I really should come to Northberg's children more often- I've only done it twice before, bringing my servants neither time. Of course, if I did it too often, I'd be widely suspected of corrupting the children for my own purposes, too many other Illuminati would figure out my plan, and a tug-of-war of sorts would break out, and that's bad for everyone involved. I tell anyone asking that it's for personal reasons, and in part, it is: seeing very young, engineered children can't help but remind me of my own upbringing.

The jet landed in the usual place and the light-rail system took us to the 1987-built educational facility, the plastic bubble immune to the driving snow and the fast winds. The facility wasn't particularly large- perhaps the width and length of a normal school, but several floors underground. It only holds about two hundred children at one time; I opened up the mini-screen and found out that only 139 were in there right now, the oldest of them being 90 months- and he's spending more time in the educational facility because that's where he's going to work his whole life, as the director.

I took a moment to reflect on the practices. It used to be that the sons and daughters of Illuminati didn't always have a chance to follow in their parents' footsteps. Recruiting was always considered better than breeding, because it was held that the superior quality- the Illuminism- can be found easily in a society of millions of people, instead of the risk taken with breeding. With the advent of genetics technology, however, all of these children are partially engineered, so all of them- certainly every last one- are much better than anyone you'd get from recruiting. Thus, that's a thing to keep in mind: I'm talking to future Illuminati.

Another thing to keep in mind is that I have to make this experience memorable, as I attempted to do the previous two times, for absolutely every last one of the children. It's a very, very simple idea: make the kids associate memories of me with the emotions of love, trust, and pleasure. Now, for normal children, this is easy because they don't have the abundance of material things. You can get in through their wants, very simply. Hand them some forbidden fruit (candy, etc) and the love will be instant. With these children, it is much harder; you have to get in through their minds because they already have everything they want. Giving them something they have never thought of wanting is a poor decision because it would instantly clue everyone in to what I'm really trying to do- and if I find something physical that they can't get again, assuming such a thing exists, they'll eventually associate me with 'the super friend that doesn't show up enough'. Tantalization is bad.

Making this a lot easier is the fact that these children do not have adult figures in their lives.

As I did the previous two times, I started with the youngest first. With the 2 or 3-month-old infants, it's not possible to get them to remember a face very well as they do not yet have the concept of object permanence- they don't understand that an object sticks around after it disappears from their field of vision. We quietly stepped into the soundproof, soft-carpeted, four hundred square meter infants' room. There were several high-resolution screens on the ceiling, with a corresponding low-pitch voice. Along the far wall were several mechanically-controlled cribs silently holding the youngest of the young who could not yet crawl, and a separate room for the sleepers- a room that would be gone back and forth to quite quickly; infants' sleep cycles are erratic and rapid. Bottle nozzles lined the walls, near the floor. At the corners, four Enforcers stood silently next to diaper-changing tables, one's jackboots freshly cleaned- the result of puke or crap, probably. In the middle, among their numerous toys, several children in various brightly-colored bodysuits were crawling along and playing games which only they (and a handful of expert child psychologists) truly understood, speaking half-formed Latin; these children are taught the language even as their nervous systems begin to understand what external stimuli are. Some of the children just watched the three of us, inquisitive but unable to form the thoughts to ask questions that would mean anything. One eight-month-old girl sat up, looked at me, and said, "White hair. Long white hair." in Latin. Most of the children in the room were blond, including one of the two Asians.

I squatted down near her level, smiled, looked her in the eye, and replied, "Yup, that's me. Howard has long white hair.", using Latin as well, then picked her up to carry around for a bit. Her tiny right hand gently grasped the back of my neck.

And then I saw Quadrus, in the middle of them all, playing an odd game of wrestling with three other children. His light blue bodysuit covered him from his neck to all 22 of his hands' digits to his feet. He broke away from the others, used his lower set of hands to climb to his feet (it seemed to take quite a bit of his engineered power, which would be no surprise at his age), and just looked at me. "Hi, Quad-Braach!", the girl shouted, right next to my ear.

