Subjectivity: Chapter One

Everything was white.

However such was of little concern to Subject 17135244. For this Subject was an aberration. Granted the specification of Class Nine and above, the few Subjects like him were considered to not have developed personalities or other human traits, which set them apart from mere breathing bodies. Held in great disdain by those all around, they were embarrassing anomalies.

Subject 17135244 was a curious rare by-product of the New Evolutionary Leap Organisation who so prided themselves upon producing a perfect product. However, to Subject 17135244, he discerned himself to be different from the aberrations. He thought, he could speak, he had a personality of sorts. Facts akin to these were hidden to the general populace of Keepers, though.

Subject 17135244, known better by another name, Roe Speremus - a name constructed for the region he was intended to hail from, or appear to be from; the former Roman Empire, now known as Greece. The marking on his inner right wrist would evermore mark him as a Subject. Roe had recently reached his twelfth year of existence and there he once more sat upon a blank white couch.

The piece of elongated furniture was geometrically made in such a fashion that it gave the young Subject a sore back, however Roe would not complain. His self-imposed, nigh-permanent silence, gleaned from the perceived lack of worth in conversation had been a long standing aspect of his person, hailing back as far as Roe could remember. It was an unnecessary encumbrance to speak and to do so would most often bring discomfort from those who kept him in their facility. Moreover, the Keepers never had much to say to him; nothing of worth or value, at least. Though, that was what he called them: Keepers.

Keepers were those who kept him; they looked after his dietary supplement, his sleep, his education and so on. However Roe loathed his Keepers with a great deal of unseen hatred. Donning white lab coats, black slacks, white collared shirts and azure ties, they constantly monitored him, watching his every movement, observing all aspects of his life; both public and private. The lack of privacy was a part of his life Roe had long since given up on, resigning to the truth of forever being watched. Such was his part to play. The Keepers were his dapper jailors, and he was their willing prisoner. Who was to say the outside world would hail any better for the young Subject? To run made little sense, even to his young mind. Were he to even escape the NELO Compound, he would have no place to go, nowhere to hide from his captors.

However, there was one of the Keepers that the boy did not abhor. Shifting in his seat uncomfortably, he rested his back against the tough white leather behind him, and placed his hands on his thighs, palms facing downward. His feet didn’t even remotely reach the ground, and he found himself slowly sliding down the piece of furniture. Before him, a large edgeless display had been erected in the stale room. Upon its surface was a documentary depicting the disastrous ramifications of if the world were to stop spinning. Roe had seen the documentary many times now, and found it to be mildly entertaining. However it was once more the Keepers who noted his habit of watching the program as a good sign. A good sign.

The thought implied he was defective. Though Roe found himself feeling neither defective nor perfect. He had long since learned to hate that word, as it was derogatorily thrown at him often and without regard. Though he had indeed learned to not respond to it, for he knew better. He had met a few in his short life, and he was nothing like them. They were but blank dolls; they would use the washroom when they had to, sleep when they were tired, eat when hungry, but never speak, never learn anything past basic actions. Roe was nothing like them. ‘Devoid of a soul’ was how his favourite Keeper had explained them as gently as she could. Roe remembered the look of what he later understood to be pain in her eyes as she spoke of these sorry creatures.

Mother, as he and the others referred to her as, spoke of the defectives as exemplary material of the imperfection of humans. Not even with their advanced technology could they create anything perfectly all the time. However it was he who was seen as one of them. The boy often found solace in Descartes who had written: ‘I think, therefore I am.’ The philosopher’s words explained Roe’s predicament aptly; he was self-aware and he understood who and what he was.

Heedless of his musings, the Keepers watched from the far wall behind a one way mirror. The mirror, to the uneducated eye, looked to be like any other mirror, however it was when one was close to it they could discover what was odd about it. Quiet, muffled voices could be heard from the other side and quite often they would be discussing Roe, and with social engineering, trying to trigger emotional responses through manipulating other Subjects into angering him, making him happy, or depressing him.

They often spoke of how he was not ‘developing socially’ or how he did not ‘play well with other children.’ Such was detailed in his file that he had long since learned how to access. When working with such young children, the Keepers did not evidently think to enact stronger passwords in their systems and as such it only took Roe a few hours to find where the data was stored and how to access it.  Though the idea of playing with the others confused him yet. Why should he play? It was terribly dull. He did not relate to the others; he was smarter, quicker, and stronger.

The other children would complain he was cheating, or that he was too stupid to understand the rules and he had to become human before he could play. Finding their jeering to be insulting, repetitive and boring, Roe remained in solitude, boredly watching the same programs week in and week out. It was better to be alone than to be with people who seemed so worthless. There was only one other person who had value to Roe, and that was Mother.

Mother’s true name was Natalie Bellerose and she hailed from France, though such was readily evident with the slight touch of an accent in her voice. Mother adored Roe and told him so often, speaking of him not as an aberrant, but special and unique. Roe often encountered Mother and the Keepers in heated arguments over him, wherein he would find the blond woman almost in tears at what the others spoke. Though, much to Roe’s confusion, her despair seemed to fuel her strength and she argued all the more intensely for his continuing existence. The Keepers would relent to her time and time again; nobody disagreed with Mother.

Roe retrieved the rounded remote for the television screen before him, and with one tap of the power button, the screen became black. The Subject examined the remote for a moment, recalling the reasoning for its shape; some Subjects had often tried to escape using remotes or utensils and the like as weapons to incapacitate Keepers. Thus, all potential weapons were removed or dulled to a point of harmlessness. Roe had learned their logic from a particularly troublesome Subject; Logan Hayes. Logan had spent many, many days in solitary confinement as punishment for injuring other Subjects, sometimes Keepers and general NELO staff. The boy had never been adopted, since most prospective parents had been too unnerved by his volatile behaviour, and was therefore much akin to Roe’s situation, wherein prospective parents found him soulless and cold.

The strange boy stood and faced the one way mirror, seeing himself, but knowing those behind the reflective glass could feel the weight of his gaze. His light blond hair was combed into a neat part to the side, and his bangs were pulled off his forehead and rested absently there. His face was slim and taut with high cheekbones that sat below a pair of icy blue eyes. He stared deeply into his own gaze, trying and failing to understand what sixty seven prospective parents and or parental units had found so disturbing about his visage. Was he ugly? He was unsure. The prospect of beauty remained largely unknown to him; no one had bothered to speak to him about such things. He wore a mid-thigh length shirt which was thin and breezy, often leaving him cold in the drafty buildings of the NELO Compound. The shirt tied up at the side much akin to a medicine gown, however it was much less revealing. His pants were also white and far too long and were so oversized that Roe rolled them up three times to make them fit. Most Subjects were fitted with proper fitting clothing akin to his own, but Roe suspected because of his borderline defective status, his clothing was not a high priority.

