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  “Thank you all for coming today,” I tell them, looking out at their hopeful faces.

  “You’ve been selected to participate in something monumental. This project has the potential to one day save us all.”

  “Change the world? We thought this was a fertility trial,” one of the woman says, and I see them all nod in agreement.

  “In a sense, it is. We are prepared to let you borrow a child. It could be for a year, or it could be for a lifetime.”

  “What? Borrow? We don’t want to borrow a child!” One of the men exclaims.

  I couldn’t tell you his name right now, because I don’t really care. I know all their names, but I don’t know who’s who. The children are all that matters. Yes, I need to get these people to agree to participate, but I don’t have to care about them. I’ll match faces to names once they sign the contracts.

  “You have had no success conceiving a child—or in some of your cases—carrying a child to term. I know those tests and procedures have depleted all of your finances to the point that surrogacy and adoption are not options for you now, either. What the U.S. Government is proposing is a way for you to have the child you want. With conditions.”

  “What are the conditions?” one of the women asks.

  I look her in the eye, and then make eye contact with everyone else in this room. “What I am going to tell you can never leave this room. If your repeat what I tell you, you will be killed. The safety of our country demands it.”

  I let that sink in, and wait to see if any of them run for the door. I don’t really expect them to, and I’m not wrong. They’re desperate, which is exactly the way I need them to be. It’ll be easier to manipulate them this way.

  “There will come a time in the future when our country will be under siege. We don’t know when this will occur, but we need to be prepared. Our scientists have spliced DNA, and other genes, creating perfect specimens, perfect geniuses and soldiers.

  “The children we’re creating will be brilliant, persuasive, athletic, entertaining, and charming. Beside the gene splicing from the DNA, we have also created something special. We will be conditioning them with deductive skills from all the great fictional detectives. Our scientists have used artificial intelligence to create a program that will allow them to learn while sleeping, as well as while they’re awake.

  “Three times a week, starting when they are born, you will bring them here to be conditioned. Every night, you will use a word we give you that will put them to sleep, and then you will hook them up to a small device that will impart knowledge into their brains. They will not remember this, and you will never tell them. When the time comes, and they are needed, you will use other words to activate them. They could be a toddler, or they could be an adult when this happens, but it will happen. You must be prepared for it.”

  “What if someone says the words to them, and they’re ‘activated’ early?” another man asks.

  “We will be monitoring them—and you—every minute of the day. There are two words for each child, and they have to be said together, in a specific sentence. We will put a stop to anyone else saying the full sentence to them. I don’t anticipate it happening, but we have safeguards in place, in the event that it does.”

  “You said you might put them into service as toddlers?” the first woman asks, a look of horror on her face.

  “These will not be normal toddlers. They are being genetically engineered to be a combination of the greatest minds, and the greatest soldiers that have ever been born.”

  “When can my baby come home with me?” asks the youngest woman here with a smile on her face.

  “Exactly nine months from when you sign these papers,” I tell her, holding up one of the packets.

  They all stand up and move towards me. I force my smile to seem friendly, and not as predatory as I feel. None of them know exactly what’s in store for them. I told them what I needed them to know, and nothing more. If they read the contracts, they’ll know the rest, but I don’t think any of them will stop to do that. They’re desperate for a child, so desperate that they’ll do anything. Which is what I was counting on.

  Trigger Happy…or Sad

  Present Day

  The five have one class, and one class only, together. I’ve made sure it’s never been more than one. Although they should have no knowledge of being related, I couldn’t take a chance that they wouldn’t recognize something in each other. That’s why I gave them such distinct, almost stereotypical, personalities. Other than Abigail and Coalton, there’s no reason for any of them to interact much with each other. We conditioned the two of them to have a mistrust of each other, so there’s no chance of a problem with them. We could’ve conditioned everyone else, too, but it was more fun to see nature take its course with the cliques and clashes of a normal teenage life taking over.

  Today, in this English class, the foundation for their coming together is being laid. As their teacher outlines their new assignment, I smile, knowing this all my idea.

  “You will all need to ask your parents who their favorite mystery or thriller author is, and then read a book by that author, and write about the traits of the main character,” Mrs. Fitz tells them.

  “What if they don’t like mystery books?” Abigail asks.

  “You won’t know until you ask.”

  “Someone’s cranky today,” Coalton says.

  “How many times have you been to the dean’s office this week? Because I’d love to send you there again.”

  “We won’t know if they have a favorite until we ask,” Sabrina says, and no one else speaks up after that.

  Coalton wasn’t wrong—his teacher is cranky. She didn’t like having her normal lesson plan upset for this, but she was given no choice. There’s no stopping what’s been put in motion. I watch them all through the rest of the day, but nothing eventful occurs. It’s when they get home that the fun begins.

  Hinton

  Hinton gets home first since he has no after-school activities. “Mom, who’s your favorite mystery writer?”

