TALENT.TXT - October 10, 2000

By SwampRat
(cl) 2000 - GFA

You can blame Kurst for this one ;>
A Johnny Mathis song was playing, so...

*Smack* The man's head flung back from the blow. Gripping the sweaty face, the interrogator growled, "Look at Me, you..."

"Look at Me.. I'm as helpless as a Kitten up a tree."

The interrogator spat in disgust. There was information inside that head.. Badly needed information. All his Trackers said the man had a 'Talent'.. One they couldn't identify. But one way or another they would.. Unless...

"What are the chances..."

"Chances are - That I wear this silly grin."

Again the man spoke nonsense.. But cued to what He said! He grabbed the man's shoulders and shook him! "Missile Silo's, Troop deployments, Who The Hell is your Commanding Officer!"

The weary face looked up at him.. and said, "It's not for me to say.."

The interrogator screamed and slammed his fist on the desk, scattering papers. Then as he stood, a thought came to him - Rogue! He had 'Talent', but nothing useful. reaching for a piece of paper on the ground, he grumbled.. 'Talent PSI level. Unknown type. Possibly Rogue.' Damn! He sat a moment, fingers steepled. 

"What is your Name?"

The man looked about to pass-out, but even with his head down on his chest, the answer came clearly - "Speak my name, and a thousand violins begin to play."

The interrogator scribbled on his report, 'Rogue. Possibly self-defense triggered. Worthless.' A Talent that did no more than scramble a man's brain was Worthless. His Espers could get wisps of noise, but mostly static. It wasn't worth the bullet to kill him - Even if they Did do that type of thing anymore.

"Release him, get him fed, bathed and shoved across the border. Another useless body we Don't need."

And so it was done, with a minimum of fuss. The man never said a word, although he may hum something or another. And was grabbed like he had Gold in his pockets on the other side.

"Are you Ok? Man, I thought you were a goner when they caught you.."

He smiles and shook his head. "Gee it's good to be back home again." 

They laughed.. The man Did have a talent. He could tune in to Any radio frequency that was strong enough to pick-up. It made conversation somewhat strange and his mind was pretty much garbage to another Esper.

A cup of coffee and a seat was found, and as he smiled, seeming to go elsewhere, his mouth moved..

"33rd battalion. Move west 2 clicks." Then stopped, looked puzzled.. And stood, going to a small lamp someone had picked-up in the local bizarre. He unplugged it, walked out of the bunker to the latrine.

                             * * * *

The listeners at the other end of the 'bug' jumped as they heard something like a crunch or a crack. Then rustling.. Then silence.. Until it was shattered by what could only be described as a loud fart!

The End.