Chapter Text
Charles Ogden Gears, Ph.D and MD, was many things, needless to say. A brilliant scientist and doctor, perhaps one of the most proficient and prodigious in human history, whose idea of leisure was upgrading his prototype cancer cure, which he had even used successfully on himself. A physicist, one whose understanding of existence was so complete that he practically knew all the secrets of the universe, down to the very structure of reality itself. An executive and leader, one so competent and productive in his craft that all of his constituents, from the lowliest janitor to the highest profile right hand, held such profound respect for him that his name echoed with reverence across entire dimensions.
But, most importantly, he was a king – the supreme ruler of a hidden kingdom of hundreds of millions of subjects. Personnel, they were called, sure, but ever since his childhood, Charles was fully conscious that the organization he was born into and had spent his entire life serving was, all things considered, a monarchy – merely with a dozen different monarchs at once.
Charles’ parentage was a little-known fact, even amongst SCP high command. However, if one were to ask him about it, he would quickly shift the subject. Charles would always claim irrelevance, although in truth, his parents brought back unpleasant memories – memories of endless indoctrination, grueling “education” that may as well have been torture, psychoemotional negligence and unavailability, and worst of all, incomprehensible existential crises that no human being should be forced to grow up experiencing during every waking moment of their life.
Outwardly, his trauma manifested as a personality disorder: an inability to express any genuine emotion. He still felt everything, certainly, though he was raised with such startlingly little attention that one would be hard pressed to call it “being raised” at all. Perhaps he was inherently incapable of emotional displays – an unfortunate byproduct of being the spawn of two of the most heartless humans ever to walk the planet, not that Aaron Siegel and Sophia Light could even be considered parents when they would never be bothered to show up for their heir.
Despite his prestigious rank and status, not to mention a political and economic influence that stretched across dozens, if not hundreds of Earths, Charles’ appearance was surprisingly ordinary, though still giving off the air that he was far more than what met the eye. His face was long, sunken in, and locked in a permanent expression of indifference, with cold black eyes capable of piercing the soul of any unfortunate human who dared to make contact with him. He was wrinkled, wizened, and had clearly seen more than what his lifespan, let alone any mortal lifespan, should allow for. His hair was receding and balding simultaneously to comically complement his mildly overweight midsection, while his limbs were disproportionately long, thin, and spindly. A pair of perfectly circular spectacles was perched atop the bridge of his beaky nose, magnifying his beady eyes ever so slightly but enough to be noticeable and disturbing for those who looked upon him. But make no mistake – despite appearing middle-aged, Charles was nearly seventy years old, deceptively experienced in his field.
Charles sat at the desk in his hybrid office/living quarters chamber, slaving away on his computer. He received paperwork to file, approved or denied high profile SCP test experiments, exchanged logistics-related emails with his staff officers, and sent out a nomination request for a new site director to oversee Biological Research and Containment Site-17 over in Wales in light of the incumbent having retired the previous day. He appeared as indifferent as ever, mindlessly continuing to type and almost not hearing the knock on his chamber door.
“Enter,” said Charles, glancing up from his computer. The door slid open like an airlock, revealing a tall, burly man in his late thirties with ginger hair and a thick, bushy beard. His skin was disturbingly pale, reflecting one who would shy away from sunlight if it meant devoting more time and energy to his job. Despite being the ex-CI hitman directly responsible for the deaths of the previous iteration of the O5 council, and a cold, heartless bastard at that, Calvin Lucien was supremely dedicated to the job he had held for well over a decade by now. Whatever it was that THE ADMINISTRATOR had said to him after finishing the original O5s off, it had somehow changed Calvin’s mind entirely, convincing him to become the newest shepherd to two billion constituents, all of whom ready to give up far more than their lives if it meant protecting the common people from horrors beyond mortal comprehension.
“You requested a meeting with the council, Commissar?” Calvin’s voice was nearly as monotone as that of Charles, though the difference could still be noted. He spoke with a slight sneer of annoyance, as if anything else could be better than talking to Charles at that moment.
“I did indeed,” confirmed Charles, inviting Calvin to sit down on the other side of his desk with an uncharacteristically friendly hand wave. “Do grab some seat if you’d like. And please, call me Charles. We hardly leave headquarters, and everyone here knows full well who everyone else is.” Calvin did not oblige, instead remaining in the doorway.
