by James Morcan
“Always absorb as much as you possibly can, but never in an obvious way. Subtlety must always be your mode of operation.”
Kentbridge illustrated the point by casually scratching his nose as he observed a house to his right then pretended to check his pocket for money as he glanced at an empty section to his left. Then he bent down and tied up his shoe laces as he studied passing vehicles. Standing up, he resumed walking along the street, followed by his attentive young charges.
Reaching the end of the street, Kentbridge turned to them. “Right, now ask me anything about this street.”
Number Eighteen, an Asian boy, piped up, “What was the flag outside the red bungalow?”
“A Mexican flag,” Kentbridge answered without hesitation. “Not the modern Mexican flag, but the old one dating back to the early Nineteenth Century.”
Seventeen raised her hand. Kentbridge nodded to her. Fixing her intense blue eyes on him, Seventeen asked, “How many mailboxes were there outside the apartment block with the large parking lot?”
“Ninety six,” Kentbridge answered emphatically. Like his orphans, he had a highly-trained photographic memory.
Nine stepped forward. “What was the number plate of the motorcycle that went past earlier on?”
Kentbridge hesitated. It was only for a second, but that was long enough to give Nine a moment’s hope that he could beat his master at his own game. The Omega agent looked up the street as he searched his mind. He then recited the number plate, the make and model of the motorcycle and the approximate age and weight of its male rider.
Man, he’s good. Nine felt a mixture of admiration and envy as he observed his mentor. One day I’m gonna be better than you, Tommy. Just to spite you.
Kentbridge led the orphans back the way they’d come. On reaching the orphanage’s front lawn, he questioned his charges to test their own observational skills.
Awaiting his turn to be tested, Nine noticed a removals van parked in the driveway of Helen’s apartment building. Removals men were busy loading furniture into the van. Nine’s interest was piqued when he saw Helen’s father helping the men. It took him a moment to comprehend what was happening. The realization hit him that Helen and her father were leaving the neighborhood.
How can you be moving out already? You’ve only just arrived in Riverdale.
Nine felt numb as the painful truth set in. He would never actually meet Helen even though, right now, she was the center of his universe.
“Nine, describe the roadworks sign back at the intersection.”
Kentbridge’s commanding voice snapped Nine out of his trance. Seventeen and some of the others laughed when they noticed their fellow orphan had been daydreaming. A stern Kentbridge stood over Nine, arms folded, clearly expecting the boy to get his act together.
Refocusing, Nine looked up at the agent. “It was a white sign with a red triangle containing the warning: drive carefully – roadworks ahead.”
Kentbridge didn’t acknowledge the total accuracy of Nine’s answer. Instead, he motioned to the children to follow him inside. As he led them into the orphanage grounds, he assessed Nine’s emotional state. He could see the boy was upset about something.
Approaching the building’s front door, Nine glanced back at the removals truck in time to see Helen’s father signing some paperwork. Then he saw Helen. She was wearing a backpack and carrying a suitcase. Nine felt his world was coming to an end.
She’s definitely moving out.
Just before the orphanage’s front door closed behind him, Nine’s razor-sharp vision saw the name Katsarakis written in big letters on the side of Helen’s suitcase.
#
That evening, under Kentbridge’s watchful eye, the orphans took their White Gold Powder before dossing down in the large open-plan room that served as their sleeping quarters on the orphanage’s first floor.
They all wore neuromagnetic helmets. These would stay on their heads until morning. The orphans understood the device they wore was an example of the almost infinite number of scientific breakthroughs made by the military and secret organizations – breakthroughs the public were never privy to. Rare earth magnets were embedded inside each helmet for the purpose of activating certain brain glands. Glands that were dormant in the average person. Doctor Pedemont’s research had revealed the magnets were most effective in advancing the orphans’ brains when used during sleep.
As he ingested his White Gold dosage, Nine found he was experiencing a growing sense of loss at the realization he would never see Helen again. It felt like his heart had been ripped out. The feelings he had for the beautiful girl next door were rapidly being replaced by a horrible emptiness.
Standing by the door, Kentbridge did a quick headcount to confirm all the children were present. Nine alone studied the agent’s face as he counted. The boy could never have guessed that behind his usual cold expression, Kentbridge was incredibly fond of his orphans – or his students, as he thought of them. He took no small amount of pride from the accomplishments they’d already notched up in their short lives. And rightly so. After all, he’d had by far the most input into their intensive upbringing.
Kentbridge looked on as the orphans knelt beside their beds and recited their daily affirmation.
I am an Omegan and a polymath.
Whatever I set my mind to, I always achieve.
The limitations that apply to the rest of humanity,
Do not apply to me.
Observing his orphans as they completed the affirmation and climbed into their beds, Kentbridge wondered how they’d accept the changes he knew would be coming their way. For the time being, it suited Omega to allow the boys and girls to share the same sleeping quarters, but that would end as soon as the oldest reached their teenage years.
It was inevitable some would develop feelings for their fellow orphans – feelings that would go beyond brotherly and sisterly companionship. That would present a whole new set of problems, which Kentbridge preferred not to think about for the moment.
