Truth Ch. 02

Honey colored light flared to life revealing a black leather couch set, several sculptures and paintings on the wall as well as a massive black marble fireplace. Devon, a young black man in a blood red button down shirt, denim jeans, and gold accouterments, walked trough the cavernous post modern living room. He climbed a set of rosewood stairs and walked down a long hallway adorned with deep purple carpeting. He stopped at a door rapped lightly at it, on the other side Calvin opened the door, Devon smiled as he saw a naked blonde passed out on the king sized bed not quite covered in black silk sheets, "A new one?"

He nodded, "She's something special, fell in my lap."

"I gotta say, you have a knack."

"I'm turning her out, I need you to get her a fresh ID, new clothes, and makeup. I want her looking like a thousand bucks an hour by tonight, you heard me?"

Devon nodded, "I'm on it, you need anything else?"

"Yeah, get me everything you can on Truth."

"It's all gone."

"No, it ain't."

"Really?"

Calvin nodded, "It seems there's a new source in town."

Devon cocked his head, "The girl?" Calvin nodded, "Shit, alright, where'd she get it?"

"I think her boyfriend gave it to her."

"You want me to take care of him?"

"Maybe later, get me the info first. I wanna know everything about the drug then we can find the source. I don't want it to be like last time and keep this between us, got it?"

"You got it, man. Don't you worry about a thing."

* * *

Tom opened the door to his apartment and let the door hang open. The light from the hallway outside his apartment spilled into the empty dark apartment. He stepped inside and flopped onto his chair without turning any lights on. He sat in the dark and went over the chain of events of the evening in his head. He looked for Kristy the second her hand left his, at least he thought he had. There was a stunner at the top of the stairs that took his attention for maybe a second. Was that all it took? He scanned the room, but the music and the lighting did nothing to help him in his search. Then his drink got tipped on him when he caught an elbow in the jaw from some dancer. He was tossed along the railing of the stairwell. It took all of fifteen minutes to find her and in that short window she had met another man and forgotten him completely.

Seth briefly explained the drug he had sold him. Truth was an designed to combat Alzheimer's and its testing was discontinued when subjects had personality shifts. He opened his phone and typed in 'Truth + Alzheimer drug' into the search bar. The first and only entry was of a conspiracy theory video about MK Ultra and mind control experiments. The essayist was OFFTH3GR1D#7843 and the video consisted of the usual talking points about government experimentation and used examples of pop stars changing virtually overnight from wholesome school girls to wanton sluts. Their subsequent meltdowns in the press and the aftermath. He finally got around to talking about Truth at the twelve minute mark of the twenty minute video and still there wasn't much, a mere minute and seventeen seconds according to the time stamp

"This shit is real, man, I've seen it used," the disembodied voice said over still images of women partying. "anything said on this drug becomes their absolute truth. From what I know the duration varies dependent on alcohol consumption, weight, gender, and all that other stuff. The outcome is horrifying," the host got closer to the microphone at this point. A stock image of a female graduate came on and slowly zoomed in as he spoke. "I had a friend in high school. We graduated together and like many students we had a big blowout, there were drugs and alcohol..."

* * *

OFFTH3GR1D#7843 also known as Norman Willis hated parties. He was just a skinny punk in a metal T-shirt, jeans, and combat boots who hadn't quite grown into his face or body. He didn't connect with classmates easily, but somehow he still got invited to Delia Jacobs party. She invited him during their last AP English class before graduation, he wanted to say no, but she tucked her hair behind her ear and bit her lower lip when she asked and that was enough for him to lose his reservations. He stepped in and had no idea what to expect. The living room was a picture of modern Americana.

Norman spotted Delia in the kitchen as she was coming out with a tray of chips and dip. she smiled and waved him over. He trotted over to her, "Thank you for coming, Todd is bringing a keg," she giggled.

"What? Really?"

"Yeah, this is gonna get crazy."

"I never would've thought it. May I?" he indicated the tray.