"Kay-ti.", Quad said, looking at her. "Hi, Ka-tie. Tih- tih- tibi nomen. Tibi nomen.", he continued, looking at me. Many of the other children had stopped their ongoing activity to look at the stranger in their midst.

"Howard."

"How-ad. Howad.", he said, uncertainly. He then looked at Billy, then back at me, then slowly back at Billy. It was all I could do to keep a straight face. I hadn't brought the servants before, thinking that they would distract attention- then, about a month or so ago, logic took hold of me and I realized that the visual effect of having more bodies in the room, coupled with the children's general understanding of color symbolism, would cause them to recognize that someone important had entered the room.

I sat down, and Katie jumped off my shoulder. "Quad.. you don't remember who I am, and you're probably not going to understand this. I'm your father.", I told him in Latin. Strangely enough, he started laughing- and so did some of the children and then every other child in the room, simply out of imitation, the wave of giggling rising and falling as the children got bored of it. What in the world could a six-month-old find funny...

He was frowning in the usual baby way, searching his brain for the words. "Duu..braki! Dubraucki!", he said, spitting out the words. Oh.. I get it. In order to show the children what a 'family' was, the educators probably showed the children pictures of families whose children were exactly like their parents, teaching them a Mendelian lesson as soon as possible, and prompting the conclusion that in order to be his father, I'd need to have the same number of arms that he does. But the understanding of full sentences at that age is Enforcer-speed teaching.. I looked up at the screen to see how they were doing it- yup. A constant stream of information: large, bright pictures, small words on the top right, a soothing, low-pitched voice from the side speakers which, if they crawled next to, would drown out screaming. Not that these kids had reason to scream very often- they did not fight, they did not interfere with each other very much, even at the age where they are just learning to interact with their (and it IS their..) world. Engineering. It's all engineering, genetic and educational. I don't remember anything from that age, so I'll just have to guess they've further perfected their technique far beyond what I experienced. "I'm not surprised you don't believe me.", I told Quad in Latin.

I gently talked to almost every child in the room. One of the children seemed to like being chucked into the air some- the other children simply continued to watch me, even during their diaper changes- Enforcers do that in about five seconds. I knew I did all I could when the children frowned and cried at my departure, but I had many more of them to visit today. I left as gently as I could, not saying that I'd be back. An hour is a long time to them; they'd probably think I was lying if I didn't come back in two.

The adjacent room was full of 1-2 year old children, who immediately looked at me from the get-go. "Howard!", a boy shrieked. "Dom-ee-nus!" another girl observed, as the rest of them followed suit. They didn't know who I was the last two times they saw me, and I never told them I'm the Dominator either of those times. It appears that they're being educated on who's who earlier and earlier. I'll have to check records for this, I noted as I looked about the room.

It was approximately the same size of the last one, the children engaging in much the same games with slightly more complicated toys, the screens exactly the same size but with different programming, the dispensers along the walls providing what I'd logically guess to be different-tasting, different-colored (you could see the stains on the carpet) substances, and probably the exact same nutritional value for all of them. I sampled some from the plastic bowl attached to the floor- it was sweet and incredibly high in protein, if nothing else.

"So you kids know who I am. I didn't think they were teaching that at your age.", I said in Latin. They only smiled at me in reply. I went about introducing myself in the same way, and looked around- there were annexed bedrooms, other, much smaller rooms (probably for privacy), and a bathroom with a few very small toilets in it. As they grow older, they need more and more space- not just relative to their body size, but relative to the complexity at which they live.

It was strange, if nothing else. All of the children had an urge to touch me, to see if I was real. Yup, here I am, kids. I made a point of picking almost every last one of them up and looking into their eyes as I did so. Because they know who I am, the goal is simply to get them to treat me as a friend. I didn't stay all that long- but half an hour is an eternity to toddlers.

