Butch Goes to Washington
Chapter 2
Butch awoke slowly and stiffly, with dirt in the corners of his eyes and a bad taste in his mouth. He was seated upright in a chair with padded straps on his wrists and ankles and another strap across his chest. The source of the bad taste may have been the hard rubbery gag that filled his mouth. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since getting drugged in the Oval Office. He had a vague sense that it had been a long time.
He was seated at the end of a metal table in a concrete room with a camera in the ceiling, no windows, and a single metal door. An empty chair was placed at the opposite end of the table.
He had time to wake fully, look around, and even grow a bit bored before the door opened and a man in a plain grey suit walked in the door. There was a loud click as the door locked behind him.
“Good morning,” the man said. “Please don’t get up.” Smiling at his joke, the man sat down in the empty chair and set a thick file folder on the table.
“In case you were curious, the man you met was not the President but a look- alike conditioned by others like you to be resistant to other’s commands. You walked into what is commonly called a honey pot trap. You are in a secure facility with electronic locks that I cannot bypass if you were somehow to make me so inclined. In addition, the gag in your mouth is held in place with straps reinforced to resist cutting and has a padlock in the back. If you were somehow able to induce vomiting, or cause yourself immediate medical distress, in the hope that I would remove the gag, I have been authorized to let you drown in your own vomit rather than let you speak. Do you understand the nature of your situation? A nod will suffice.”
Butch just glared at the man in the suit.
The man in the suit did nothing, but electrical fire raced through every part of Butch’s body. The pain lasted for several seconds and left Butch’s heart thudding, his eyes blurred and watering, and every muscle in his body cramped painfully.
“Let me restate, since you do not appear too bright. We are in control. Do you understand?”
Butch nodded.
“Excellent!” the man said with a broad grin, like a teacher whose student has suddenly mastered a difficult concept. “Hopefully, the rest of our time together will go more smoothly.”
The man pulled the folder over in front of himself. “Is your name Beauregard Smith, born in Madison Wisconsin?”
Butch hated to be called Beauregard, but the man was correct. He nodded.
Most of the questions were basic—they confirmed his address, his mother’s maiden name, the identity of his ladies, etc. He realized with a sinking feeling that they had done a frightening amount of research on him. They not only knew which flights he had taken to Washington, but knew details he didn’t, like the identity of the elderly couple he had met. Finally, the questions ended. The man in the suit closed the folder, got up and pulled a key from his pocket.
“I am going to remove your gag now. I hope you realize at this point that it would be in your own best interest to remain silent. My superiors will know if you try to issue any commands.”
Butch intended to tell his captor to go fuck himself, but fire lanced through his body before he could say more than “Go.” This time, they didn’t turn off the pain until he was unconscious. Butch was a big man; unconsciousness took far too long.
When Butch awoke he was locked in a jail cell with concrete walls, no windows, and a single metal door with a pair of sliding panels on it. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, but the gag and other restraints were gone. The only furnishings in the room were a cot, a sink and a toilet. From time to time, the panel at the base of the door opened, revealing a metal box behind the door and a tray of food in the box. Butch yelled commands when the panel opened, but either the person delivering the trays could not hear him through the box or was somehow immune.
Four meals passed before the door opened. The man on the far side of the door was alone and dressed in a suit similar to Butch’s previous interrogator, but had such an aura of authority about him that Butch had a hard time comparing the pair.
“Let me go,” Butch commanded, trying to keep his voice from squeaking in fear.
The man smiled contemptuously and said, “Shut up for a while, follow me, and behave yourself.”
Butch shut up and did as commanded.
“My name is John Doe,” the man said, as he walked down a short hall to the room where Butch had been bound earlier. Somebody must have been watching on a security camera because the door buzzed, then opened easily when Mr. Doe reached for it.
Mr. Doe gestured for Butch to sit in the chair with the straps. Butch hesitated.
“Sit down in that chair, Butch.”
“Yes, Sir,” Butch replied and sat.
“I am an assistant director of the Secret Service,” Mr. Doe said as he sat down in the other chair. “I am unaccustomed to being involved when somebody like you attempts to attack the president. My people simply shoot them, preferably with a long range weapon.” He paused, and let his words sink in. When Butch didn’t comment, he continued. “In your case, one of my people had the idea that people like you and I are rare enough that your life is worth saving. While I don’t agree, I make it a point to encourage independent thinking in my people, when it doesn’t interfere with their mission ... so do you agree, Butch? Is your life worth saving?”
“Of course!” Butch replied, relieved at the reprieve.
“Why?”
“Huh?”
“Why is the world a better place with you in it?”
Butch gaped at Mister Doe. He was serious! If Butch couldn’t come up with a reason, he could die right now! Something about the calm way Mr. Doe asked these questions made Butch certain that he could command Butch to jump off something tall and deadly, and then have no problems going to sleep at night. Butch should say something, anything, but he suddenly found his tongue frozen in fear.
“You didn’t really think about what you would do if you met somebody else with powers like yours. You didn’t even think seriously about whether other people like you existed.”
Horror filled Butch’s mind as he replied “Yes, Sir” and his mind adjusted to match what the man in the suit told him. He had thought about what he would do if he met somebody with powers like himself ... hadn’t he? Suddenly, he found it very hard to remember what those plans were. Perhaps he really hadn’t thought seriously about whether other people like himself existed.
“When I tell you to go, you will walk back to your cell, strip out of that jumpsuit and do your best to wash off that piss running down your front. Then you will think very hard about our conversation.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I believe we are wasting money feeding you and wasting personnel, both on security in this facility and on the Pavlovian conditioning that has been attempted thus far. I’m sure you know how easily I can make you believe anything I want you to believe, but I also believe that motivating an idiot just gives you a motivated idiot. I have no desire to turn either you or any of my own people into motivated idiots, so I am giving the both of you a chance to prove me wrong.”
Butch was impressed that the man spoke so long without issuing any commands. There was no way it was accidental. He sat there in silence until he realized Mr. Doe was waiting for him to say something. What did you say to somebody who was looking for an excuse to kill you, and was perfectly able to get you to suicide with a word or two?
“Thank you for this chance, sir,” Butch said softly. “I won’t let you down.”
Mr. Doe nodded. “If you manage to impress the people trying to rehabilitate you, you may want to keep in mind how weak you are compared to others like you, before you go looking for trouble. On the old two to ten scale, you are a three power-wise.”
“Yes, Sir. Why not one to ten?”
“The scale was based on a deck of cards, and had a special meaning reserved for the one ace in the world.”
“How high go you rate?”
Mr. Doe smiled faintly. “I’m a king—above ten. You may go now.”
“Yes, Sir,” Butch said, and left as commanded.
No guards appeared to guide Butch back to his cell, and the electronic locks opened easily for him.