“Remind me of the premise again? I know you were short on time yesterday with the guy over at -17 stepping down, and I imagine that you’re still busy today. I suggested we have the meeting tomorrow, and the others agreed.” Calvin folded his arms, waiting expectantly for Charles’ answer.
“Well, I had a proposition to expand high command,” said Charles, standing up and taking a few steps towards Calvin. “You know as well as I do that the O5 and EC are swamped with work beyond all belief. I would very much like to distribute responsibility to a few more select individuals whom we trust. A sort of joint chiefs of staff, if you will, and perhaps even extending to entire subsidiary departments. I think it would be easier to have more people on the job, though they would only be working in far closer coordination while remaining subservient.”
Calvin raised an eyebrow, letting out a grunt. “I’m not sure if I like that idea. Appointing more people to level five beyond councillors, ethics board members, and our task forces? It’s a grave risk, a security breach waiting to happen. Each of us has a chief and deputy chief of staff already – I don’t really see a reason to throw executive status at more people and call it a day. Do you honestly realize what level five lets you access?”
“Yes, anything that isn’t explicitly demarcated as council or higher only, I’m well aware.” Charles let out a sigh. “But, well… that wasn’t my only concern. I’ve been interacting more at the middle management level lately, allowing site directors to directly contact me with the status of their commands. I’m concerned about appointing new advisors because… the morale rates among the Foundation working class are disturbingly low. Productivity is lacking, personnel are catching on to what SCP is really meant to be, and far too many staff are packing up and leaving. We ought to at least do something for the countless men and women who give us everything.”
“Are they underpaid?” scoffed Calvin. “Is that the problem? Just give them raises, it’s not like we can’t afford to. What’s the cost of living these days?”
“If my calculations are correct, a living wage in the public economy in this day and age would be over 430 US dollars an hour. We should at least be giving our employees full benefits, for Christ’s sake. Do you even pay attention to the larger world anymore?” Charles scowled at Calvin, internally appalled at how quickly his colleague had become drunk with power.
“Four-thirty…” Calvin stroked his chin, seriously attempting to contemplate what life was like for the common people. “Yea, even I can agree that this is getting absurd. I just hate bringing more people into the fold. We operate strictly on a need-to-know basis, and that’s not going to change any time soon. What are you hinting at?”
“We both know that the Board of Ethics will inevitably concur with me on this one. We need an organization-wide department of psychological welfare, perhaps as a satellite of my own area of General Sciences.” Charles clasped his hands together, staring directly at Calvin.
“So you want to industrialize mental health now? What, next you’re gonna tell me that you wanna promote Simon Glass or something? This is definitely a good topic of discussion, but I never thought you to be the caring and considerate type.”
“Simon’s a bloody miracle worker and you know it,” said Charles in an accusatory tone, pointing his finger at Calvin’s chest. “He left Bright sane for a few days – before he was ousted for predatory behavior, of course. But my point stands: we need people like Simon in positions of power. In fact, I was going to inspect Site-17 tomorrow morning. I still have my duties as head of the Euclid object class, after all.”
“I don’t like using valuable Foundation resources for secondary priorities, nor am I on board with setting up a dedicated subdepartment. You’d better craft a compelling argument. The other councillors are not as lenient as I am.” Calvin turned to leave, but Charles let out a rare grunt of mild anger.
“So you call taking care of our constituents a waste of resources?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“That brings me to my next point: there is widespread unease amongst our working class that higher management is out of touch with the common man. Several of us, whom I shall hesitate to name, certainly are, as they say, ‘out of touch,’ and I will not tolerate the new council sinking to the same corrupt lows that my father allowed it to.”
“We’re not some petty corporation!” Calvin raised his voice, obviously quite offended. “We are the greatest organization across a dozen multiverses, the finest army of brilliant minds and optimally conditioned bodies ever assembled, and you accuse us of being just some greedy, sinful, abusive CEOs? We are the Special Containment Procedures Foundation – every goddamn thing we do is to protect the people from ACTUALLY serious threats, whether they be deities like Khahrahk or something else entirely! You think I don’t at the very least APPRECIATE what our people do to contribute?”
“If that were entirely true,” growled Charles through gritted teeth, “I would not be raising such a concern. I could not possibly care less about our public image, but any such sense of abandonment by those meant to preside over you within the working people is unacceptable! I say we go public, announce our existence to put any fears of our inhumanity to rest.”