The next sub-part- for 3-4 year olds- was much, much larger, with multiple sub-rooms for each one. These children, I noted, are constantly active- unless, of course, they are asleep- which, judging from the number of children asleep in the large, soundproofed, individualized bedrooms, is not governed by night or day. They knew who I was, of course, and they all paid at least some attention to me, even the ones that were thoroughly engaged in play. They were busy in whatever it was that they were doing, but they slowly ceased and came up to me, sitting down near my feet. They didn't say anything. This didn't happen the last two times... why aren't they speaking?

"None of you are saying anything.", I said to them in Latin. They smiled a bit. "Is this somebody's practical joke?", I asked, still using Latin. They laughed some, almost in unison.

"No...", one said, in English. He looked to be one of the oldest, and he enunciated his English slowly and carefully. "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 shut off just then and I realize that someone- probably an Enforcer- was on the other end of it and had noticed that no one was watching.

"Ohhhhh.", said a three year old. "I dint know." But he didn't talk that whole time as well. There is an important distinction to be made here. It's not that he simply went along to go along, as ovine normals will. It's that he went along because he believed that the others knew what they were doing.

My brain processed tidbits of information. These kids- far below the age where normal children even begin to act in this way- are making decisions as a group, coming to agreements and actively seeking each other for things like this? I knew, of course, that they've got the brainpower; but I had no clue that they'd summon up the organization to do that. This line of thinking lends itself to two opposite conclusions, hinging on one critical piece of information. If they like me, which they seem to, I can have the smoothest Illuminati running- ever. If they learn not to like me, I'm kibbles and Howard bits. I realized that I was on-the-spot as much as- if not more than- my original speech.

I squatted down and motioned for my servants to do the same. "Well, what do you want me to say?"

In return, I got a chorus of "Why's he wearing black?" and a "Weird duplication!" in Latin, and, from the oldest, "What the fuck is going on with that twin stuff?"

I didn't want to bore them so I gave them the basics. A couple of them struggled to stop laughing. A few didn't struggle at all. Some of them just hung their heads and muttered about the insanity of it in Latin, and others did an excellent impression of a traditional "Mwa ha ha!". A pair of twins just looked at each other and for some odd reason I visualized both of them saying 'You wouldn't!' simultaneously. The remainder didn't react. I wonder if what I told them is going to cause any nightmares?

"You.. " a blonde girl started, before reverting to Latin. "You should let him go."

I cocked my right forefinger to my head and pretended to blow my brains out. "That's suicide. You'll eventually learn why.", I replied in Latin. She did not look convinced but said nothing. "Anything else?"

"Can I have my own servant?", another girl asked, smiling widely.

"You'll have to ask the Director.", I said. She nodded rapidly. The answer would probably be yes. I thought for a moment on why none of these children didn't have one, and just took a guess- they don't see a need. And yet my simple presence, as this little girl saw me, created a need. Everything you do is advertising to a child; if they see someone with power doing a thing, they will gravitate towards the behavior. In this, there is no exception for the engineereds; in fact, they simply get notions faster. Note to self: Remember this well. "Anything else?"

"Howard, when I become a dult.. adult, can I be first le-level?", a boy, one of the younger ones, asked, sitting up from a laying-down 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." As illustrated by the current Illuminati engineered population. He smiled, said okay, and laid back down. "Anything else?" A young girl ran off just then, as fast as she could, straight to her room's miniaturized bathroom. The rest of them looked at me, looking for questions.

"Howard..", a boy started. "I get a lot of nightmares. Can you help?" I took a few tenths of a second to choose a reply.

"Billy, you help him."

"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.", he said, pointing upwards. "Watch them and have fun. They can't hurt you." Obviously the boy never considered that before, and he sputtered out some gratitude and grinned to himself for the rest of the time I saw him.

There was nothing else. Some of the children asked to hug me before I left, again seeing if I was real; I obliged each and every one of them.

We continued on to the 5-6 year olds' room, which was bigger, more intricate.. and far more deserted. A total of seven kids were taking advantage of the main room's empty space by tossing a frisbee around. One of the kids slipped a bit and ended up throwing it to an Enforcer, which tossed it back exactly the way it had came.

"Where is everyone?", I asked. Every last one turned to look at me.