“Get a good night’s rest, team,” he said as he turned out the lights. “Our Omega founders are visiting tomorrow and we’ll need to put on a good show for them.”
#
Lying wide awake in the darkness with his neuromagnetic helmet fastened tight on his head, Nine felt nothing but bitterness inside. He knew if he’d been born into a normal existence, he would have had been able to meet Helen and maybe even take her to the movies or help with her homework at least. Her sultry Mediterranean beauty filled his mind’s eye.
The sound of sobbing nearby distracted him. Someone switched on a bedside lamp and Nine immediately saw the sobbing came from Twenty One, a young, pale-skinned, brown-haired boy. Nine wasn’t surprised. Emotionally, Twenty One was the most fragile of all the orphans and had always had problems coping with the unique lifestyle that had been forced on them. He cried himself to sleep most nights and sometimes woke screaming from a nightmare.
“Cry baby!” Seventeen yelled, laughing aloud at the boy’s sobbing. It was a throaty, merciless laugh.
One, the oldest orphan, rolled out of bed and hurried over to comfort Twenty One. Sitting on the edge of the still sobbing boy’s bed, the mature Native American orphan whispered words of comfort. Twenty One gradually calmed down and the sobbing subsided.
As Numero Uno returned to his bed, and the large room was plunged back into darkness, Nine’s thoughts returned to Helen. He wondered where she and her father were moving to. Another city? He hoped not. Another state? He shuddered at the thought. Another country? That didn’t bear thinking about.
Whatever the case, he knew he’d never get to meet her now. His romantic fantasy had proven to be just that: a fantasy.
Nine had long since realized that wishing for anything that didn’t fit with the Omega Agency’s agenda, for himself or the other orphans, was pure fantasy. Nothing was possible without the agency’s blessing. Animals have more freedom than us.
As his resentment toward Ome
ga grew, he imagined wreaking havoc on his masters. He would love nothing better than for them to experience the emotional and mental anguish he and his fellow orphans endured each day.
Bastards.
Nine was surprised by the level of rage he felt inside. He’d reached the end of his tether and all he could think about was destroying his Omega masters and securing his freedom. The more he thought about it, the more he warmed to the idea.
I have to kill them.
Nine was aware the course of action he was considering would be tantamount to a suicide mission. It would be him, a mere boy, against the mighty Omega Agency. And they wouldn’t take kindly to one of their orphans – one of their major investments – rebelling. But he didn’t care. Now that he’d lost Helen, he was no longer concerned for his own wellbeing.
The dye was cast. He’d do it.
Come what may.
10
Naylor shook with fear as Nine pressed the tip of a wickedly sharp kitchen knife against his throat.
Nine was in the process of taking the Omega director hostage, and he was enjoying the sudden power reversal. Now that Helen had gone, he didn’t care about his own safety anymore. He just wanted to inflict pain on his masters.
Sweat rolled down Naylor’s face and his lazy eye worked overtime, swiveling left and right, as he desperately pondered his predicament. The knife his attacker held remained pressed against his throat. He sensed Nine meant to kill him.
Standing directly behind Naylor, Nine looked out at his stunned audience over his hostage’s shoulder. Kentbridge and the other orphans stood directly in front of him. Behind them, seated along one wall, were the Omega founders and staffers whose number included Marcia Wilson, Nurse Hilda and Doctor Pedemont.
“Listen up, you sick bastards,” Nine shouted triumphantly at the adults. “You’re going to give us our freedom!” He looked pointedly at his fellow orphans, expecting them to join him. Only Twenty One, the emotional boy who had sobbed himself to sleep the previous night, joined Nine. The others remained rooted to the spot alongside Kentbridge, including Seventeen who shook her head. Undeterred, Nine kept his knife at Naylor’s throat.
Kentbridge cautiously approached Nine. “Don’t do anything stupid, son.”
“Free us now, or you’ll be searching for another director.” Nine pricked Naylor’s neck with the knife. Its point drew blood. Naylor appeared close to collapsing.
“How far do you think you’ll get?” Kentbridge asked. “Even if you get out of Riverdale, or Chicago, or Illinois, we have you microchipped, remember?” He pointed to Twenty One. “And what about him?” Kentbridge glared at the younger orphan who wilted under his master’s gaze.
For the first time, Nine felt a stab of apprehension. He glanced sideways at Twenty One and cursed the microchip Omega had embedded in the forearm of each orphan.
“Even if you performed a miracle and escaped for a while,” Kentbridge continued, “we’ll catch Twenty One and he’ll pay for your transgressions as well as his own.”
Defeated, Nine lowered his knife and released Naylor. Two burly staffers leapt on Nine and wrestled him to the floor. Doctor Pedemont then jabbed a needle into Nine’s shoulder to quash the rebellion once and for all.
Strangely, the doctor kept jabbing him in the shoulder with the needle.
Nine opened his eyes to discover his friend, Ten, tapping him on the shoulder. “You’re going to be late for breakfast, sunshine.”
Looking around wildly, it dawned on Nine he’d been dreaming.
“Can’t afford to be late this morning,” Ten added as he watched Nine climb out of bed and pull the neuromagnetic helmet off his head.
