Ch.69Their Plan! (3)

#069

It was when Dexter, who had come to the cafeteria for lunch, picked up a tray and was filling his plate with food.

“He’s back again.”

“Is he crazy or what? Seriously?”

“Wow, this is getting annoying.”

Dexter could see several correctional officers venting their frustrations about someone while eating lunch.

As he began stacking plates full of food on his tray, Dexter asked Judy who was standing next to him.

“What are they talking about?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

Judy, who had put barely a quarter of what Dexter was carrying on her tray, looked at him and said.

“I heard there’s been someone protesting with a picket sign in front of the prison since the day before yesterday.”

“Protesting? In front of the prison? Did the warden do something wrong?”

Judy shook her head at Dexter’s question.

“No, how should I put it… someone who’s a bit unwell? Other officers were saying that he’s starting up again after not being seen for a few months.”

“Someone who’s unwell, huh.”

Judy rarely cursed and tended to use the gentlest language possible.

The fact that she expressed it this way suggested something to Dexter.

“A complete nutcase, in other words.”

“I-is that how you’d put it?”

Judy looked at Dexter with an embarrassed face and a subtle smile.

Having bluntly summarized Judy’s attempt at polite phrasing, Dexter scooped up some salad with his fork and asked:

“But what’s he so upset about?”

“He’s demanding the release of aliens, apparently.”

Dexter, who had just put a forkful of salad in his mouth, froze mid-bite upon hearing this.

“Huh?”

“I know, right? It’s ridiculous. As if aliens exist in this world, let alone being detained in our prison.”

Judy spoke with an incredulous laugh, as if it made no sense, but Dexter couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

“Well, Nevada is known for alien sightings, isn’t it? Maybe that’s why there are so many people like that?”

Ignoring Dexter’s reaction, Judy was only pondering about the protester. Seeing this, Dexter finally managed to chew and swallow his salad before speaking.

“…I understand, but I wonder why he has to do it at a prison specifically.”

Carefully avoiding any mention of whether aliens actually exist, Dexter shifted the topic toward the protest.

Nevada is practically a holy ground for alien-related conspiracy theories.

The most famous conspiracy involves Area 51, the secretive Air Force base north of Las Vegas.

Of course, Dexter, who had not only directly witnessed the existence of aliens but had also shared meals with them hundreds of times, had never visited such conspiracy hotspots and wasn’t interested in doing so.

‘If I went there, I’d just hear a bunch of nonsense anyway.’

The last thing he wanted was to get close to those places and accidentally slip up, giving conspiracy theorists any leads.

“That’s the kind of crowd I’d rather keep my distance from.”

“Exactly. There’s absolutely nothing to gain from getting friendly with them.”

Dexter nodded with a slight smile at Judy’s comment.

He thought it would have nothing to do with him.

* * *

‘Oh, come on.’

“What do you think? Huh? You’re a prison guard, tell me!”

“What more is there for me to say?”

“It’s obvious you hold the key to the secrets of this prison! Tell me, please! I can’t trust anyone else!”

“If you can’t trust anyone, why are you stopping me? Am I trustworthy?”

“Of course! You have the clearest eyes of any guard in this prison!”

‘I knew this would happen, damn it.’

Dexter’s head was shaking violently.

A neurotic man in bizarre, outdated hippie-like clothing was holding him by the sleeve while carrying a wooden picket sign that read [FREE OUR ALIENS!].

“I need to go home.”

Wanting to escape this situation, Dexter tried to remove the man’s hand from his sleeve.

“Don’t you feel sorry for the aliens who have been unjustly imprisoned?!”

“There are no aliens in our prison.”

“Yes, there are!”

Faced with the man’s stubborn insistence, Dexter placed his hand on his hip and said:

“Alright, what evidence do you have?”

“They’ve never shown the aliens! That’s conclusive proof they’re hiding them!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Thanks to the man’s brilliant logic, Dexter couldn’t help but slap his forehead with a loud smack.

If the man had threatened him, Dexter would have chased him off with a few punches, but the man looked so frail that there was nothing he could do.

“Go home, okay? Stop bothering busy people.”

In the end, Dexter decided to ignore the man coldly rather than resort to violence, which would have been a more definitive solution.

“Wait, wait!”

“I told you I need to go home.”

“This, please read this!”

As Dexter tried to leave, the man opened the backpack he was carrying and rummaged through it for a while before pulling out a vinyl-wrapped book that looked like a mass-market paperback.

Without opening it, Dexter could tell at a glance that it was likely a “paperback” made with low-quality paper and cheap adhesive to reduce production costs.

“…What is this?”

“All my thoughts and incidents related to aliens! Everything compiled into a bible-like book! It’s called ‘My Zeitgeist’!”

As Dexter examined the book, he saw that just as the man had said, the cover featured white letters on a black background that read “My Zeitgeist.”

“Author, William Pilgrim. Is that you?”

Dexter asked after seeing the author’s name helpfully printed below the title, and William smiled broadly as if meeting a long-lost friend.

“Yes, that’s me! I’m the only one in this society who knows the truth, but nobody believes me, so I published it as a book!”

There was no publisher’s name visible, suggesting it was self-published.

‘It’s impressive that some company even wrapped this deranged book in vinyl.’

Of course, Dexter had no intention of saying that out loud and quietly replied:

“Ah, I see. I’ll read it when I get home. Well, I’ll be going now.”

Feeling that staying with this madman any longer might affect his own sanity, Dexter quickly headed toward his pickup truck.

