The shaking in her left leg had gotten worse during her first two weeks as head of the Department of Reproduction Biology. It had started out as an anxious tic. Dr. Sinclaire’s workload had been far too great for even her, which manifested in one instance through this shaking. She had no problems with walking or standing, but when she sat down, no matter how she attempted to put her foot-sole flat to the floor, it still managed to find a way to move. If it wasn’t up and down, then sideways. If not sideways, then the muscles would keep contracting uncomfortably until she allowed it space to move.


    Sinclaire’s initial takeover as head of the Department was still in process. She hadn’t fully transitioned. However, she had gotten up to speed on Dr. Livstrade’s private research as well as gotten a good overview of the different avenues of research they needed to pursue.


    When she had first taken over the office she had sat down while Dr. Livstrade’s body was still dangling. Still warm. She hadn’t exactly touched his body, but she had felt his radiance. And his radiance was fiery even when dead. How could she possibly live up to such a genius researcher? The answer was that she really couldn’t. At least, she wouldn’t be able to go further than Dr. Livstrade if she followed his footsteps. The only option for forward momentum on the reproduction of Sectorians was to take a drastically different path than Dr. Livstrade had done. A path he hadn’t dared to take.


    “System, call Administrator Wu.” A neutral voice responded, “Calling Administrator Wu.”


    The voice which answered the call was much less partial to politeness, “Yes? This better be important.”


    “Mr. Wu, do you really despise my calls so?” A hint of coquettishness laced Dr. Sinclaire’s voice as she stretched the final ‘s’ out just a little too long to be comfortable.


    “Ah, Department-head Sinclaire. I apologize for my earlier standoffishness. I do sincerely hope you can forgive me. What ever can I help you with?” He spoke with a tone which suggested surprise at Sinclaire’s call, but she knew perfectly well that Wu never missed a thing. He was likely one of the most well-informed and intelligent men within the entire Administration department. Only two people had more influence within the Administration department: Department Head Siz Rakkan, and Council Administrator Ben Ortega. Those weren’t people who could be casually contacted and thus Sinclaire’s choice was obvious.


    “I need some test subjects. Five adult Sectorians, five female. And five grown Wardens. Have them delivered to testing floor 1 in my Department of Reproduction Biology. The sooner, the better.”


    “The Sectorians aren’t an issue, but Wardens? I would need permission from my Department Head to supply you with them.”


    “I thought you had some pull within your Department. Curious.” A long pause followed.


    “Give me five minutes.”


    “Alright.” He hung up the call and Sinclaire was left in a state of calm anticipation. She knew her request would be granted. It would signify to the Eye that she had found a new alley of research and that there were some hope for the future yield of Sectorians.


    The only reason Wu would hesitate when it came to the Wardens was because of their role as the attack-dogs of the Eye. All wardens only obeyed the Eye, though not always directly. Some were assigned to the various clans or houses. Others as security details for critical people or researchers. Some were even granted as gifts. Despite this, it was well known that the Eye’s orders would always supersede the orders of anyone who were allowed Wardens as retainers. Thus, in a sense, the Wardens solely belonged to the Eye despite appearances.


    The Department of Cloning handled the generations of Wardens, but due to the limit of their cloning technology they were unable to develop the Wardens with both high intelligence, high physical prowess, as well as loyalty to the Eye. Due to this lack of ability, the cloned Wardens were loyal but simple brutes.


    As far as Sinclaire knew, every attempt at cloning a Warden with high intelligence had led to an eventual betrayal despite any initial loyalty. This had made cloning Wardens with high intelligence heavily restricted. It was only allowed for research purposes unless the Eye itself was involved. If a horde of intelligent Wardens were released, Sinclaire could imagine how they would strategically tear down the Eye. Their minds had transformed to practically become human super-computers, but this had made their growth far too rapid and their intelligence shot past any measurable metrics of the Eye. This intelligence would also be their downfall, unless they had an army, because it generally led to an inflated ego and a view of themselves as gods.


    She had no wish to tangle with hyper-intelligent Wardens. What she wanted were the brutes. Their DNA was nearly identical, but both of their DNA was quite different compared to Sectorians. If she could find a way to fuse a Warden and a Sectorian, then that might solve the issue of virility. It would forge the foundation of another two hundred years of power for the Eye.


    Brutes such as Wardens were perfect in war and as attack dogs, but they couldn’t accomplish any task which required fine-tuned sensibilities or anything beyond using a simple firearm or blade. To most people, that was actually a comfort. If somehow these brutes were able to do complex physical or mental labor in addition to their gigantic size, then their entire existence might become obsolete. Especially Sectorians.


    A grating voice interrupted Sinclaire’s musings. “You can have three Wardens. No more. And none of the dangerous ones.”