"Thank you," she said and handed it off to him, "I have to shuffle off the goody two-shoes persona some time."

"Have you ever drank a beer?"

She nodded, "over the summer and I hated it, but it's cheap and plentiful and I have a bottle of Amaretto for myself."

"Amaretto, that's daring."

"Don't pick on me or I'll kick you right out of my party, mister," she smiled and jokingly punched him on the arm.

"Where is everything taking place?" He looked around, there weren't many people upstairs as he scanned the room.

"Mostly in the basement and the garage, trying to keep the living room sorta quiet for people who are a little more socially awkward."

"I will take my post on the couch then."

"Don't you dare, you are far wittier than you think, Norman. Who knows? Tonight could be your night to come out of your shell."

"Fine," he said and made his way down the stairs. There were several fellow graduates already chilling on the downstairs couch. Music videos were playing on the TV set and it was not a musician he was familiar with. Everyone in the basement turned looked at him as he got down the stairs. "Hey guys, how's it going?" He waved and set the chips and dip on a table with other snacks. They went back to their conversations a heartbeat later. He recognized all of them, but couldn't have guessed any of their names.

Delia came down a moment after him. "Kevin and Todd are here with the refreshments if any of you could please help them, there's a lot more than I expected." She beamed and ran back up the stairs. Norman and a few other guys followed after. Outside there was a dozen people as well as a truck with two beer kegs and a box of assorted liquor.

"Looks like you got a rager on your hands."

"It does, doesn't it," her face shifted into an expression of nervousness. The party-goers stormed the house and just like that the party had started. People were in the living room, the kitchen, the basement, and the garage. Almost every room had a small crop of people talking and drinking. Out in the garage someone started passing joints around the room.

Stephanie was a sleek Taiwanese girl raised by adopted parents. She struggled to fit in until she was sixteen and her body seemed to explode. She went from a nebbish Asian girl to a smoke show virtually over night. It didn't take long for the power she suddenly had to go to her head. She went to the party as a gesture of good faith, but watching it blow up raised her hackles. She liked Delia, but like many teenagers before her she viewed her friend as competition and quietly waited to take the valedictorian down a peg. "Delia!" She yelled gleefully as she ran up to her.

"Stephie!" They pulled each other into a hug. "Thank you for coming."

"I wouldn't have missed it," she took a step back from Delia and scanned the house for things that interested her. "You weren't expecting this turn out from the looks of things."

"No, I really didn't."

"Well, you're welcome."

"Wait, you did this?"

She nodded, "It's what I do."

"I kind of wish you would've asked me, my parents are gonna kill me."

"Only if they find out," she smirked, "I promise, I'll help you keep everything under control."

Delia nodded, "okay, um, drinks are in the basement so help yourself, it's really good to see you."

"You too," Delia turned away and went to a different part of the house leaving Stephanie to watch her walk away.

Delia for her part was playing the perfect host and trying to contain as much of the damage as possible. She drank five amaretto sours over the course of two hours and found her tension melting away. She was dancing and laughing all over the house. She got into the beer in the third hour and smoked weed for the first time. She found Norman in the garage as she went back for round two of her weed experience.

Norman was smoking a joint with a guy named Charlie, they looked cut from the same cloth with their metal head aesthetic. Charlie's hands were gesticulating wildly as he spoke, "See man, you got to be careful with these cell phones, it's how they track you, you know?"

"Yeah, like I heard the government can listen in even if you aren't making a call, just turn on your phone in the background."

"What are you guys talking about?" Delia asked and dropped onto Norman's lap and threw her arms around his neck.

"Government conspiracies and stuff," Norman answered.

"Ooh, I better go grab some tinfoil," She climbed off of Norman and pulled up a camping chair as she took the joint from Charlie.

"You can joke, but the government has a long history of fucking with its people, Mk Ultra, fucking Tuskagee airmen, they want complete control," Charlie went on and Delia rolled her eyes.

"I've had a pothole right outside the driveway for ten years," Delia offered, "I figure a government that can't even get its infrastructure straight is gonna screw up the, um, like, any kind of big conspiracy. Somebody would've talked."