“PUBLIC?” Calvin’s face had turned redder than his bright ginger hair. “Gears, are you sure your gears are even turning right now? Use your FUCKING head!”
“No way would we announce our existence to the civilian population, you imbecile! Just to our own working class!” Charles’ eyes were practically bulging out of his sockets, likely the most emotion he had shown in years. “I thought the council needed to be purged because it was drunk with self-righteousness. Now I see that regretfully little has changed.”
“I’ve never seen you so pissed. Have you been around Nines lately? I’d hate to think that you’re going soft in your old age.” Calvin’s eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared wide with fury.
“So what if I have?!” barked Charles defensively. “It’s hardly a weakness to be human!”
“Oh, so what is the great Doctor Charles Gears gonna do next?” cooed Calvin in a baby voice. “Is he gonna host a charity gala, or maybe he’ll build a village for the homeless – ooh! What if he sets up a scholarship, but it’s only available for the exceedingly rare hypergeniuses like himself, of course! I say again, use your head. All this is going to do is create a horribly unnecessary security risk, one that I am absolutely NOT willing to take.”
“Calvin, are you hearing yourself right now? You would dare sacrifice an opportunity to restore productivity in exchange for your own safety? We shall see what happens when the rest of high command votes.” Charles turned away and called out into space, “Omega-12, I require transportation! Please respond.”
Within seconds, a hulking man in shiny black armor dotted with glowing purple LEDs appeared in front of Charles in a flash of violet light. “What can I do for you, Your Excellency?”
“Portal me. Downtown London, doesn’t matter where specifically. I need a tea break.” Charles glanced back at Calvin, who simply rolled his eyes and stepped backwards out of the doorway, shaking his head. Meanwhile, the Omega-12 officer nodded in acknowledgment.
“Right away.” He spent a few moments moving his hands in elaborate magical gestures before a wormhole promptly opened about a meter in front of Charles. The Omega-12 took a step back, clearing a path for Charles to walk through. “Enjoy your ride, sir. Do summon me again if you need help getting back.”
“Much obliged, sergeant. That will be all, you’re dismissed after I make my way through. Oh and–” Charles stopped to look the officer in the eye. “How much are you paid? As in, your expected salary? What do you bring home?”
“To be honest with you, sir, not nearly enough. I got engaged recently, and we’ve talked of starting a family, but I barely make a hundred grand and she can’t find a job. She knows who I work for, but not what exactly I am.”
“Preposterous,” muttered Charles, briefly pausing at the portal. “Consider it at least doubled. Contact me via the O5 email address if you require further assistance.”
“You’re joking.” The Omega-12 shook his head in shock.
“Did I stutter?” Charles stepped through the portal, taking in the musty smog of London, England. The reality bending operative awkwardly watched him leave before the wormhole closed, melding seamlessly with the surrounding air as local space-time returned to normal. Charles let out a deep exhale as he made his way out of the back alley he had arrived in, staring up at the skyline dominated by the London Eye and the clock tower containing Big Ben. It was evening there, perhaps around six PM GMT judging by the midsummer sun setting in the west.
Charles was still flustered from his argument with Calvin, and so he scarcely paid attention to his surroundings while lost in thought. He aimlessly prowled the streets of London, eventually entering a high-class restaurant that he could not be concerned even with learning the name of. He sat down at a bar counter, forking over a few British pounds to the waitress as he muttered something about wanting a cup of tea.
“Right away, sir,” said the waitress as she ducked into a back room. Charles leaned forward, placing his elbows on the countertop and resting his head in his hands. He grinded his teeth and sweated a little, a little disoriented from the newfound acuity of emotion he felt. He wondered whether his recent SCP-999-enhanced therapy sessions with Dr. Glass were at fault. Stupid question, they certainly were. Charles still wasn’t sure whether to like it or hate it.
“No, the hyperdonut theory is definitely wrong. If it were true, we’d be able to see ourselves. But if the hypersphere theory isn’t, then that means… we’re a 3D space in a 4D container, while black holes are 2D in 3D? Does reality have layers? Heh, like Shrek… Huh.”
Charles’ head snapped upright, and he glanced around for the source of the voice. It sounded very young – high, shrill, and almost feminine, though it was unmistakably male. His gaze eventually fell upon a young boy, preteen at oldest, with bright ginger hair and whose huge, innocent doe eyes practically glowed an emerald green. The boy was seated at a nearby booth, appearing to be scribbling something in a notebook laid out on the table in front of him.