    “That’s acceptable. For now. When can I expect them?”


    “Your shipment will be there in approximately 37 minutes.”


    “Thank you, Administrator Wu. One last thing. If you dare feign ignorance as to who is calling you next time, see if I won’t ask for you to experiment on. Surely your administrative skills are quite valuable and would be a prime target for cloning.”


    “Ah, Department-head Sinclaire. I meant no disrespect. It was only my way of congratulating you on your new role. You wouldn’t have the heart to actually hurt me, would you? No matter, I am far too valuable within the Administration Department to be risked. I’ll see you next time then.” He let his derisive comments hang in the air by hanging up without waiting for a reply, worried that she might insist on some limited experimentation that didn’t endanger his life.


    Administrator Wu knew the limits of the old Dr. Livstrade, but he had no clue of the limits Sinclaire would go to in her search for results. Their previous interactions had been limited. He would have to read up on her.


    Sinclaire sighed with relief, despite fully anticipating getting permission to experiment on Wardens. If her conjecture was truly right, then she might be able to solve the issue. Or she might instead create a host of new issues. However, her initial risk assessment had concluded that these issues were unlikely to be worse than the continually decreasing yield of Sectorians.


    The shipment was delivered on time. Sinclaire received it personally in her department’s testing floor 1 and shuttled them into their new chambers. Two of her senior assistants, Jenkins and Port, helped unload the shipment in separated chambers. The entire shipment had been sedated, seemingly inviting her aching curiosity to experiment on them.


    There was something so eerie about experimenting on these humanoid creatures. They looked no different from herself, but they were also foreign. Unfamiliar. Odd. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what, but she felt what she believed to be an instinctive aversion to a race alien from her own. The Sectorians seemed to be different from herself on a purely physical level, but was there something hidden underneath?This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The Wardens, on the other hand, looked human, but their enormous size and replicated muscle structure, physique, facial features, and even fingerprints and brain tissue, made each and every one of them an exact copy of the next one. Sinclaire was reminded of the old androids which used to be commonplace before the fracture had happened. Every community for themselves. Creation and shipments of such technology became unsustainable and eventually impossible with the continuously greater intensity and range of destruction.


    The Eye was a very successful community, at least in Sinclaire’s eyes. Sinclaire had never heard news about foreign powers except for the general notion the Eye explained which suggested that the Eye required more Sectorians and Wardens due to a brewing conflict. With whom she had no idea.


    If the conflict wasn’t already initiated, it would likely be soon if their potential enemies had gathered intelligence on their decreased Sectorian yield.


    For a moment she imagined a dangerous – super-intelligent – Warden infiltrating their enemies. That might just assure their victory. Those things were more machine than human in her eyes. Almost akin to androids wearing human flesh. They would be deadly killers and insidious schemers. Their aim would be true, and their sabotage would cripple the enemy irreparably.


    She sighed. It was unfortunate that given such a high level of intelligence, even the most loyal dog would turn on its master. Why wait for the master to feed oneself when one can simply snatch the food out from under the master’s nose, and take their hand too? No wonder those things had always turned rogue.


    Her mind continued to wander as she hooked up each of her subjects to an extensive life-support system. They wouldn’t need to even wake up before her experiments were finished. She probably wouldn’t need to harm them at all beyond some very simple blood and tissue samples.


    Sinclaire had experimented upon a dozen Sectorians throughout her career, but never a Warden. Her clearance was never high enough. But now it was. Maybe this would lead to the breakthrough she desperately needed right now.


    The needle pierced the Warden’s arm, albeit with some difficulty. The Wardens were monstrous beings who were more muscle than anything else. Their skin had been hardened through genetic modification, and their muscle density was far beyond that of even Significants. Their physical prowess was almost on the level of the silverback gorillas she had read about in history books. Powerful creatures.


    After finishing the samples required from one specimen, she moved on to the next two. The research she had seen revealed that the Wardens had identical DNA, but she wanted to see it for herself. She moved over to the Sectorians to continue sampling.


    All of the samples had been gathered. Because of the variety of tests she wanted to do, Sinclaire had decided to begin by simply using a microscope and then attempting to alter the blood sample and check again later. While Sinclaire was observing the blood samples, four senior doctors working for her helped categorize and measure each sample’s levels.


    The first two days of research were grueling, but Sinclaire and her team had gained a good understanding of the genetic makeup of both Sectorians and Wardens. Most of them had similarly worked with Sectorians before, but they needed more time to properly analyze the Wardens.


    After the initial two days, they began experimenting with possible ways of altering the DNA of the Sectorians by taking inspiration from the Wardens. There had been no way one could clone intelligent Sectorians up to this point. Naturally, it had been attempted, but the resources such projects received were not nearly enough to make actual progress. The core of the matter was that the Eye considered resources spent on cloning more Wardens would be more beneficial compared to also cloning Sectorians. The cost required for the production of clones, and amplifying their growth rate, was not exactly low.


