The Aegis Solution (25 page)

"Our subjects," Boehn continued, ignoring the brashness of his boss's comment, "have a very good
life. Other than the fact that they are, or will be, different from the ostensibly normal people of our
current society – different in the sense that they possess a skill others do not – they have all of the
benefits of a human life. This includes human interaction, intellectual stimulation, recreation, and of
course procreation, when they become of age, with others who also possess the skills."

"They are educated," Kreitzmann took over, "perhaps better than they would have been in the
world on the other side of these walls. What they don't have are the daily trials and tribulations of life
on the outside. They do not ever have to seek a job and tolerate the difficulties and frustrations of that
endeavor. No taxes. No recessions. No military service."

"They're happy?" Elias asked.

"I would say yes," answered Boehn. "Obviously, this is all they know. They don't have a point of
reference, a method for comparison to be able to tell us that they would prefer another lifestyle. But I
believe they are."

Kreitzmann snorted to indicate contempt. "Happy? Patrick, do you believe that the vast majority
of people born into this world are happy? Whatever that means. There are certainly isolated pockets of
privileged children, individuals who are destined to grow up in the best of homes, go to the best of
schools, drive a Lexus, and marry another from the same subset to go on producing more self-indulgent
children.

"But even within the United States, the norm is anything but what I've just described. The society
is in a downward spiral. Have you so isolated yourself that you haven't noticed? Did you know that in
the past few decades, the percentage of children who graduate high school…high school, for God's
sake, has declined. In the years following World War II, the graduation rates improved dramatically; the
percentage of children who went on to college skyrocketed. A multitude of other indicators were also
on the rise, some moderately and some substantially. Almost all of those trends have reversed.

"Statistically, a female born in America fifteen years ago has a better chance of being a high school
drop-out, unmarried and raising children on her own, than she does of eventually finishing school,
obtaining a college degree, and finding a professional career. The males fare no better. And leave it to
the current culture to create a new anomaly: the malnourished obese teenager.

"The examples and statistics I've cited thus far are for our own supposedly wealthy country. Once
you leave these borders, as I have in my career, with the exception of a few truly enlightened countries,
the prognosis for the children is far worse.

"That," Kreitzmann emphasized dramatically, "is the life we have stolen from our subjects. Instead,
they are fed perfectly balanced meals prepared by nutritionists. They receive the finest health care
available. They are educated, in some cases, due to the uniqueness of their acquired skills, to a level far
exceeding that which is available or even possible out there. They all participate in a daily regimen of
exercise and physical activity, developed and monitored by experts in the field of physical education.
They have never seen a moment of television, with the incumbent messages contained in both the
entertainment and the advertising. They've never once in their lives seen a cigarette or cigar. Not one
breath that they take is ever polluted with first- or second-hand smoke.

"Their diet is that of a vegetarian, with all of the fruits and vegetables locally grown and organic,
so they have been spared the growth hormones, pesticides, and chemical fertilizers which you and I
were raised ingesting."

"Whoa!" Elias exclaimed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I see your point. I really do."

Kreitzmann took a deep breath, calming down from the frenzy he had worked himself into. With
a wry grin, he began to speak softly. "I'm sorry. As you can well imagine, the topic is a tender one for
me as it has been the source of so many attacks over the recent years."

"I understand. My only concern, when I broached the issue, was the treatment of the subjects.
Obviously, they are well cared for, and their overall development is a high priority."

"It is. Very much so. Does that address your concern?"

Hesitating first, Elias gently asked, "What is your…source for the newborns?"

Kreitzmann, rather than becoming tense or defensive, chuckled. "If you envision unmarked vans
backed up to the maternity wards of hospitals where paid-off staff are secretly carrying babies out the
back door to waiting men in dark sunglasses, I am sorry to disappoint you. There has been no baby
stealing, no kidnapping. There have been no erroneous reports of infant mortality, while the newborns
are transferred to us. We have multiple sources, Patrick. All of them are voluntary, with the full
knowledge and consent of the parents or, in many cases, the mother, who is the only available parent."

"I'm sorry to belabor this point, but I'm having a difficult time imagining the establishment of the
supply chain, so to speak. Are you running advertising?"

"We have, in the past, done exactly that in other countries. It was that practice which brought the
unwelcome attention to our work. We have since discovered that there is no necessity for such an overt
practice. But there honestly isn't any reason to expand upon the specifics because our need for
maintaining the supply chain, as you so bluntly put it, has diminished to the point where it is almost not
an issue."

"Why is that?"

Kreitzmann waved his arm to encompass his surroundings. "This facility, Aegis, has reached a point
of self-sustainment. We have so many subjects within the program who have been with us for so long
that they are now, as Doctor Boehn mentioned a moment ago, procreating. Their children are now part
of the program. Additionally, the misfits, losers, and terminally depressed who come through that front
turnstile have no compunction about engaging in the act with anyone who consents and, in many cases,
those who do not. And, for the most part, these people have no interest in parenting. If they did…if
they had any sense of responsibility for their families…would they have abandoned them to enter Aegis?
No, Patrick, our days of securing subjects from the outside are essentially over.

"And the day will soon come where one hundred percent of our subjects are second, or later,
generation. When that day arrives, the accusation of working with infants who have been torn from the
loving bosoms of their mothers will no longer be valid, as the mothers and fathers will be right here
with them, participating and helping them to develop."

While they had been speaking, Elias noticed that Doctor Bonillas had entered the lab and was
standing patiently, waiting.

After Kreitzmann finished, he turned to her. "Yes, Doctor Bonillas?"

Nervously, she said, "Doctor Kreitzmann…if I could have a minute."

As she said this, Elias noticed her eyes dart to him for a brief moment before returning to
Kreitzmann.