"I see what you're saying, but say someone did talk, would anybody listen?" Norman asked and she looked at him. She handed over the joint and their fingers touched as the roach was exchanged.

Delia looked Norman in the eye as their hands stayed suspended in space. Maybe two seconds had passed, but both of them felt the shared moment. Finally Delia smiled and broke the silence, "Touche."

Charlie nodded as he took another hit, "There's way more. For real, like, check this," he held out a small pink pill, "this shit is wild!"

"What does it do?" Norman asked.

He shrugged and set the pill on a small table between them. "My father worked on this, it's supposed to rewrite neural pathways help with dementia, but instead anything the person who takes it hears becomes their absolute truth. Like the way you know your name, or your first crush. Your brain then rewrites the rest."

A small crowd had gathered as Charlie spoke he looked up and smiled at the congregation. "How did your father get it?" Stephanie asked through bleary eyes. She pet Delia's head as she looked down at the pill on the table.

"He's a researcher for a major pharmaceutical company. They stopped testing on this stuff, but my father wanted to do some independent study so there's a few bottles of the stuff in his home lab."

Delia burst out laughing, "Now I know you're full of it. There are all kinds of safe guards to keep untested drugs off the streets."

Charlie sucked his teeth, "Sure, believe that if you want."

Norman felt a twinge of anxiety stab through the weed brain, "Have you ever used it?"

Charlie shook his head, "God no! I'm fucking terrified of it."

"It sounds like bullshit."

"Yeah, but what if it ain't?"

"That doesn't sound possible," Delia responded.

"You wanna try it?"

Delia scoffed, "Sure, it's probably just a sugar pill." She snatched up the pill.

Norman shook his head, "don't do it."

"Relax, nothing is gonna happen," she swallowed with a mouthful of beer from a red plastic cup. The crowd watched with rapt attention.

"Do you feel anything?" Stephanie asked.

"Nope, not yet," she said as she tried to separate drunk from high and then whatever else was happening on top. It was a difficult process since all she could feel was a warm glow in her tummy that spread through her entire body. "I think I'm very high though."

"What's your favorite color?" Charlie asked.

"Blue," she said and took another sip of beer.

Charlie shook his head, "No it ain't. Your favorite color is black. Always has been."

Delia stared at him and pondered what he said, "Wait, that's not, um, I feel weird."

"What's your favorite color?" He asked again.

"Black," she said automatically, but then shook her head, "It's black, I've always loved black. My parents don't like me wearing it."

"Holy shit!" Stephanie snapped, "You're not making that up."

Delia shook her head. "I'm not."

She laughed out loud, "your favorite..."

"You're a life long metal head," Normal blurted out.

Delia's eyes glassed over for a moment and she leaned her head back, "I've kept it hidden for so long, God!" Norman smiled, but in the pit of his stomach he felt the burning guilt and anxiety building.

Stephanie zeroed in on Norman, "Who exactly are you, again?"

"I'm Norman," he offered a hand to shake, but she glared at him.

"I'm pretty sure she doesn't want a creep," she paused and looked down at Delia, "fuck it, Delia is just your kind of girl. She's nothing but a drug addicted whore who uses her body to get what she wants. Isn't that right sweetie?" She smiled as she got close enough to see Delia's eyes dilate for a moment as her words sank in.

A smile curled at Delia's lips as she nodded back at Stephanie.

"Why would you say that?" Norman snapped.

Delia eyes were glazed over as her mind started rewriting itself around what she had just heard Stephanie say. "Why not? Have fun, slut. School isn't really your strong suit, maybe you should go into stripping," she said as a parting blow to Delia who was swinging her head strangely as the drug worked its horrible magic.

The rest of the group was silent as Norman looked at Charlie, "How long does this shit last?"

He shrugged, "I don't know."

