Page 9 of The Jaguar's Flower
That would not be their end if any staff member displeased him. His experiments were solely focused on the shifters until he unlocked the code that allowed humans to transform into something akin to the immortals he knew walked the earth mostly unnoticed by humanity.
He knew they existed because he was one of them; he could not recall many details before the 1950s. The only proof of his long life was the journals in his locked cabinet. The journals were the only personal items in his office.
Others hung pictures or kept statuettes, but he didn’t believe in such frivolities. Even the background on his computer was a flat black, though it was not his favorite color. He simply didn’t see why personal touches were necessary in order to perform a task.
The journals didn’t keep a record of daily tasks. They held coded information that pertained to his current work, although he had yet to crack the code. There was a reason for the secrecy previously, even if he didn’t know the reason at present.
If he could regain his memories or decipher the intricate code, he knew he would gain the answers that he sought. He allowed no one to assist him in breaking the code since none hoped to reach his intelligence level. He believed all to be beneath him.
As Renfield sat at his desk, he ignored the employee files that lay in a stack. His left hand reached for the cabinet and pulled open a deep drawer. Deftly, he removed several handwritten journals from within. These were the reasons that he kept his office locked and held the sole key that opened the outer door.
The DOD guaranteed funds as long as he showed improvements on their super-soldier program. They might not know what all went on here, but they didn’t intrude. Renfield could work without interference.
This was not the first facility of its kind or the only one in the United States. It wouldn’t be long before he would have to transfer to another research site. Otherwise, the DOD would grow suspicious.
As far as the government officials overseeing the operation were concerned, he’d been chosen by Douglas Earhart to continue the program. They did not know he was the same man, but they never looked too closely as long as the results were enough to keep them satisfied that progress continued. The private benefactor asked fewer questions.
The oldest journal was close to two hundred years old. They were filled with disconnected memories and ambiguous experiments. It used to bother Renfield that he couldn’t remember anything vividly before he woke up in the middle of the desert.
Glimpses here and there of times before that meant little to nothing to him. However, those glimpses were enough to discover his life's purpose. He devised the soldier program in order to gain more power. Somehow, he felt as though he once held great power, but that could have been little more than a goal he worked toward.
Vaguely, he remembered an older science used for his experiments. Others would compare it to a form of alchemy, and they wouldn’t have been far off. A mix of magic and science, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall exactly what he’d done.
There were almost no memories of that event, though he did see fuzzy images. His head throbbed as soon as he allowed his mind to turn to them. It was as if something or someone blocked his ability to remember.
The lack of memories, mixed with the pain in his head, led him down the path that he currently walked. Experimentation with shifters brought him one step closer to what he wanted to achieve. The fact it lined up with what the DOD wanted was only a happy coincidence.
A noise disturbed the silence of his office. He snatched the receiver from the base. “Dr. Renfield.” Most of the other researchers and doctors had a receptionist, but he preferred to handle his calls directly. The overly bubbly voice of Sophia Robinson from the human relations department greeted him.
“Hello, doctor. I wanted to find out if you were finished with the personnel files. I need them returned so I can enter all their information.” The newest employees would not receive their pay if the files weren’t returned. Her fingers tangled in the phone cord. The doctor made her uncomfortable over the phone, but it was better than having to speak to him in person.
He began to tap his forefinger on the stack of files. “I can bring them to your office before the end of the day.”
A cringe went through her body though his voice sounded pleasant. With brown hair and eyes, he stood close to six feet tall. His appearance was always neat, much like that of the security that protected the base.
He appeared as completely average, with nothing remarkable or noteworthy other than his intelligence. However, his demeanor scared her. She swore they were devoid of emotion each time she looked into his eyes. He carried an air of authority, but she knew the cruelty that hid beneath the surface.
“No need to trouble yourself since I know how busy you are, so I’ll send someone by to get them.” She chewed on her thumbnail. The last thing she wanted was to see the doctor face to face.
As soon as he received the files, he scanned them as well as made copies. They were not of the utmost importance as far as Renfield was concerned. When he sought new staff members, a certain type appealed to him. The importance of the files held one crucial detail.
Other than Dr. Morris, each of his new staff members spent time under professional review or was suspended while investigated for their conduct. With the work he wanted to be done, he refused to employ a staff that questioned the treatment of the shifters. They were not human, so they were not to be treated as patients.
A low grunt carried over the line, then the call was disconnected. Sophia emailed the security room, though she couldn’t be sure Renfield agreed not to bring the files to her himself. Her reluctance to be near the doctor might cost her this job even if she couldn’t afford it.
She learned quickly to avoid him. Otherwise, her anxiety would turn violent again, like in her previous position. Luck had been on her side when this position was offered. Slowly, she turned back to her computer and sighed. Maybe her luck would hold, and the doctor wouldn’t visit her.
Back in Renfield’s office, he pulled various pages from each of the files, except for Dr. Morris’. Her file held no professional or scholarly reprimands. This was her first position in her degree field since she recently graduated.
For most, their livelihoods relied on their continued employment at this facility. The outside world would ignore any claims of cruelty from them, but that didn’t hold true when it came to Dr. Morris.
His eyes flicked to the security monitors. Only he knew the examination rooms were under surveillance all the time. None held the ability to enter as a reprieve from their duties without him being alerted to that fact.
On the screen, Dr. Morris offered wrapped items to the shifters in the training program. They held themselves exactly as they had been trained, but he noticed several gave into their curiosity and reached for the wrapped item. With a click of the mouse, audio from the room filled his office.
The longer he watched her on the monitors, the more her behavior unnerved him. He would not rely on her ability to look the other way. The young doctor still subscribed to the morals and ethics taught to her. He would have to find a way to supersede them.
Unless he found a way to force her to see the shifters as less than human, the potential for rebellion increased. There was one simple reason that he treated them poorly. If they believed themselves to be equal, they would demand to be treated as such and not allow themselves to be experimented on.