  His mother drops the glass of milk and plate of cookies she was carrying to him. They crash to the floor as she looks at him in horror. He rushes forward, but she puts up her hand. “My favorite mystery author is Agatha Christie.”

  He startles, and then his smile is gone. “I’m ready,” he says, walking past her like she’s not there. She starts to cry as he climbs the stairs. Her fun-loving boy is gone forever, and it will only get worse for her from here on out.

  Sabrina

  Sabrina is next. She gets home at the same time as her father. They smile at each other as they walk inside, and greet her mother.

  “Oh, hey. We have this new English assignment. Do either of you read mystery books? Or have you? I’ve never seen any around, but we’re supposed to ask.”

  Her parents look at each other, and then her father speaks. “I do. My favorite mystery author is Robert Ludlum.”

  Like Hinton, she bounces a little on her feet as the trigger does its job. “I’m ready,” she says, walking to her room. Sabrina’s parents don’t cry, because they don’t know yet just what they’ve lot. They’ll realize soon enough.

  Michaela

  When Michaela walks into her house, the first thing she notices is that her mother has been crying. Her father has his arm around her, and Michaela rushes over to the two of them.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We just got some bad news today.”

  Ah. I haven’t been watching the home feeds. The parents have apparently started talking to each other. Not against the rules, and not entirely surprising either. Just makes this a little less fun for me as I know the remaining three couples won’t be as shocked as the first two.

  “What is it? What’s the news?” Michaela looks so concerned, and now I know this will indeed be entertaining.

  “It’s nothing we can’t handle.” They’re so very wrong.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.
Now tell us about school,” her mother says. Brave woman right there.

  “It was pretty good. I have an assignment for English class I need to ask you about. Do either of you have a favorite mystery author?”

  “Yes,” her father says. “My favorite mystery author is Ian Fleming.”

  As with the others, Michaela has the same reaction. As she walks away, her parents don’t crumple. I can see in their eyes that they’re devastated, but they stand tall, holding hands as they watch her walk away. They’ll need each other in the coming months.

  Coalton

  Coalton has dinner with his friends at a local fast food place before heading home. His father is pretending to watch TV when he comes in the front door. It would be out of character for him to get up and greet his son, so he stays frozen where he is, waiting for the proverbial ax to fall.

  “Hey dad. We have this stupid English assignment. You don’t read mystery books, do you?”

  “I used to,” he says, and I can hear the controlled rage in his voice. “Before your mother died.”

  He’s going off script, and if he doesn’t play his part, his fate will be the same as his wife’s. I’m not sure he cares about his life. I certainly don’t. He does care about his son, though, so I’m not too worried yet.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to bring it up,” Coalton tells him, sounded sad. This will not do at all.

  “I’m not going to tell you my favorite author, because I think you should hear your mother’s instead. If she was here, she would say ‘my favorite mystery author is Carolyn Keene.’”

  Smart man. He played his part exactly as told. He’ll live to see another day. He may not want to live much longer than that, but I may just keep him alive for fun.

  Abigail

  Abigail is the last one home. She was shopping with her friends until the mall closed. Her parents are in the kitchen, sharing a pot of coffee and pretending this is just another day. Or I should say, trying to pretend. They’re failing miserably, but none of that will matter in a few minutes.

  “Coffee? It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” Abigail asks them with a touch of concern in her voice.

  “We had some things to talk over. How was shopping?” her father asks.

  She looks down at her bags and smiles. “Well, you don’t have to take out a second mortgage, but I got some nice things.”

  Her parents try to chuckle, but manage only sad smiles. They have plenty of money.

  All five families do; although, some were warned to keep that more quiet than others. Abigail’s family had been allowed to show their wealth, and she’s enjoyed every moment of that for her entire life.

  “I’m going to head up to bed,” she tells them when they don’t say anything else.

  “Goodnight,” her mother tells her, sounding relived.

  Wait for it…

  “Oh, I almost forgot to ask you if you have a favorite mystery author.”

  Neither one answers, and I’m gripping the desk in front of me so tightly my knuckles are turning white.

  “Hello, anyone? No?”

  I will kill these two if they don’t answer in the next sixty seconds.

  “My favorite mystery author is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,” her mother says, looking towards the ceiling for help. Abigail immediately reacts.

  “I’m ready.” Yes, she is.

  All Together Now

  As directed by their triggers, the five slept for a full eight hours after being activated. In the morning, I watch them all walk out of their houses. They’ll never return, and as they ignore their parents who have followed them outside, those nine people realize it. Some collapse into each other, and some burn with a rage they can’t hide on their faces. It doesn’t matter what reaction they have. It’s not like I’m going to send them back. They’re finally coming home where they belong.

  I wait for them at the entrance to the lab. This is the building where they were created, and also where their fate was decided. It’s where their “parents” traded their nightmares for temporary dreams. And now it is where they’ll work together to save this country.

