The rails at Northberg, as always, were silent. Magnetic levitation makes no sound, and the driving wind and snow simply bounces off the soundproof, insulated plastic bubble.

There we were, Howard for the third time. Before, he'd preferred to deal with the children by himself, until he considered that the children pretty much know that he with the most followers is considered the most powerful, at least on a subconscious level. And that's what Howard is aiming for- for the children to treat him as a friendly, familiar face in the back of their minds, early in life. What's learned in the cradle lasts till.. well, these kids are almost as impossible to kill as we are.

It's inarguable: Northberg is the most important location within the Illuminati infrastructure; this is the only genetics facility and school they have. This is where the Elite is created and brought up- in a heavily-defended piece of land in the middle of a snow-covered forest in northern Canada. Brrr. It really is that fucking cold out here. These kids must only go outside bundled in the most insulating fabrics technology can create. But I'm certain they go on vacations- after watching Howard clear out an amusement park, figuring out how they do that is easy.

Howard pulled up some data on a screen in the railcar; this facility holds 139 children up to 90 months old (Only 139? With six thousand Illuminati? Either there's a lot of too-old people in this organization, they aren't putting their kids in this facility, or they're just plain not breeding very much.. probably a mix of all of the above.), the oldest going to become its director.

As we passed through the railway entrance, I noticed an overhanging plaque:

Northberg Educational Facility
E Progenies Dominatus \'c6ternum (From our progeny comes everlasting power)
June 28, 1987

That would put our birthdate exactly ten months later, suggesting that Howard's development was an influence on its creation. He didn't even look up at the sign; he's probably seen it many, many times before.

The railway car came to a stop and we exited, and there was no one waiting for him; the only audible sound was that of the railcar door sliding closed behind us. Oh, that's right. Howard didn't announce his arrival. He knew where he was going; walking to a nearby door set in the always-steel walls of Illuminated facilities, he opened it up to reveal something I've seen before, but never so young.

Engineered children.

I watched them. Howard didn't need to, but I did. They are far more intelligent, stronger, and faster than their normal counterparts, but there's more to it than that. For one thing, there is the matter of their education; apparently the screen overhead and the wall speakers are designed to give a maximum amount of information at once. Then there's their physical appearance. Normal infants have healthy, unblemished faces only because nothing has come along to blemish them yet. Normal infants are often clothed in garish, uncomfortable, confining clothing because their parents force them to try to look cute. These infants, wearing brightly-colored bodysuits made of the best materials available, simply are cute, and anyone forcing them to wear some of the shit I've seen would go from zero to dead courtesy of the nearest available engineered old enough to do it.

Whether these babies technically have parents or not is immaterial. Once the engineers changed them into what they are now, they became the children of normal humans no longer.

I tried to look deeper. I've never thought of myself as being prescient or able to predict the future- at least not after being surprised at that orphanage so long ago- but in these babies' mannerisms I could see what they would be like as grown-up Illuminati. I visualized the girl in green as a mechanical scientist, a pair of safety goggles protecting her beautiful eyes as she carefully puts finely-machined parts together of a new prototype. The boy in yellow will fly giant fusion-powered rockets through space, becoming the lead colonist of Mars until he goes to further explore the stars. And the four-armed boy in blue- Quadrus Dominus- will personally lead the last and most decisive military victory in Earth's history, his brilliant, Dominator-approved strategy eradicating the vastly superior numbers of the normals with finesse, powerful strikes, and his own four weapon-holding hands.

It was a large room- about sixty feet by sixty feet square, with several five foot wide screens overhead for the children to watch and corresponding speakers around the sides of the room. Some of the children didn't notice Howard's entrance or were too engrossed in what they were doing- mostly playing around the room- to respond. Quad was among them, playing an odd game of wrestling with three other children, as they tested their growing bodies' abilities for what was likely the first time. Some just watched silently, looking at us like a museum artifact. One little girl who I'd estimate at about eight months old looked up at Howard and said, "White hair. Long white hair." in Latin, focusing on the syllables.

Howard squatted down to look her in the eye, said, "Yes, that's me. Howard has long white hair." in clearly spoken Latin, and picked up the little girl and put her on his left shoulder, and walked over to Quad, who broke off from the other children to look at him, using his lower pair of arms and apparently a good deal of his power to struggle to his feet.

