Note from Gob Hobblin: I forgot to mention this, but the concept of secret integers is not my own, though I did indulge on the concept for purposes of the story. Please check out the very recent short film 'The Secret Number,' concerning a scientist trying to prove a number that exists between 3 and 4 called 'bleem.' Awesome film: I am dead certain some mathematician or physicist is going to see that film and say, "Well, that's quaint…" while scribbling surreptitiously in a notebook.


It was called a deputation, though the intent was skewed more towards inquisition.

There was the conscious part of Geno Ikari's mind that was amused, but he would be a fool to admit that he wasn't somewhat hesitant about the meeting. He could be called upon by the Seven at any given time, but it always made him nervous when they did. He was certain he knew the layout of their maneuvering, except in these moments when they addressed him directly. Then, it became less clear what he did and did not know. Subtle reminders that his multiple chess games could be diluted and confused. The wrong queen moved against the wrong knight on the wrong square, on the wrong board. It was always fine in the end, of course. Gendo was rarely wrong.

As he entered the Council Room, that thought stuck with him. He was, truly, right the vast majority of the time. The problem with being right so often was, that on the rare occasions when you were wrong, the results of that error could be catastrophic. He banished that thought from his mind as he entered the steel gray room, and a semi-circle of seven pillars topped with black domes rose from the floor without preamble.

The seven pillars regarded him with their electronic eyes. He stood still in the center of them, and said nothing. It wasn't his place to begin.

"We have observed the results," the First said, "Concerning the Island's work output. The community has served well in creating the machinery and operational apparatus necessary to achieve an optimal result."

"We are also pleased with the progress indicated in Numbers 6, 7, and 100," the Fourth said. "It is clear that the environmental restraints placed upon them have focused their energies towards breaking the seals and preparing the next stage."

"Thank you," Gendo said. There was nothing else to say.

"However…" the First added, and Gendo mentally sighed. Ah. Here it comes. "We have concerns regarding the inability to maintain positive surveillance of the Children."

"That was to be expected, and it has been difficult to find workarounds," Gendo admitted. "Their abilities are removing them further from the traditional space we occupy, and placing them more at an in-between. As a result, electronic surveillance is…fluid."

"There is always more traditional means of observation," the Seventh intoned.

"Which would muddy the results of the experiment," Gendo said. "They are already being affected by the presence of the Observer." He gave a vague gesture, indicating himself, the Island. All of it, really. Even the unconscious knowledge of being observed was enough to affect the direction of any experimentation subject. He continued: "Any more interference, and we could see a negative feedback on our results."

"And their individuality?" the First asked.

"They are children," Gendo said defensively, "Holding onto their core concepts of self is more valuable to them at this stage, just as it is more easily defused. The question is finding the right lever to force the contradiction in our favor. Number 7 has shown progress in her assimilation, and Number 100 has always been ideal in her behaviors."

"Number 6?" the Second asked.

"Irrelevant," Gendo admitted. "Even when it became clear to us that he could serve a purpose in the experiments, it was always assumed that he would find little ways to rebel. I am less concerned about his results than I am about the affect he will have on Number 100." It was a lie, but there was enough truth in that statement that it sounded convincing.

"And what is that affect?" the Fifth asked.

"In order to continue breaking the locks," Gendo explained, "There is, unfortunately, a certain grain of individuality which must be encouraged. The presence of Number 6 has caused a gradual but measurable rise in Number 100's performance, both because of his rebellious tendencies and unique qualities. She gives him a puzzle to examine, and, according to our observations of her behavior and personality profile, she will further lock into her own convictions regarding our experiment."

That much was true, as well. He had carefully designed 100's social upbringing regimen and nudged her psychological development in ways minute and intrinsic. He had a ninety percent surety as to what she would do in any given situation. He would have preferred a ninety-nine percent rate, but all observations they could conduct had indicated that 100 was still on track towards her purpose.

"And Number 7?" the Sixth asked.

"The element of competition," Gendo said, "Both in competing with Number 100 in terms of ability, and competing for the attention of Number 6. That competition will start to push our results to the next stage."

"That is a risk," the Second hissed. "We could lose seventy years worth of effort in this."

"Progress is the child of risk," Gendo said, "And in order to achieve an optimal and stable environment, to create the conditions necessary for our goals, we have to risk. Sometimes, in order to proceed forward, we must backtrack."

There was a thoughtful silence, and the First said, "We trust you to continue yielding results, though we insist you are aware of our hesitations. This deputation is concluded."

The pillars receded into the floor, save for the First. Gendo stood, waiting, when the voice of the First intoned, "Gendo Ikari, I feel you need a reminder in the purpose of this experiment."

"Why is that?"

"To keep your eye on the greater problem," the First said, "Humanity has come close to its self-destruction too many times for the math to favor its continued existence. The probability of a regression, or, worse, an extinction, rise each day. Each hour."

"Yes," Gendo agreed, feeling a squirming in his stomach. He already knew this. Why the lecture?

"We must subvert the multi-individual inclinations of the human psyche into the subjugated and clear mass individual. The One Human Soul," the First said. "The survival of our species rests on this next fundamental evolution."

"Of course," Gendo agreed.

There was a long silence. "Our goals must be clear on this one issue," the First said. "I know I can trust you to ensure that humanity survives into the future. That we achieve our next evolution. To grow from lesser beings, to a True Cosmic Being."

Something in the flatness of the statement rang a bell in Gendo's head, a distant warning. He couldn't be sure of its nature, but recognized the pressing need to be wary. "That's what I have worked for all along," Gendo said, "The goal of my wife, the purpose of my family's existence. All for that conclusion."

The eye seemed to squint at him. Impossible, of course, but something about that black void seemed too lifelike for comfort. "Remember that," the First said flatly, and the pillar sank into the floor.