Charles raised an eyebrow, wondering if he had heard correctly. This child was perhaps middle school age, certainly not any older, and he appeared to have an understanding of quantum physics as complete as Charles himself? For the umpteenth time in his life, Doctor Gears was invested in his latest scientific experiment – gauging this boy’s potential, which was obviously up somewhere in the stratosphere. Charles continued to listen, but did not interact, not daring to prematurely draw any attention to himself in the event that his interest in the boy would be seen as something more nefarious.
He turned away, feigning a perfectly ordinary session of people-watching, though he kept his ears firmly focused on the ginger boy behind him. It suddenly occurred to Charles that this particular child looked oddly familiar to him… perhaps that was because the images of Calvin’s own ginger features glaring at him were still fresh in his mind. Or perhaps still, Lord Yahweh was merely toying with him, making him see an unrelated individual as something he wasn’t.
“Yeah… because if universes are hyperspherical, then they’d be effectively infinite spaces within larger finite ones, entirely different planes of existence from their parent universes. Black holes distort space-time enough to work as those containers for such child universes! Wormholes are definitely possible if something’s there to prop them open! The multiverse must be real as well, since quantum fluctuations have a nonzero chance of creating another big bang – and since time is infinite, then anything that’s possible is guaranteed to eventually happen!” The ginger boy laughed at his own realization, looking down at his notebook with total pride.
Charles could ignore it no longer. After receiving his coffee from the waitress, he stood up and cautiously approached the ginger-haired boy, praying that none of the nearby civilians were watching. He awkwardly cleared his throat, and found his gaze met with that of the boy’s.
“Pardon me for the intrusion, laddie.” Charles took a step back, not wanting to scare the child with his sudden appearance, though the boy didn’t seem to mind in the slightest “I simply took an interest in the quantum physics work you seem to be doing – quite prodigious for one as young as yourself. I’m a professor, you see – over at Oxford,” he quickly lied. “Erm… Doctor Charles Siegel, yes.” He extended his hand for a shake, and the boy reciprocated.
“Oh– hello! My name’s Calvin Bennett. Don’t be so nervous, I’d be glad to explain what I’ve found! Much better than all the kids at school calling me ‘bitch-nerd’ all day…” He shook his head but quickly resumed his enthusiastic smile, gesturing for Charles to sit down with one hand and using his other to point at several crude drawings in his notebook.
Did he hear that correctly? The boy’s name was Calvin, the same as his sort-of-boss. Sure, it was a somewhat common and fairly normal name, but he’d be hard pressed to call it a coincidence when this was happening so soon after his row with O5-1. Now Charles knew for a fact that God was fucking with him, or maybe it was Swann this time. Regardless, the scientist’s interest was piqued as entirely as ever, and he quickly took an empty seat just opposite Bennett. Charles stroked his chin, waiting for the boy to continue.
“So you’re familiar with physics, I hope?” asked Calvin Bennett.
“I heard the last bit of the conversation you had with yourself whilst evaluating your own conclusion. Did you come to it logically, mathematically, or with a bit of both?”
“Definitely both,” Bennett confirmed. “I’m not that far along in math, only up to very basic calculus as of now. But I watch all these science youtubers, and combined with my own logic, they give me all I need. Here, take a look.”
Charles adjusted his spectacles and craned his neck downwards to look at the notebook. Sure enough, he saw dozens of physics and calculus equations sprawled all over the pages with a sprinkling of labeled diagrams that, when put all together… equated to the exact same proof that Charles had himself discovered to mathematically confirm far more than just multiverse theory.
“Oh, this is…” Charles scratched his head, bewildered not by the finding, but by the fact that a child so young had achieved what he himself had in a fraction of his own lifespan. Such a finding should’ve taken a lifetime of education and experimentation… but the boy actually had, in essence, solved all of quantum physics with pure logic. “You’re bloody brilliant.”
The boy’s face lit up like a Christmas tree as he eagerly egged Charles on.
“Well – Calvin, you said? I can certainly say one thing. The conclusion that you’ve drawn here… it is, in fact, correct. These calculations, your reasoning, they’re far beyond what anyone your age should realistically be capable of. How old even are you?”
“Oh, I turn twelve in a week from tomorrow. And… you said I was right?” The boy looked confused, let alone in disbelief.