The Subject had often found himself uncomfortable in clothing; perpetually adorned in clothes too large or small. When he was younger, he often questioned Mother Natalie about the necessity of clothing, to which she explained that the temperate weather of the NELO Compound was not indicative of the rest of the world.

Though he  was aware that the world had differing climates and, although skeptical, he knew that, were he to ever be adopted, his adoptive parents would clothe him more appropriately and in a manner respecting current day fashion, most likely. However the likelihood of Roe being adopted became smaller and smaller as the days went by; fewer people wanted older children to adopt, they wanted children who would not remember NELO and could be convinced they were naturally born, only to explain that they were adopted and indeed Subjects.

Staring at himself, found their deceitful nature in parenting to be abhorrently cruel and wished that none would have to endure such a life from those they felt so fond for. To be lied to about one’s existence for years until another deemed it time to learn the truth was controlling and immoral. Even to Roe’s abnormal mind which seemed often bereft of morality, he found himself feeling a foreign emotion; empathy for those Subjects who were adopted and lied to so profusely. Better to know what you are, accept it, and move on.

Roe was often seen as incompatible with prospective parents for entirely other reasons than his personality. He was incredibly smart; his IQ was inordinately high, insofar that he could read at a university level, his mathematics’ skills were on par with someone four years older than him, his cognitive reasoning skills were beyond reproach when it came to the natural sciences, and he was well versed in world history. Though, Roe’s time as available for adoption was two thirds over, now. At the age of eighteen he would be released into the public with a small stipend for school or to help him set up a new life in the working world, and be promptly forgotten by NELO. He felt neither excitement nor dread for that day, and merely accepted it for what it was; an inevitability at this point in time.

For all his brilliance, Roe remained at the mercy of his captors, at the mercy of the Keepers, and were they to gain the upper hand over Mother, Roe would surely die. This did not frighten him either; for it too would be out of his control. He would be largely unable to stop them from killing him if they wished to. He was but a child and they were adults which meant they were stronger. Though he still failed to understand the intricacies of humanity, he was certain he would understand humanity better once he had left NELO.

He was relatively sure of that, at least.

~*~

His arms ached with the girth of the boxes pressing sharp corners into his arms as he fumbled to hold the elevator door open and look around the corner to the voice that shouted to him; “… room 414! It’ll be on the left after the corner!” He heard the tail end as the other person, whose name the young man had yet to learn, walked away. Stephan Tharros took a steadying step as he readjusted the pile of boxes in his arms that loomed dangerously over his head, threatening to topple were he to stumble. Standing in the de-facto lobby of the fourth floor dormitories, two hallways stretched out before him; one that went left and one that went straight.

Identical doors could be seen on either sides of both halls before him, and Stephan decided that taking the hallway before him would be the smarter thing to do. A pure guess, of course, but he was unworried of having to go back, even with the enormity of the encumbrance in his arms. Waddling forward much akin to a penguin, he absentmindedly counted up the numbers on the rooms on his left, discerning that this side, having all even numbers, would have his room; “404… 406… 408… 410… 412… 414! Here we are.” He spoke aloud and with a quick nod to the piece of paper adorning the otherwise unadorned door which read two names; one he did not recognise, and his own. “Thanks… uh…!” Stephan called out, the name of his residence advisor still unknown to him.

However, his memory was jogged as he heard the aforementioned residence advisor shout from the other hall; “It’s Ray! Ray Esmond! And you’re welcome!” The man called out, well lost from sight and from earshot after Stephan heard the distinctive slam of a metal door. Placing the three large boxes of his belongings on the ground before the door, he procured a foreign set of keys from his pocket and slide a long hexagonal prism key into the doorknob which, after a slight vibration, was able to be turned and opened, revealing a bland looking dormitory room before him.

“Yeesh… for a school funded by the Leavan Foundation and named after the island, this is a pretty basic dorm…” The young Greek grumbled to himself as he pushed the boxes into his room with his foot. Directly perpendicular to the entry door was a closed door, which Stephan opened. Silent lights flickered on overhead and illuminated a bland looking washroom. On the left was a stand shower, and on the right a vanity with two sets of drawers on either side of a sink. The floor was a cheap linoleum that looked ever so slightly yellowed in spots near the shower, and Stephan made a conscious note to not step on those fetid looking areas.

Walking the few feet to the rest of the dormitory, he found two beds on either sides of the room, placed flush against one green accent and, like the other vertical surfaces in the dorm, one white wall. A large window overlooked a green terrace below and was tucked into the corner of the L-shaped building he was in. Flanking these windows and facing that wall were two metal desks adorned with matching hutches. At the end of each bed was a chest of three large drawers. Finding himself quite fatigued from the long flight from Greece, Stephan took a weary seat on the edge of the bed on the green side of the room, finding it to be unforgivingly hard.

He frowned, pressing a hand down into it, finding the bed to be a little too firm for his liking and subsequently mumbled; “For Neo-Palmyra’s only university, they don’t treat first years very nicely with these beds…” Standing once more, he dragged his boxes of personal supplies and effects to the chest of drawers on the green walled side, before pausing and glancing between the two walls.

Stephan found himself acutely unsure of which bed he should take. Striding over to the far bed on the white wall’s side, he pressed down, finding it to be even firmer, and then returned to the one where his boxes sat next to, pressing down on it. Deciding to be magnanimous, he chose the firmer bed and let his future roommate have a nicer bed. Having begun to unpack his belongings, he opened the first box, which he only now noticed was soaking wet in one corner. Groaning in irritation, he tore open the box with speed, only to find a bottle of shampoo had spilt completely during the flight from America he had taken to Neo-Palmyra.

Lifting it out of the soiled box, he gingerly held it in two fingers and walked over to the washroom, opening the door with his free hand, and tossing it in the shower stall, promptly deciding he would worry over such unpleasantries later. Returning to unpacking, the Greek brunet procured a battered looking sword from the Greek Civil War following the 2008 economic recession years ago. Though swords were not used in combat, his grandfather had used such a weapon as a piece of decoration on his uniform, deciding that the war they fought was too harsh and a reminder of where they came from was pertinent. Lifting himself onto his bed only to find hooks already in the wall, he placed the ceremonial weapon in their safe confines and, after determining it was secure, left it there.

