[ WP ] You move to a new home across the country and find a hidden room covered by a bookcase . Inside the room is a shoebox filled with photos of your old house . After you flip through them you find 6 passports booklets with your photo , all with different identities .

`` I'm sorry you had to see that, Charlie.'' 
 
 My heart jumped in my chest as I heard his deep, gravely voice. I had been so fixated on that box, and those passports, did n't even realize that he had snuck up on me. It just did n't make any sense. My name was Charlie Rollins, and that was my only name. Not Samuel Robinson, not Michael Green, not Arnold Cunningham, not Gregory Williams of England, not Jacques Beaumont of France, and not Alfred Brunn of Sweden. I did n't know who these people were, and yet, all of them were me. 
 
 The most disturbing thing in the shoebox though, were the pictures I found. Someone had been stalking me, documenting my life in photographs. There were photos of every inch of my house's exterior, pictures of every room, and even pictures of my wife and kids sleeping. Before I could even tell my wife, the sharply dressed man had appeared in the attic with me. 
 
 `` Have a seat,'' the man said, pulling a flask out of his suit pocket. We sat in some old rickety chairs, and he handed me the flask of what I determined was whiskey. `` I can explain everything.'' 
 
 `` You see, Charlie, I work for the CIA. If you're impressed, do n't be. You worked there too. In fact, we worked together. We were good friends. You were an outstanding agent, in line to be promoted. You were always so curious. Always wanting to find out more, more about terrorist organizations, more about our enemies, more about everything. But you got too curious. You started snooping around in the CIA's secrets. You discovered something that was n't supposed to be discovered. A cover-up. You should n't have done that, Charlie.'' 
 
 `` So then why did n't you just kill me?'' Charlie stammered out. 
 
 `` Oh, we planned to. But we just developed a technology just dying for a test. It was a brainwashing machine, except a thousand times more precise. We could delete memories, add new ones, and edit ones that were already there. We took out every memory you had of the CIA, and replaced it with the accountant job we installed you in. We gave you a new family, and a new life.'' 
 
 `` What happened to my old family?'' Charlie asked. 
 
 `` They... did n't stick around. Anyway, everything was working out perfectly. But then Glenn Sinclair came along. He thought what we did was abominable, and he wanted to undo it. We did everything in our power to stop him. We closely monitored your life, but, well, he did too. And he managed to sneak that shoebox by. He did n't fix your life. He's ruined it. We made him pay for that.'' 
 
 `` If you're telling me all this, are n't you doing the same as him?'' 
 
 `` Ah, yes. But, Glenn did n't have an end to his plan. We do. *Glenn, clean this up, please. *'' Charlie looked behind him and saw a cold, lifeless face pointing a gun at him. Glenn did n't blink as he pulled the trigger. And he did n't blink as he turned the gun on himself. 
 
 The surviving agent left the house and came back to his office. He strapped himself into the machine. 
 
 `` I need to forget that one.''