"Hi, Quad-Braach!", the little girl shouted, right next to Howard's ear.

"Kay-ti.", Quad said, looking at her. "Hi, Ka-tie. Tih- tih- tibi nomen. Tibi nomen.", he said to Howard, unable to enunciate his voice to differentiate statements and questions. Many of the other children had stopped their ongoing activity to look at the stranger in their midst.

"Howard."

"How-ad. Howad.", Quad said, uncertain how to pronounce it. He then curiously looked at Howard, then at me, then back to Howard. I could almost read his mind: 'What the hell is going on here? Enforcers wear black and the controllers wear white. These two are the same person. Why are they dressed like that?' Quad, believe me when I tell you that I understand your frustration perfectly.

Howard sat down in front of Quad, and Katie jumped off his shoulder. "Quad.. you don't remember who I am, and you're probably not going to understand this. I'm your father.", Howard said in carefully articulated Latin. He started laughing in response. What's going on? Does he know what that means, and if so, why is he laughing at it?! Some of the other children started laughing with him, and then every other child in the room, simply out of imitation.

Then he started frowning an exaggerated frown, and I realized his undeveloped speech center was thinking of the right words. "Duu..braki! Dubraucki!", he then spat out. Dubraucki? What? Oh. He means du bracchi, two arms. Which means that apparently he knows that children are supposed to at least remotely look like their parents (in a facility full of partial engineereds, many of them won't look like them very much at all). And which also means that these children are being taught very, very fast indeed. At this rate, they'll probably have the equivalent of at least one college degree before they become our age. "I'm not surprised you don't believe me.", Howard said again in Latin, just to say something- the kid didn't understand him.

Howard made a point of personally talking to every child in the room. One of them apparently wanted to be tossed into the air, and Howard obliged him; he giggled as he flew up and down. Another space explorer, there. Most of them just watched him, up until the point when he left and all the children suddenly became very sad. The basics of language and the rudiments of logic they may have, but patience is not something they understand yet. I realized what one of the children was trying to say, with arm movements, cries, and half-formed words. He was attempting to communicate with me in the same way he did the Enforcers, with a simple message: Keep him from leaving. Had it been funny, I would have laughed. I don't think Howard noticed.

The next room was full of toddlers, who knew Howard on sight. "Howard!", a boy shrieked. "Dom-ee-nus!", another girl yelled. 'Or an identical-looking robot, kids.', I wanted to say.

"So you kids know who I am. I didn't think they were teaching that at your age.", Howard said in Latin, and they only smiled at him in reply. Their area was similar to that of the infants, but different in certain ways- they had more separate rooms, including a bathroom filled with very small toilets. Of course, the sleeping areas were one large room again- I then realized something important.

I've read articles about socialization before. What do you get when you keep normal children with their families and not put them with very many other children? A close-knit family structure. What do you get when you put normal children in a school or an orphanage with strict rules and controlled thought? The children learn to police each other and you get groupthink. Those same children, but in a no-rules setting? The beginnings of a basic, barbaric society.

And what do you get when you take highly intelligent, extremely dangerous engineered children and put them together in a place where they are taught- not incorrectly!- that they are alone in a world full of normals, that their only hope is to work together to control it, and that their only leader is a similarly-engineered Dominator who simply wants them to become the future of all humanity? (I don't have to do any research to know these things. They simply make logical sense.) What you get is the most effective leadership to exist anywhere on Earth- powerful geniuses devoted to reaching a common goal, individuals in thought but all of them using everything in their substantial power to further the common cause. The only force that can topple the governments of the world from within and take the entire planet in one fell swoop.

These little kids, who are crowding around the Dominator, wanting to touch him, to prove to themselves that he's real, so Howard can comfort them with the knowledge that he loves them and will always be their friend, will one day run the entire fucking world. Here I am at the beginnings of the future. This is almost like time travel. He picked them all up, spending quite a deal of time. I didn't get bored. I don't think I could get bored in a place like this.

The next room was children just slightly older, children ages three and four, but the area was substantially larger. Ah. This is almost certainly because children that age start to want stuff and they need somewhere to put it. Don't worry, kids- this is the Illuminati. Stuff you shall have.