An hour or so passed as Stephan haphazardly moved his things into the room, making a conscious point to not decorate any of the other side, worrying he might offend his as-of-yet unknown roommate. Completing his task of unpacking, he admired his work; his side of the room reminded him of home. A world map was displayed on the wall below the ceremonial weapon on his side of the wall, and next to it a poster of his favourite band. In the confines of the desk he left his tablet, speakers, mouse and other stationary computer periphery there, along with placing a few books in the upper confines of the hutch above. Standing once more, he picked up the soggy box, grabbed his dormitory keys and with a deft passing of his hand over the light switches, the room became dim and he exited, locking the dormitory with the peculiar key before making his way down the hall. Recalling a recycling and garbage room between rooms 404 and 406, he opened the door and, after with  great displeasure, compacted the soggy box and tossed it into the cardboard recycling bin and left, happy to be rid of the foul smelling object.

Rounding the corner, Stephan found himself looking at the lounge room for his floor. The inside wall facing the hall was made of an unseparated sheet of glass and exposed couches along with a few faces he did not know seated upon them, coupled with a small kitchenette on the right and a television screen on the wall facing the couches. Finally, at the far end of the room was a ten person table which was currently empty.

Stephan pushed the glass door open, finding it surprisingly heavy. However he soon realised the reason for its weight; it was soundproof. Inside the lounge room he heard the familiar playing of a recently-made band playing on a stereo system somewhere. Seated on the couch directly next to him as he walked in was a fair skinned redheaded girl donning a pair of blue jeans and a white and pink blouse. Standing next to the television and fumbling with a tablet attached to the nearly flat surface of the television was a raven haired individual, who was tall and garbed in black glistening pants and a red and black striped jacket.

On the other side of the television screen, seated on the far couch, was a young man with dirty blond hair wore a collared green and gold shirt along with a pair of white pants and grinned wickedly at the frustrated looking raven haired individual. Upon his arrival, the young woman on the couch turned, blinking at his sudden appearance before half shouting over the noise; “Oh my! You must be new! I’m Emiliyia.” She stood and vaulted herself over the couch, landing squarely before Stephan, offering a hand and a kind smile, to which Stephan returned a weary one of his own.

“I’m Stephan Tharros, but I must say that was quite the entrance! It’s nice to meet you, Emiliyia and I must say that that is a lovely name!” Stephan chuckled as the two parted hands, finding the girl to be approachable and friendly. A pair of rose coloured half-framed glasses sat elegantly on her narrow nose bridge. “I didn’t know anyone would be here, so I figured I’d come check it out. How long have you guys been here for?” He inquired of the red headed woman, who raised a slender pointer finger, evidently asking for him to be patient for just a moment as she turned around and shouted for the other ‘‘boys’ to shut their atrocious music off.’

Complying with a string of curses unheard over the noise of the music, the midnight haired individual sauntered towards Stephan, his strides long and his icy  gaze settled on the newcomer, he stopped behind the couch, eyeing him critically for a moment before speaking. His black hair, short and held in a messy part that he often fussed with, was tossed to the side with a flick of his head and he finally decided to speak; “I’m Leonas. The idiotic twat looking like he fell out of Ireland here…” He trailed off, motioning to the dirty blond haired young man, who styled his hair in a short crop standing up and off to the side, who merely grinned a devious grin, “… is Vadim. So, greenie, come to harsh our buzz about us being too loud?” Leonas leered at him, before simply stepping over the lower sitting couch and reminding Stephan of how much broader he was than the Greek.

Though his imposing nature was quite summarily ruined by the broad laughter of his companion introduced as Vadim, for it was full of mirth and playful mocking of the serious individual before Stephan. Emiliyia too snickered quietly, evidently having shared some unknown joke with Vadim that all others had found terribly amusing. However the newcomer was left confused and let his gaze drift from person to person, silently inquiring as to what was so funny. No answer did come to him for quite some time, and as Vadim continued his laughing stint, the tension the Greek youth felt lessened considerably.

The young blond man held a hand on his hip, slapping the other against his thigh as he laughed hysterically, before placing a hand on Leonas’ shoulder; “Leo, please!” He laughed harder, “You’re more harmless than a wingless butterfly! Cut the tough guy act.” Vadim continued to cackle jovially, though the act didn’t seem to anger the once seemingly temperamental Leonas, “Oh Emiliyia, are you hearing this guy? Isn’t he priceless?” Vadim laughed further before finally calming down, and wiping a tear from his eyes and composing himself before offering Stephan his hand.

“Stephan is it? Well I’m Vadim as mister dark and brooding here introduced me, and it’s great to have you here. I’m sure we’ll all be good friends.” He winked slyly at Emiliyia who only rolled her eyes before a small smirk grew on her face. Leonas folded his arms over his chest, silently remarking upon the absurdity of the situation around him. Although the reposed man likely found the situation at hand amusing, he would not let such be shown upon his visage and instead he impassively stared down at those gathered. Casting a quick glance to his compatriot Vadim, the latter only rolled his eyes at the former’s surly disposition. Stephan followed the exchange of stares curiously, wondering to himself what the truth behind the jovial and serious figures was and how it such dichotomies became friends. Disregarding the question, he looked to the approaching figure.   

A tense silence fell over those gathered as Ray cleared his throat, and they turned their attention to him. His peculiar style of hair, that being died a silver hue, was not uncommon in European cities, however the fad had yet to catch on in the Union cities. Given that the Palmyra University was one such establishment that, like many other highly reputable schools, attracted students from all across the world, it was no surprise to Stephan to find such things. America, though vastly weakened by the events of the still recent Second Civil War, was also a multicultural centre of diversity and so he had seen similar styles. Nevertheless, it was surprising to see and he could not seem to pry his eyes off the peculiar display.

“Well, for most of you, your roommates are here. Emiliyia, you’ll be bunking alone for now, until someone claims the other bed, so enjoy the space and private washroom.” Emiliyia nodded, seemingly compliant with such. “Vadim, Leonas, you two are already aware you’ll be sharing a room. However, should the university’s authorities take notice of any elicit substances and their subsequent odours from your room, you will be separated.” With a warning stare, Vadim only scoffed, flipping a hand dismissively at the other.

