Security camera 221-B memory log. Date: 11/23/2150. Time stamp: 22:14:58
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A group of eleven people huddled around a wooden table that was too small for the number of people it was supporting. On the table were a handful documents and charts that were all labeled "CLASSIFIED" in large letters at the top of each page. No one at the table had clearance to read them.
The only light source in the room came from a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling that occasionally flickered. The atmosphere was tense as the implications of what they had just been told sunk in. No one spoke for a long time, but everyone stared at the man who had just given them the worst news in Earth's history. Some gaped at him with eyes wide with shock, others looked at him with fear etched across their features, and several stared as looks of disgust appeared on their faces. Most just stared at him in disbelief.
"Are you sure?" one of them hesitantly asked. His brown hair was greying and worry was shown in his eyes. All eyes shifted to him at the sound of his voice, and then quickly shifted back to the head of the table, waiting for the other man's response.
"Yes," The single word sparked an explosion of panicked and shouted questions so quickly and overlapped each other that no one could make out anything they were saying.
"SILENCE!" the man shouted. Once again, the room was silent save for the echo of his voice bouncing off the walls. "I did not gather the world's ten brightest minds for you to all yell and panic about this! I brought you here to do something about it! To find a way to stop this!"
"Stop this?" another asked, incredulous. He was wearing a pristine white lab coat, the collar of which partially obscured his face. "How can we try to find a way to stop this? You won't even tell us how they're doing it?"
"Professor Membrane does have a point," the man who asked the first question said. Murmurs of agreement could be heard from everywhere at the table. "If you truly do want to help, then why aren't you telling us everything you know? We don't even know you're name!"
"That is all I know, I swear!" the man insisted. He was starting to get nervous about the way some of the people were looking at him. He preferred the looks of surprise over the suspicion that could be seen on most of their faces. "And I'd rather not have my name involved in any of this in case they find out someone gave you this information. Look, I'm just an assistant, okay? They only me hired two weeks ago. I accidentally saw the file on one of their computers, and I copied it on my flash drive before anyone could see me. It looked really important, and I figured that I could do something with it. I didn't exactly have a specific plan; maybe sell it back to them for a high price?"
"Wow, you're sure a model employee," the man replied sarcastically.
"Please, Doctor Hawking, I'm nearly done. Let me finish," the man requested. "After I took it home and looked at it in closer detail, I realized that I had to tell someone what was going to happen. I had to tell someone what had already happened! So that's why I called all of you here."
"Then why didn't you contact the FBI or the UN or NSY or somebody with more influence than a handful of scientists?" Dr. Hawking's asked a simple question, but his hazel eyes displayed his distrust of the host. "Surely anyone in law enforcement or government would have been a better choice to reveal this to."
"You make a good point, whoever you are," Prof. Membrane admitted.
"I'm Dr. Sylvester McCoy and this is my twin sister, Lenora," the hazel eyed man replied motioning to the woman with spiky black hair next to him as he introduced her as his fraternal twin. Lenora, who looked more like a punk rocker than a scientist, waved to the group when her presence was announced.
"In case you haven't noticed, Dr. McCoy, they started the project a long time ago. World leaders and most of the government were among the first to be affected; surely you can see how incompetent they are now? Only a handful of people in high positions are left unaffected, and I can only speculate that the reason is those people are part of the group that is doing all of this. They haven't even started the final phase, and, if these charts from them are correct, nearly the entire population has been affected already!" the man shifted through the papers on the table until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a complex graph from the stack and passed it around the table.
"Then why haven't we been affected? If what you are telling us about their plans is true, then we should have been targeted after leaders and law officers," Lenora pointed out.
"Yeah and how did you get all of these documents anyway?" the woman next on Lenora's left chimed in. Her hair had striking, electric blue streaks of color in her bleach blonde hair. "I thought you said that you only copied one file on your flash drive?"
"Yes, I only copied one file the first time, Dr. Tesla. After I decided to tell someone, I went back to work the next day and got more. It took me eight days to collect all of these papers, and three more days to gather the courage to contact you all. I had intended to get more files, but my superiors were starting to get suspicious. That's also why I don't know how they're doing what they're doing. As for your question Ms. McCoy—"
"Doctor McCoy. Genetic engineering," Lenora interrupted.