  “Welcome, my children,” I tell them, once they’ve all joined me in the command center. “I am your Creator. The United States is under attack, and only the five of you can save us.

  “This is what you were born for, created for. You all possess more knowledge and skills than our entire military and intelligence communities combined. Your DNA is infused with super-strength and intelligence. From the time you were born, you’ve all been given the knowledge of every great detective or spy from literature, television, and the movies. This is so you can think outside of normal parameters. You have the abilities of the best fighters who ever lived, and now you must use what you’ve been given. Your country needs you, and you will fulfill your destiny.

  “Do what you must. Take what you need. Let no one stand in your way.”

  With those three additional triggers, they fan out into the room. They take five seats, pulling analysts from chairs when they don’t move fast enough. I smirk as their fingers fly over the keyboards, all of them looking for what no one else could find.

  I sit and watch them for most of the afternoon. As analysts come and go from the room, giving my five a wide berth. Now that they have been activated, all pretense of them being normal, stereotypical teens is gone. They don’t need to eat, and they won’t need sleep, either. I need both, so I start to call them in one at a time to give me updates. I’ll sleep in my office here while they work through the night, but I need to know that they’ve figured some things out already, or none of this will be worth it.

  Sabrina

  Sabrina is the first to enter my office. Her personality, pre-activation, was a direct result of bring infused with the charm of Charlie’s Angels. Those women could get in and out of any situation they needed to, and so can she. She’s going to be a little more like Wonder Woman, but not quite Diana Prince. She now knows she has the wisdom, and strength of an Amazon, but she doesn’t have

  that pesky thing called compassion to get in her way.

  “Sit down, my dear, and tell me what you’ve learned.”

  She flips a chair around and straddles it, fully abandoning the girl she was just yesterday. “They’re good. Better than anyone on our government’s payroll.”

  “Better than you?”

  “I’m not on the payroll,” she reminds me with a cruel smile. I didn’t need the reminder, but I wanted to hear her say it.

  “Go on.”

  “They’ve infiltrated more than just the computer systems. They are integrated into every major organization and business in this country. They hid their digital footprints well enough for amateurs to miss, but I spotted them easily. Pinging off of satellites all over the world is child’s play. What that tells me is they didn’t think you had people smart enough to find them.”

  “We didn’t, until yesterday.”

  “Well, now you do. I have a program going that is slowly pulling the names and photos of everyone involved in the computer attacks and hacking.”

  “What about the monuments, and everything else?”

  “You know that’s not what I’m here for. This is just a game. My skills will be useful once I’m in the room with these monsters. I’ll sway them to our side, and then you can destroy them.”

  “Once we get the information we need, they will indeed be dealt with. I had thought you might like a turn with them, Sabrina.”

  “I’ll leave that to her,” she says, looking out to Michaela with a smirk.

  “She will enjoy it,” I agree. “You may go back out to your desk. Please send Coalton in next.”

  “Will do,” she tells me with a salute. She’s no longer the “good girl” she was before. She’s better, and I almost feel bad that no one will ever know.

  Coalton

  Coalton walks in, and the change in him is so drastic that I’m almost speechless. I knew the change would come—I orchestrated it—but it is still s
hocking. Gone is the cocky athlete. He’s now in a button down shirt and slacks, looking like any computer nerd in the U.S.

  His former persona was based on Tony Stark, a character who is always brutally honest, yet charismatic at the same time. Now, he’s like Jason Bourne come to life. A super-spy, who really has no knowledge of his past, but can do anything he needs to, including killing his enemies by any means necessary.

  “Hello, Sir. I think I found something.”

  “You think?” I challenge him, wanting to see if he has truly accepted his real personality.

  “I have found something,” he says, standing up taller.

  Good. He won’t be so brutally honest anymore,

  because I don’t want him offending anyone who might be an ally, but I need him to show confidence at all times, especially with his new computer skills.

  “Tell me.”

  “There is a pattern to these attacks, but the other technicians out there are saying they can’t see it, even when I try to show it to them.”

  They’re not lying—I’m quite sure they really can’t see it. “Never mind them. You just keep doing what you need to in order to contain it.”

  “It’s not as easy as you make it sound.”

  “If it was easy, I wouldn’t need you.”

  He nods. “I’m on it,” he says, turning to walk back out.

  Oh, I have no doubt about that.

  Hinton

  Hinton visits me next. He hasn’t been summoned, but while his fun-loving side is gone, his inherent need to test authority is not. He will be a little harder to contain, but I’m not worried.

  We knew we wanted someone to keep everyone entertained, and who better than Austin Powers?

  As Hinton got older, we played with his DNA and added in some Shawn Spencer, trying to balance him out from being so wild. Now, he’s going to be more like Ethan Hunt, able to blend in, and fight for us from the inside. I’ll miss some of his old humor, but not enough to let him keep it.