And stuff they did have, and they were playing with it. Brightly-colored balls were being tossed around, and a few were playing with a magnetic puzzle (I didn't even need to look at it to tell that it was based on something for normal, intelligent adults). I'm certain they weren't taught the same kind of 'sharing' crap that normal children are. I'm just not sure if they share with each other naturally, or they are following the examples set by the viewscreen, which right now is showing computer-generated images of children just like them. My guess is a combination of both. Their play just.. slowly.. stopped, as they gave up their games to sit down in a semicircle around the Dominator. And although their play contained half-English, half-Latin chatter, when they sat down near Howard, none of them said a single word. Say it with me, everybody: what the fuck? They know he's not leaving that soon, so they casually stop what it is that they're doing.. normal children, when exposed to a stimulus like that.. how much could the engineers have changed?

"None of you are saying anything.", Howard said to them in Latin, and they only smiled a bit in response. "Is this somebody's practical joke?", he asked, still not using English. Many of the children laughed, almost simultaneously.

"No...", what looked to be the oldest child said, slowly and carefully, in English. I looked at his eyes and I could see the pure intelligence staring back out. This boy is going to invent something some day, probably a lot of things, that will change the fate of more than just this planet. "After last time you came.. I talked to Jimmy, he talked to Cain, we talked to Beth.. we passed it around and we all decided that we'd.. let you talk." The screen overhead ceased producing its background noise.

"Ohhhhh.", said one of the younger children. "I dint know." Something told me that he wasn't doing it because everybody did it, as normals are wont to do. He was doing it because he knew that the others had a plan, and he didn't want to ruin it.

I can't describe what I was thinking just then, surrounded by all the young, smiling, engineered faces. Jealousy? Protectiveness? Love? In the normal world, the vast majority of people are born as nothing, grow up as nothing, become nothing, mean nothing. Each one of these kids means something. They are alive in a world populated by the walking dead. I've long known the difference between worthy and worthless people, but I've never seen so much worthiness staring me in the face at once, like a room full of powerful lightbulbs in a world lit by candles. And here they were, waiting for my controlling twin to speak.

Howard squatted down and motioned for us to go with him. "Well, what do you want me to say?", he replied to them.

"Why's he wearing black?", asked one. "Weird duplication!", asked another in Latin. From the oldest, "What the fuck is going on with that twin stuff?" What, indeed? Don't look at me, Howie. These worthy children asked a solid question and they deserve a Dominator's answer.

He gave it to them. Not every detail, but enough to grant understanding. Some of them laughed, a reaction I should have expected but didn't. Some of them muttered about the insanity of it under their breath in Latin. A pair of twins looked at each other in befuddlement and I could almost hear them saying 'You wouldn't- would you?!' simultaneously. Although I didn't laugh, that was funny. There were some that didn't visibly react, and there were a few that laughed in a miniature version of Howard's power laugh. I had no idea a four-year-old could laugh like that. Are the people who run this place teaching these kids how to laugh like that, or are the kids simply imitating something they know their Dominator does?

"You..", a blonde girl started in English, before reverting to her natural Latin. "You should let him go." I would have given both testicles and my regeneration to shout a loud 'Amen!' right then.

Howard made a finger-to-head suicide gesture. "That's suicide. You'll eventually learn why.", he replied in Latin. She didn't believe him. "Anything else?"

"Can I have my own servant?", another girl asked, smiling in a way that I haven't seen before, outside of television. That's another thing about being in a room full of engineereds- it looks like television, because everyone's visually perfect. There are no scars, no blemishes, and of the children whose skins do feature some noticeable pigmentation, it's uniform. From the perspective of that being the usual, normal humans are cavemen. They'll look back on the days that Earth was ruled by normals as the Dark Ages...

"You'll have to ask the Director.", Howard replied. She nodded rapidly. I found it odd that these kids didn't have one. They're so useful, after all, and would be excellent for these kids to practice mastery on, the same mastery they'll be using for the rest of their indefinitely-long lives. They're too young, that's why, too apt to make miscommands. I bet in the next room there's going to be a bunch of them.