"Oh.. they're in the gym.", a spunky, short-haired, all pink-clad girl said, her loose clothing hiding her engineered form from the neck down. "We didn't know you were coming. Hey.. is that the Sarah?"

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

"Oh.. I didn't know you..", she said, looking back at me and then at Billy, dismayed her heroine had ended up implanted. Don't worry, little girl, it's all right- she's still at the top of her profession, after all. "It's nice to meet you, Sarah. I've seen all your work."

"All of it?", Sarah asked. That's a good deal of assassinations. A girl that age would have to have a serious interest in the subject to watch all of Sarah's kills.

"Every one. You're good. You got screwed though.", the girl replied, frowning a bit. Some of the other children giggled a bit.

"Yeah, tell me about it.. Murphy's Law, kid..." Well, it went perfectly right for me. "but they've probably already taught you not to trust anyone."

"I know.", she said, still frowning. "At least you're alive."

"So Dominator..", a blonde-haired boy said, sitting down, leaning on his white gloves with six holes for fingers and wrinkling his intricately-designed, red, long-sleeved shirt. His tan pants and white shoes showed his feet leaning apart. His two dark-haired, black-clad servants, who had also been playing, squatted down close to him. "You're not gonna.. acquire anyone else, are ya?" His paranoia shone through his nonchalance. And my interest is showing. I'm not sure why I'm looking so close at him, but I.. oh, yes. His DNA is probably much more derived from mine than the other children's are.

"Not planning to."

"Okay.. good."

The kid who was holding the frisbee finally chucked it, his target the girl who had spoken earlier. His was a hard throw- hers was an equally hard catch, her retractable cat-claws helping in her grab. She flipped it into the air for a while before passing it to another, light-blue-haired boy.

"What's it like? I mean.. being the Dominator and all.", that boy said, chucking the frisbee off to another girl.

"It's a pain in the ass.", I answered. All of them were laughing and the receiving girl almost missed her catch because of it. "Of course, power has its privileges, but I get lots of crap. Just ask Billy."

Billy took the cue. "Yes, kids.. he does get a lot of crap. Guys seeking power, morons wanting overthrow.. assorted random assholes who, happy days, 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 light-blue-haired boy said, as the frisbee made its way back to him.

"You know the answer to that.", I said, smiling. "Anything I should know from any of you? Any problems?" The replies were negative, with an implied hint of 'of course not'. I bid my goodbyes, they reciprocated, and we went to the gym, two stories underground.

I've never been there before. A huge swimming pool, a grass field, and a basketball court, all fenced off via glass walls, were the larger areas, the kids at the basketball court. The match appeared to be boys on the left vs. girls on the right, the nets at six feet tall, and the ball the right size for their small forms. They darted back and forth with my speed, stealing the ball often. A girl grabbed it from a younger boy and threw it perfectly into the hoop. "Hey, Howard!", a boy shouted, happily, as his teammate- a servant- took the ball and passed it to another. The rest of them joined in with greetings, although they did not divert their attention from the game. It's a shame I didn't have anyone to play with when I was their age a bit more than half a decade ago.

"Hello, all." Better to let them come to me than to intrude upon them- they're busy. "Anything any of you want to tell me? Anything at all."

"Yeah. I wish I was fully engineered.", a younger boy- probably the youngest there- said, prompting the laughter of his fellows. "It would make me better at this and I'd get the ball more often!" General laughter followed that, and the boy with the ball passed it to him- but the youngest boy had to ditch it to a teammate quickly as he was being surrounded by opposing girls. That boy shot and scored.

"You might be even better engineered than I am.", I told him. "'Fully' is meaning less and less." These children only bear a slight genetic resemblance to their parents, if they have any. The pressure to create more powerful children in lieu of the parents' DNA is incredible.

"I know that most of those girls are better than I am.", Sarah said into my ear. "Those throws, that coordination, at that age? I didn't have it." Paul walked around me, to get a better look, watching the new humanity in silence. 'Beauty', like so many other terms dealing with relative quality, is a slippery thing, in the eye of the beholder. Therefore, I can only say with certainly that I found the match beautiful- the carefully-created grace of their bodies, the dashing speed of the thrown ball, the in-tandem movements of offense and defense, the occasional outrage of a couple of boys as one of the older girls stripped the ball from them to pass it, the receiving girl making another shot. I only saw one miss- and the boy making that shot was covered fairly heavily.