“Certainly. I myself came to precisely the same answer after my own studies and experiences. Multiverse theory is indeed a statistical guarantee, but what if I told you that hyperverse theory could also be proven?” Charles held back a proud smile, genuinely glad to find someone else at his same breadth of intellect, even if it was a middle school-aged child.
Bennett just looked more and more bewildered, speechless but clearly intrigued. He seemed to notice someone walking around the restaurant, leaning past Charles and waving them over. The woman he waved to looked puzzled at the sight of Charles, but approached anyway.
“Can I help you?” asked the woman, but as she locked eyes with Charles, both of them stifled shocked gasps. They recognized each other instantly, having once been very close colleagues. The woman, a blonde in her late thirties with the same emerald eyes as the boy, was Susan Bennett, a former chair of the Board of Ethics and lover of O5-1 who had retired over a decade prior after an unfortunate miscarriage. Clearly the miscarriage was a lie.
“Oh– erm, fancy meeting you here,” spluttered Charles, offering a handshake. Susan took his hand, albeit hesitantly, before sitting down next to Calvin and shuffling in front of him. She awkwardly glanced back and forth between Calvin and Charles for a moment, saying nothing.
“Do you two know each other?” the boy asked innocently, following his mother’s glance.
“We, ehm… we met in college,” stammered Charles, desperately trying to find a realistic lie to satisfy Calvin. “Studied together for quite a while. I was on track to become a biomedical engineer, she would be a… well, something similar. It was only natural.”
“Y-yes, that’s right,” muttered Susan, immediately understanding what Charles was trying to do. “I was a medical patent attorney. Well then, what brings you here?”
“I came here for a spot of tea after a scuffle with my boss,” explained Charles. At least that much was true. “I entered this diner mindlessly, by happenstance. I overheard your – son, I assume? – discussing some quantum physics and couldn’t help but take a look for myself.”
Susan seemed to calm down slightly. Charles was now absolutely sure that she hadn’t been amnesticized upon leaving the Foundation, likely at the behest of her former boyfriend. Otherwise, he doubted she would’ve recognized him, but she indeed did. Charles made eye contact with the boy once again, and only then did he realize how similar he looked to…
“Oh, I understand,” said Susan, wrapping an arm around her son’s shoulders. “He’s always been pretty far ahead of other children. Neurodivergent from a young age – autism spectrum, we found – but very high functioning. He’s sweet, but his smarts are scary.”
“I… think it would be best if we discussed further in privacy. Too many prying eyes and ears out here. No doubt you can anticipate my interest in the boy.”
“Are you gonna teach me science? Mom, is he gonna teach me science?” Calvin eagerly stared up at Susan, perhaps more excited at the proposition than even Charles was.
“Slow down,” Susan chuckled, turning back to Charles. “We live on a farm up in Scotland. You’re welcome to stop by the house and chat. I can certainly answer your questions. We should be home in a few hours – I wanted to take Calvin out for a day in the city, just for fun. Those… old associates of mine I think you still know of can give you my… address.”
Charles took associates to mean disguised lifelong Omega-1 bodyguard squad and address to mean exact coordinates. He calmly nodded at Susan before furtively glancing to Calvin, who thankfully seemed oblivious to the true meaning of Susan’s invitation.
“I’ll see you later tonight then. And it was a pleasure to meet you, laddie,” he said, giving the boy a soft smile. “Cheerio.” He took the final sip of his tea before getting up and leaving the restaurant. His newest priority was obtaining answers. Was the father exactly who he thought it was? Did the son know the truth? Why had Susan lied – nevermind, he of all people could definitely imagine why so. If his hunch was correct, and O5-1 was the father, then he actually applauded Susan’s decision to raise him away from all that drama. Still, he would have to wait for more answers, and so he did what he believed was the next best course of action.
Charles touched a finger to his concealed earpiece. “C.A.S.S.I.E., please call the office of the Chair of Ethics, immediately.”
PROCESSING REQUEST, said the AI, and after a few seconds, the earpiece began to ring as if it were a cell phone. A moment more, and Charles heard someone pick up.
A very upbeat voice said through the earpiece, “This is Doctor Jeremiah Cimmerian, chairman of the board of Ethics. Might I ask who is calling?”