"Howard, when I become a dult.. adult, can I be first le-level?", an ambitious young boy asked, sitting up from his casual, hands-behind-head position.

"You're going to have to wait until you're old enough to try it, but you won't have to become an adult. Wait a few more years.", Howard replied. The hierarchy of the Illuminati is likely to get shaken up a bit. Every one of these kids will probably become First Level worthy, which means that it's time to raise standards.

"Okay.", he replied, smiling, and laid back down.

"Howard..", a boy started. "I get a lot of nightmares. Can you help?" In a normal setting with this many normal children of these children's intellectual age (8-10 normal equivalent? Hell if I know.), there would have been some derision and laughter. No one laughed at this little boy, although I did notice the irony of one of these kids asking that.

"Billy, you help him." Howard's command only increased the irony.

The kid had ordinary nightmares, though, not implant-caused hellbeast visions. "All right.. best thing to do is just to enjoy them. Seriously. No matter how much they scare you, or if you wake up screaming, or what, just pretend they're a movie, something on the screen.", I said, pointing up to the giga-TV. "Watch them and have fun. They can't hurt you." He sputtered out a thanks and grinned, obviously willing to take mastery of his own mind. If only I could join him.

There wasn't anything else there to do but hugs. They wanted to be near Howard, to touch him, as a normal kid might hug a teddy bear for protection, which made lots of sense. Howard's protection encompasses the whole world, to make a new life for these kids who can't yet even be seen in what normals refer to as public. And, even if they've not yet understood exactly what the End of Secrecy means, they know what he'll ultimately do for them.

We went to the next room.. which was larger, had more rooms going off of it.. and was almost empty. Seven kids, two of them servants, were tossing a frisbee around the room. 'The kids don't discriminate.', I noticed, immediately. 'To them, a servant is just another kid who has to obey someone.' None of them, of course, was normal, although one did screw up and tossed it in the direction of an Enforcer, which tossed it back exactly in the direction it came from.

"Where is everyone?", Howard asked, and they all turned to look at him.

"Oh.. they're in the gym.", a girl said, her blond hair not reaching to her loose pink clothing, and I knew that in less than a decade engineered boys would want to make love to her. "We didn't know you were coming. Hey.. is that the Sarah?"

"Yeah, it's me.", Sarah replied.

"Oh.. I didn't know you.." 'Were implanted', she didn't finish. She looked at Howard again and then at me, a bit disappointed. "It's nice to meet you, Sarah. I've seen all your work."

"All of it?", Sarah asked. That's quite a bit of killing, after all.

"Every one. You're good. You got screwed though.", the little cute girl replied with the beginnings of a frown, and a few of the other kids giggled slightly.

"Yeah, tell me about it.. Murphy's Law, kid... but they've probably already taught you not to trust anyone." And in case they haven't, that's a friendly reminder from Sarah.

"I know. At least you're alive."

"So Dominator..", a blond-haired boy asked, sitting down, resting on his hands. His black-clad, dark-haired servants squatted next to him as he talked. I was struck by his appearance. A red, patterned shirt hung down on his arms to his six-fingered hands covered by fingerless gloves. Tan pants went down to white shoes, and I idly wondered if there were steel toes in them like ours. I realized why I was looking at him so intently- it was because this kid, except for hair color and a slight complexion difference, looked a lot like me. It was as if his parents were so genetically inferior that they had to replace almost everything with the basic Dominator template.. "You're not gonna.. acquire anyone else, are ya?" Funny question from someone who has servants himself, isn't it? Although they were probably made for the purpose.

"Not planning to.", Howard replied.

"Okay.. good."

The boy who had mistakenly tossed it to the Enforcer and had it returned continued the game, tossing it to the pink-clad girl. She caught it, cat-claws poking out of her fingers to help her with the grab. She played with the frisbee a bit before tossing it to another boy with light blue hair and a suit to match. "What's it like? I mean.. being the Dominator and all."

"It's a pain in the ass.", Howard glibly replied, and all the kids in the room laughed, the girl receiving the frisbee almost missing her catch because of it. "Of course, power has its privileges, but I get lots of crap. Just ask Billy."

