Or anyone’s.
Lastr night there was a carnival It turned into a rtrial. They sentenced him to death for possession of a radio.
Mporning dawns. Nobody remembers the night before.. It’s all lovely morning, fancy a cuppay.
The new number two is gore fond of misquoring Marcus Aurelius.
But there’s a little doll in his cottage
The toll holds a card.
The car reads
YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL.
He knows exaxctly what that means.
Hello, Number Siz.
Goodbye.
Goodbye?
You heard what I said. Don’t oiffer to make me breakfast. Don’t chat me up. Just leave.
Sorry you feel that wayt May I ask you a question before I go.
That is a question.
Fair enough. Her’e another …What is your name?
Excuse me?
It’s a simple question. What’s your name.
I ..
Think about it. Take yur time.
John? Jack? Everym an? Bill? Ha! You don’t know, do you?
The supreme individual — and you don’t know who youy are. Ha!
He falls to his knees.
Shall I tell you?
You’re a construct sire. A farication. A test xase. Not just any test. A make-or-break test. You are the sin qu non of swelf. The lonwe wqoilf! A non-confirmist! A 200 proof ego! That’s you sire. You’re too good tro be true. Can the village break you? that’s the test, see? Up to now, you’ve passed with flying colors.
You’re lying.
No. In point of fdact — I’m telling the truth. Would you like to know your nAME?
SHUT UP.
John Drake. Born March 26, 1928. MI-7 agent 445321. Shall I go on?
I will not be pushed, filed, stamped …
Oh give it a rest! Try to have a sense of humor, eh? This is rea;ly vwery funny — shall I tell you what John Drake did?
No.
Yyou invented the Village. That’s what you ciud.
No!
Well, you a nd others like you—myself included You don’t get all the credit, John. Spies like us eh? We got togewther and … but why spoile the fun?
You won’t break me.
No, probably not. Are you ready?
Ready? Ready for what?
The test. Wwhat do you think?
What …. Test.
The test you invented, of course. Degree Absolute. It’s not over yet.
Go to hell.
You first — ha! Let’s see what you’re made of, shall we?They cast his countenance on the face of another.
They pull him into a dream of the Wild West.
He awakes to find the Village deserted. Gets back to MI-6. Shows them photographs, tells them everything he knows. Flies back to his recorded coordinates. But the pilot is one of Them. He pushes the ejector seat. He parachutes back down to the Village. Just in time for his 40th birthday.
His endless debates with the first American Number Two. Earnest young woman who’s made a religion of community. She’s fond of that African proverb: “It takes a Village to raise a child.” Her addendum? “It takes a Village to liberate a healthy adult.” Community is humanity’s only hope—and he’s at war with that hope. Can’t he see that? Not a thug with a badge. A true believer who sincerely holds to these opinions. And talks too much. He has a feeling she won’t last long. She doesn’t.
He destroys a mind-controlling computer with one question. “Why?”
He tells two adorable children a fairy tale. His Keepers listen in, hoping for a clue to his personality. They don’t get it.
He has a war of wits with a sadistic Number Two. He wins. And destroys the man.
They manipulate his dreams, hoping to discover why he resigned. He wakes up inside the dream and tells them where to get off.
They create a double. And nearly convince him he’s the imposter.
He stops a rebel’s bombing. Exactly like that time when he stopped that IRA attack. He saved lives both times. And it felt like a betrayal both times.
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