    No theories seemed to pan out for Sinclaire and her team, however. Failure after failure. Sinclaire ordered another round of samples and testing. Then another. Then another. This continued for nearly two months. At that point, Sinclaire felt as though she had tried everything both inside and outside of the book. No matter what, when they took Sectorian DNA as the basis of alteration, the result was a disentanglement of said DNA.


    She had been sitting with her head resting on her hands in the chair previously occupied by Dr. Livstrade himself when her heavy eyelids forced themselves shut. Her hands gave way, and her head smacked the table. Hard. Pain shot into her head as the cold, hard table unflinchingly met flesh and bone. No cracks could be heard, but the entire room looked like it was toppling over and tumbling with her bolted down to the floor. She spun with it. The pain and headache combined, and she couldn’t hold it any longer.


    Sinclaire leaned over to her left, gagged, and then the acidic pre-taste of vomit filled the back of her throat and her nostrils with that putrid taste she was unfortunate enough to be relatively familiar with. At the peak of feeling disgusted at the nausea and acidic taste, her earlier meal came back up again and landed in the trashcan she had been eyeing since the uncomfortable feeling first hit her.


    Luckily for her, there wasn’t a second barrage. When she was about to lean back into her chair, however, she noticed a tiny strip of paper nudged into a crevice underneath her desk. She had no recollection of ever putting it there. Maybe it was something Livstrade had put there…


    The note could wait. First she had to get herself cleaned up. She called up one of her assistants and told her to take care of the trash, as well as any potential spillage, before she went into an adjoining room filled with all sorts of necessities. It was originally a bathroom with a cojoined storage room, but she had put up a small camping cot to sleep on while she was preforming her experiments.


    After she had gotten the nasty taste out of her mouth and made sure she was perfectly clean, she drank some more water before once again returning to her prison cell so deceptively called an “office.”


    The moment she touched the note secreted into the underside of her desk, an intense fear and rage rose up in her simultaneously. At first she had only considered whether or not this was a valuable document Dr. Livstrade had decided to hide, but when her fingers brushed the smooth paper she reconsidered and imagined the note to be a rejection of the Eye. That would not only be horrific, but treacherous. Dr. Livstrade had been dead for more than two months now, but the influence of a great mind wouldn’t stop upon their death. It would only stop when the world which remained after their death forgets their work, their name, their legacy, their very existence.


    Sinclaire had not forgotten. She had not forgotten the intense fury she had experienced when first seeing the despairing embers, the violent inciting incident which spurred her mind to consider what could be if she – like Livstrade – chose to oppose the Eye. And further, this preponderance on possibilities lent itself to considering her own actions and inactions.


    Despite not forgetting the feeling, she hadn’t digested it. She hadn’t overcome her innate revulsion of it. Her disdain at such weakness, and at the audacity of betraying the Eye. Would opening this note and reading a secret she wouldn’t be able to confess she knew to the Eye, be a betrayal? Would the simple state of knowing the unknowable make her a target? There was no way to know definitively.


    The mandates asserted control without giving many rules or laws, but even if one was in perfect alignment with the mandates one can still never be safe from the whims of the Eye and their enforcers. The Wardens she herself was experimenting on. Not to mention the administrative department, their extensive intelligence network, as well as the possibility of being exposed by her subordinates.


    It truly wasn’t worth the risk. Her fingers pinched the note and slowly dragged it out of its hiding place. It resisted her desperately, seemingly knowing the secrets it contained wasn’t for her eyes. Maybe it was something as simple as an apology for his sudden death, or a critical piece of information which she could use to fuel her own research. She would be required to read it, to assure whether or not its contents could potentially be helpful. Right. The Eye could not possibly blame her for this.


    She unfurled the note completely while it was still underneath the desk. It seemed to be half of a normal page. It had been ripped away from the second half. She wondered where that half had gone. Did that half contain the real damning information? Or was it left blank? There was no way to tell.


    Her breathing had already halted ten seconds earlier, but she was still holding the paper without moving. Only her left leg was shaking almost imperceptibly. Then she pulled the paper out and stared down at it with great expectation.


    To the next Department Head. Your life is threatened in the same way mine was. Never doubt that. You are expendable. Your life means nothing to the Eye. Don’t let my mistakes define your impression of me. I only want to give you – all of you – a chance. The Eye has grown complacent, arrogant. They believe themselves infallible, but I have seen what they are up against. They will lose. My contingency plan was not complete. You need to complete it before the Eye does irreparable damage to our entire society. You will find what you need in the back-left of containment room 138-C. Put your hand on the wall, and you will understand. -L