They didn't need to. "Yes, kids.. he does get a lot of crap. Guys seeking power, morons wanting overthrow.. assorted random assholes who, happy days," I used it as a replacement to 'Thank God' as these kids wouldn't know what I was talking about. "will eventually get replaced by you. Fortunately for him, he has someone to take a lot of that crap for him."

"It's worth it, though, isn't it.", the boy replied. I had the strange feeling that he was talking to me and not Howard. In which case, I wouldn't know how to answer him.

"You know the answer to that.", Howard replied with a smile. "Anything I should know from any of you? Any problems?" Problems? Here, in this paradise? Of course not. Howard led us downstairs to the gym.

It was gigantic, especially for its distance underground. Illuminati truly spare no expense. An enormous swimming pool, indoor field (bioengineered grass, I'm sure), and a basketball court were the larger areas. Whatever it took to build was worth it; they were getting good use out of it, and probably would for the next thousand years. The kids were playing basketball, boys against girls. I semi-automatically scanned the fast-moving children for black or very dark clothes. A few servants, but not many. Guess they don't need them after all. Oh, duh. I'm forgetting common sense. These are little kids, still, who aren't knowledgeable or savvy enough to always avoid saying the magical 'wrong words' that can get someone creamed. There's almost certainly a test or something like that.

"Hey, Howard!", a boy happily shouted, as a servant teammate passed the ball forward to another boy. The rest of them joined in with greetings, not looking away from their game, happily playing with each other as if nothing else in the world mattered. I felt a pang of intense envy. THIS is where I should have been as a child! THESE are the peers I never had! HERE is where I should have grown up! Fuck the normal world and its bullshit! At least these are the people I'll be with in the future, even as a servant..

"Hello, all.", Howard greeted them. "Anything any of you want to tell me? Anything at all."

"Yeah. I wish I was fully engineered.", a very young boy said, and the other kids laughed. "It would make me better at this and I'd get the ball more often!" Someone did pass him the ball right then, but he was way too heavily covered and had to toss it to another boy. who shot and scored on the six-foot-high nets.

"You might be even better engineered than I am.", Howard informed him. "'Fully' is meaning less and less."

"I know that most of those girls are better than I am.", I heard Sarah say into Howard's ear. "Those throws, that coordination, at that age? I didn't have it." 'Better than Sarah' means 'fucking incredible'. Paul was following behind Howard and went to the side to get a better look. He must have been amazed. The children were fast, extremely fast, and played with astounding grace and style, like the harbingers of an engineered future that they are. I remembered Sarah telling me I understood what to do in not hurting them, but not why. Now I understood why. I'd give my life for these kids, I realized, and probably, so would Howard. If an angry Illuminatus with a dark plot, a lot of heavy weapons, and a thousand Enforcers descended on Northberg like a plague, Howard and I would either defeat the overwhelmingly powerful foe- a thing we're known for- or die trying.

"We're not gonna win this.. we're down by 6, one minute to go.", one of the oldest boys said, and I noticed a few female smiles. He was right. A minute later, the girls had won, 42-37, a few boys yelling their annoyance in response. One boy made a few practice shots and wanted to keep playing, and a few of the kids agreed with him. The rest of them approached us curiously and started asking questions. They weren't the exact same kind of questions as Howard was asked by the Illuminated children at his party, but some were close- what's it like being the Dominator (Howard gave the same answer he had to the other boy, with the same result of laughter), what does he do for fun, what's the coolest thing he's ever done (finished the tests and became the Dominator), that stuff. Some of them even asked me, Sarah, and Paul some questions as well, what's it like flying the jet, how many people have you killed, that stuff. One of them even had the idea that he could use me as a duplicate and was disappointed that it's already been thought of and done. A lot of them looked at me as if I were an unfortunate amputee. One of the servant boys simply held onto my hand and smiled at me, and I smiled back. Eventually they waved goodbye, all smiling and joyful.

"Hey, Howard. The rest of us against you and your servants.", suggested the boy who had invited the others to keep playing.

"All right, you've got it.", Howard answered, and we followed him onto the court.

"They'll kick our butts!", a girl exclaimed. "They'll just toss it from the back court."