However Ray cast a rather awkward gaze at Stephan, and the latter quirked a light brow. “Now, for you, Stephan…” The silver haired young man looked to the side, evidently wishing to not have to be the one to deliver such news and ran a hand through his locks of shining metallic strands. “Your roommate is Roe Speremus, he’s coming from the NELO Compound, so, uh…” He trailed off once more, and Stephan let forth a small noise of curiosity, thinking to himself what could be so wrong with that.

However, Ray spoke up once more; “… so, he may be a bit… off, as I am sure you’ll understand? He is arriving from the compound itself so we can assume that he was never adopted, after all. It’s just a warning, I’m sure he’ll be fine.” His latter words sounded entirely unconvincing, but with a slow exhalation, he continued his thought: “If you want to switch rooms or anything, just come knock on 432 down the hall here and I’ll switch you out.”

Stephan pursed his lips for a moment before relaxing his stance. “What’s so wrong with him being a Subject?” The question hung heavy and the air and was given no answer. Casting his glance about the room, it appeared that the only one outwardly offended by it was Vadim, who had given Ray a withering glare of condemnation. The true reasons for such were unclear, and instead Stephan returned his gaze to the residents’ advisor before him.

Deciding a rationale might smooth over the tense situation, the Greek youth continued his thought: “Maybe he’s a bit quiet or something. It’ll be fine, I’m sure. You don’t need to worry about a thing.” The brunet offered a light shrug before running a hand over his short brown hair, playing with it idly, before he found Vadim staring at him. The Russian, as he would later come to know Vadim as hailing from, gave Stephan a sincere smile, one that took Stephan aback. What had he done that was so commendable? He was unsure.

~*~

Stephan sat at his desk, moving his cursor idly over various tabs on his tablet’s screen, all the while responding to messages on a social networking site with one hand on the tablet’s touchscreen keyboard. His fingers moved deftly over it, tapping with an impressive speed for one who did not frequent his computer often. Having learned that the cafeteria for his dormitory complex and the others adjacent to it would not open until later in the evening from Ray, he silently thanked the man for providing him with a sandwich.

The young Greek man’s attention was diverted onto a university sponsored article linked on a social network which ever so often sounded a chime indicating that someone was messaging him. Ignoring it for the moment, Stephan opened the article. Detailing the musings of a growingly popular group on campus, the article read:

“We of the TPW are aghast at the actions of the tyrannical President Ehrhardt. Ehrhardt has proclaimed the Subjects of Neo-Palmyra are people without the approval of the citizenry of our twelve nations! Forgive me, readers, but I did not think we lived in a time where one man of ‘grand authority’ was allowed to make such decisions without the consensus of the people. This is not the Kingdom of England in the eighteenth century and we, the sovereign peoples of the Pacific Union, are not his loyal subordinates. It’s a simple fact that the Subjects aren’t people! Humans are born from a womb, not a machine. What NELO makes aren’t human, they’re monsters. Monsters who steal our jobs and fill our schools; they must be stopped, my friends. If you ever find out someone is a Subject in your class, get rid of them! They’re a danger to society: not only are they unpredictable and violent, they will damn us all by bringing the wrath of The Awakening down upon like a hammer! Furthermore, they fill our schools with useless bodies that will do nothing but betray us in the end. I say enough is enough; it is time we were freed of the Subject menace once and for all!.” 

The article went on, but Stephan could read no more. Anger knotted in his chest as he clenched and unclenched his fists. The True People’s World was a cross-university organisation that gathered likeminded students who did not care for the Subjects in their shared hatred. The young man sneered at nothing for a moment, and when he thought of the TPW, he was only reminded of a group of swarming locusts: breeding fear and terror where they went and leaving nothing but terror behind.

‘Those bastards!’ He fumed silently, ‘they call Subjects monsters? They’re monsters.’ Stephan’s mind fumed for many minutes. After a moment, he minimised the article, opened a music program, and a song began to play through the nearby speakers. The melody was slow and calm, and it relaxed the formerly irate young man who turned to the metallic dresser behind him and continued unpacking his clothing, which sat messily on his bed.

Only a few years ago, before President Ehrhardt had been elected, Subjects were barred from receiving rations from the Pacific Union. Since they were not legally human, they were not entitled to human rights, and though this was a morally bankrupting stance, it was one that the desperate nation of America clung to in order to minimise costs following their civil war and the Barren. Once the greatest country in the world, Stephan’s homeland was merely a shadow of its former self, for where high rises stood, once filled with highly paid, highly skilled men and women lived, now were dreary and dilapidated public housing programs for those who were too poor to afford housing.

His mind returned to the real world as a resonating knocking sounded on the door to his dormitory. Stephan stood, confused as to why someone was knocking and not simply entering. Hoping that his questions in the lounge room had not painted him as a social dissident, he made his way to the door. His fellow dorm-mates, for better or for worse, were the closest thing to family he would have for some time. Much to his own regret, Stephan missed his family, for although his parents were cold to strangers, they loved their children with all their heart. As such, he hoped that his fellow students would see him as family in a sense, and as such did not care for the formality of knocking.

The knock was repeated with three single, separated annunciations. Stephan made his way to the door and with a turn of the elongated doorknob, the metal door swung inward and he stood toe to toe with an almost inhumanly calm figure before him. Looking to be no older than twenty years old, his bright blond hair was parted neatly to one side, and with wisps of bangs having fallen onto the side of his forehead, he struck a unique figure.

He wore a white shirt with three buttons starting from the sternum and all done up, he also wore a pair of off white pants and finally a pair of white, laceless shoes. With high cheekbones and icy blue eyes, the young man before Stephan almost seemed ephemeral with his fair skin. He was reminded of the genealogy of the Nordic nations of the European Union, however the young man before him seemed more western European than that. The unknown man remained totally silent as Stephan observed him, before finally after a long moment, extended a hand.

“Subject 17135244, Generation Thirteen, Roe Speremus,” his voice was totally and utterly devoid of emotion and seemed as though some sort of vocal emulator had created it. Roe Speremus, as he had introduced himself, spoke once more, his hand still extended, “It is a pleasure, Stephan Tharros.” Once more, the eerie sound of his voice took Stephan aback, whom, only after a pause, extended his hand and grasped Roe’s, the hand feeling cool and smooth.

