He double checked the papers (again), then turned to Max. "It's legit."
"Definitely?"
"Definitely."
"So - so that's it. Right there is what I'm looking for?"
"Yes... and I'm positive." He added, seeing the look on her face. "This will work, permanently, one hundred percent."
She smiled widely, but just as quickly her face fell. "How much?"
"Well... that's where it gets difficult." He told her apprehensively. "It's not that what's needed costs a mansion and a half, but... the processes involved, I don't have that kind of equipment."
"But could you get it?" She asked. "Could I get it for you? Could - could, God, could the equipment be gotten in any way?"
"Yes." He told her. "But not without some serious cash."
"How much're we talkin' here?"
"Roughly? About... fifty-thousand."
* * *
Aaron stood, letting the gentle wind rush over him and not seeming to mind at all. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at the police and protesters teaming in front of Terminal City. He shook his head, knowing that if the transgenics ever did decide to rise up and take the world on, there was nothing any of those police could do about it. He did know what they could do about it, but they had never asked him so it was really their loss.
He smirked when he saw a motorcycle expertly weave through the angry protesters and police and fly into Terminal City. He knew it was Max, and knew that she would soon come to talk to him about the price of the process he had laid out. He had known when he wrote it up that it would statistically be no less than forty-thousand, but didn't quite have the heart to tell her.
A few minutes later, he sensed someone behind him and had an inkling it was her. He would not turn around though; he was too busy enjoying the ruckus the motorcyclist had caused amongst the crowd.
"Fifty-thousand."
"I was a bit off then." He said idly. "But then, I do only have a 97% success rate."
She walked over to stand next to him, but didn't look at him, instead watched the ruckus with him. "How am I going to get fifty-thousand dollars?"
"Are you asking me?"
She paused, then looked up at him. "Yeah, yeah I am."
"Well," He said and let out a sigh. "Buyers in foreign markets are looking for bits and pieces of Americana. You could probably sell one or two pieces and have it all."
"I don't have the access."
"People here are looking for it too." He told her, then turned and left the roof.
* * *
Orion's eyes snapped open and he struggled to sit up, but a hand rested on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down on the bed. He struggled against it for a minute, then gave up and looked to see who it was. He smiled in a lopsided way. "Aaron."
"Yes, I've come to visit you."
"So we really made it out? I passed out halfway out the door, and when I woke up I was afraid we were caught."
"No, we made it out just fine." Aaron told him. "Everyone is quite well."
"That's good to hear." Orion smiled. "So, how are you liking your freedom so far? I found myself a bit... freaked, as Max described it."
"I was always free." Aaron replied. "Even in my cell, I was a free man."
"What do you mean?" Orion frowned.
"My life has been spent in institutions that prided themselves on having me." He explained. "And it was never about my lodgings or how I was contained, that never decided my freedom. I did. I could think anything and in any way I wanted, and that made me free."
Orion nodded slightly and thought the statement over. He had worked through some of it, but before he could work on a serious assessment, there was a knock on the door frame. He and Aaron both turned to look.
"Can I talk to you?" Max asked.
"Of course." Aaron answered, then turned to Orion and handed him a folder. "I'm going to go now, and... I think what's in there will answer most your questions."
He smiled then followed Max out of the room.
Orion stared at the words on the front of the folder: The Boy of Project Voltaire.
* * *
Aaron followed Max into her office, and she closed the door behind them. He looked at her, two possibilities for his presence there floating in his mind. "Yes?"
"First, you have to agree not to tell anyone about this." She said.
He nodded. "Of course."
"Okay, well, I can't exactly just find fifty large on a street corner, and I haven't been able to tap into my sources." She said. "I need you to help me get the Americana and fence it. You'd get a piece of the action, obviously."
"I will help you, and I will be quiet about it." Aaron told her. "But I don't need your money. I don't think - know for money."
"I wouldn't feel right if I didn't give you something." She told him. "It's funny because if you caught me a year or two ago, I'd be more than happy with that arrangement."
