by James Morcan
The special agent reached into his pocket and pulled out a color photograph, which he handed to the orphan. Nine could tell by its faded color it was old. It was a portrait photo of a dark-haired, green-eyed woman. Nine instinctively knew the woman was his mother, and not just because she was wearing the same ruby necklace Kentbridge had given him a few months earlier and which he now wore around his neck.
“Sebastian,” Kentbridge whispered.
After a moment, Nine tore his eyes away from the woman in the photograph and looked into his mentor’s eyes.
“Sebastian,” Kentbridge repeated, a little louder this time. “That’s your real name. Your mother named you that when you were born.”
Nine suspected Kentbridge was playing mind games with him. He’d expected that as he was aware Omega’s strategy for dealing with any form of internal dissension was to either terminate the subject or else reprogram them. Given he was still alive – and knowing they’d already invested too much in him to kill him – reprogramming him was the only option. Even so, the information he was being given about his past was so arresting he found it impossible to ignore. “Wish I’d never been born,” he cursed absentmindedly as he studied his mother’s image once more.
“You weren’t born,” Kentbridge reminded him. “You were created. There’s a difference.”
Nine thought on that, but no witty reply came to him.
“Your life has a purpose, Sebastian,” the special agent continued. “You should be grateful for that, believe me, because most ordinary citizens just drift through life with zero direction.” Kentbridge nodded toward the fishermen beneath the bridge and council workers enjoying a morning tea break beyond them, indicating he considered them ordinary citizens.
Having had a taste of the world beyond the orphanage and Omega, Nine didn’t agree. However, he remained silent.
“I want you to know I take full responsibility for what happened.” Kentbridge said. “I’m not angry at you. I was at the time, but now in the cold light of day I can see what motivated you to bust out of here.”
Nine noticed his master was talking to him for the first time ever like an adult. He didn’t know whether that was part of the reprogramming or whether his bid for freedom had earned him some respect. Whatever the case, gone was the patronizing tone Kentbridge had always used when talking to him and the other orphans.
About time!
Nine gave Kentbridge his full attention.
“I take total responsibility, Sebastian, because in hindsight I can see my mistake. I never told you or the other orphans the purpose of the Omega Agency. Or what we are fighting for.”
What we are fighting for? Nine thought that was obvious. World domination to line the pockets of Naylor and his cronies.
“It’s not about greed,” Kentbridge said as if reading the orphan’s mind. “We are the resistance. The last bastion of hope for freedom.”
“Then who are the bad guys?” Nine retorted with more than a hint of sarcasm.
“The fascists. They took over this country straight after World War Two. Kennedy was the last president who knew anything about this. All those who followed him have been in kept the dark.”
Kentbridge was certain all of the US presidents since JFK had been puppets. The lack of any real decision-making power presidents had was reflected in a long-running joke within the agency: One could place a monkey in the White House Oval Office and everything would run just fine.
Nine looked skeptical.
“I’m serious,” Kentbridge insisted. “Why else do you think we are permanently at war in various regions all over the world? And why is it the citizens of this country, one of the richest on earth, get poorer each year?”
The special agent had long-since realized America was not the unified country most people thought it was. Due to his position, he was aware of the extremely fragmented, corrupt and sick state of the nation. He also knew that sickness was entirely due to the conflicting agendas of the various shadow organizations that had infiltrated most Government departments and agencies. Within each power group – be it Congress or the Military-Industrial Complex – there were huge divisions as each of the secret factions strived to be top dog.
Kentbridge explained all this to Nine.
The orphan thought about the Nexus Foundation, and wondered where it fitted in. As long as he could remember, Omega had been fighting or at least competing with Nexus, and he’d always wondered why. Now that Kentbridge was being so open, he decided to ask. “And what about Nexus?”
“Nexus has taken advantage of the malaise that has beset this once great nation. When the Constitution was still respected and followed to the letter, an outfit like Nexus could never have gotten off the ground and there’d be no need for an agency like Omega. Nexus sees us as a threat to its ends and is determined to destroy us, you see.”
Again, Nine wasn’t convinced, and his expression reflected that.
“Think about it, if Omega stood for anything but liberty and the greater good, why would any well-meaning, patriotic group try to prevent us from achieving our goals? I mean, there’s a whole raft of destructive agencies out there Nexus could target. Why pick on us?”
Nine had to admit it was a good question.
Kentbridge continued, “It’s because we stand for something legitimate.”
Although the special agent was making some convincing points, Nine still assumed he was lying to him. This has all got to be an attempt to brainwash me to accept Omega’s dark agenda. But he wasn’t entirely correct.
Kentbridge passionately believed that Omega – or the Light, as Naylor sometimes referred to the agency – was America’s, and the world’s, only hope of ever unifying. And unification was the only solution for he was also aware that while the public was dividing and conquering itself by focusing on banal, media-driven conflicts such as Neoconservatives versus Liberals, democracy versus terrorism and the West versus the rest, destructive covert outfits were slowly but surely growing stronger.
