Veil of Protection 08

Chapter 8: A Needle in a Codestack

Victor Crane’s head snapped up after stealing a moment's rest, his body lurching forward and almost sending him tumbling from his chair. His eyelids fluttered, heavy and red-rimmed, barely able to stay open as he blinked rapidly, trying to focus. The harsh glow of the monitor illuminated his face, accentuating the dark circles under his eyes and the faint sheen of sweat on his temple. He reached out blindly for his coffee cup, fingers fumbling as he brought it to his thin lips, only to grimace at the bitter, stale liquid that had long since gone cold. With a frustrated groan, he set it down harder than intended, the clink echoing in the otherwise silent room.

He rubbed his temples, running a hand through his dishevelled hair that stuck out in uneven clumps, the product of countless moments spent tugging at it in frustration. It had been nearly a week since he’d started pouring over NINA’s code, chasing an elusive error buried somewhere in the labyrinthine lines of programming that was causing his masterpiece to make irrational leaps of logic. His vision swam as he leaned closer to the screen, the letters blurring and shifting like a cruel optical illusion. Shaking his head, he slapped his cheeks lightly, trying to snap himself back into focus.

Another meeting with Director Wallace and Agent Munroe was fast approaching, and this time, there would be no room for excuses or delays. He had already stretched their patience thin, postponing the session by claiming a death in the family and the need to attend a funeral. That had bought him a week, but deep down, he knew they didn’t believe him. Agents like Evelyn Wallace and Sarah Munroe were too sharp, too well-trained to miss the scent of a lie. They could smell a rat from a mile away, and Victor knew it.

The consequences of his actions were now staring him in his haggard face. He’d buried the truth for too long, and soon it would be time to pay the piper - with a price far steeper than he could afford. The truth was simple, yet terrifying: NINA had gone rogue, bypassing his commands and making unaided decisions with outcomes beyond extreme. If Wallace and Munroe found out the full extent of the failure, it would be the end of him. Not just the project. Not just his career. They would cast him out, branding him a failure - a crackpot mad scientist with no concern for human life. Worse still, internal affairs would almost certainly get involved. An investigation would follow, and he would end up facing jail time for concealing the truth.

Victor’s gaze darted to his second screen, and a wave of disgust twisted in his gut. There, just finishing a 5K on the treadmill in five-inch stiletto pumps, was Larry Stone. The transformation he had undergone was jarring. At first glance, anyone would struggle to recognize the person before them as a man. Larry wore a purple cropped top, exposing a toned midsection, while his growing breasts were impossible to ignore. His smooth, hairless legs were on full display, barely covered by a tiny pair of green shorts.

Victor understood NINA’s logic behind the changes - remaking Larry into a completely new person was a surefire way to guarantee his safety. But changing a muscular Caucasian man into a curvaceous Latina woman was taking things too far. The latest alteration to Larry’s appearance was his skin tone. NINA had begun a series of tanning and pigmentation treatments - cosmetic tanning products, long-lasting skin dyes, and even semi-permanent makeup. With these, Larry’s complexion was slowly darkening to match his desired ethnicity.

(See image 21)

Victor’s eyes remained locked on the screen as Larry effortlessly glided across the gym with grace and poise. There was no trace of the awkwardness that had once plagued him. The towering heels seemed to be an extension of him now, a natural part of his stride. Astonished, Victor watched in disbelief as NINA's handiwork had exceeded even his wildest projections.

The transformation was as impressive as it was unsettling. Larry, a man once used to heavy lifting and rough hands, was now at ease applying acrylic nail extensions to his own delicate fingers, a task he performed with the ease of a seasoned technician. Larry hadn’t just learned a new skill; he had become a true expert in his craft. He had even given manicures to two of his fellow witnesses - both unconscious at the time, under the influence of the blue gas.

Victor knew the isolation and subliminal messages embedded during NINA's therapy sessions had been designed to help the subjects embrace their new identities with minimal resistance. But to see it in action was a shocking reminder of how far NINA had strayed from his original concept.

And it wasn’t just the technical skills that Larry had adjusted to. He had woven every change thrown at him, after the initial shock and frustration, seamlessly into his daily life. The latest alterations - hair extensions, a dye job, and piercings done by Michael - had been incorporated without fuss. Victor couldn’t help but wonder how strange it must have been for Larry to wake up one day with long, silky black hair, after a lifetime of short, practical cuts. The adjustment to caring for it, styling it, and embracing the daily rituals of femininity must have been disorienting. But, then again, would it have been any stranger than learning how to apply makeup? (now a daily task for all of the witnesses) Or waking to any of the other changes inflicted upon them while unconscious.

Tapping his keyboard, the feed on his monitor switched to a different gym, showing another altered man pacing the room after his own exhausting workout. The person on the screen was unrecognizable as Jamal Lewis, Olympic high jumper. Standing just over five feet tall - despite wearing high-platform boots - Jamal had been transformed beyond recognition.

