“Friends” has never been a familiar term for me. Throughout the years I have surrounded myself with acquaintances, coworkers, and students; but never friends. Friends are an accessory. They are a weakness. However, as I watch Emer and consider the way she interacts with me - foot in the door and a determined look in her eye - I decide it would be beneficial to have her on my side, even if the name I call her by is a lie.

“Fine,” she says. “Friends.”

“We’ll meet weekly at the very least,” I decide. “I think it’s safe to maintain animosity towards each other when we are in public.”

“Why don’t we start meeting today?”

“Absolutely not,” I respond, “and if you don’t get your foot out of my door, I will change my mind about this agreement.”

Reluctantly, she slowly retracts her foot. “Then when do we start?”

“We will practice an equal exchange of information,” I continue. “That means no fluff. Nothing fake, nothing to distract. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I know th - “

“Then we’re done here. I’ll prepare a contract for you to sign in the morning. In the meantime, I need you to return to your room, or whatever mundane activity the Institute has set for you.” I cross my arms. “Unlike you, I have other things to do besides snooping into people’s business.”

“Fine.” She raises her chin and turns. I watch her until she is out of my sight, and then I close the door.

This is going to be very difficult. As much help as she will be to me, I am going to have to revise my strategy, which is an absolute nuisance. I already have so many things of my own that need protecting - the pill, the experiments I did, and the Institute itself. My words are not groundless when I say that I am the most intelligent and proficient scientist in the Institute. Production would have been sluggish and inefficient if it weren’t for my research. And not that this is anything to boast about, but the Institute wouldn’t be having conflict with the Government if it weren’t for what I did to the beta versions of the 2nd Generation Exons.

I may have created more problems and inconveniences for myself, but in the end, I will be the one to most profit.

I retreat to my bedroom and listen to the AI as it drones on and on about the tasks I have to complete for the day. Since it is a weekend, there are no classes for me to facilitate; nonetheless there is still much work to do. Aside from the meetings I am expected to attend, I carve time out in the afternoon to visit the vault and continue working on the pill I had begun to devise for 2E - 1L - 20. Again, I don’t finish it. For a reason I cannot yet explain, this Exon’s pill has been the most difficult to fashion. I can only assume that the high levels of visceral activity are the cause. 

I am absolutely fatigued when the day comes to an end. The last thing I want is a visitor (although I admit, for a minute I did entertain the notion of seeing Emer waiting in front of my office again), but I should have known that would be impossible, considering that ever since Riis invited me to that risible presentation at the Government, my daily activities have been polluted with unwelcome visitors.

“Hello, Ves,” I greet the old man as I place my hand on the scanner. I let him enter my office first and retrieve a level of satisfaction from noticing his distaste at the pieces of broken glass I have yet to pick up.

“We have Exons for this, Lay.”

“I’ve been busy making pills.”

He grunts and opens the bottle of wine he had apparently brought with him. Ever since he stopped teaching three years ago, the man has descended into a cesspit of alcohol and rage. Although he threatens me by saying that he could easily choose another successor, I doubt he would. There isn’t anyone in this Institute that is willing to train underneath him. 

No one, that is, besides me.

“You’re still drinking,” I state. I fold my glasses and toss them onto the desk before sitting down. “I thought you were going to stop.”

Ignoring me, he sits across from me and balances the bottle of wine on his knee. “I heard about your dinner with the Argent.”

I expected curiosity from people within the Institute, but I never could have predicted that it would come from Ves. I attempt to hide my surprise and reply, “Yes. We shared a nice meal together.”

“I don’t know that pancakes would suffice as a meal, but we all have our guilty pleasures.” He lifts his bottle of wine, as if to toast. 

“It’s what she likes.” I lean back in my chair, arms crossed. “Perhaps her father mentioned that to you.”

Ves chuckles, and I feel a cold wave wash over me. “If you wanted to know, you could have just asked.” He takes another swig and says, “I don’t know that her father liked pancakes, although he did like chocolate. He was also quite the trouble maker.”

“In what way?”

“He didn’t support what the Institute did. He was outspoken about it, too. I wonder what he would think, if he knew that his daughter had fallen in love with the very thing he had risked his life to protect her from.”

“He’s dead?”

“Oh, it’s been twenty years since his death. It was all over the news. But you were a child then; you wouldn’t know anything about it.”

He killed him. “You killed him.”

“That’s a strong accusation, Lay. I’ve never stooped so low as to kill a man.” He shakes his head, as if I were stupid. “We have dirty people for that. Machines for that.”
“And all because he knew something about the Institute?”

“Do you know how long it took to create the first Exon?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Two-hundred years. Two hundred bloody years of failed experiments and false theories. Two hundred damn years of sacrifices. It then took the Institute thirty years to create a name for itself, establish a reputation worthy of respect. And her father was about to topple this empire with his righteous opinions. I gave my life to this business, as did hundreds of others before me. Allowing a man like that - a man with no sense of innovation, no hunger for progress - to ruin an economy that could change the world would be regressive. How he became the Government’s head of science with that sort of mindset, I will never know.”

