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Paranoia

Mel Waldman

2084

    “Kill the traitor!” the Chief, a 7-foot-monolith, commanded.
    “Sampson can’t be the mole,” the albino midget protested. “He’s been my partner for 15 years. Always has my back. Saved my life once. And when we spend down time together, he always reveals a passionate love for our country. He’s a great patriot, Chief.”
    “You’re myopic, little man. From where I stand, I’ve got a clear view. And what I see confirms my suspicions. So kill him, Bronson. Or there will be consequences.”
    “Consequences?”
    “Yes.”
    And the Chief sauntered off, leaving the little man alone in the catacombs where all assignments were given.

    Like Bronson, Sampson was a senior agent. He was also the Chief of Psychiatry at the Institute of Trust. A mole had penetrated the Agency. He and Bronson had searched for the traitor for the past three weeks to no avail. Now, the shrink was the primary suspect. Of course, he did not know that he was a suspect or that he had already been found guilty and sentenced to death.
    In order to survive, Bronson had to kill Sampson although he knew his partner was innocent. If he did not obey the Chief, someone else would kill Sampson and come for him too.

    Deputy Chief Johnson limped into the Chief’s luxurious office, as vast as a grand ballroom, on the 200^th floor of the Trust Foundation building. The walls were snow-white and lined with flowing red and blue bookcases.
    “Come in, George.”
    “Yes, Chief,” the ghostly, emaciated cripple, who stood only 5 feet 4 inches tall, muttered.
    “Please, George. Don’t be obsequious! Call me Guy. At least when we’re alone.”
    Johnson nodded in agreement but remained silent.
    “Relax, George. You did well. Got me the information I needed. I’ve ordered Bronson to obliterate Sampson. I do believe he’s our mole and...an alien too. Can’t trust those psychobabble freaks.”
    Johnson grew a fat smile. Then he added: “He’s our primary suspect, Guy. Yet agents Wright, Brothers, and Biggs are not beyond suspicion. And don’t forget our loathsome cockroach Bronson.”
    “I see.”
    “Well, what shall we do?”
    “You will get rid of them, George. Clean house before there’s a full-fledged alien invasion.”
    And Guy Orwell turned his back on Johnson, a signal to the Deputy Chief that he had been dismissed. Johnson hobbled off.

    After midnight, the alien slithered into the catacombs, removed his mask, and shrieked relentlessly into the dark void. Soon It would rule with absolute power.

    The Institute of Trust was the entire 6^th floor of the Trust Foundation building. Sampson’s office was located in Room 66, a labyrinthine universe of dark secrets.
    Bronson rang the bell and the romantic receptionist buzzed him in. Wearing a gold jacket that hid his .38, the midget entered Room 66, and smiled wickedly at Barbara Orwell, the Chief’s daughter.
    “Dick’s waiting for you,” she said dreamily.
    Bronson nodded and sauntered off through the meandrous maze. Clutching his .38, he knocked on Sampson’s door.
    “Come in, Charlie.”
    Bronson entered, pointing his .38 at his partner.
    Sampson rose. He pointed his .44 Magnum at the little man. “Got an anonymous note warning me about you. Thought it was phony until you pointed that thing at me. Goodbye, Charlie.!”
    And the two men opened fire, killing each other. The Chief watched from his office, having planted three cameras in Sampson’s office.

    Wearing a human mask, the alien entered the mammoth office.
    “Come in. All’s well. Our suspects are killing each other. An anonymous note has been floating around. Everyone’s paranoid. How sweet.”
    “My idea.”
    “Well done. But Barbara’s upset about Sampson’s death. Thought she was in love. Well, she’ll get over it.”
    “Don’t worry. I killed her!”
    “What?”
    Slowly, he removed his mask and revealed his grotesque face and gargantuan alien body. And the monster, a.k.a. George Johnson, slithered toward the Chief, shrieking relentlessly, as It watched the Chief’s bulging eyes and trembling, flailing body. Soon, it would swallow and devour the dumb creature alive.

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