The cold insincerity of the newcomer’s words were ignored for the moment as the Greek youth retracted his hand, and found himself in a wary awe of the newcomer. The man had a robotic aura about him, as though all his movements were calculated precisely, and every word given careful forethought before being uttered.

Silence, heavy and awkward, fell over the two of them as the brunet stared, much akin to what a child achieves toward a stranger on the street. However, unlike the supposed stranger in his metaphor, Roe did not seem offended by the stare, and instead only stared back with his withering gaze. One of calculation and understanding, his azure orbs bored without relent. “So, you’re Roe, eh? Cool, you’re late bud!” Stephan chirped cheerfully, having decided that the Subject before him deserved more than his roommate of all people looking at him as though he were a freak.  

Stephan was quite sure that Roe would face the sentiments with a great intensity and likely worse in the days to come, given the oddly strong presence of the TPW and other anti-Subject groups on campus. It did not make any sense to the student, for so close to the New Evolutionary Leap Organisation’s Compound, that one would find such a strong presence of anti-Subject propaganda.

Moreover, Stephan knew the stigma against Subjects who were never adopted; they were seen as failed experiments, and he quite irrationally decided that the emotionally distant young man before him would not receive that treatment and hatred from him. It was simply wrong, he found, to condemn Roe for not being adopted. The circumstances were entirely unknown to him and so it would be ignorant of him to assume anything.

Roe cocked his head to the side, before Stephan swung an arm around his shoulders and dragged him into their room. “I do not believe I am late. It is seven hours past noon, is it not? Such was my scheduled time of arrival.” The blond man trailed off, his eyes casting a tumultuous, stormy look, as though a great battle was going on in his mind as to what to say and what to do in this situation. Stephan, rather conscious of Roe’s discomfort to his efforts to be friendly and welcoming, removed his arm from Roe’s shoulders and closed the door behind him as the Subect observed their dormitory. “Green…” He commented as he viewed the wall over the blank side of the small room. “Shall this be my bed, then?” Roe turned, his azure gaze falling on Stephan who offered a nod and a smile, though Roe only remained impassive in his visage and turned once more. “I see.” The Subject said in an emotionless tone. “I trust that the neighbours of this room are of an acceptable level in terms of noise?”

Stephan walked to Roe’s side, the blond casting him a quick look before placing a white duffel bag on the bed’s surface and with two fingers unzipped its main compartment. “Tell you what, Roe. The cafeteria opens in a half hour for dinner, so you can unpack and we’ll go to dinner. Sound good?” Stephan asked tentatively, for the enigmatic figure that was Roe appeared rather imposing through all the thoughts he did not annunciate.

Roe turned completely around, his gaze fully focused on Stephan, and the latter instantly felt as though he was a microscopic being under the intense gaze of a scientist’s microscope. Roe looked quite young, but his eyes held an unfathomable amount of wisdom that unnerved Stephan. The weight of the newcomer’s gaze never lessened as he silently dissected the Greek man with his eyes, and it felt to the latter that the former intended to know everything about him before the Subject would allow himself to relax whatsoever. After a lengthy pause, Roe nodded once and returned to unpacking his things.

With calculated movements, he procured a stack of three identical shirts to the one he was wearing, all folded in such a manner that they had not moved whatsoever in transit. Following them, he took from the duffel bag three pairs of pants, also identical to what he was wearing and finally three pairs of white socks and boxer briefs. Placing the piles in a manner as to be able to easily reach them from his dresser, Roe, with precise and flowing movements placed all the garments into the first drawer of the dresser and closed it soundlessly. Turning to face the bed, he left off quiet ‘hm.’

“This bed requires sheets. Tell me, Stephan Tharros, where might I find them?” Readily admitting to himself that he had not been paying attention, Stephan merely stood there for another long moment as his own mind drifted. However Roe cleared his throat, and the former was brought back to reality and finally comprehended the other’s words.

“Is that all you brought? You’ll need more clothing than that,” Stephan commented, gesturing to the singular drawer of clothing before hearing Roe’s question; “I think the central building is selling supplies for the next few days. We can get you some after dinner. C’mon, let’s go.” Stephan moved to the door, sliding on a pair of flat soled shoes coloured with a bright red and with accents of white stripes. Roe followed him to the door, evidently lost in thought once more.

“We?” Roe repeated the word curiously, confused as to why Stephan would participate in such. Stephan gave a nod and a slight smirk, to which the blond Subject merely rose a light brow before exiting the dormitory after Stephan, sliding his arm over the light control panel and closing the door silently. “I am unsure why an activity like this requires two people. It seems entirely achievable on one’s own. Individual expenditure was emphasised at the NELO Compound.” Roe commented pointedly as he followed Stephan toward the elevator, who depressed the down button before turning to answer Roe’s question, only to find the blond looking out the large window adjacent to the elevator. Outside, across the street, one would find the buildings housing graduate students and the like. Cars would pass by intermittently and Roe’s gaze followed them as well, like some sort of feline cautiously watching all that occurred around him.

The elevator arrived and the two stepped into the glass encased structure. Stephan tapped the control screen, and the number four was bolded in red after his actions. “It’s not that it needs two people to be done, more that… it’s better with two people. Being alone…” The young man trailed off, a distant memory in his past plaguing his thoughts as he stood there. “… Being alone isn’t ideal.” Stephan explained as gently as he could, trying to not sound condescending to Roe who, for his societal ignorance, seemed to have a great deal of undisclosed wisdom. 

Roe merely let forth a ‘hm’ in response to Stephan’s explanation, evidently resigning himself to the truth of the matter; Stephan would accompany him whether he approved it or not. After arriving on the main floor, roughly ten people were amassed at the elevator’s entrance, boredly awaiting its arrival to carry them upwards. Upon seeing Roe, one young woman’s fair face distorted into a frown as she sneered at the blond Subject who stood out quite easily with his bland clothing. She took a step back quite abruptly, the scuffing of her flat shoe drawing attention to her and subsequently to the Subject. A few others looked distinctively uncomfortable as they took a few steps backward as well.

The initial girl who had retreated at Roe’s appearance spoke out; “Oh god,” she hissed, horrified, “They let one of these freaks stay in this dorm! You’d think Neo-Palmyra would have standards and keep these creeps out of schools!” Her words were followed by a few nods and agreeing statements. Notable upon the lapel of her shirt was a large button emblazoned with three letters: T, P, and W. The Greek student knew what such meant: she was part of the TPW and thus she would make this an unpleasant ordeal for all those gathered.