Nine tried to put the bad dream out of his mind, but it wouldn’t go away. He pondered its meaning for a second, before noticing Ten was still watching him. The orphanage’s resident joker grinned at him mischievously. Nine wondered how he could almost always conjure up humor out of their miserable existence.
“Our Omega founders are visiting today,” Ten mimicked Kentbridge’s voice as he quoted their master almost verbatim. “We’ll need to put on a darn good show for them!”
Despite his depressed state, Nine couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
11
In the Pedemont Orphanage’s basement, the children performed various demonstrations for the benefit of the Omega Agency’s twelve founding members. These were designed to display the youngsters’ superior skills and intellects.
The orphan prodigies had been split up into groups by Kentbridge who orchestrated proceedings, ensuring everything ran like clockwork.
Nine was one of a group of six who played chess in pairs. These were rapid-fire matches known as Lightning Chess in which entire games were completed in ten minutes or less – an achievement only possible because of the personal tuition provided by two chess grandmasters recruited by Omega. Some of the moves were completed so quickly they were a blur to the eye of any onlooker.
Other small groups of orphans demonstrated skills ranging from mastery of languages to memory exercises to the solving of complex mathematical equations.
The agency’s founders circulated around the basement, closely watching the various activities. Naylor, who was one of Omega’s twelve founding members, accompanied the guests. Playing the role of host, he was determined the ruling council’s annual visit would be a total success.
Between chess moves, Nine had one or two seconds to observe the man who had featured in his dream of only a few hours earlier. He couldn’t help noting Naylor strutted around like he was a Roman emperor. Nine despised the Omega director and wished he really was holding a knife to his throat.
Completing a chess move that put his opponent in check, Nine glanced over at Kentbridge, Marcia Wilson, Doctor Pedemont and Nurse Hilda whom he could see were all very tense. They were obviously eager to impress the VIP’s. Kentbridge in particular wanted his young charges to put on a good show.
Nine turned his attention to the Omega founders for the first time. He noted they looked at him and his fellow orphans as if they were robots or performing seals at best.
Among the agency’s twelve founders present were a member of the British Royal Family, an oil executive, a media tycoon, a senator and a pharmaceutical billionaire. All were American males, except for the British Royal, an attractive middle-aged lady. Together, they had established the ultra-secret Omega Agency in the Seventies with the sole intention of world domination.
Their modus operandi revolved around placing personnel of their choosing undercover in various government departments, intelligence agencies and major corporations. It was anticipated these moles would one day allow Omega to steer global affairs to help achieve the agency’s ends and establish a New World Order.
To achieve this NWO and expand the super-secret Omega Agency, the founding members knew they needed to create enormous wealth in the quickest possible time. The easiest way to do that, in their view, was to siphon as many mineral riches as they could out of Third World countries. It was an age-old practice, tried and tested, but never before attempted on the enormous scale Omega was gearing up for.
Everything revolved around the Pedemont Project. If the orphans could reach their ultimate potential, collectively they would be Omega’s greatest asset by the start of the 21st Century, if not before. Operatives of this ilk, with their superior genes and unprecedented education, had never been seen before.
Omega’s ruling council felt certain each of the orphans would return their investment a thousand fold.
Naylor led the founders to a group practicing linguistic skills. These orphans were speaking fluent Spanish. Kentbridge quickly joined the group and switched the conversation to Norwegian. The orphans’ Norwegian was as flawless as their Spanish. In the next few minutes, they displayed fluency in more than a dozen languages ranging from such diverse dialects as Vietnamese and Swahili to Hebrew and Russian.
At a nod from Naylor, Doctor Pedemont stepped forward, interposing himself
between the founders and the children he’d created.
“Our orphans exist on the frontiers of modern science,” the doctor said proudly. “They each have two more chromosomes than the average person. For all intents and purposes, they are post-humans. Superior in every way to the rest of the population.”
Nearby, Nine strained to hear Doctor Pedemont above the orphans who were still demonstrating their linguistic skills. His inattention to the chess board before him almost saw him lose. He recovered in time and soon had his opponent’s King under threat.
Bill Sterling, one of the Omega founders and one of the world’s most celebrated computer software designers, looked critically at the orphans. The bespectacled, thirtysomething gent shifted his beady eyes to Doctor Pedemont. “How are the clones coming along, Doc?”
“We are getting there,” Doctor Pedemont replied hesitantly.
Through putting his inquisitive nature to good use, Nine had learned he and his fellow orphans were but the first batch of orphans Omega had planned. There would be five additional batches, all clones of the originals as the first group were referred to. As Omega had lost access to the Genius Sperm Bank, which stored the deposits of many of the world’s most intelligent men, it had been decided the only way to create equally brilliant orphans was by cloning the existing ones. The plan was to create five clones of each orphan so there would eventually be one hundred and fifteen replica orphans.
Although human cloning did not yet officially exist, the reality was it had been happening in secret laboratories since the 1950’s. It was an example of the wide gulf that separated official science from suppressed science. Like almost every other important scientific breakthrough, the technology was withheld from the public by government and private organizations which had long since been conducting cloning for their own agendas.