“You must read it, for the aliens!”

“Yes, yes.”

‘This guy is a complete nutcase.’

Sensing William’s madness in his wild eyes, Dexter felt it was best to get away from there as soon as possible.

He tossed the book onto the passenger seat and drove his pickup truck home as if escaping.

“I really want to avoid crazy people.”

With nice women like Jessie, Ximena, and Judy around, why did he have to meet a mentally unstable old man?

Yet Dexter found his eyes drawn to the book he had tossed onto the passenger seat.

‘I am curious about what kind of crazy stuff is written in there.’

Of course, he was certain that as soon as he opened the book, it would be filled with talk of the Illuminati, famous politicians or celebrities being reptilians, or Freemasons controlling the world.

Having frequently seen Earth people’s ideas about aliens through movies, dramas, and books that had leaked off-planet, Dexter grumbled.

‘Reptilians are actually quite nice.’

As someone who had actually met the inhabitants of the Reptilian planet—aliens with lizard-like appearances—this was the conspiracy theory that made the least sense to him.

‘Though they do like to prank by pretending to be humans and surprising people… Ah, is that where the conspiracy came from?’

Dexter smiled contentedly after figuring out the background of such conspiracies on his own, then looked back at William’s book on the passenger seat.

‘He doesn’t seem like a plant from headquarters, but it’s concerning that he’s gone so far as to publish a book to express his opinions rather than just being a crazy person.’

After arriving home, Dexter sent a text message to Ximena, who might not be his last resort but would likely know the most about this situation.

>A crazy man came to our prison with a picket sign. His name is William Pilgrim. Do you know him?

Perhaps she was in the middle of something, as Ximena’s reply came later than usual.

-He went to the prison again?? 🙁

“Again?”

Come to think of it, Judy had told Dexter that the man had returned after not being seen for several months.

>Yes. I heard he was protesting with a picket sign from morning till evening today.

-This is insane 🙁 Can you talk on the phone??

After Dexter sent an affirmative response, Ximena called him right away.

Skipping all pleasantries, Dexter went straight to the point.

“Isn’t he just some mentally disturbed guy? I don’t understand your reaction.”

-I wish that were the case. But he’s someone being closely monitored not just by our department but by others as well.

“Closely monitored? In what way?”

-Wiretapping, location tracking, things like that.

Hearing Ximena casually mention things that would horrify most people, Dexter was grateful she wasn’t present as he shook his head.

“No wonder the guy’s going crazy.”

-But you haven’t, have you?

“That sounds like a dangerous statement. Have you been wiretapping me too?”

-…A little?

“Huh, I guess I can’t trust OSA people.”

-Dexter. OSA literally stands for ‘Orbital Security Agency.’ NSA and CIA do all of this too. The existence of the PRISM Project has already been exposed anyway.

The PRISM Project that Ximena mentioned was a surveillance system by the NSA aimed at collecting personal information that could pose a risk and eliminating threats through information gathering and censorship.

The problem was that this information collection had sometimes involved wiretapping other countries, making it a topic that Ximena, as a federal agent, absolutely should not be discussing so casually.

Feeling that continuing this conversation might lead to even more serious topics, Dexter changed the subject.

“Okay, let’s move on from that. Why would OSA be keeping a close eye on this crazy man?”

-Because his claims are eerily accurate.

“For example?”

-While most of his suspicions are typical of schizophrenic patients, he’s mentioned things like the secret space program and SASA (Secret Aeronautics and Space Administration), which is an agency merged with OSA. Something you might recognize is that ICC was first mentioned by him.

When ICC—a term that shouldn’t come from an Earth person—was brought up, Dexter was dumbfounded.

“The ICC? How is that possible?”

-I wouldn’t know. We’re just leaving him alone because he’s being treated as mentally ill.

Ximena sighed as she spoke.

ICC, short for Interplanetary Corporate Conglomerate, refers to massive corporations or corporate alliances that conduct trade between anywhere from a few to hundreds of planets.

“Preston Express,” the small cargo transport company where Dexter had last worked, was one of the companies included in the ICC.

“Maybe you should bring him to OSA and make him an expert.”

-I heard OSA contacted him once about 20 years ago. But he already showed signs of mental illness then, so…

The episodes Ximena went on to describe included common paranoid symptoms like claiming to block electromagnetic waves by wrapping aluminum foil around his head or accusing OSA of releasing poison gas.

“That’s a sad case.”

-What can we do? I’d like to just… ah, never mind. Anyway, since he’s someone OSA is watching, please don’t treat him too harshly. Understood?

Dexter nodded at Ximena’s words and said:

“Well, I guess there’s no helping it. Oh, and I got a book from him. Is it okay to read it?”

-It might be more interesting than you think. It’s an Earth person who’s never been to space making predictions about space. As someone with experience, you should read it carefully.

“I guess I will. Have you had dinner?”

-Yes, I was eating while talking to you.

“That’s good. I’ll call you again before bed. Get some rest for now.”

-Okay, talk to you later. Mwah.

As Ximena made a kissing sound with her lips, Dexter grinned and responded with the same sound.

What Dexter learned from his conversation with Ximena was that William wasn’t just a simple conspiracy theorist but a person who was “awake” in this society all by himself.

‘A sage of the 21st century? A bit crazy, though.’

“Well, let’s read it.”

With William’s book—now endorsed by Ximena and OSA—in hand, Dexter tore off the plastic wrap and began reading page by page.