The special agent also understood how groups like Nexus fostered and benefited from the climate of fear perpetuated in television broadcasts and newspaper headlines. As long as Americans were consumed by fear of evildoers, whether these be communists, terrorists, religious extremists or any other potential enemy, he knew they would never realize the greatest enemy of all was operating within – within the West, within America, within their own Government.
“Trust me, Sebastian,” Kentbridge said as he stared out across the river. “We are the resistance fighting for the vision of America’s founding fathers.” He suddenly smiled at the orphan. “Why else do you think I made you guys study the Constitution inside out?”
Again, Nine had no answer. Looking at his mother in the photo he still held, he knew he had a lot to think about.
52
“So Omega is designing a New World Order?” Nine asked as he and Kentbridge waited for traffic lights to change so they could cross a busy street in downtown Chicago. They’d traveled to the city straight from Little Calumet River as the special agent had wanted to spend more time with Nine and make more of an impression on his young mind.
“Yes, but it’s not like it sounds,” Kentbridge said.
The lights changed and the pair crossed the street with other pedestrians.
Kentbridge continued, “There are different types of New World Order scenarios. One would be a world government ruled by a totalitarian regime like the Nazis were working toward. That would obviously be destructive. Another scenario would be one in which a fairer world is created. That’s what we are aiming for. We can unite everybody worldwide and create everlasting peace.”
Nine noticed they were approaching a familiar fountain in a public square. It was very close to where he’d fled from Kentbridge during his escape from the city. The special agent gave no sign that he remembered that escapade.
“Countries, religions, racial disharmony,” Kentbridge continued. “These are the things that have messed
up our planet.”
“But surely countries represent different values and belief systems? Can there ever be a single government that unites all these different groups?”
“The only salvation for civilization lies in the creation of a world government,” Kentbridge retorted. “Do you know who said that?”
Nine shook his head, indicating he didn’t.
“Albert Einstein. He warned us decades ago that unless we eventually eradicate countries, new world wars will be inevitable. And before that, centuries earlier, Alexander the Great believed the same thing and was on a mission to conquer and unite the whole world.”
“But if the average citizen knew about our organization, they’d say we are evil, destructive, traitors, elitist and--”
“Correct,” Kentbridge interjected. “But then the average American doesn’t know about the threats this country is under and how their freedoms are being thwarted.”
“Well, if Omega really stands for all things good, what about the killings?” Nine lowered his voice. He knew such topics were not for others’ ears. “I mean, you’ve made it clear we are being trained to kill. Like assassins.” The last word was whispered.
“By all means necessary is our motto,” Kentbridge said ominously. “Small evils are needed in order to fulfill the grand plan of world peace and unification.”
Nine thought about everything his master was telling him. It was a lot to take in. “So what are we orphans then? Mere pawns in Omega’s New World Order agenda?”
“You kids are being molded for greatness. Like members of the Royal Family. They have incredible wealth and opportunities to shape the world, but they also are born into roles they must play out for the sake of tradition. From childhood on they must suffer, and they can never be like others, like ordinary people. You orphans are the same, but I promise you the pay-off for all these struggles will be worth it when you get older. You will do amazing things, Sebastian.”
“I just want to be an everyday person. An average person. Free.”
Kentbridge shook his head. “You are special and nothing like the average person.” He looked around at workers spilling out of shops and office buildings on their lunch breaks. “I mean, look at these people.”
Nine surveyed them. To him, they seemed as if they were all in a trance.
“They’re worker ants,” Kentbridge continued. “Most of them have probably never had an original thought in their life.”
“At least they’re free.”
“You call that free?” He nodded toward a business executive biting his nails as he waited for someone. “They’re all prisoners of their own limited realities. Their own limited understanding of the way our world really works.” Kentbridge looked fondly at Nine. “We’re not like, nor are we ever going to be like, other people. We know too much about the world and how it operates to ever be understood by any of them.”
Nine considered this as they allowed themselves to be swept along by Chicagoans hurrying to get to wherever it was they were going.
Kentbridge looked at Nine calculatedly. “Did that pretty Greek girl understand you?”
The orphan remained silent, but he knew what Kentbridge was getting at. Helen hadn’t understood him at all, and that was primarily because he was so different.
Kentbridge pressed on. “Presumably you tried to open up to her. Did she get you?”
Still Nine didn’t answer. His wounds remained too raw to talk about it.
“You mistakenly thought the world out there is perfect. It’s natural to idealize what we don’t have. The grass is always greener and all that.”
Nine reluctantly had to agree. As much as he hated to admit it, the world beyond Omega had defeated him, and in the end a part of him had actually yearned to return to the orphanage – even if it was prison-like and full of other orphans as angry and disillusioned as him.
They came to an unoccupied bench and sat down to watch the passing crowds for a moment. Gone was the earlier tension that had existed between the pair.