"Sorry, Doctor McCoy," he said. The man looked through the papers again, this time settling on a long document titled "Glitches and Setbacks as of 9/14/2151." He handed the paper to Lenora McCoy. "In section 4M of this document, it addresses how certain people seem to be immune or unaffected. Scientists are at the top of the list for those who are likely to be immune. They weren't sure why or how, but it also lists a scheduled date two months from now for it to be brought up at an official meeting."
"So we're safe until then? Two months is not enough time to stop this," Dr. Tesla pointed out.
"We probably have a lot longer than that, Nicolette," Doctor Hawking reassured her. "It will take them a long time after the meeting to discern why we're immune and how to stop it."
"You don't know that. Quit lying to the girl, Spencer," Prof. Membrane interjected.
"Professor!" Spencer Hawking shouted in protest.
"I'm sorry, but you know as well as I do that it could take them less than a day to figure out how to get rid of this little 'glitch' of theirs. There might even be a team of theirs trying to fix it right now," Prof. Membrane suggested.
"Making people panic is not going to help anyone!" Dr. Hawking insisted.
"Neither is giving people an obviously false sense of security!" Membrane replied. "What we need to do now is start thinking of a way to stop this."
Spencer Hawking opened his mouth to respond to the professor again when Dr. Nicolette spoke first.
"It's ok, Doctor Hawking, Professor Membrane is right. Worrying about when or if we might be affected is not going to solve anything. We know what they're doing, but we don't know how. Our first priority is to ascertain how these people are doing this," Dr. Nicolette said.
Professor Membrane sent a knowing smirk at Spencer Hawking as everyone at the table agreed with the blue-haired woman.
"How are we going to figure this out, exactly?" the new, French accented voice came from a woman with a tattoo of a neuron. The main body of the neuron rested just underneath her left ear and the axon curled down her neck and rested at her right clavicle.
"Yeah, Ally has a good point," the woman next to her said. She had a tattoo of DNA in the same position as the woman who just spoke. "Um, hi. I'm Doctor Jane Watson. The only information we have on them are these papers, and none of them describe how this plan of theirs is being accomplished. Most of these documents just describe their involvement in the Last Great War. Taking down and very nearly erasing the internet, shutting down all access to information, infiltrating governments, etc. While that's very informative, it's not particularly relevant to what we need to know to stop them."
"And we're not going to figure out how by staring at documents or talking amongst ourselves about what we don't know," Ally replied.
"Okay then, what's your suggestion?" Dr. Watson asked.
Dr. Binet was silent as she thought about his Jane's question. She didn't really have any specific ideas, but she knew that they had to do something. Doing something was a lot better than the whole lot of nothing they were accomplishing right now.
"If no one else has any ideas, then allow me to suggest something," this man was the only one in the group wearing a suit. He looked like he belonged in a business meeting, not an underground conference.
"Go ahead. We're open to suggestions," Sylvester McCoy told the man.
"Thank you, Doctor McCoy. I would like to propose an experiment. We cannot discover the means by which they are executing their plan by shifting through these practically worthless documents. After all, no information of any significance would be under such horrendous security measures. What we can do, however, is conduct an experiment that would test how it affects people under various conditions and when certain measures are put in place to prevent its effects. From that data, we should be able to deduce exactly what method or methods are being used to bring about the success of their plan. I am aware that I am suggesting an extremely long-term experiment, but their plan is even longer," the man had a British accent and spoke in tone that made it clear he thought he was the most important person in the room.
"Who exactly are you?" Dr. Hawking asked. There was something about this man's icy demeanor that put him on edge. Judging by the looks on most of everyone else faces, they felt the same way.
"My apologies, I am Sir Mycroft Holmes, professor at Cambridge University, and formerly the British Government," the man said.
"Um, don't you mean formerly a member of the British Government?" Dr. Nicolette Tesla asked nervously.
"No," Mycroft replied. "Not that it really matters. Countries don't actually exist anymore."
"What? Of course they do!" Ally practically shouted. The neuron tattoo on her neck twisted and bent as she spoke.
"Oh my! My dear Allison Binet, it seems I have quite a bit of explaining to do, but now is not the time for that. Right now, we must focus on the task at hand. Politics should be saved for after," Mycroft had a slight smile that radiated condescension.
Dr. Binet muttered that she didn't want to be called Allison, but Mycroft chose to ignore her. By now, everyone at the table was feeling uneasy about Mycroft's presence.
"Professor Holmes…" Spencer began.
"Mr. Holmes will do just fine, Doctor Hawking," Mycroft said, cutting her off and knowingly irritating her.