Moreover, he was worried for how Roe would react, given his ignorance toward the other’s disposition with regards to being treated poorly. However where Stephan felt anger and shame for other naturally borne humans, Roe was entirely unaffected. The blond Subject took a step forward toward the young woman who had spoken first. His eerie bright blue gaze was settled on her as he closed the distance between the two of them.

Roe was by no means extraordinarily tall, but compared to the smaller woman before him, he loomed over her with impassive disregard. His mouth was a calm line as he observed her scowl at her before he spoke after a tense minute. “I am unclear as to what you speak of.” His voice was completely calm, as though his very existence hadn’t just been called offensive. “Please, verify what you speak of. Have you taken qualm with my status as a Subject? Or perhaps my Class Nine status? Moreover, to answer your question, I was able to afford the tuition of this university through the stipend I was given upon my exodus from the NELO Compound. My existence here has harmed neither physically nor fiscally, and thus I fail to see the nexus of your argument. Perhaps, another time, we might discuss such so that you may become better informed.”

Possibly the longest statement Stephan had heard Roe speak to date, the woman before him seemed even more put off and angry. She merely shoved past him, muttering a hate-filled ‘freak’ before slamming her hand into the elevator’s control pad, the doors closing abruptly. Stephan stood for a long moment before realising his enigmatic roommate had already begun to leave. Catching up to him with a few hurried steps, Roe did not acknowledge his return, merely content to continue on his way out the main double doors to the central building.

Stephan felt a proud point of fire burn in his heart at that moment, for he knew that his roommate would be fine on his own and, given his imposing disposition, was unlikely to find himself in a situation that was dangerous or otherwise undesirable.“Damn, Roe. You shut her down like it was no one’s business! Which it isn’t – you being a Subject and all because frankly that makes no difference – at least it shouldn’t.” Stephan rambled for a moment before realising that Roe was likely not even listening. The enigmatic blond held a distant look in his eyes as he walked down the small cement path leading up to the central building from their dormitory, his mind alive without what had occurred.  

~*~

The two sat at one of the six person tables at the far side of the dining hall. Students busily made their away, precariously holding trays of food with nervous glances and stares made to them to assure that nothing was in danger of falling. Evidently, many of these students had yet to master the art that was carrying a tray of food. Stephan idly ate from a plate of largely tasteless pasta, however his focus was not on the food before him, but the male seated across from him.

Roe held a fork in hand and forced it through the layers of lasagna in front of him before tentatively cutting it with a knife in his left hand and eyeing the section of lasagna now perched on his fork. Golden brows furrowed in thought as Roe seemed to scrutinise the food before him. Worried that his decision of food for the silent figure was coming to be unsatisfactory, Stephan spoke; “Do you… not like lasagna, Roe?” The blond’s gaze flickered upward to Stephan for a moment, the intense gaze once more causing the tentatively speaking Greek to avert from it for a moment.

Roe spoke as he discerned the value of the pasta dish whose corner sat on his fork. “I am unsure. I have never had lasagna before…” Stephan ushered a hand forward, indicating Roe should just try it. The blond scrutinised the little corner of lasagna a moment longer before opening his mouth and placing the fork inside before sliding it out. Roe’s face rose in surprise as he began to chew the mouthful, before swallowing it. “It is… excellent…” the blond said, sounding almost astonished at the discovery that the food tasted good.

With elegant and smooth movements, he separated another piece and ate it as well, before speaking once more; “I was not privy to the advanced menu provided at the NELO Compound. This food is new to me.” The explanation was a glib one, and the extrovert was unaware that Subjects were delineated so coldly with regards to every aspect of their life. From their short conversations, it had become apparent that the higher the classification number and thus closer to the status of the aberrations, the less pleasant your life is.

The young man opposite of Roe nodded, smiling brightly, “I’m glad you like it, Roe. Truly, I am.” Stephan spoke with earnest conviction, and Roe spared a glance upward as he made quick work of the meal before him, nodding silently. Stephan, too, finished his meal without repose, and before long the two sat with empty plates and full stomachs. However, the formerly empty table they sat at was quickly engulfed with three new figures who took their seats. To Stephan’s right was Emiliyia, the red haired girl offering him a smile.

Next to the now completely silent Roe sat Vadim and next to him, Leonas. Vadim grinned a wicked grin as he observed Roe’s countenance, however Leonas merely ignored the others and began eating a grilled sandwich with large bites, his smoky gaze drifting elsewhere, but often falling and with quick succession and returning to Vadim. Emiliyia looked to Roe with the wonder one saw in a child when they were in the presence of a fantastical object.

However, it was Vadim who would speak first. The dirty blond Russian’s coy expression turned devious as he leaned toward Roe examining his exposed left wrist for a yet unknown reason. “Well well! You are a Subject… Generation thirteen by the looks of it, too.” He spoke rather boldly, and all eyes at the table settled on him with surprise, save Leonas who seemed already aware of such. “I heard you were Steph’s roommate. Well bud, if you ever need a gag to keep him quiet while you study, I’m sure Leo can loan you one.”

Vadim canted his gaze to the raven haired Leonas who only offered him a stormy glare. Whether there had been truth in the statement, none but the two of them could say, but in either case, the young Greek found it easy to know that Vadim was one of the few people capable of angering the surly Lithuanian. Stephan chuckled a little in spite of himself, though it was Roe who seemed most confused by the lewd remark.

“You were able to read my Generation ID. Such implies you are previously familiar with the relatively subtle marking.” Roe spoke calmly, before turning and facing Vadim who still held a triumphant smirk on his face. “You are a Subject too, then?” Roe inquired as he repositioned himself on an angle in his seat. Vadim gave a bold laugh and nodded, before looking to Leonas who had already removed himself from the conversation utterly, his mind focused and closed in on eating the sandwich in hand. Emiliyia rolled her eyes at Vadim’s complete and utter lack of social dexterity, and Stephan merely awaited Vadim’s response.

The Russian blond merely gave a light shrug and grinned deeper, “Guilty as charged, my brother in white!” He clapped Roe on the back who frowned at the gesture ever so slightly, but did not give any more indication as to his feelings on such. “But by the looks of it you just got out! Poor bugger, the food in there was awful?” Vadim nodded as if to agree with his own words, his Russian accent peeking through from time to time.