“Good evening, Jeremiah. This is O5-8 ‘The Commissar.’ I have a bit of important information as well as a small request. I’ve discovered former chairwoman Susan Bennett out in London, and well…” He trailed off, waiting for Charlotte’s response.
“Oh – hello there, Charles. What have you found?”
“It appears that she, erm… she lied about her miscarriage,” Charles continued. “She invited me to her home to privately discuss.”
“That certainly is important, especially if… do you know if he’s the father yet? I suppose you’ll be wanting her coordinates.” Jeremiah sounded a little flustered, but otherwise held firm.
“Certainly. Do be a dear and send those directions, will you?” Charles began typing on his smartwatch, texting Omega-12 once again.
“Yes, of course. I’ll have Omega-1 text you in a few minutes. Will that be all?”
“Indubitably. Thank you again, ma’am. I’ll keep you updated on the situation as it progresses.” Charles lowered his finger, hanging up the call. The Omega-12 operative from earlier immediately returned, standing just behind Charles at perfect attention.
“You called for more assistance, Your Excellency?”
“Indeed. Can you bring me my car? I have to get to a classified investigation within a few hours in as low profile a manner as possible.”
“Understood,” said the reality bending operative. “I’ll only be a moment.” The man vanished in another flash of violet light before reappearing a few seconds later, holding up the entirety of Charles’ tan sedan in one arm without the slightest hint of a struggle. He gently set it down in an empty parking spot on the nearby road. “Here you go, sir. And don’t worry about this little thing making a scene, I’ve had a disillusionment charm active.”
“Very well,” said Charles, walking around to the driver’s seat. “You’re dismissed.”
“Right you are. Oh– and one more thing.” The Omega-12 walked up to Charles’ window as he sat down. “The team’s conducting a joint raid with Lambda-5 on a Serpent’s Hand cell. Reality bending services won’t be available for… maybe the next couple days, starting tonight. If you end up needing protection, or whatever form of escort, I recommend you defer to the usual Alpha-1 shenanigans. I know it’s annoying.”
“I can never get away from them, can I,” Charles sighed. “Bloody secret service, they are. Alas, so be it. I appreciate the fair warning, operative. You’re free to leave.”
The Omega-12 saluted before teleporting away once more. Charles took out his car keys from his coat pocket and started the sedan. He made his way to a highway, bound for Scotland.
---
Many hours later at night, Charles had nearly arrived at the farm. Very little of the surroundings was visible, thanks to the darkness outside. However, he could make out a small house in the middle of the property, and so he proceeded down the driveway, parking just in front of the house. Susan walked out the front door and waved at him as he approached.
Charles exited his car and nodded his head in greeting. “Good evening, Susan. I must express my gratitude for your cooperation in providing me with an explanation, which I trust will be valid and concise. Your request for privacy was perfectly reasonable.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Charles,” said Susan with a soft smile. Come in, it’s getting cold out.” She beckoned Gears through the door before heading into the kitchen and retrieving a mug of coffee. Her son was sprawled on the couch, scribbling in his notebook yet again. He looked up from his work, noticed Charles, and gave him a friendly wave, which Charles returned.
“Calvin, honey, why don’t you go up to bed so Dr. Siegel and I can talk?” suggested Susan, not wanting the boy to overhear.
“Yea, I’m a little tired anyway. Let me know how it goes!” Calvin stood up and bounded up the house’s central staircase, leaving Charles and Susan alone in the kitchen.
“Coffee?” offered Susan, placing the mug on the kitchen table as Charles took a seat.
“Thank you very kindly,” said Charles, taking a sip. “So, Susan… I have plenty of questions for you. First and foremost…” He let out a deep sigh. “Is he the father?”
Susan frowned, but closed her eyes and slowly nodded. “Calvin Lucien, junior. As for ‘Bennett,’ we used my maiden name to protect his identity. He doesn’t know, nor does his father or anyone else connected to your world, for that matter. Here, let me explain. It was before the Ouroboros cycle – I was a mid-level Ethics representative, and Calvin senior was a civilian.
“He knew what I was and who I worked for, but not much more. One day, a little after Junior was conceived, he abandoned us – or, at least I thought so. I know now that the CI had been subliminally manipulating him throughout his entire life. It wasn’t his fault he ended up commencing Ouroboros, nor is it yours that your own parents were casualties of it.”
