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The fluorescent lights in the police station conference room cast harsh shadows across four teenage faces, each framed by the unforgiving bright orange of prison uniforms.
Ella, Helena, Eileen, and Roxanna sat in uncomfortable plastic chairs, their usual confident demeanor replaced by something far more somber.
The early morning arrest—2 AM raids at their respective homes—had shaken everyone involved. The weight of the situation pressed down on the room like a physical force.
Parents who had rushed from their beds in panic now sat across from daughters they weren`t sure they recognized anymore. "No, it`s not outrageous, Robert," Judy Danvers said, her voice tight with barely controlled emotion.
As both Eileen`s mother and a seasoned police detective, she struggled between maternal instinct and professional duty.
"These girls have gone completely off the rails somehow.
They`re out of control." Robert Danvers ran his hands through his disheveled hair, still wearing the hastily thrown-on clothes from the middle-of-the-night call.
"Look, Judy, we don`t know the full extent of what they`ve been involved in.
Yes, it`s serious, but does it really warrant incarceration?" Judy`s laugh held no humor.
"It`s as much for their own safety as anything else.
They`re dangerously out of control, Robert.
But answer me this—why did they illegally withdraw half a million dollars from their trust fund and convert it to gold and silver bars hidden somewhere in the forest? Why did they travel across state lines to New York and kidnap a Navy psychologist? And why is that psychologist now dead?" The questions hung in the air like accusations.
Roxanna`s shoulders began to shake with silent sobs, while the other three girls maintained an eerie, practiced silence. "These girls are caught up in some sort of conspiracy that could land them in federal prison for the rest of their lives," Judy continued, her detective instincts warring with her fear for children she`d helped raise.
"I don`t believe they`re acting alone.
Someone has to be controlling them.
I know they`re in some Navy youth program, but Commander Beaker is missing, along with their therapist Melanie.
Where are they? Are they dead too?" She gestured toward the four lawyers seated along the wall—one for each girl.
"This is deadly serious, and these girls just sit here, lawyered up, not saying a word." A sharp knock interrupted her.
A uniformed officer entered, carrying a manila envelope.
"Detective Danvers, the surveillance images from the bank and precious metals exchange just arrived." "Thank you, Officer Martinez." Judy`s hands trembled slightly as she opened the envelope.
Her face went pale as she examined the photographs.
"Robert...
can you explain these?" "What are they?" He leaned over, then jerked back as if stung.
"That`s...
that`s impossible." The first photograph showed Robert Danvers at a bank teller window, clearly withdrawing a substantial sum.
The timestamp read three days earlier.
The second showed him signing documents at an armored car service, accepting delivery of precious metals. "What the hell, Bob?" Judy`s voice cracked.
"Are you part of this conspiracy too?" Robert stared at the photos, his face cycling through confusion, recognition, and growing anger.
"I have no memory of doing any of this.
Girls, what did you do to me? Did you drug me?" His voice rose to a shout.
"I`m done.
Keep their asses in jail." Judy turned to face the girls, her composure finally cracking.
Tears streamed down her face even as her voice remained steady and professional.
"Do you have anything to say, or are you going to sit there like...
like criminals? Ella, we have hotel surveillance showing you checking Dr.
Remmick into a room.
We have footage of you checking him out.
And we have photographs taken minutes later of his body on the roadside." Her voice broke completely.
"This was a man you all conspired to kidnap and transport across state lines.
Now he`s dead.
Even if you didn`t intend it, you`re responsible for his death.
Get used to that orange uniform—you`ll be wearing it for a very long time if you don`t start talking." Helena, Ella, and Eileen continued their stony silence, staring straight ahead with an almost military bearing.
Only Roxanna had broken, sobbing uncontrollably into her hands. One of the lawyers—a sharp-dressed woman representing Ella—spoke up.
"Stay quiet, girls.
It will take time to sort this out.
Don`t say anything without consulting us first." Suddenly, the entire building shook.
Through the windows, they could see a military helicopter settling onto the parking lot, its rotors whipping debris across the asphalt. Officer Martinez burst through the door again, this time with obvious urgency.
"Detective Danvers, we have federal visitors.
Admiral John Stanton from Naval Intelligence, plus agents from the FBI and NSA." Before anyone could respond, three men in dark suits entered the room, followed by a distinguished older man in naval uniform. "We`re taking over this investigation," announced the lead FBI agent, flashing credentials.
"These girls are federal agents working on a special assignment related to the abduction of Navy Commander Beaker.
They`re to be released immediately.
Get them out of those prison uniforms and get them fed.
All arrest records are to be expunged." The room erupted in protests and questions, but the federal agents remained unmoved.
As the girls were led out, Admiral Stanton stepped forward. "I`m Admiral John Stanton, Naval Intelligence, working in coordination with the CIA, NSA, and FBI.
What I`m about to tell you is classified and cannot leave this room." He waited until he had everyone`s attention before continuing.
"With the recent change in administration and dozens of new executive orders, the military and intelligence agencies are in unprecedented turmoil.
Multiple factions are competing for control and resources." The Admiral`s weathered face grew grim.
"Lieutenant Commander John Remmick was a specialist in psychological warfare weapons.
Several individuals in his psi-ops division went rogue and weaponized Dr.
Remmick against other Navy programs, including mine and Commander Beaker`s.
Their goal was to eliminate rival programs by erasing the memories of key personnel—if no one remembers a program exists, it effectively disappears." Robert Danvers found his voice.
"That`s science fiction." "I wish it were," Stanton replied.
"The technology puts a subject`s brain into a theta state—similar to deep hypnosis—usually while they`re asleep.