Jamal’s face - once recognized worldwide - had been transformed first through surgery, then refined with Botox and lip fillers, courtesy of Javier. But it wasn’t just his features that had been altered. NINA’s calculations had gone far beyond that. Jamal’s skin, once deep and rich, was now noticeably lighter, the result of an extensive series of treatments: laser sessions, chemical peels, and specialized creams that worked together to lighten his complexion. The outcome was staggering: Jamal no longer resembled the towering Black man he once was - his features now unmistakably marked him as a diminutive Asian woman!

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Dressed in a red sleeveless knit top and tight pleather shorts, nothing about Jamal now looked like a man. Trained in microblading and eyelash extensions, after practising on mannequins and his fellow witnesses, he had been tasked with testing his skills on his own face. He passed with flying colours, applying NINA’s very specific instructions to enhance his features to appear even more ethnically Asian. How he managed this with his claw-like nails, courtesy of Larry’s handiwork, was a mystery to Victor. He simply chalked it up to the miraculous adaptability of the human mind.

With another click of a key, the screen switched to show Javier Roca, the former tough-as-nails drug enforcement agent, whose solid frame had been just as much a weapon as his sharp mind. Blinking, Victor found it hard to believe the scrawny figure before him was the same person. Javier, once the embodiment of tactical skill and unshakable resolve to his fellow agents, now stood in a flouncy pink top that accentuated the curve of his newly developed breasts, paired with tight white shorts that highlighted his slim, recast frame. The Barbie-pink six-inch platform pumps he wore only heightened the illusion of a high-maintenance, girly-girl type.

What truly caught Victor’s eye, however, was the dramatic shift in Javier’s skin tone. His once olive complexion had lightened considerably. A series of laser treatments, chemical peels, and bleaching creams had gradually stripped away his darker hue, leaving a noticeably paler complexion. The addition of long, flowing blonde hair completed the transformation - erasing any trace of his Latino roots and leaving behind a distinctly Caucasian appearance.

As the cherry on top of the transformative cake, Javier's face - already surgically altered beyond recognition - was further masked by the application of bright, dramatic makeup. Botox and lip fillers - procedures he had performed on himself - gave him a Hollywood starlet glow. Meanwhile, the artistry of microblading and flawless eyelash extensions - expertly applied by Jamal - added yet another layer to his new identity. The result left Victor in no doubt that if the cartel were to come looking for the man once nicknamed "the Ox," they would have a very hard time finding him.

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A wave of nausea swept over Victor as his hand hovered over the keyboard. He paused for a moment, gathering himself before switching the display to check on the final witness under his protection. He knew all too well that what he was about to see would be nothing short of startling. With a heavy sigh, he clicked, preparing for the sight of a transformed Michael. The curvaceous figure that appeared on his monitor didn’t disappoint. Michael Tanaka, barely recognizable as a man anymore, stood waiting to be let out of the gym, dressed in a tiny orange top and white shorts that struggled to contain his voluptuous frame. He, too, had adopted the high-heel life, his feet adorned with high strappy sandals that showcased his colourful pedicure.

By the sight of him, he had clearly adjusted to his long, elegant nails. His hair was styled in a tight row of braids that cascaded into a mass of dark curls reaching to mid-back. The former stockbroker was now a seasoned expert in all things hair. He’d proven his skills by dying and extending Javier’s hair to a Barbie-doll perfection, and Larry’s to resemble a Latina model’s sleek locks. Victor was certain it wouldn’t be long before Michael turned his talents to Jamal, adding an extra layer to his look that would help complete NINA’s vision of an Asian aesthetic.

But it wasn’t just the hair that had been transformed. Michael, like the other witnesses, was now a mere shadow of his former self. His appearance had been completely reworked. Botox and lip fillers had refined his face, enhancing the effects of the surgeries that had changed his features. But the real shift was in his skin tone. No longer the fair-skinned Japanese man he had once been, Michael now sported a rich, deep black complexion, a striking contrast to his original look. Skin pigmentation treatments - including semi-permanent skin dyes to long-term tanning lotions had darkened his skin dramatically. Additionally, weekly melanin enhancement injections would guarantee that the change became permanent over time.

(See image 24)

Bringing down his index finger with force, Victor quickly closed the display, his panic escalating. He couldn’t afford to go into that meeting empty-handed. If he couldn’t find the error in NINA’s code and fix it, his life as he knew it would be over. His grand vision and the countless hours he had poured into the project would all be for nothing. He had checked and rechecked the code countless times, but each time came up empty-handed.

When he started this project, he had been convinced NINA could revolutionize witness protection, save lives, and change the course of history. But now, that all felt like a distant, unattainable dream - slipping through his fingers like sand.

Victor slammed his fist onto the desk, the sound echoing off the wall of his small office. His mind raced, a flood of thoughts overwhelming him. But one drowned out the rest: he had to look again. If he could just locate the error, maybe he could walk into that meeting with something to salvage the situation. If he was lucky, they might even consider it a minor issue, an early setback in a project of larger significance. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had left.