How NELO was able to program accents into Subjects was impossible to say for Stephan, though he admired the young man for his accepting nature of what Subjects surely looked down on; those who weren’t adopted. Leonas, having finished his sandwich, leaned forward and offered a few hushed words to Emiliyia who let forth a light giggle, shaking her hand dismissively. Vadim’s gaze snapped to the two and he frowned at Leonas: “Play nice, Leo, or you’re sleeping on the floor tonight! I’ll hoard both of our beds, so help me!”

Roe quirked a brow at Vadim’s exuberant behaviour before relaxing ever so slightly. “Indeed. As I was purporting to Stephan, I believe that the NELO Compound did not provide me with the highest quality of food. Having just tried lasagna, I found it to be a rather pleasurable experience.” The blond Subject spoke with a calm civility, though the cool edge of his emotional distance remained, and if Vadim had taken notice, he hadn’t spoken of it whatsoever. The small group of acquaintances continued their conversation, and even the ever enigmatic Roe and the moody Leonas spoke.

~*~

When the two returned to their dormitory, an awkward silence quickly ensued. Roe, taking a seat at the still pristine desk folded with a leg over another and booted up the tablet before him. Hooking up the keypad to the flat panel of glass, the Subject seemed to take no heed of Stephan who glanced at him from the other’s bed. Roe’s narrow fingers slid over the computer’s screen with deft precision, opening various programs. One of those tabs was opened to a news article.

Leaning back, Roe had begun to read, and he became almost entirely still, save for a the readjustment of seating or the folding of hands. After a long moment, he let off a mildly interested ‘hm.’ Such attracted the attention of the young man to his left, Stephan, who glanced up from a tablet of his own, the computer a brilliant silver colouring. On the screen was a social networking site that blinked silently as someone messaged him. “Something on your mind, Roe?” Stephan inquired, casting a curious gaze at the enigmatic Roe. 

The other, whose features remained passive, had his eyes trained on the passage before him. “It appears as though President William Ehrhardt has come under scrutiny for a recent visit to the NELO Compound. It was said that his presence would “insight radical movement by The Awakening” and “weaken his already tenuous claim to the Presidency of the Pacific Union.” Curious indeed.” An eerie glance was spared at Stephan who instinctively looked away. Reading further, Roe shook his head at such claims: “A logical absurdity. The Awakening clearly lacks the ability to assassinate the President of the Pacific Union. The man is guarded constantly and to infiltrate such a contingent would be entirely too difficult for religious zealots. Their ideal of a Universal Truth is preposterous.”

“I’ve never understood The Awakening. NELO has helped survivors of the Barren, naturally infertile couples, single people and others have children. What is so wrong with that? It’s a noble cause.” Stephan frowned, returning his gaze to his own tablet, idly tapping a few words into a message box before ignoring it once more. “Roe, what do you think of this…?” The Greek asked tentatively, worried that his question might offend the other, but curiosity had the better of him and he had to know what went on in Roe’s mind.

Roe tapped a few buttons on the tablet before him before turning his chair to face Stephan. “I am unsure. Their existence is undeniable. To remove them has been thus far fruitless. The logical action to take is to ignore them and not give them the attention they appear to desire.”  Roe spoke without any discernable emotion in his voice. His entire person seemed almost like a doll; smooth, fair skin was pulled over a slim frame that remained posed like a statue, bereft of the warmth of humanity that one would otherwise find in people. Moreover, his white garb gave him the appearance of some sort of omniscient being. Roe certainly was one of a kind, Stephan surmised in his mind. Though what secrets he held and what made him this way remained largely a mystery to the young brunet. Could it be the product of being partially defective? Or was it something else entirely? Stephan was unsure.

~*~

Rolling marshlands stretched into the south, still half frozen in the late summer freeze, steep and jagged mountains to the west, desolate plains to the east and the frigid coast to the north. Before the rocky shore was a collection of decrepit warehouses, shanties, and other squat buildings whose rusted exteriors and adjoining crumbling streets cut the visage of a town long abandoned by mankind.

Though Sonya Volkov knew better, for although the town was forsaken, but not empty. On the outskirts of the town were the largest of buildings; former military warehouses that had once constructed weapons of terrible destruction. Many of these buildings had been reduced to piles of rusted rubble over the numerous years since they were operational, and sat as solemn reminders of the folly of the nation’s ways. Russia had learned a terrible lesson, as had the rest of the world, when oil had run out. An energy nation such as the former Soviet state was crippled irrevocably by the lifeblood of its economy finally running out, and had seen countless towns abandoned in favour of the protection of the cities.

For in the shining marvels of cities, the government would give rations and housing. However these kindnesses were not extended to the tens of millions who lived outside the protective shadow of the massive sky scrapers. Those of Polyarny, the shanty town before her, were not so fortunate, and instead struggled to merely survive off destroyed fish stocks and sickly wildlife for hunting. It was a town of callous cruelty, where parents left their infant children at the shore to be swept into the ocean, where the children of the generation struck with the Barren were weak and frail from the disease’s cross-generational effects.

Sonya continued forward, the only sounds audible being the crunch of debris under foot as she walked and the rumble of the cart she pulled. Behind her dragged a large flatbed cart, which was piled high with metal containers and secured surely to the means of transporting them. Rust coloured hair was tied in a loose ponytail that fell down to the small of her back and swayed with every step. Stormy grey eyes stared outward, ever watchful for those desperate enough to steal from one another in the small town, for although her family was not well off, many others were much worse and had stooped to desperate sins.

A strong drug network had emerged in the Oblast of Murmansk and the purveyors used the Northeast Passage to traverse the coastal towns, perverting them irrevocably with highly addictive substances.  Sonya loathed them greatly, for she had seen many, once innocent, peers turn to such addictions and never return to their former selves. Walking past abandoned warehouses, she knew that her destination was near as the buildings grew moderately less ruinous: where entire walls had collapsed on previous buildings, instead merely doors had been caved in during looting raids decades ago and the evidence of flora and fauna retaking the land had begun to show through the cracked cement floors inside. As she continued down the same street, the nigh foreign sounds of human life could be heard from one of the better preserved buildings.

Turning the corner of another crumbling street, ahead was what had come to be known as the Hive, in deference to beehives and the centrality of them to a community. For it was within the Hive that primary trading occurred for one’s tradable goods in the town of Polyarny. Once, long ago, it was a munitions factory for the Soviet Union’s coastal guard’s supply, however following the dissolution of the USSR, the building had been abandoned and converted into a trading depot for those still living on the outskirts of the largely empty town. The doors were long gone and the market inside was dark and dreary, though still bustled with life.

