thinking in peace once again. So, by the time Agent Smith comes in he's calmer… not totally, still a little scared, but at the same time relaxed enough to joke at the introduction, "You don't look much like Hugo Weaving." Then he answers, "I'm Robin Whyte. I'm an FIDE International Master, a student of Brubaker Secondary School, and I'm part-time Technical Specialist for Congressman George Dawson. In other words, I fix his computers and setup his video confrencing equipment."
The man's overly bushy eyebrows shoot up over the thick rims of his glasses at the observation. "Hugo Weaving? I'm unfa — Oh yes, the actor." He gives a light laugh, one that is clearly meant just to sound pleasant but actually comes out rather nasally and annoying. "Well we all can't play pretend for a living, can we?" He begins his note writing, holding the pad of paper up just so that Robin can't make out what he's notating and what he's not. Brubaker? Really… That's interesting." The school sponsored by that paper company. The twitching hairs of his long eyebrows give his poker face away, he might find this news very interesting indeed. "Congressman Dawson, hmm? How do you like it there?"
Robin nods a little to the mention of his school, and says, "My mom paid extra to get me in after the school year started. It's got a great chess team, but other than that there isn't much special about the school for the price they charge." Then to the last question he nods again, "It's great. The Congressman understands when I have to go out of town for tournaments, and he listens to suggestions too. Nothing like what I thought a politician would be." Then he asks, "So..um.. can I go soon?"
"No, I'm afraid you'll have to stay here until our little interview is over. You see, there are various charges that can be laid against you, I'm here to make sure that you get set free. I'm kind of like your lawyer in this aspect, your friend. We can be friends, can't we Robin?" The way Agent Smith asks the question, well it's just a little bit creepy. Something akin to Hannibal Lecter when he's chatting with Clarice. Soft, even tones, the kind that send a chill up your spine. He folds over a few pages of the notebook and tucked into the crease there is one of the door hangers that Robin had been carrying. "Tell me about these…"
Robin nods just a little to Agent Smith nervously, and he leans back just a little in his seat again, trying to play relaxed when he definitely isn't. "We can be friends, yeah." He looks to the door hangers and blinks, "Oh, those. They're raising money to help a girl at my school to get a new wheelchair. It explains the whole thing right on there."
"And what is this girl's name? And if your school is so expensive, wouldn't her parents have enough money to get her the wheelchair themselves?" The agent doesn't bother reading the pamphlet, he did it already during the detainees waiting time. It's possible that he's just trying to either draw out the interview or trying to find out exactly what Robin knows about the girl. If she's a fellow student, well..
Robin answers quickly, "Michelle… don't really remember her last name without looking. I don't really know her at all, I signed up to help because the people in my building should be able to afford to help. And I think she's one of the scholarship kids, but never asked."
"Scholarship, that's interesting…" Smith writes down the tidbit of information on his pad and keeps writing for a little while before he looks up and gives Robin a very long stare. "Tell me, Robin, what apartment do you live in? You do live in the Deveaux building, don't you? Do you live there with your mother and father? What do they do for a living?"
Robin answers with the apartment number, and then says, "Yeah. Well, mom and stepdad. My mom's a Lead Developer at Starscape Games. Don't know what game she's working on, she won't even tell me. Guess she signed an NDA. My stepdad, he's a full time chess coach. That's how my mom met him, she hired him to teach me when I was little. He still teaches me, just for free now."
"That's pretty fortunate for you, isn't it? Speaking of non-disclosure acts, we have one here for you to sign. You will not talk about anything that happened or even acknowledge what happened in your building from the point of signing onward. So if you would like to talk about it, now is the time to do so." The man produces a small stack of papers from the back of the pad for Robin. They are placed on the table, along with a pen, but the case is picked up and the zipper is slowly pulled around to open it.
Robin blinks, "Wow, really?" He looks to the paper, and then hesitates, saying, "I thought you had to be eighteen to sign these things? I'm not eighteen until August. I know I had to get my mom to sign stuff when I started working for the Congressman."
"The fact that you aren't eighteen yet isn't really a concern here, Robin. You know what you've signed and if you're smart you'll hold up your end of the deal." What would happen if he didn't… well Smith is probably very sure that Robin is smart enough to guess. After all, he's been here for over five hours already, what's another fifty years for him and whoever he tells? "After you've signed it, we will escort you to a police station near your home. When you get there you will be processed for a petty crime of vandalism. I will be your lawyer and you will not receive a record… We don't want to affect any bright future you might have. But we will be keeping tabs on you, if anyone asks where you were tonight, you were protesting the tearing down of a playground that is used by children of your school. If you stray from that story at all… well." And then the agent gives Robin a very cold smile.
Robin's eyes widen just slightly at the implied threats, and he nods a little bit, saying softly, "Ok." He reaches forward to pick up the pen, and signs his name. Once that's done, he sits back again, and says, "I won't tell anybody."