"Okay, fine- no tossing it from behind the half-line, then, and no passing it high." Although the ball was smaller and the nets lower to the ground, this was a full adult-sized basketball court. As engineereds we could toss it in from behind the half-line easily. If we were all normals, this would be so much different.

"Ralphie, I told you before.. five years of genetics doesn't DO all that!", the girl objected. "They're lots bigger than us, and they are fully engineered."

"Paul's a normal.", Howard said, and they were amazed.

"Whaat?! He's a normal?!", Ralphie shouted in surprise, running up to Paul. "Other than.. than the Operator and some of the biotechnicians," Ever hear a six-year-old say 'biotechnicians' before? "I've never even SEEN one before! What's your name?"

"Paul.", he replied, and I knew Paul was a bit unconsciously frightened of the grinning, obviously superior boy.

"You wouldn't even.." Ralphie jumped up and slashed his fingers a tiny distance from Paul's throat, intentionally moving relatively slow for engineereds. Paul flinched back about a tenth of a second after Ralphie's move, and the kids laughed.

"Fine. Ten on three, but we're still going to lose.", the girl said. Just like that, Paul was discounted, as if his existence wasn't something to worry about. The worst part was that it was based on logic, because his comparable abilities were as nothing compared to theirs. I hated it. Someone, I silently begged, please give my dear friend a retrovirus.

"Ten minutes.", one of the boys said, and the Enforcer set the clock for that long. When we were ready on opposite sides of the court, Ralphie started with the ball, the Enforcer started the game, and they rushed at our defense. I'm on him, ball's going that way, but there it goes to her, then to him. One ran and dribbled, Howard tried to snag it, but another boy grabbed it first and passed it to another girl. She tried to pass it, but Sarah zipped her fingers out (good thing she didn't claw it), it bounced forward, she grabbed it, dribbling, tossed it in the air and whacked it with her other hand right into the net. The Enforcer blew the whistle on the double hit.

"Count it.", Ralphie commanded the Enforcer, and a 3 appeared on our side. "But don't double-hit it anymore!", he shouted at Sarah, who nodded, a bit embarrassed. She doesn't usually make mistakes like that.

They went back and forth rapidly; being more numerous, they were hard to defend against. The girl who had discounted Paul's existence passed it too high to Ralphie, and Sarah got in the way, grabbing the ball, darting forward, and scoring again. Inerrant accuracy is a game-winning quality.

"We can't WIN this!", a boy shouted. "They don't have to go far enough!"

"How about we go within the three-point line?", Howard suggested, and got a positive response.

One girl tossed it forward to another girl, and Howard got in front of her to grab it- the girl actually passed it between Howard's legs (an amazing feat indeed) to another boy, who went for the hoop. I went for the ball- no way he was going to be able to get it between my legs with this positioning- but he tossed it to the girl who discounted Paul, and then Paul must have surprised her indeed- he was actually able to tip it. Unfortunately, he tipped it right to Ralphie, who got in to make the 2-point shot.

As we started our offense, the kids kept on us- Howard passed it to me, and instantly a blue blur of a kid grabbed it with a crack of ball on flesh and went for the hoop. Howard was fast enough to get there to stop the shot, and he passed it to Sarah, who, surprisingly enough, was able to dribble past the fast kids to score.

The whole game was like that. These kids' speed is undeniable, and their group strategy and thinking is amazing. A few years from now, these kids in gun battles... there's no beating this. I don't care what the normals have. They'll get mown down like grass. We won, 30-20, only because of our size.

"That was good. You guys are good.", the earlier blue blur of a boy said, smiling. "So why did you come here to play with us?"

"I have to let you all know that I'm here, that I'm not just some face on the screen." As his victims would tell you if they weren't, well, dead. "This is your Dominator speaking, I'd like you to know who I am." They laughed a bit.

"Well, we know that, we even know about him and her.", he said, gesturing to me and Sarah. "Or someone definitely would have asked!" The kids know it's messed up; then again, this is the Illuminati, and they should all be quite used to 'messed up'.

"They taught that to you?", Howard replied. How does one go about teaching children that young about.. never mind. I can guess, but I'm not sure I want to know the details.

"Lots of stuff about you." Howard was actually surprised at this. He wouldn't want to change it, though. Better that the kids know than they don't.

