Artemis sat on the edge of his seat, his face so close to the computer screen that he could see the hundreds of pixels on the monitor. His fingers tingled with the excitement of discovery, the heady sensation of accomplishing something that no one in the world has ever done before. It had been challenging of course, he hadn't experienced anything as remotely frustrating since he decrypted the Gnomish tongue, all those years ago. This project had required all his knowledge on cloning and robotic technology, not to mention a tonne of information picked up from his escapades with the fairy people.

If only you could see me now, Minerva.

The sound of bubbling caught Artemis' attention, and he swivelled his chair from the computer screen. The room was cluttered with machines, all humming with tireless efficiency, all necessary for the development of the project. His eyes came to rest on the glass cylinder in the middle of the room. It was life sized, containing the body of a girl. For the past year, it had shown no signs of movement, no signs of life. Perhaps the sound had been the product of his imagination.

But no, there it was again. With a minute parting of her lips, a tiny stream of bubbles shot towards the surface of the water.

She was waking up.

Artemis could feel his heart pounding as he turned round again to type a short command into the computer. Immediately, the water in the tube began to drain and the girl inhaled a great, shuddering breath. Her eyes snapped open and her arms wrapped themselves instinctively around herself.

So far, so good. Artemis thought to himself as the door of the cylinder swung open, and the girl clumsily stepped out. He gave her a towel, which she wrapped around herself methodically. Artemis waited for the shivering to stop, before tilting her chin up.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked softly.

Her blank eyes just stared back at him. A flicker of doubt crossed Artemis' mind. Surely he had made no mistakes? He had been so careful, so thorough. Theoretically, all should be well. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gripped them tightly. Her eyes widened in response to the pressure, but still, they betrayed no sign of thought. It was just as Artemis was beginning to feel the pang of disappointment, that she spoke.

"Artemis Fowl II." Her reply came out in a throaty monotone. Despite the coarseness of her voice, it awakened memories Artemis did not want to deal with.

"What are the first five elements on the periodic table?" Artemis queried.

The girl's mouth opened hesitantly. "Hydrogen. Helium. Lithium. Berylium. Boron."

Good. One more easy question. "What is the square root of 196 multiplied by two and divided by seven?"

"Four," she answered, her voice now stronger.

Artemis exhaled a sigh of relief. Her mind was sound. "Excellent."

When people think of birth, they think of babies and the promise of the future. Of beginnings. People have the benefit of ignorance; they spend the first years of their life just enjoying it. They don't have to worry about what's to come, and even when they do they embrace it like a new adventure. Their reason to live is to find one.

I came into the world, mentally mature with my physical age not so far behind. I stepped onto that wooden floor, hair dripping wet and breathing on my own for the first time. Each experience was a new one, the feel of the downy towel on my skin; the draught that came through the window, accentuating the chilly night. The heat of his hands as they clutched my shoulders in a sort of desperation. But there was no wonder in feeling these sensations. He had not made me that way. I had knowledge long before I had opened my eyes and inhaled my first breath, I was capable of thought before he led me out into the world. Everything was already known to me and there wasn't much room left for new discovery. Already, I had fulfilled my purpose. I was a living testament to his genius.

So what more was there for me to do?