"The environment you live in changes you." He said. "Everyone is a product of their environment"
"Very true." She mumbled and sat behind her desk. She paused, then looked at him again. "Anyway, I want to give you something for helping me."
"I'll tell you what." He said. "How about you just give me a hug after it's all said and done and we call it even?"
"A hug?"
Aaron shrugged. "I just don't want your money."
Max smiled, glad to have Aaron on the team. Her moment of happiness was interrupted when Joshua burst into the room.
"Max! Newbie! All - all bloody! Crying, and - and she says there's no more!" He exclaimed in a hurry.
"Let's go."
When they reached the new arrival, Max was surprised to see her crying. Usually straight-from-Manticore arrivals didn't show any emotion, feeling that weakness would make them vulnerable in their new environment. She slowly approached her and kneeled down next to the sobbing girl.
"What's wrong?" She asked quietly.
The girl took a breath and dried her tears then turned to Max. "They're all dead."
"Who?"
"All my brothers and sisters." The girl told her. "The ones that were left anyway. There were only about twenty X6s left, and they came into the barracks and said they had a new vaccine. I was ready to take it, but my brother 948 said he didn't trust it, and then we watched one of our brothers die. I killed the woman giving the shots and - and he tried to kill the man, but he had his gun out, and they were on the floor. Then there was a shot and - and he snapped the guy's neck."
She looked at Max, new tears streaming down her cheeks. "I thought he was fine. But I turned him over and... there was blood all over him. I told him he'd be fine and I know he didn't believe me, but he said he would. Then he told me to come here, and - and then he... he died. I looked around but all the others had died from whatever was in the needle, so I left. I checked the other barracks, but they'd been killed too. Some of them were X8s... they were just kids. And now they're dead. They're all dead. All of them."
Max put a hand on the girl's shoulder, tears forming in her eyes as well.
* * *
Orion read over the basic Classified warning sheet, then tossed it aside and looked at the information in the file. The first page had a baby photo of Aaron and most of his babyhood stats.
D.O.B. 5/10/93
EYE Hazel
HAIR Light Brown
WEIGHT 7lbs. 6oz.
Orion skimmed over the rest of the information, but didn't bother with most of it because it was mostly diet, stimuli, etc. The page after was titled "Mission Statement," and that seemed quite interesting.
The aim of Project Voltaire is to create the perfect problem solver. The machine attempt failed, but a human subject seems much more reasonable. The genetics of the specimen were enhanced in the embryonic stages to make the child above average in thinking and physical skill. The enhancements are in hopes that one day the child will grow to be an adult capable of solving the nation's problems.
He turned the page and saw a picture of 7-year-old Aaron and another short paragraph on him.
1998 The boy has proven his usefulness. Recently he gave successful advice to the Supreme Court in the case of Mundlar vs. Utamsi. Later in the year he gave advice a Mr. Sandeman who is working on the fledgling Project Manticore. Details of the advice can be found in Folder C, section 18.
The boy has certainly proven that he has been built to know.
Orion, fascinated, read through the rest of the contents of the folder, nonstop. As he went along, he realized that Aaron had been correct; this was answering most of his questions.
* * *
Max had managed to calm the girl some and had taken her to her office to talk about what had happened more in depth. The girl had gone over the story again, making it clear that The Committee had no further access to any transgenics.
"That was a horrible thing for you to go through, and I'm sorry." Max said in a comforting way. "I know my words hardly mean anything, but... they are true."
The girl nodded. "I think I just need time to process what happened."
"Before Joshua shows you where you can do that, it's kind of our thing here for all the newbies to get a name." Max told her. "I totally understand if you don't want to think about it right now."
The girl thought it over, then looked at Max with a fire in her eyes. "No, I - I think I want one now. I want to be able to fit in."
"Any ideas?"
"I think I have one." Aaron broke in. He paused, then seeing the eager looks on everyone's faces, he smirked. "Tru."
"Tru?" Max repeated.
"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Aaron said. "I took it from what you said before, your words to her were true, and she really is the last true transgenic to escape and come here."
The girl smiled just a bit. "I like it."