"We're not gonna win this.. we're down by 6, one minute to go.", one of the oldest boys informed his team, looking at the wall clock, which counted down from :58, showing a score of 40-34. The girls scored again, the boys scored again, and it was over, and some boys shouted in frustration. One of the boys started making more practice shots, indicated his desire to play again, and did so with a smaller group. The others walked up to us and started asking children's questions- what's it like being the Dominator (I gave them the same answer I had the other, red-shirted boy, with the same results), what's it like trying to keep all those normal-born Illuminati together, what do I do for fun, stuff like that. They asked Sarah, Billy, and Paul questions as well, all sorts of stuff about doing things and killing people. Eventually they waved goodbye, smiling.

"Hey, Howard. The rest of us against you and your servants.", the boy who had invited the others to play a second time said when the others left. That would be ten young engineereds against three older engineereds and a normal.

I shrugged and nodded. "All right, you've got it."

"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." Allowing their small forms to grab it mid-throw or mid-dribble, eliminating some of the height advantage.

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

I informed them of Paul's normal status. The reaction was instant. "Whaat?! He's a normal?!", Ralphie said, rushing forward. "Other than.. than the Operator and some of the biotechnicians, I've never even SEEN one before! What's your name?"

"Paul.", he informed the grinning boy.

"You wouldn't even.." Ralphie jumped up and slashed his fingers a millimeter from Paul's throat, and I noticed that he was purposefully moving relatively slow. They all laughed as Paul flinched a hundred milliseconds after Ralphie's stroke was finished.

"Fine. Ten on three, but we're still going to lose.", the girl said.

Another boy said "Ten minutes." to the Enforcer, the clock was set to 10:00, we walked over to the right side of the court, Ralphie took the ball, and the game began with all ten of them rushing us, the ball going back and forth, leaving Paul mostly confused. One of them dribbled, I reached down to grab it, and another boy stole it immediately and passed it to the girl who had spoken before. She tried to pass it to a teammate, but Sarah tipped it with her fingers, grabbed it after the first bounce, ran past the middle line, and threw it up in the air and flat-handed it into the net, just to show that she could. The Enforcer blew the whistle.

"Count it.", Ralphie said to the Enforcer, and a 3 appeared on the right team's display. "But don't double-hit it anymore!", he said to Sarah, who nodded, slightly embarrassed. Ah, yes. Rules violation.

They passed it forward rapidly, throwing it back and forth. The girl who had spoken earlier chucked it too high to Ralphie, Sarah nabbed it, darted across the line, and casually chucked it in.

"We can't WIN this!", one of the other boys shouted. "They don't have to go far enough!"

"How about we go within the three-point line?", I suggested, eliciting a general affirmative response.

Another, light-blue-clad girl took it this time, and passed it immediately to another girl, who rushed up. I moved to place myself in front, reached out to grab the ball, and she chucked it right between my legs- there was no way even I could bring them together quick enough. Billy went for it, but couldn't- the boy who had taken it had already passed it to the most talkative girl, who tried to pass it- Paul, to everyone's surprise, managed to get a hand out, tipping the ball. It went directly to Ralphie, and Sarah couldn't get there quick enough to stop the immediate 2-point shot.

I received the ball and threw it full force at Billy- and a blue blur caught the ball mid-throw, the basketball impacting his young hands with a surprisingly loud crack. He tried to shoot and I grabbed it on the way up, launched it at Sarah, who immediately dribbled it forward to toss it at the backboard and right through the net.

The game continued in much the same vein until it ended in our favor, 30-20, with Paul only influencing the game a couple of times. Although they may be half our size, these kids are obviously very, very quick.

"That was good. You guys are good.", a blue-clad boy- the blue blur- said, smiling. "So why did you come here to play with us?" I could not afford to equivocate.