"Wow!" Delia said and pulled off her shirt revealing her white lace bra. "These are some shitty fucking clothes," Delia unsnapped the bra and flung it somewhere in the garage. She looked up at Norman whose jaw hung open taking in her generous assets. Delia took note and opened herself up to give him a better look as she smiled seductively, "You like what you see?" Norman quickly looked away, "You're no fun, but I'm sure someone around here will help me out." she laughed as she stood up and looked over the other guys in the room. Her nipples were stiff from the cool air conditioning in the garage. It was barely a second before some drunk graduate pulled her into him.

"You just love sucking cock," he said boldly as he kissed her hard.

When she pulled away she tucked her hair behind her ear and bit her lower lip, "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

Delia didn't need to be asked twice as she rubbed his erection through his jeans. She kissed him again and bit his lower lip gently as she ran her hands up his chest. "Do you like my tits?"

"I love them," he stared in awe at her naked flesh.

Delia sank down onto her knees and worked at his fly. Several party-goers left the garage as she released his cock from his jeans. Delia made up for experience with enthusiasm since she knew sucking cock was her first and best love. The young man's eyes rolled into the back of his head as she worked his rig.

Norman watched in a state of frozen terror as Delia took a man she barely knew into her mouth. She occasionally stopped sucking his cock to work it with her hand. She looked up at him, "Do you wanna fuck?" she asked matter-of-factly just before licking his shaft and nuzzling against his crotch.

"I don't have a condom."

"do I look like I care?" She spoke into his testicles as she sucked on his balls.

"You care about condoms!" Norman shouted out hoping the drugs were still affecting her.

The guy, a football player, was bigger than Norman, if not by height than by sheer mass. He zeroed in on Norman and growled, "what did you say, geek!"

"She's fucked up man, that's, what you're doing is wrong."

He pulled away from Delia with his dick still out. She scowled at him as he moved towards Norman, "You can leave if you want," she sneered. Norman felt her words more than the football player's grip at the cuff of his shirt.

"You heard the slut," he got in Norman's face and Charlie stood and started backing away from the confrontation. Delia was already moving on to a new lover as another guy massaged her tits from behind. The anxiety grew into a writhing creature in his abdomen and he felt like he was about to throw up.

"I'm going," he said and raised his hands and the moose let him go as he left the garage and the house.

* * *

Tom felt the floor fall out from under him as he listened to the video. "...We treated the whole thing as a joke, it was ludicrous that this was in any way possible. On the drug she was told she was nothing but a drug addicted whore who used her body to get her way."

There was a brief pause in his dialogue and it sounded as if the narrator was trying to contain his emotions. The image was frozen on the stock images eyes. "She was already gone and I couldn't do anything about it," A new image replaced the graduate, a savage looking metal girl with a tall green Mohawk thrashing at a concert, "When I saw her a few days later she was dressed like a metal head complete with black lipstick and a metal t-shirt she normally wouldn't have been caught dead in. She was making out with a local coke dealer we all knew to steer clear of. The drug was so powerful that it altered her permanently. The scholarship went away, her future went away, it all went away. I haven't heard anything from her since then, she dropped off the face of the Earth a few months later."

The video continued on, but Tom chucked the phone across he room and stood up from his chair. "Fuck!" He leaned over like someone had just kicked him in the stomach and his head swam with a sudden bout of nausea. He dropped to his knees, "fuck."

The ringing of his phone shook him from his panic attack. He grabbed it and noted the cracked screen. The ID read Kristy and he answered it instantly. "Kristy! Where are you? What happened?" He yelled into the phone, but there was no response. Instead he heard motion on the other side nothing discernible, just a shifting of fabric and the airy sound of empty space in her small clutch bag. "Kristy!" He heard something, it was definitely her voice. She yelled out and then laughed before the sound became even more muffled.

Tom and Kristy had a shared cellular plan so he pulled up his setting and searched for Kristy's device. The phone quickly zeroed in on an address in town. Tom recognized it as a wealthy section of town. Even the rough outline of the building was nearly three times the size of their fourplex. "Jesus, who is this guy."