the exercise with 'we'

The shipment had arrived. The armored truck looked both conspicuous and ridiculous making its way through the bands of cacti, its guns loaded and manned. The shipment could be hijacked at any moment. We could not take any chances. Once the unlabeled vehicle passed the three security checkpoints, we waved it up the drive with broad smiles.

Dr. Belmondo entered the code to unlock the hatch. He was the only man--aside from the Chief of Staff--that knew the combination and thus, came with a high price. We could not afford to let him out of sight. Belmondo spent his days with a microchip embedded in his pelvis (the Government had deemed his arms too easy to detach) and his nights with two permanent bodyguards, one posted under his window and one on his living room couch. For a few nights, he would be able to enjoy the luxury of sleeping without bodyguards while at the complex. We had great respect for Belmondo and all confidence that our respect was earned. We had measures in place to ensure that this was the case. He would never desert us.




Belmondo entered the main reception area, and we greeted him with a Styrofoam cup of water, a cordial nod, and his briefing packet for the week. And suspicion. We have been told by them that suspicion is our greatest asset in this line of work. Everyone must be treated with absolute suspicion.

The steel crates were unloaded, and the process of decontamination was begun. Everything had to be decontaminated: the crates, the drivers, even the tire tread. There could be no traces of the outside world in the complex or vice versa. We sat down with Belmondo at a long conference table in the south wing for routine questioning.

"Well, how did the transporting go?" we ask.
"Very well, very well," Belmondo grins, "we only had to 'eliminate' two snakes and one lizard on the way."
"Good," we answer, not so charmed by Belmondo's ease with Government terminology, " we don't like for there to be a lot of elimination going on around here."
Belmondo, fiddles with his pencil, twirls it between his teeth, obviously takes the point.
After a pause, we ask, "When do you expect production to begin?"
"Not for a while," Belmondo leans back in the office chair, "maybe four months? This stuff takes a while to, you know, age to perfection. Think of it like cheese or wine."

Another joke fell flat. We were not interested in the refined processes of gourmands. We were not interested in food beyond the necessary sustenance it provided.
"This is nothing like cheese," we respond thoughtfully, tracing the contours of Belmondo's face with our eyes.
"Well," Belmondo swivels in the office chair, wipes his hands slowly and methodically on his government-issued trousers, and stands up, "a cheesemaker is a sort of scientist, isn't he?" He grins again as he moves slowly toward the door, "If you'll excuse me, I've had quite a day, what with transporting highly reactive substances for the government, I think I could use a little rest."
"Yes, of course," we watch him open the door, step into the hallway, "we will speak again soon."




Nights in the complex are difficult to adjust to at first. There are the routine tests and inspections being carried out at every hour. A small lull around 0200 provides about an hour and a half of uninterrupted sleep, but the activity picks up again toward the early morning hours. We all had a hard time at first, but as with any new place, you get used to it.

We are waiting for Belmondo when he hurries into the Central Corridor for the morning’s briefing. “I’m a bit rusty on these codes,” he says, and hold a crumpled piece of notebook paper above his head, “all except one, of course.” Belmondo takes his seat next to the Chief Lab Tech and stares at the screen, blinking.




“Welcome, comrades,” the automated voice begins “to day 764 in complex… Z… 3… D… A… 6…” We take this opportunity to look at Belmondo who has promptly and quietly fallen asleep, still upright in his chair with his hands folded on the metal table. The voice continues, “As such, today, we will have a special presentation from Doctor Hector Belmondo at 1000.” The automated voice spells out each syllable of the Doctor’s name with care.