The sound of computer code slowly scrolling by and fingers typing across a keypad was all she could hear. It was dark and cold, and everything felt so still. She was afraid, unsure of how she got here nor why. When she reached out her hand, small pale fingers felt the cold strength of metal bars, and she knew there was no way out.
Panic took hold of her heart, touching all around before finding the object of her search. A blue teddy bear, with a single button eye and strained fur. She clutched it tightly as soft red eyes became strained with the burgeoning feeling of growing tears, burying her face into the fur of the bear. It calmed her, if only a little bit. Only two years old, she knew nothing of the world of the situation. All she could do was cry and repeat one of the few words she knew.
"MAMA!" crying out desperately, a wail of need and fear that seemed to made those cold metal bars feel all the more constricting, as the sound reverberated against them and the empty, dark room with shaking echoes.
There was no response, no yell from her mother, nor even a sigh of sympathy from the scientists observing from a hidden view deck above. It would not be the first time they heard this child cry. For some, that fact meant nothing. For others, it was heart-wrenching, yet they still felt driven in their actions. Even as those wails kept going until the child's throat grew raw, hoarse, and shakey.
Footsteps were heard as a woman entered the observation deck. The room dimly lit to ensure the two-way glass would not be visible in the hall below, filled with computers, science equipment, and papers of the project. The woman spoke with a low, hoarse voice that had grown scratched from centuries of smoking. "She will be the last. The other 12 could not quite make the cut, but we will find places for them."
"Are you... are you sure this is really necessary...?" One younger scientist questioned.
"She's younger than any others were. It feels..." another trailed off quietly.
"This little girl is the rarest specimen in existence. There could never be a finer subject for our cause," she said, but it was clear that while her resolve was solid, she was not too keen on this particular project anymore. A few decades of experiments, dozens failed, and only 12 successes. Each too unfit for the role, however, that the project demanded.
"Still..." Another grumbled.
"Oh, come on? Existential peace, in exchange for the life of one mere child. A freak no less!" Another chimed in, arrogance and confidence filling their voice.
"Not to mention, the chance to experiment on an infant Infinite... it's practically a once in eternity opportunity!" Another said, with a bit too much glee in his voice at the prospect of such experimentation for the lead scientist's liking. Were he not the top of his field in skeletal augmentation, she would have fired him on the spot for that alone. Still, she couldn't afford any risks this time. They never would get such an opportunity again.
The woman fixed the collar of her sweater, concealing the red diamond embedded in her throat, before sighing as her lab coat fluttered slightly as she turned. Her white hair swished against her shoulders as she slowly adjusted her glasses. "Begin the first set of tests. We will not be rushing this," she said in a soft yet hesitant tone. Her footsteps cracked against the tile floor as she left the room to prepare a few notes, or, perhaps, to distract her from the atrocity she was about to commit.
The others nodded. Quickly, they got to work. Notes on surgeries, chemical augmentation, mana implantation, bone chemical enhancement, and countless other extreme, and painful concepts began to be set out as debate over what to try first filled the room, while the lead scientist dismissed herself.
The guilt she felt was heavy, heavier than it had been just three decades before at the outset. Back then, she had considered it an honor. A project to craft the perfect ruler for existence, to finally being about an eclipsing peace. Now, the very notion sat like poison in her throat that she could never hope to expunge. Her hands had become soaked in blood. At least before when she was just a scientist for an empire, she was far from the real carnage. Theories. Inventions. Never once did she consider her own hands stained. Now, she couldn't even look at them without feeling a need to wretch.