"Of course. If you would both excuse me."

He walked away from them, and Elias could hear him ask what she needed. Her response was
nearly a whisper; he was not able to make out her words. But upon hearing her reply, Kreitzmann
glanced over his shoulder at Elias, and then the two of them moved out into the hallway.

Assuming that somehow his cover had been blown, Elias began planning his next move while
refining the mental map of the hallways that he and Kreitzmann had covered, and deciding upon his
escape route.

If there had been any doubts in Elias' mind about the purpose for Bonillas' visit, those doubts were
dashed when Kreitzmann returned alone. Gone was the friendly, collegial expression on his face. It was
replaced with a look of anger and distrust. His eyes bored into Elias' eyes, as he rejoined him and Boehn.

"Doctor Boehn," he said, his voice taut, "if you would excuse us, please."

Boehn, catching the inflection, became suddenly nervous. "Of course," he replied as he turned to
Elias and extended his hand. "Doctor Brightman, I hope that you decide…."

"That won't be necessary," Kreitzmann interrupted harshly. "Please…."

Boehn's arm dropped quickly back to his side and he nodded, saying nothing else.

Kreitzmann turned to Elias. "Come with me."

With perfectly manufactured inflections of curiosity and confusion, Elias asked, "Is something
wrong?"

The scientist did not reply. He merely restated, "Come," and turned toward the hallway, clearly
expecting Elias to follow, which he did.

They retraced their steps in the direction of Bonillas' lab in silence. Elias made two additional
attempts to engage him verbally, as the real Patrick Brightman would in this situation. His comments
were ignored as they continued to walk. Rounding a corner, he saw Bonillas standing outside her lab,
accompanied by another person Elias did not know. He noted that Bonillas was repetitively bunching
and releasing the pocket on her lab coat with her right hand, turning that small part of the fabric into
a crumpled mess. They walked directly to the two of them, and Kreitzmann, saying nothing, looked at
the stranger, waiting.

The stranger took one quick look at Elias and turned to Kreitzmann. It was obvious this was a
person who knew the real Brightman, as he curtly shook his head to indicate that Elias had failed the
test.

Kreitzmann spoke, his voice stern and somber. "Thank you, Doctor Pannectuck. Thank you,
Doctor Bonillas."

They both nodded and retreated to the lab, leaving Elias alone in the hallway with Kreitzmann.

"Who are you?"

Giving it a final try, Elias sputtered, "I'm Patrick Brightman. You already know…."

"Sir, that gentleman who just left knows Patrick Brightman. He worked with him for two years.
Now, I'll ask one more time. Who are you?"

Without hesitating, Elias answered, "Elias Charon."

Kreitzmann's reaction was instantaneous. "Charon! They sent you?"

Elias said nothing, waiting. He watched the scientist's face and saw that the anger was gone. But
it was not replaced with fear; rather, confusion momentarily flickered across his countenance.

Elias took advantage of this by asking, "How did Bonillas figure it out?"

In a matter-of-fact voice, Kreitzmann answered, "You either didn't know about or underestimated
the psychic children."

Not all that surprised, Elias said, "The girl behind the glass read my mind."

He nodded. "And she is one of our speakers. After we left, she told one of Doctor Bonillas'
assistants what you were thinking and that you were pretending to be someone you were not. The
assistant told Doctor Bonillas who took the initiative to contact our HR people. At first, she believed
she was simply documenting another lab result from the children for the case file. But after HR told her
we had someone on staff who had worked with Brightman, and that person, upon hearing your physical
description, was fairly certain you were not the man you pretended to be, she summoned me.

"It was only a matter of time until you encountered someone who knew the real Brightman. You
must have assumed that. Therefore, Mr. Charon, the only conclusion I can draw is that whatever you
had planned to do, you were going to act quickly, and that your masquerade, after it served its initial
purpose of gaining entry, was only to gain some insights into our work first."

Elias said nothing.

"My question is the obvious one. What is it you were planning to do?"

Shrugging, Elias answered, "I came into Aegis for the same reason everyone else does. Well, almost
everyone, apparently. I'd had enough out there."

Kreitzmann was closely studying Elias' face as he spoke. "I had heard that you lost your wife."

Elias nodded.

"I don't believe you, Mr. Charon. But, for the sake of conversation, if this is true, why the Patrick
Brightman charade? Why infiltrate my labs?"

"When I was active…when I was engaged in, well, things…you and your activities were always near
the top of my pile. I didn't know you were in here until after I arrived. It seems there aren't too many
secrets in this facility. I heard that you had set up shop inside the very place I had chosen for my
self-imposed exile, and the coincidence was too great to ignore. I was curious."

"But the Patrick Brightman ruse? That must have been planned."

"Not at all. Brightman had come to my attention as one of my last issues before I retired. I knew
the details of his life and thought I could wing it long enough to get a look around. It was hasty and it
was ad-libbed. As you said, I knew it was a short-time cover. But I only wanted a peek, anyway."

One side of Kreitzmann's mouth curled up in a half smile. "You are quite persuasive, Mr. Charon.
Really! As I stand here and talk with you, I find myself wanting to believe what you say."

"It's true."

"So you say. And perhaps it is. In the days prior to my work, I would have been forced to make a
value judgment, a gut decision, as it were. Fortunately, that is no longer the case."

He turned and opened the door to Bonillas' lab and Elias saw the doctor, as well as the young girl
from behind the glass. They had been standing just inside the door. Kreitzmann glanced questioningly
at Bonillas, who bent down and put her ear close to the girl's lips. Elias watched while the girl whispered
something. As Bonillas heard the girl's words, Elias saw her face knit into an expression of fear. He did
not need to see anything else.