Part 7 — The Janus Project
The blue light from the sensor cast long, haunting shadows across the walls of the dusty back room. The mechanical hum coming from inside the grey box sounded like the ticking of a time bomb. Elias stood there, unable to move, as if the old antiquarian's revelation had shattered his spine.
“Test subject...”, Elias repeated, his voice devoid of tone. The word tasted like poison on his tongue. “That's absurd. That's a sick fantasy! I remember my childhood! I remember my parents' house in Lower Saxony! The old apple tree in the garden... the smell of grandma's apple pie...”
The old man—who had introduced himself as Piet, a former archivist for the service—shook his head sadly.
“Those are standard memory modules, Elias. Module 4: 'Rural Idyll.' Every test subject in the Janus Project was given similar childhood patterns. They were designed to create a stable, emotional foundation whenever an original identity was wiped.”
“Why?!” Elias yelled, grabbing Piet by the lapels of his vest. The rage, the desperation, the primal dread of losing his own 'self' consumed him. “Why would anyone do such a thing? Who was I before 1990?!”
Piet didn't flinch, though his frail body trembled in Elias's grip. “You were Viktor Kroll, Elias.”
Elias released him. His hands dropped limply to his sides. He shook his head slowly, almost imperceptibly.
“No...”, he whispered. “No. Julian is Viktor Kroll's son. You just said... Elena said Kroll was the head of a crime syndicate!”
“Viktor Kroll was the founder of the network,” Piet corrected him softly. “A brilliant, yet ruthless man. In 1989, he suffered severe brain trauma in an assassination attempt. He fell into a coma. The syndicate wanted him dead to seize control. But Anouk—your later 'Anna'—was the lead neuroscientist for the service. She abducted Kroll from the hospital.”
Piet walked over to the desk and opened a worn, leather-bound ledger.
“Anouk believed that no human being is beyond redemption. She wanted to prove that by erasing traumatic and greedy memory patterns and implanting empathy and gentleness, one could create a completely new, good soul. She used Kroll for her daring experiment. She wiped Viktor Kroll's identity clean. And created... Elias Vermeer. A peaceful, modest accountant.”
Elias stumbled toward a chair and collapsed into it. The world around him lost all footing.
He was not the victim of a lie. He was the phantom. He was not the peaceful tax consultant who happened to get caught up in this conspiracy. He was the source of the evil. The original monster whose teeth had been pulled and draped in a sheep's skin.
“And Julian...?” Elias asked, his voice choked with tears. “If I was Kroll... then Julian is...”
“Julian is your biological son,” Piet said softly. “From your former life as Viktor Kroll. When Anouk transformed you, Julian was just a toddler. She took the child, forged his papers, and gave him back to you as your stepson to make the family scenario complete. But Julian carried his father's genes. The greed, the ambition, the ruthlessness. When he stumbled upon old documents a few years ago, he discovered who his father really was. He believed Kroll was dead or missing—he had no idea that the timid old man he called his 'stepfather' was actually the feared, powerful Viktor Kroll himself!”
A terrible laugh escaped Elias's throat. It sounded broken, almost insane.
Julian was searching for his father's inheritance. He was hunting a phantom—and the person he threatened, the person he wanted to kill, was the father himself, transformed into a fragile old man!
“And the box?” Elias asked, looking at the blue glow that was gradually intensifying. “What is inside this box?”
“Your real memories,” Piet said quietly. “The complete data files of Viktor Kroll. The passwords to the bank accounts, the names of network members... but also the consciousness of who you used to be. Anouk locked it away. She knew the experiment was dangerous. She knew the past would catch up to you eventually. She programmed the lock so it could only be opened by your original, uncoordinated DNA—activated by extreme stress or deep trauma.”
Suddenly, a violent shattering sound echoed from the front of the shop.
The antiquarian's display window was smashed open from the outside. Freezing wind and the heavy stomping of boots flooded the shop.
“They're here!” Piet gasped in terror.
Elias sprang to his feet. Through the half-open door of the back room, he saw two men dressed in black carrying assault rifles breach the sales floor. Behind them, a figure stepped into the glare of the streetlamp.
Julian.
He wore a dark leather coat, his features hard as granite. He held a silenced pistol at the ready.
“Father!” Julian shouted through the shop, his voice echoing off the wooden walls. “I know you're in here! The antiquarian was a known contact of Mother's. There is nowhere left to hide!”
Piet shoved Elias toward a hidden wall door behind a massive bookcase. “Quick! Through the back exit! The alley leads to the canals!”
“What about you?” Elias asked frantically.
“I'm old, Elias. It's not me they want. They only want you and the box!” Piet pushed him through the opening and pulled the bookcase shut behind him.
Elias stumbled down a dark, damp passage into the open air. The freezing rain pelted his face. He found himself in a narrow alley running directly alongside one of The Hague's many canals. The dark, almost black water glinted ominously under the dim light of the streetlamps.
He heard gunshots inside the shop. A muffled scream. Piet.
“No!” Elias whispered, tears blending with the raindrops on his cheeks.
He ran along the canal, clutching the grey box tightly against his chest. The blue light of the sensor was now pulsing in a rapid, heart-like rhythm. A soft click echoed.
The lid of the box popped open by a centimeter.
Elias stopped beneath the arch of a stone bridge. His trembling fingers reached for the edge of the lid. He lifted it up.
Inside lay no hard drive, no cash, no gold. Inside lay a small silver syringe filled with a glowing blue liquid, alongside an old, worn microcassette recorder containing a tape.
Written on the cassette in Anna's handwriting were the words: “If you are listening to this, Elias... you must decide who you want to be. The man I loved... or the monster I destroyed.”
Elias picked up the cassette recorder—but before he could press the play button, a red laser point swept across the casing of the box and settled directly over his chest.
From the shadows of the bridge stepped Julian. His weapon locked onto Elias.
“End of the line, Dad,” Julian said with an icy smile. “Hand over the syringe. It holds the access codes to the accounts. And after that... say goodbye to your fake life.”