This opens the mind to programming like putting a smartphone into developer mode.
Operators can erase memories, implant false ones, or scramble temporal sequences to create confusion." He gestured toward the window where cell towers were visible in the distance.
"The weapon uses sub-carrier waves piggybacked on radio transmissions, typically through cell towers since they`re ubiquitous and easily compromised.
Dr.
Remmick was programmed this way, becoming an unwitting pawn of his own technology." "Commander Beaker`s memory was completely replaced with twenty years of false memories—what we call screen memories, a term borrowed from Freud.
These create coherent narratives with sight, sound, and emotional components.
Subjects typically can`t distinguish them from real memories.
Beaker genuinely believed he`d been a Navy housing director for two decades." Judy leaned forward.
"And the girls?" "They attempted to erase the girls` memories too, but somehow the girls proved immune.
When Dr.
Remmick came here to complete the job through conventional means, the girls saw through his cover story.
Their training kicked in—training that wasn`t supposed to activate until adulthood—and they essentially became federal agents overnight." Admiral Stanton`s expression mixed pride with concern.
"Left to their own devices, they performed as well as our best trained operatives.
They would have used lethal force if necessary to find Commander Beaker.
Fortunately, that wasn`t required, and they did not kill Dr.
Remmick." "Then how did he die?" Robert demanded. "When the girls appeared in New York, Dr.
Remmick realized he was in serious trouble.
They knew too much, and the memory weapon was useless against them.
Fearing for his life—and frankly, the girls would have eliminated him if necessary—he tried to shift blame to my team and away from himself.
In doing so, he revealed classified information to Ella." The Admiral paused, his voice growing heavy.
"She had him in a secure room that microwaves couldn`t penetrate, but the moment they went outside, he became vulnerable again.
By then, the rogue group considered him a liability.
He was electronically triggered to commit suicide by running into traffic.
Ella witnessed it but had nothing to do with it." "Wait," Robert interrupted, his face flushed.
"There`s no way our girls could have been in Commander Beaker`s program for years without us knowing." "You did know," Admiral Stanton said quietly.
"Your memories were altered too.
To erase the girls` memories of the program, they had to erase everyone else`s knowledge as well—parents, friends, anyone who might remind them.
They used an AI supercomputer to calculate which memories to target and create false narratives to replace them." The implications sank in slowly.
Judy`s voice was barely a whisper.
"If Remmick couldn`t modify their memories...?" "The girls were to be terminated.
To his credit, Dr.
Remmick couldn`t bring himself to murder children.
Killing him in front of Ella was meant to terrorize them into silence.
Instead, it only strengthened their resolve to find Commander Beaker, even if it cost them their lives." Admiral Stanton`s admiration was evident.
"That kind of loyalty is honorable, but terrifying.
I`m certain Commander Beaker never would have wanted them to take such risks." Judy`s detective instincts kicked in.
"Admiral, you seem to know an awful lot about this rogue group.
How is that possible unless you`re part of it?" Stanton laughed—the first genuine emotion he`d shown.
"Excellent question, Detective.
You`d make a fine intelligence officer.
The rogue group has been identified, arrested, and thoroughly interrogated.
We have very effective extraction techniques.
I haven`t slept in forty-eight hours since the girls` actions tipped us off to the conspiracy." "Is the chaos over now?" Robert asked. "I wish," Stanton sighed.
"This will likely continue for years, then start all over again with the next administration.
It`s an unfortunate consequence of civilian control of the military—everything becomes political.
I don`t like it, but it`s constitutional, so we live with it." Three hours later Laughter and animated chatter filled their favorite restaurant booth as the four girls attacked plates of pancakes and eggs.
After shopping for civilian clothes to replace the hated orange jumpsuits, they felt almost normal again—like teenagers instead of federal agents. The weight that had pressed down on them for days had lifted, and for the first time in what felt like forever, they could simply be kids. That evening
Hello, Diary.
It`s me, Ella. Sorry I haven`t written.
I came home and completely crashed—haven`t slept properly in days.
I`m glad we found Beaker and Melanie.
They should be back soon, and boy, do we have stories for them. Mr. Danvers is really angry.
Even after his memory was restored, he couldn`t remember getting our money, so we had to confess that we manipulated him into doing it.
He called it a violation, like we`d assaulted him or something.
I guess he`s right.
He still loves us, but things will be different now.
He`ll never completely trust us again. All our families were violated—the Danvers, the Patels, the Parks, everyone.
I feel sick about it. I can`t stop thinking about Dr.
Remmick.
He was a good man who was used and abused and murdered, and we were part of that chain of events.
He was kind enough not to terminate us, but then we got him killed anyway.
That image of him running into traffic...
I`ll never be able to erase it. I talked to Admiral Stanton about it.
He said in our line of work, there will always be collateral damage, and there will be enemy combatants we might have to kill.
He said when we`re older, we`ll get more comfortable with it, but it will never be easy. I`m worried about Mrs.
Danvers.
She has control issues from her childhood trauma, and learning about our work terrifies her because she can`t control it.
She wants us out of the program completely.
It`s only going to get worse as we get older—driver`s licenses, boyfriends, more independence.
When I tried to hug her today, she just went stiff until I let go. Roxanna says we should pray for her daily.
For me, that should probably be monthly—I`m terrible at praying. My parents are angry too, but not really at us.
They`re angry at the whole situation, the politics and chaos.
It reminds them of the social upheaval in India and Pakistan that their parents fled when they came to America.
They`re worried we`re going to get caught up in the same kind of violence here. I`m still exhausted.
Going back to sleep now. —Ella
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