“So I see,” muttered Charles, stroking his chin pensively. “I remember that you were elected to lead the Board of Ethics shortly after Calvin himself assumed the similar role but for the O5. Trust me, it’s rather easy for me, of all people, to understand why you left.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re sympathetic.” Susan assumed a flustered smile and shook her head. “I knew full well that the child, whether it ended up a boy or girl, would be treated as, for lack of a better term, basically a kind of crown prince or princess of the human race. Obviously, I didn’t want that for him.”
“Crown prince or princess… pfft, that is unironically a spectacularly accurate way of describing how even I myself felt in my youth.” Charles took another sip of his coffee, but did not remove his gaze from Susan. He understood better than even he himself expected. “The pressure was incredible, and it broke my spirit. I’m glad it hasn’t broken the boy’s. Ignorance is bliss, they say, and it certainly holds true here and now.”
“The Foundation’s always been a monarchy, just with a dozen kings and queens at once,” scoffed Susan. “Junior – let’s just call him that, it makes things easier – would’ve been harassed his entire life, molded and trained to serve as an heir to a position that he might not want, or even be fit for. I chose to retire, to raise him in relative peace, away from all of that drama. I took enough money to get him to adulthood, then disappeared.”
“It’s no wonder,” acknowledged Charles. “The miscarriage excuse was quite convincing, as we appropriately believed you to be intensely grieving. You never divorced Calvin, did you?”
“No, not officially. No reason to, he was a great husband until the CI hijacked him, and he wasn’t in control of his actions. He was… very torn up about the apparent abandonment. We simply made good use of Foundation resources to fake his death certificate.” Susan stared off into the distance, almost longingly, dreaming of a life that could have been.
“I pretended to have my own reservations on top of the assumed grief,” she continued, “claiming that I didn’t want the responsibility of ruling Ethics, which high command also believed, and not without reason. In truth, I was more than overwhelmed, but it was such an incredible honor that I doubted I would have the chance to serve in such a role again. I debated with myself for about an hour before coming to a decision.”
Charles held up a hand to stop her. “You sacrificed a position as queen of humanity to give both yourself and your child a peaceful life. My own mother would never have done something of the sort for me. You have my utmost respect, Susan. It’s only a shame that Calvin could not have joined you, but oh well.”
“He doesn’t know that the miscarriage was faked,” she clarified. “He still thinks that his son was stillborn. I asked if he wanted to come with me, and I was prepared to reveal that Junior was alive and well, but when you’re O5-1 – not just any overseer, but the council’s leader…” Susan sighed, visibly disappointed. “That type of thing really isn’t an option. At least we separated on good terms. We both accepted that it was unlikely we’d ever see each other again, but he denied amnestics for me in the event that an emergency should arise. A last act of mercy.”
“So you are still fully aware of the Foundation, including extremely classified information restricted to high command only? Awful security risk that he took for you.” Charles lowered his hand from his chin to finish off his coffee.
“Yes, I know about as much as the O5 do. Nines being the seventh son, 2317-K actually being 001-Tufto, 682 being the serpent of Eden, awareness of Swann, all the usual details that HiCom really hates spreading around.” Susan released an exasperated chuckle, though her eyes were wet. “It’s too much for any one person to comprehend. Obviously I never told Junior a thing – at least, no dangerous truths. He doesn’t know of the Foundation, and I made sure that he wasn’t exposed to any of the public media. No wiki, no internet content, nothing.”
“You may have sheltered him, sure, but what if he is interested anyway?” Charles pushed his empty coffee mug aside, leaning in closer towards Susan. “You know full well what the boy is capable of, nearly rivaling my own aptitude on a good day. If he were instructed, welcomed into Foundation service with open arms, he’d have guaranteed job security for life and be better protected than whatever you could possibly provide on your own.”
Susan frowned, though she did not directly object. “I wanted to wait until he was old enough – heh, conscious enough – to make his own mature decisions. If Foundation service is what brings him fulfillment, then it’s hardly a parent’s place to stop him from realizing his dream. And you know exactly how terrifying all that knowledge can be. Charles, he’s not even in his teens yet. He shouldn’t have to worry about his later life at least until he hits college age. All he needs now is to know that he is loved, he is supported, and he has power over himself.”