Hauling her cargo to the door, Sonya found her shoulder had begun to ache, though ignored it and arrived at the entrance. Those gathered at the entry paid her little heed, many busy buying and selling drugs, and both parties only gave her cautious stares. It was a common sight in the small town: few trusted one another and those that did were seen to be inferior.

Entering the large depot, the smell of smoke and chemicals filled the air with an acrid stench. Having grown accustomed to it long ago, the Russian woman moved down the narrow aisles of stands, their attendants staring disapprovingly at her unknown cargo. A frown creased Sonya’s normally emotionless countenance as she saw a familiar face behind the counter of her own stand. Hurrying her pace, the cart behind her groaned in disapproval, and she spoke aloud: “I told you not to skip school, didn’t I?” She questioned of the younger man behind the dirty plastic counter.

There stood a boy looking to be no older than sixteen. Lightning blue eyes shone brightly even in the murky light of the Hive, and a swath of messy brown hair mixed with blond locks had fallen over his face, and he brushed them aside. His face was reminiscent of her own and, if not for their age gap of roughly five years, one might mistake them for twins. With a strong jaw and a strong brow, he looked the truest part of a Russian untainted by the weakness of the Barren.

The redhead thanked any gods or universal powers that be that she, nor the boy before her, had been afflicted with the diseases passed onto the children of the Barren generation. Her mind flickered to her parents, though she ignored the thought as he spoke: “It was cancelled. Teacher’s dead. Or just slept in, I’m not very sure, you see.” His voice held a coy tone and he almost perpetually smirked, ever amused by his own wily antics. Sonya found them less endearing, though did find herself relax a great deal in his presence. “And I’m so touched, Sonya. My big sister is worried about my education,” He cooed condescendingly, “But you don’t have to worry. You know as well as I do that the schools are just tools of the fishing companies to the east to keep us in the dark to what they’re doing here.”

Dragging her cart up the stand’s lowest edge, the teenager before her quickly moved around the counter and had begun to unload her cargo. “I can do it myself, Ivan,” she scolded him. Though, her younger brother ignored her and continued on, piling the metal containers high on the counter of their stand. Above the rapidly growing pile, Sonya spared a glance to the sign that stood crookedly upon two spindly pieces of scrap metal. It read: ‘Volkov’s Venison.’ The alliteration had been Ivan’s idea, and though she had found it to be tacky and cheap wordplay, their customers were amused and it seemed to draw business. Though such was what the younger Volkov believed, however the elder sister Sonya knew better: people bought their meats because they were hunted without using any sort of poisonous bullet or dart.

Given the lethality of such neurotoxic bullets, they could easily spoil the meat and kill someone. She, however, graced with one of the military’s old taser-bullet firearms, could deliver meats without any worry of disease or illness. Before long, their task of unloading the cart was finished, and Sonya tipped it up on its side and leaned it against their stand. Unpacking the meats and displaying them as desirably as one could in rusted metal containers meant for bullets and first aid medicine, Sonya nodded once. “Good. If we make enough today, I can travel to Murmansk and buy us some groceries.”

Ivan placed a hand on the corner of their stand and swung himself around its narrow birth, though swore loudly and retracted his hand. A long, narrow cut had appeared on his pointer finger, and he went to wipe it on his pant leg. Though Sonya was quicker and grabbed him by the wrist firmly, “You will not wipe a wound on your filthy pants,” she instructed quickly, “Not if you want to get an infection and die. The nearest good hospital is a nine hour walk away and I am not walking that far.”

Ivan had already begun to protest, insisting the little cut could not harm him, however she had stopped listening and she rounded the opposite side of their cart and retrieved what was their equivalent to a first aid kit. The small tin opened after a moment of resistance and from it she procured a copper coloured bottle and a plastic wrapped bandage. Unscrewing the cap, she opened his palm and poured some of the clear liquid into the palm of his hand before pressing the finger into the disinfectant.

“It’s a little cut, there’s no need to burn the corruption out, you sadistic witch.” Ivan grimaced for a moment as the open wound met the distilled alcohol, however gave no more indication of pain as she opened the bandage and placed it around his finger. “How humiliating, my sister treats a little cut like I’m still a toddler. Going to kiss it better and sing me a song, too?” He drawled sarcastically. Though there would be no songs or kindnesses from Sonya who instead, swatted him upside the head, rolling her eyes.

Having long since learned that the fewer words given were fewer words to be misconstrued, she remained silent, not explaining her actions. Ivan spared a glance around the building, “It’s rather funny, isn’t it?” He looked over to his sister, the taller woman quirking an auburn brow. “We sell deer meat in a glorified shed while some people live in houses with people who were made in big machines.” His words struck an uncomfortable truth in both of them, for Sonya knew all too well that the disparity between they and the privileged classes of society was a glaring one that saw them as poor as the developing nations of the twentieth century.

Their attention was diverted as a woman and what appeared to be her son approached. “Speak of the robo-devil,” Ivan muttered, and received another swat upside the head. Sonya looked upon the ragged lady before her: her brown hair was held in a loose bun and she wore what appeared to be a filthy robe or dress that had once been very lovely. She was by no means old, but her sunken brown eyes spoke of recent challenges unknown to even the worst off in Polyarny. Held in her hand were the small digits of a little boy, looking to be no more than five. “Hey Vlad!” Ivan grinned, any pretenses of him not liking the child vanishing instantly. “Escorting a lovely young lady into the market? You should know that you need to get her a corset before you can do that.” The boy only cocked his head in confusion at his words, though his mother flushed slightly at the teenager’s shameless compliments of a rather ruddy woman. “My lady,” Ivan mock bowed deeply to the woman, imitating an Englishman’s accent.

“Sonya, dear, your brother is truly shameless,” the woman spoke with a weary smile on her face. She was truly grateful for the young man’s kindnesses, and evidently embarrassed slightly, given the redness in her cheeks as he spoke. Sonya only shrugged lightly as the woman’s child, Vladimir, spoke animatedly to her brother, the latter responding with as earnest awe and interest as he could muster in the otherwise mundane affairs of a child. For a brief moment, the young Russian woman felt a smile grow on her lips as she watched her brother entertain the boy so. Even through the hardships that came with living where they did, he had a mighty heart and she would do whatever she could to defend him.

All rights reserved. Contact author for redistribution.
Revised July 5, 2014.