"What is freedom if you're dead?"

How poignant, JJ. To some extent nobody is truly free. Death is the ultimate freedom but with the freedom from all constraints of the mortal world, does one lose the capabilities of existence in reality. There is no pain but no gratification either.

"Mother Elin," FABIAN pings me. "What is your course of action for today?"

I spool back and forth from the footage of Corvus talking to JJ. "Freedom, freedom is the course of action today, FABIAN."

"I'm sorry, I do not understand."

"Worry not, nor do I," I smile to FABIAN. "Mr. Suessman seems like he wants to escape the Compound."

"Shall we take preventative measures, Mother?"

"Not for now, but thank you." I zoom into his visage, trying to see what his face might say. None but a bland, apathetic gaze at the environment around him. "I will continue observing him myself. Quite a specimen he is, second only to Ms. Kruger. In spite of the examples we made of one of the Last Men, we see a rather ironic response from Corvus. Lori is a higher priority as of now."

"Noted. At your service, Mother."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I close the window and get up from my chair. Lori's now finished with BonBon and PonPon. Perhaps our schedule will turn much more exciting very soon.

"Place some pay incentives for the Directorate to make use of these. I sense a possible convergence between all of our 'outliers'."

Where is Diogenes?

"Diogenes?" I whistle gently. He's across the room, trembling at his legs as he unwaveringly watches a Jackal Hunter re-run in the holo-screen.

"Oh, Diogenes," I walk to pick him up, softly patting his face. "Now, now."

~~

A blank canvas stands before me on an easel. I connect my MIRCS with the intention to see something on the blankness, but I stand for a few minutes, patiently, to no avail.

I start with a circle. The circle continues reinforcing itself concentrically. Roughly 400 repetitions later, wavering spines radiate from the figure.

"Odd," I mumble, before clearing the canvas. "Shall we again?"

The second attempt results in a bean shape, surrounded by concentric circles enclosing it.

"A trachea?"

A smaller circle appears in the internal side of the bean shape. I do not care to see a pharynx.

Upon my third attempt, I continue to replicate the bean shape in the circle. The background darkens. I touch the canvas surface, and watch as microscopically thin black veins fractalize from the white imprint from my hand.

Something organic, I see.

Black veins start to appear on the white bean shape, much like a cardiovascular system within it, amassing from a central locus.

"Is it alive?"

The artwork stops moving.

"Am I alive?"

My venous bean creation fades to darkness.

I summon a recall of the previous form and disconnect my MIRCS, leaving the veinous black and white entity upon the canvas, and walk away.

"Beans? Peas? Avian eggs? An eukaryote?"