“There are others like him who think that Exons should have never been created,” I say. “You hear of the protests. They’ve only increased since the Market incident four years ago. Why kill him, if he is simply one among many?”

“You ask too many questions. I hope you aren’t asking me for the sake of that girl.”

“You know where my allegiance lies,” I frown. “I wouldn’t do anything to endanger the Institute.”

“To endanger your job, you mean,” he corrects. He shrugs. “It’s all the same. I don’t care what does it, as long as your mouth is shut.” He takes one last gulp of the wine, the color of the liquid as rich as blood. “He wasn’t one among many. He was a council member, for one thing. He found records of everything the Institute had done to insure that the Exons would be a success, all the way to its inception. Times when funding was low, support was unstable, and donors were lacking. He knew exactly what the Institute had to do in order to make sure that this dream would not fail.”

I am reminded of a class Ves taught years ago about the history of the Institute. It was about how the idea of human-like machines was first introduced, and how thousands of people were infatuated with the product but not the execution. Back then, the Institute was desperate for material. It needed people.

“We practice ethics, now. To a degree. Technology helps us with that. Having to do such gruesome tacks is now avoidable. But to the Government, not all sins are forgivable. And with the developing matter of independent-thinking Exons, the Institute is right back to where it started. If the Government shuts us down because of one technicality, we waste the efforts people took to get us here.” 

I am quiet as I watch Ves play with the empty bottle. My tone is flat when I ask, “And how many people had to die to keep the secret hidden?”

“Unfortunately, that information exceeds your position.” He stands, and I stand with him. “You don’t know as much as you think you do, Lay. It’s easy to paint a pretty portrait.” He walks towards the door, then pauses. “Next time I see you, you better have more pills prepared.”

As soon as the door closes, I pull out the pill from my pocket. Ves’s words rest heavily on my shoulders. I am not one to have a conscience, but there is a bitter taste in my mouth. 

I have always been one to focus on the goal, be it a promotion, an increase of pay, or my reputation. My pride is all the motivation that I require. Yet for a rare moment, I permitted myself to ask questions that did not need answers.

And now I have unleashed an inquisitiveness that cannot be quenched by mere ignorance.

I am a scientist. I have to have answers to everything.

I’ll continue working on the pills, because that is what is required of me, and because I now need to save myself. I will also learn everything there is to know about the Institute. When that happens, I will be at an advantage.

I don’t know what games the Institute is playing - and I abhor not knowing - but if I become the strongest player, then there is no game. 

So even though it is almost midnight, I return to the vault. 

It’s 4am. I have been in this claustrophobic room for far too long.

I have watched 2E - 1L - 20’s memories from the beginning twice now, having hoped to find something convicting. Against my will, I included his last memory into his pill as a safety measure. I’m not sure what to look for, except that it needs to benefit me.

When I rewind the record to watch it for the third time, it dawns on me that I had programmed the system to only play the feed from the moment the Exon was linked to an owner. I did not think to start the feed from whence the Exon was activated.

I reconfigure the system, happy to find that it is possible for me to go so far backwards. I will need to try this on the other Exons. I rub my eyes, and then I watch the Exon’s memories from its true beginning. At first, I only see glimpses of the Institute - the hallways, the workers, even the Grinder. There is endless chatter of algorithms and formulas. After, I see a room with black floors and black walls. It stays on that scene for so long that I think the data is defiled; and then, finally, the scene changes.

“State your name.” The voice is familiar, but I cannot identify it.

“Where am I?” The Exon responds.

“State your name, Exon.”

“Am I still in the cell?”

“You are the first Exon of the 2nd Generation. You are in here because there was a glitch in your system. Do you remember what you did?”

“I don’t … I don’t remember. I remember being made. I remember meeting others like me. What did I do? Did I do something wrong?”

“You showed hints of independent thought. Do you have independent thoughts, Exon?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you have any desire to act outside of the mandates we give you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Do you think it worked?” A new voice interrupts.

“It’s responding perfectly. It’s confused because we took out some of its memories, but I don’t think it will negatively affect it.”

“Are you certain he is ready to be introduced to House 20? Out of all the Exons, he’s been the most unpredictable.”

“The fact that you are even referring to it as a ‘he’ is an error on your part. Calling it by such human terms will only fool it into thinking that it is human.”

“I’m sorry. I’m worried it will remember this conversation.”

“Not at all. The system is programmed to erase any information prior to the transferral of ownership. Now Exon, tell me this: do you remember why you were created?”

“I exist to serve the human race.”

“What else?”

Absolute silence, and then the Exon mechanically answers, “And I am going to fall in love with the daughter of House 20.”