"I have to let you all know that I'm here, that I'm not just some face on the screen. This is your Dominator speaking, I'd like you to know who I am." Some laughter greeted that.

"Well, we know that, we even know about him and her.", he said, motioning to Billy and Sarah. "Or someone definitely would have asked!"

"They taught that to you?"

"Lots of stuff about you." I was taken aback, and everyone on the court noticed it.

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

"Yeah. We know allllll of it.", Ralphie said, causing his fellows to laugh. Good. They're being trained properly. I could, of course, make my personal information private, but why would I want to do that? These kids are obviously learning the virtues of knowing who you're dealing with.

"I guess I don't have to talk about me much more, then." The kids laughed. "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!", a young boy blurted out. "And if I didn't know it was necessary, I'd ask them to turn it off!!" Everyone looked at him. "That crap gives me nightmares!"

"When I become Night Director, I'm not going to change it.", one of the older boys said.

"They've decided it?", one of the girls asked.

"Yeah. I'm a lot like the Assistant Day Director for this place. Hey, maybe you should go talk to him?" That's the 90-month-old I noted before.

"I think I'll do that. Remember, I'll always be here for you.", I said to them as I walked out of the gym.

There wasn't an assistant's room, so I walked into the Director's room and found.. who I was looking for. The boy was sitting at a desk, his adjustable chair jacked up so that he's sitting at my height. The desk- complete with small-sized keyboard and computer- was obviously meant to be simply a smaller version of what an adult would use. I should know, I've had such things before. The desk's identity plaque read 'Xavier A. Burgard' on the first line and 'Assistant Day Director' on the second.

"Hello, Howard.", he said. "Taking another tour, I see."

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

"You're looking at him. 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?"

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

"He did." He put his hands up in the traditional 'Not my issue' gesture. "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." He smiled a bit at that.

"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.", I agreed. "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." I wracked my brain for a better opposite of 'disability' but couldn't find one. "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."

He laughed a bit. "Thanks, Howard."

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

"Bye, Howard." I took my leave of his office and the facility.

As the magnetic levitation took us out the same way we came in, Paul was scratching his head absently. "I don't get it.", he said finally. "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.." Paul searched his brain.

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

"Yeah- yeah, that's it! No spankings or discipline or... there's nothing to stop them from.."

"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.", I replied.

"Oookay, Howard Dominus, what the fuck?!"

"You obviously need a psychology lesson.." And a retrovirus, but he already knows that. "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.." He snapped his fingers a bit. "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."

"Waaait. You said that the need for control didn't exist in engineereds.. and yet you're.." The Dominator. Paul, although normal and relatively unschooled, is capable of logic. We got out of the tram and walked to the jet.

"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 only smiled. Billy had a neutral expression.

"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."

"You understand. Good."

"Just one more thing.. those were servants of those kids that I saw, right?", Paul asked, as Sarah started the jet's usual pre-flight sequence.

"Yes, they were." They're not wearing black for the fun of it.

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

I talked as the acceleration pushed us back into the seats. "None of them do, Paul. 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." Why wouldn't they? Frankly I'm surprised I didn't see more servants, and I'm sure the engineered-servant part of Northberg (a place I generally don't visit- no point) isn't running low. Probably there's some sort of special restriction, because young children, even extremely smart ones, are likely to use the wrong words and get somebody hurt or killed with a slip of the tongue. As I can testify personally, engineered servants are far more dangerous than guns.

After a meal of nutrient bars and water (keeping up with those kids is enervating!), I rested my head on Billy's shoulder and smiled. That was great, being there with those kids. I felt a tugging on my mind, the urge to get the End of Secrecy done and over with, lead them boldly into the future. Patience, I told myself. Patience! The End of Secrecy can only happen once, after all, and it has to be done right (we are vastly outnumbered, after all!), otherwise we're going to have a lot of dead engineereds- a thing I can't allow to happen. I am the Dominator; I have power, I have responsibility, and I'm going to use the former to fulfill the latter.

I had wonderful dreams that night.