"I probably should have checked that out.. I had no clue."

"Yeah. We know allllll of it.", Ralphie replied, causing the other kids to laugh. Yes, and the results of what they know happened is in the infants' section of the educational facility, his four tiny arms learning how to manipulate objects and his tiny mouth learning how to speak Latin.

"I guess I don't have to talk about me much more, then.", Howard replied, getting laughter in response. "But I suppose I could ask you all how it is here, although you have nothing else to judge it by.."

"They couldn't make it much better.", a girl said. "And we do have something else. They show us what normal life is like on the screen."

"Yeah! And if I didn't know it was necessary, I'd ask them to turn it off!!", a young boy exclaimed, and everyone turned to look at him. "That crap gives me nightmares!" Congratulations. You are now an official member of the club. I get the normal world in my nightmares too.

"When I become Night Director, I'm not going to change it.", an older boy said.

"They've decided it?", a girl asked.

"Yeah. I'm a lot like the Assistant Day Director for this place. Hey, maybe you should go talk to him?", the older boy said.

"I think I'll do that. Remember, I'll always be here for you.", Howard said, and the kids believed him absolutely. As he's done before, he's claiming something that he doesn't have to worry about being wrong about.

We followed Howard back upstairs, and into a room at the far side of the hall. Inside was something that normals might have taken as a joke of some sort- a kid not more than eight years old in a swivel chair that was jacked high enough for him to use the computer, with an apparently smaller keyboard and mouse for his young hands, doing adult work. 'Xavier A. Burgard Assistant Day Director' read the plaque on the desk.

"Hello, Howard.", he said, and his tone was that of an authority respecting a higher one. "Taking another tour, I see."

"Yeah. Hey, where's the Director?"

"You're looking at him." If this was anything but the Illuminati, I would have been amazed. "Six months and it's official- but the guy's basically in retirement already. I just call him up when I need help. Did you come to see me just to finish seeing everyone here?", Xavier asked.

"Basically.", Howard replied. "The place has changed over the years, more efficient. Who gave the directive to tell them about me?"

"He did." He put his hands up as if to say 'I didn't do it.' "Don't look at me- it was his suggestion."

"Don't worry, I'm not hunting heads, just curious. I came here to introduce myself and it turns out that they already know more about me than I'd be willing to talk about." The boy smiled. Is Howard actually embarrassed by something, or does he simply not want to talk about it? The latter is possible, the former I find a bit hard to conceive of.

"Howard, I know what you were trying to do. And it worked. It's good that they all saw you in person."

"It was worth the trip.", Howard replied, nodding. "Anything you want to say to me?"

"Not really.. might want to tell you that we're going to give Quad special things for his macroability when he gets older." What is that word? The opposite of 'disability', probably. I'd just use politically-correct speak and call him 'differently abled'... much different, depending on who's speaking. "Four-armed weapons and a four-armed flight simulator. He'll have lots of fun and the mech engineers will figure out what works. But that stuff's what we're here for."

"You're doing a good job. A few years from now, I'll really appreciate your work.", Howard said. He most definitely will. These kids will facilitate his total domination.

Xavier let out a laugh. "Thanks, Howard."

"I'll be back sometime. Goodbye, Xavier. You know that I'm always around."

"Bye, Howard." We left him and walked back to the tram. I noticed that Paul was thinking of something to say, but was looking for ways to say it. There's so many questions he could be asking, so much he doesn't, can't, fundamentally understand about this place and the people in it, because he's not one of us, just a normal, sentenced to die after a time, not having any of the abilities that make us engineered. Again, I wished for a retrovirus, as a normal kid would want a treatment for his best friend to be able to get out of a wheelchair.

"I don't get it.", he finally said, after we got on the tram and started heading back to the jet. "No, not the obvious stuff, I see why you're doing things the way you are.. everything they can want at their age, advanced learning procedures.. but.. there's something.." The way they act, maybe? The.. ah, I know.

"You're not thinking about the fact that those kids aren't attacking each other, are you?", I asked.

"Yeah- yeah, that's it! No spankings or discipline or... there's nothing to stop them from.." From doing what they just don't do. I'm engineered and I don't understand it completely myself; I'd never be able to explain it to someone who isn't.

