He sat in a dimly lit apartment, watching the monitors. On the screen, a pixelated version of his living room played out. He watched "Elias" (his unmasked self) move from the kitchen to the couch. He saw himself swallow a tiny, blue pill of Substance D. On the screen, the digital noise from the camera made it look like Elias was dissolving into a swarm of aphids.
The scanner didn't just watch Elias; it translated him. Every six seconds, the "scramble suit" he wore shifted his appearance through a million different identities—a child, a waitress, a construction worker, an old man—to ensure no one, not even his superiors, knew who was underneath. He was Agent 7, assigned to monitor a suspect named Elias. The problem was that Elias was himself.
A knock came at the door. On the monitor, he saw a woman standing in the hallway. He recognized her—Donna, his only link to the world outside the static. But then he realized: if he was wearing the suit, he couldn't open the door. If he took it off, he was just another "freak doper" the scanners would hunt.
"Target is consuming," Elias-the-Agent whispered into his suit’s recorder. His voice came out as a synthesized rasp.