Kentbridge reopened the conversation. “I know you cannot fully comprehend now, but you and the other orphans will play a big part in this resistance movement in years to come. I’ve been hard on you, but please believe me when I say I have your best interests at heart.” He patted Nine on the back. “One day, when you’re in the firing line in some hostile foreign country, you’ll thank me for pushing you so hard.”
Nine gave no indication he agreed or disagreed, but Kentbridge was satisfied he’d got through to his student. The special agent stood up. “Anyway, these have all been good lessons. You now know the world is messed up and nobody is really free.”
They headed for the nearby car park where Kentbridge had parked his Chrysler. As they walked, Kentbridge reviewed what he’d told Nine about his mother. He was aware it was more than Naylor would ever want any orphan to know, and it was certainly against the strict rules drawn up for the Pedemont Project. Any breach of those rules would be a sack-able offence, or worse.
Kentbridge turned to Nine. “Don’t tell the others that you have a real name or that you know about your mother. They’ll get jealous.”
“Especially Seventeen.”
“Hell, she’d be jealous if I gave you an ice-cream!”
Nine couldn’t help but laugh. Soon, they were both laughing.
53
The sun hitting Nine’s face almost made him feel at peace with the world. He could imagine he was on some tropical island. Unfortunately, he wasn’t. He was lying on the carpeted floor of the orphanage’s main library, close to a window, enjoying the sun’s rays as they briefly shone into the building.
It was now mid-spring and the days were getting warmer.
Nine wasn’t alone. He was in the company of some of the other orphans. A few were reading, others playing cards or chatting, while the rest, like him, were lying in the sun. They were all waiting for lunch, which was being prepared for them by two of the female orphans, Six and Twenty, in the nearby kitchen. The mouthwatering aroma of Spaghetti Bolognese wafted into the library. Unlike the basement library, this one contained only mainstream books so as not to alarm the outsiders who visited the orphanage from time to time.
Before lunch and dinner was one of the few times each day the orphans got any time to themselves. That was, if they weren’t roistered to cook for the others.
This had been the established routine for almost as long as they could remember. As a result, all the orphans had become proficient cooks in their own right. Even so, the wags among them – Ten in particular – never overlooked an opportunity to poke fun at their fellow orphans’ culinary skills. As the youngest orphan, Twenty Three in particular had been the butt of many a gastronomic joke. Fortunately for him, he’d developed a thick skin over the years and was now giving as good as he got.
The downtime, although brief, was enjoyed by all. It was one of the few times they got a break from their exhausting studies. If there was one thing their Omega masters were expert at, it was pushing the orphans to their limits. And none was more expert at that than Kentbridge. He knew his charges’ weak points and went out of his way to exploit them.
Nine looked up through the window at the clouds as they fleetingly covered the sun. There was something about clouds that calmed his mind. He was brought out of his daydream when a rubber band, fired at speed, struck his head. It stung. Nine turned to see who the culprit was. Sure enough it was his best friend Ten, the resident joker.
Surprise, surprise.
The mischievous orphan was sniggering, and was clearly amused by his juvenile act.
Nine had often wondered how Ten could find so much humor in the worst of circumstances. In fact, he’d once asked him that exact question, to which Ten had replied, “You gotta laugh or you cry.” How true. Nine smiled back at the cheeky orphan.
If we cry then our Omega masters have won.
Nine picked up the rubber band and aimed it at Seven, the African-American boy, who had fallen asleep
nearby and was beginning to snore. He fired it, striking the victim’s cheek.
Seven awoke with a pig-like snort, causing everyone in the library to laugh. Furious, he looked around for the culprit. His eyes eventually rested on Ten who was pretending to be asleep. Ten didn’t fool Seven because he was shaking with laughter.
Risking a peek, Ten opened his eyes and saw Seven staring directly at him. “It wasn’t me, Seven,” he said through tears of laughter. Feeling guilty for no reason other than he usually was the guilty party, he jumped to his feet and bolted from the library.
Seven chased after him. “I’ll kill you, Ten!” the boy shouted to the amusement of the others.
“Go get him, Seven!” someone shouted.
The sound of Cavell barking outside the ground floor window reached Nine as Seven pursued the innocent Ten outside and chased him round and round the orphanage. An excited Cavell joined in.
Nine stretched out on the carpet again as the sun broke through the clouds. He was determined to recharge his batteries and enjoy the warmth of the sun on his face. Just as he was dozing off, the lunch gong sounded. Six and Twenty were ready to serve lunch.
#
While his orphans ate lunch three floors below, Kentbridge poured over files in his office. The files were the result of a computer program Omega’s IT people had developed. It graded the orphans, taking into account their test results throughout the year and, more importantly, their individual strengths and weaknesses.
The special agent didn’t need a computer program to rate his orphans. He knew them better than they knew themselves, and could recall their strengths and weaknesses without a second’s hesitation. Regardless, Naylor expected him to use the program and furnish him with regular reports, so he did exactly that, providing monthly reports on the performance of the orphans collectively and individually.