Howard explained it instead. "You didn't learn, did you, Paul. You didn't learn at my birthday party, and your normal-born ass isn't learning now. I suppose you didn't observe the ones at my party very well, and you obviously didn't see it here."

"Oookay, Howard Dominus, what the fuck?!", Paul shouted, confused.

"You obviously need a psychology lesson.. but it would take years for you to learn it properly. I'll give you a quick version. Tell me, what psychological rules do normal children of that age follow to make them do those kinds of things?"

"The need for..", Paul said, snapping his fingers. "The need for control. Tribalism. Pack leadership. That can't be gone from humanity, or you guys wouldn't be here."

"Our organization was crafted on such things, yes. But you don't understand where those things come from. It's partially taught, partially inborn. The need for control, that bullying instinct of pack animals, that idea of becoming top dog- it is mildly lessened in humans and completely absent for engineereds. The learned part comes from the parents, who teach their children that physical violence is okay with one's so-called loved ones. If one of these children starts hitting or something- always about five, six months of age if they ever do it, and of course they have no clue what they're really doing- and the other one isn't fighting back, the Enforcers move the aggressor to the other side of the room. If they're both going at it, we leave them alone. They understand very quickly what it is. Theft, vandalism, mockery.. we both teach against these things and they're not inclined to do them." These children learn to function as a group, having individuality without ever stepping on each other's toes. They know what's what, semi-instinctively. Although they may compete for whatever reason, they won't get into real fights.. with each other, anyway. Any normal standing against them at any point in the future is going to get his ass chucked into the fucking meatgrinder...

"Waaait. You said that the need for control didn't exist in engineereds.. and yet you're..", Paul started. His objection makes sense, but it's different, critically different. Powermongering normals want control. To Howard, control is a means, not an end. He wants to upgrade the world, and control is the only way to do it.

"Different kind of control entirely. I only threaten people as psychological manipulation, to get them out of my way. They threaten people because their subconscious demands it. No engineered Illuminatus has ever threatened another one. If I was like normals in that way, I'd be throwing a lot more physical power around, talking sharply to everybody, demanding everything- you've got the mental picture. Uh-uh. I don't throw people around or break limbs as a warning, you know what happens when I get pissed. I'm not the alpha male of the herd, I'm the fucking predator. Keeps the herd in line." Sarah nodded. I realized how effective, how utterly effective, this makes Howard and the people who follow his practices. His goal is to do something, and it's going to be done, and he mostly doesn't care who he has to control and how to do it. And I found myself agreeing with his philosophy. There is no other path for this world but the Dominator's, and I had no emotional objection to that at all.

"Yeah, if you're gonna bother touching them.. it's over. That's exactly why they did it that way, makes you more deadly.. and that answers something else, too.", Paul said.

"You understand. Good.", Howard replied.

"Just one more thing.. those were servants of those kids that I saw, right?", Paul asked, as Sarah did the usual maneuvering with the jet to point it out the hangar.

"Yes, they were."

"So.. do any of those kids want a big house with lots of servants or.."

"None of them do, Paul.", Howard explained, as the jet rocketed into the sky. "This has been documented. Normals, like you, conjure up those kinds of fantasies because they don't feel cared-for, because they want more material things, or because they hunger for power. These kids might want someone to control- but they just want to have someone." What must it be like for a six-year-old who has been taught all about control, well enough to be protected from wrong-word problems, but hasn't ever really used it? 'Wow, I really can make him do anything I want him to! This is so cool! Hey guys, check this out!' The servants are probably made that way from birth as well, taught somewhere else, waiting for the day when they can have a master and so join the rest of the children.

After we ate some nutrient bars and water (running around with those kids burns energy!), Howard rested his head on my shoulder on the flight back, a satisfied smile on his lips. He's seen the future, and he likes it.

After it was too late in the day for Howard to be likely to disturb us, I looked it up with Paul. Yup, I was right. The servant kids are kept in another, separate wing of Northberg Educational until they have a master. What could that be like? For them it was probably just the way life went. They'd have everything except the freedom of the other kids to choose their destinies, and they'd probably never even want it.

You can guess the nightmare.