"Fine, Mr. Holmes, what you seem to be suggesting in this experiment of yours is to monitor people throughout their lives under various circumstances," Spencer Hawking. He was not entirely sure how to bring up his point, but the look of impatience on Mycroft's face told him that he would not respond to anything but a direct and purposeful question. When he still did not clarify, Mr. Holmes raised an eyebrow as if to say 'continue.'
"Well, the only we could be sure no outside sources, other than the one we are searching for, affect our subjects would be if we monitor them constantly. That's also the only way we can ensure whatever trait or circumstance is being studied on that subject is not being influenced or altered in anyway. Also, we would have to begin the experiment at or immediately following the subject's birth, maybe even before birth. Not to mention, we would have to have a lot of test subjects to investigate multiple conditions!" Dr. Hawking's voice had been progressively getting louder as he listed off the requirements of the experiment Mycroft suggested.
"Yes, that is correct. However, I fail to see your point, Doctor Hawking," Mr. Holmes remained as composed as ever.
"My point is that you are suggesting using infants! And then experimenting on, manipulating, and observing them for their entire lives as they grow up! And you expect me to be ok with that?" Spencer was enraged at the man's proposition and his infuriatingly calm voice only added to his fury. A few people at the table could be seen sharing Dr. Hawking's feelings, but most eyed Mr. Holmes with a mixture of curiosity and hesitance.
"I can understand your initially negative response towards my proposal, but please listen," Mycroft was having trouble maintaining his mask of composure, but he would not let anyone become aware of that fact. Dr. Hawking was really getting under his skin and Mycroft wished he would just shut up. "The children would be in no way harmed, in fact, they would be well cared for and given individual attention. That is, of course, assuming all parties here agree to take just one or two children into their homes. They could care for them as their own child and raise them as they see fit, so long as that does not interfere with the individual test parameters. I am aware that 'experiment' has negative connotations when associated with life forms, especially humans, but it is just a word. If anyone has an idea that will accomplish our goal more efficiently, then I welcome you to speak up."
When no one, not even Spencer, spoke up, Mr. Holmes took that as their acceptance of his experiment. Many people around the table looked as if they wished they had a plan to suggest.
"So we are all agreed on our course of action?" Mycroft asked. An air of finality circulated throughout the room as everyone nodded in agreement, though some still showed signs of reservations about the plan. "Good. Though I suggest we should all meet at a later date to discuss the specifics."
"Why?" one man asked who had remained silent during the rest of the discussion. He had been going over the notes and papers spread across the table with another other man who had been silent as well. He brushed back a long strand of brown hair, revealing an atom tattooed behind his ear. "From what my…erm… colleague and I have been able to gather from these documents, time is not on our side, especially if we intend to go through such a long term plan like raising ten children."
"You are Doctor Rutherford, correct?" Mycroft asked.
"Yes, but–"
"You and your friend have been very quiet examining those papers. Care to share with the rest of the class?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow expectantly.
"Yes, of course," the other man said. "My name is Adam Turing and I specialize in computer technology and code breaking. Doctor Rutherford and I have been examining numerous charts and graph, and we have come to the conclusion that the data shows a rapid increase in the effectiveness of whatever it is. I fear we do not have much time left until the population of the entire planet is affected. When this happens—and it will happen—no one will be able to put a stop to them, this mysterious Council."
"While their long term goal is currently unknown, there is no evidence to suggest it is anything but malicious," Eric Rutherford continued, picking up effortlessly from where his partner left off. "We need to do something to stop them, and the first step is figuring what the hell they're doing in the first place. As such, Mr. Holmes' plan will certainly be able to accomplish this goal. And, while I hesitate to label the raising of children—human life—as an experiment, it's the best idea we have."
"So are we all in agreement?" Mycroft asked. Slowly, all people at the table nodded their heads.
"Thank you! All of you," the man who had gathered them all here said. "I wish I had more information to give you, but I want to do whatever I can to help!"
"Of course. This is going to be a team effort, after all," an air of smugness surrounded Mycroft, pleased that they were going through with his plan. Whatever hint of a smile was beginning to creep onto his face immediately vanished. "However, before we begin to discuss the specifics of this plan, there is something that must be taken care of. A fly on the wall, if you will. And I do regret that I did not notice it until now. My apologies." Mycroft Holmes pulled out a gun, looked directly at the hidden security camera, and pulled the trigger.
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Error. Connection Lost.
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