The Binder on Yitzchak

It was 30 days in the future, and Joe Eawest was bound to something strikingly resembling a hospital bed, but not meant to heal. The room contained one other bed, two chairs, a blindlingly bright overhead light, four walls, and a shaded lamp. On the other bed lay Yitzchak Jasny, whose only relation to Joe, for now, was that they were both scheduled for enhanced interrogation today. Unusually, only the shaded lamp was lit at the moment: Raymond Eawest and his subordinate John Smith periodically vocally agreed, chuckling, that they didn't have to torture themselves to torture their properties. In fact, they were doing so right now as they walked in.

"...But anyway Ray, I just didn't like that last prayer session. I mean I'm not religious anyway --" (at this, Raymond glared sternly) "--of course that's normally not a problem! But I'm not religious anyway, and that was pretty hardcore stuff. Kill your own kid --"

"Prepare to kill him."

"OK, Ray, let him live the rest of his life knowing you were prepared to kill him because of voices in your head. Like that's better."

Raymond's already-cooling attitude towards his colleague now flash-froze. "When the Lord speaks, the good man listens and obeys unquestioningly, even if it means killing his own son... You know, John, there are twenty people below you vying for your position. Maybe I should find one better morally-founded."

John sighed. "OK, OK, let's just drop it. So, whatta we got here? A Yitzchak Jasný and a Joe Souther. Awwwrighty, who's on first?! I hate to push your patience, Ray, but you mind if I superstitiously leave this one to Lady Luck?"

Ray grew livid, but truth be told, there was no replacement for John -- he was the best in his field. He hoped John never realized that. "Do it."

"Heads. Yitzchak's up." He turned to the boy. "Don't worry kid, we won't start for another half an hour. And yes, we'll be right here discussing our questions... go ahead and prepare some lies if you want. It really doesn't matter."

Raymond dropped Yitzchak's binder on the table, open to page 23, where he had thumb-bookmarked it. "Alright, skipping the opening, what we have here is a geek, punk, organizer, did the G20 in 2010... can't forget to wipe his memory after this of course, discreditation would be difficult if he began to gossip. What we want are his contacts, his plans, his contacts' plans, and of course anything he knows on my son."

"You're weird, Ray."