“Susan, I understand. I really, truly do. I simply worry what happens if and when we lose you. He’s still, as you say, crown prince of the human race. He needs guidance, structure, and a life well suited for his tremendous talent.” Charles leaned back in his seat, bringing a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes. “But if any of the rival factions discover him–”
“He’ll be a target his whole life,” Susan interrupted. “That’s why I’ve kept us safely anonymous until we ran into you today. And it’s even more complicated when you remember that he’s not the stereotypical normal. His development is… wildly asynchronous. He’s been steamrolling ahead of his peers in education, skipped a bunch of grades, but he knows almost nothing of the real world. He needs a huge amount of attention, even for an early adolescent.”
“He needs a strong male role model, perhaps even more than most,” Charles finished, taking Susan’s hint immediately. “Whether that be his father or whoever else, that much is clear. The mother nourishes and nurtures, but the father protects and enriches. You’ve been doing what you can, and I applaud you for it. The boy may not know it yet, but that’s what he’s missing. I can only conclude that’s why he seems to have taken to me so quickly.”
“Charles, it would’ve been utter hell to balance a career in… dare I say the ‘anomalous world’ with raising a child. Not even you could handle it when your chance came with Alison, but I don’t believe that’s your fault, either. I didn’t want to shoulder that kind of responsibility, nor did I want to force Calvin to make the same impossible choice.”
“Spoken like a true EC,” teased Charles. “You chose your child.”
“I did,” said Susan, a hint of pride in her voice. “And frankly, I don’t regret it one bit. But as much as I hate to admit it, I can’t argue with him needing Calvin. Senior, I mean. I just don’t think either of them is ready.”
“There are some things that we are never ready for,” said Charles in a rare moment of wisdom. “Sometimes, we must accept that and proceed nonetheless.”
“I only want what’s best for him– GET DOWN!” Susan dove over the table and tackled Charles to the floor. Charles was confused until he heard the loud crack of a bullet shattering one of the windows and burying itself in a nearby plaster wall.
Rapid footsteps were heard coming down the stairs. “Was that a gunshot?!” yelped Calvin junior, not even daring to peek his head out into view of the window.
Charles got on his hands and knees, crawling over to inspect the bullet hole. The trajectory was aimed right at where his skull had been, but he recognized the impact crater’s size.
“That round was a seven-six-two by thirty-nine from an AK… we have insurgents.” He turned back to face Susan, who was crawling to a cabinet underneath the sink. She opened it, revealing a pair of loaded uzi submachine guns. Charles felt something brush against his leg and found that Junior had crawled down the stairs and was now hunched next to him. He motioned to continue towards Susan.
“Stay low, laddie,” commanded Charles, reaching into his suit pocket and pulling out a shiny gold-plated revolver.
“Y-yes sir…” Junior stammered breathlessly, beginning to shuffle in Susan’s direction, though he stopped when his mother held up a hand.
“Charles, as far as they’re concerned, I’m a private civilian. They were after you. You need to make it out alive, and so does he.” She flicked off the safeties on the uzis and subtly nodded at Charles, who suddenly realized what she was about to do.
“Mom, what are you doing… Mom?!” Junior reached out towards her, but Charles held him back. He confusedly glanced back and forth between Susan and Charles.
“Take him and run. Keep him safe.” Susan locked eyes with Junior and gave him a warm smile. “I love you, baby. I always have, and I always will.” She sighed one last time, accepting her fate, and stared directly at Charles.
“On my life,” Charles promised, and Susan seemed to be satisfied.
“I die in the dark so that you may live in the light,” she declared. And with those final words, she stood up and returned gunfire through the broken window. Junior let out a pained shriek, throwing his hands over his ears. “GO!” Susan shouted, and Charles took the cue. He scrambled to his feet, holding his revolver in his right hand and firmly grasping Junior’s upper arm with his left. He quickly pulled Junior to the back door, only a meter away from the kitchen, and barreled out of it.
“Mom, what are you doing?!” screamed Junior as he hopelessly struggled against Charles’ viselike grip. Meanwhile Charles was pondering an escape route. His car? No, the CI would surely have swarmed it by now. The only viable option was the massive cornfield immediately behind the farmhouse, as there was no other cover in sight. The darkness of night would disguise their movements as he called Alpha-1 on his earpiece. Perfect.
Charles broke into a run, dragging Junior along with him at top speed. They were on fast approach to the cornfield, and the sounds of both uzi and AK gunfire grew distant.
He didn’t need to look back to know what happened when he heard Susan release a choked gasp, nor Junior’s horrible screech of “MOM!!!!” following immediately after.