Author: olivia circe

Summary: Mad Scientists. Companion piece to "Not Ophelia." This one is the fault of too many second-hand horror movie anecdotes.

Spoilers: "Serenity," maybe some others. Makes more sense if you've seen the show.

Rating: PG for complexity and spookiness

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing.

Distribution: Sure, but ask.

Feedback: Please! (leiranilknarf@hotmail.com)

We are creators, in a 'verse lacking in genius. We follow in the footsteps of the greats, creating powers to supersede everything that has come before. We are innovators, magicians, druids, scientists. We are artists, making masterpieces of creation.

We aren't always told the purpose of the project, or it's goal. We don't always know what government, what branch, what world or coalition we are working for. This time they told us it was Top Secret, which means that our employer is the Alliance. It doesn't matter. We create.

Our gloves are blue, here, and we are known as doctors. Once our gloves were white, and we were scientists. Once they were black, and we were magicians. We fill whatever role is given us, create what we are asked to make.

Things of beauty, all of them.

This one may not remember our caring administrations. Our careful work, our projects, or our teachings. She may doubt us, or distrust us, or try to conceal herself from our long-armed sight. She's not quite finished yet, and there our flaws that need correcting.

But she is our wayward child, and like any parent we want only to bring her safely home. She is our masterpiece, unfinished, edges still a little rough and surface still unpolished. She is our citadel, the structure built but lacking roof and reinforcements.

She is the epitome of our science. She is the most advanced ship to traverse the stars, the new medicine to save ten billion lives, the master weapon to destroy and recreate the 'verse.

She is the height of our creation.

She is our Garden of Eden, our Eve without temptation.

But she is still unfinished, incomplete. She will hurt someone, out there unconstrained. She will hurt herself. She hasn't finished her schooling. We haven't finished her creation. She is a fifth-day world, and we need our last two days.

She could be dangerous. She doesn't know her purpose yet, her reason for existence. She's a loose canon on the deck of the universe's ship. Unprotected, she could be destructive. She could be subject to temptation.

We must find her. We must bring her home.