They are Not Children.

Doctor Roget clears his throat, hoping to clarify the situation of the LSES. "They respond to both physical and emotional stimuli," he stutters, aware that his words are becoming farther and farther apart. "Emotional, moreso. They are capable of understanding 'needs and wants' and can distinguish somewhat between right and wrong... but only with the infliction of punishment."

He breathes out a short sigh. "Other than these things, they have shown no significant signs of growth."

There, finally. His speech is done. Now he can only hope that they have no questions, just like they haven't every other time he has seen the group of high-tech scientists, so that he may leave the room and return to the Living Stimulation and Emotional Subjects. They must be wreaking havoc in his room as they always do...

The head scientist stands up from the end of the table, and Roget thinks that he's going to lead the way out of the room. But he doesn't. He actually asks a question. He's actually interested. And he has never been interested before.

Not until these subjects started showing signs of growth.

"Roget," asks the chief, brushing dust off his white lab coat, "how are you treating the LSES? What are their... let's say, 'living conditions'?" His eyes sparkle with interest. Behind them, Roget can catch a glimpse of malevolence.

He has always been afraid of the other researchers here. Especially afraid of what they will do to the LSES if he ever decides to leave. "Well..." he begins, "...before they began evolving, they were kept in the containment cylinders normally used for such purposes. But they outgrew those vials and broke the larger ones I had in store. Now, they're confined to a small room by the back of the office."

He glances at the floor for a moment. Should he lie and say that he keeps the doors locked? Or should he not say anything at all? If questioned, he may be inclined to lie about such things-- but if not, he will keep quiet. He does not lie to keep the LSES encaged after seeing that they react to and create emotions like human children do.

The chief squints suspiciously, letting go of the look as he nods his head. "Makes sense," he declares, causing Roget to give a silent, shuddering sigh. "But... have you run any tests on them? Extensive tests, I mean. The experiments that we'd need to figure out if they're 'fit for the part' or not, I mean."

The chief always had a tendency to say such things.

Roget blinks. Tests? Extensive tests? He has almost forgotten about those. Does he have to run extensive tests on the LSES-- on the Shadow children? Does he have to put them through all sorts of experimental situations and watch how they suffer? Won't it hurt them, though? Won't it make them feel awful?

"I... haven't though about the testing," Dr. Roget admits, folding his hands together anxiously. "I wanted to wait until they showed--"

"Signs of growth, yes," says the chief. "And now, they are showing it, so... begin the testing, Roget."

He lowers his gaze to the ground. "What sort of tests should I start with?" he mumbles unenthusiastically. Maybe if he pretends to start the tests, then... then the brothers can escape before he must force them to suffer...

The head scientist sees through his facade. It's clear.

"Quinlan," he says softly, a demeaning aura hidden behind his voice, "they are not children. They're subjects. Treat them as such." He walks toward the door, beckoning for his fellows to follow him. "Start with seeing if they can regenerate. They'll need that for the army."

Everyone leaves the room besides him.

Roget puts a hand against his face, partially to make sure that everything is real and that this isn't just a nightmare, partially to hide his horrified expression from the artificial intelligence-powered cameras peering his way. He picks up his papers, folds his suitcase, and walks out the door. He does not walk back to his office, but rather shuffles, or slides, dragging his disappointed feet on the floor as if they're bricks. Sick to his stomach, he enters the room, slamming the door behind him.

He expects to see a floor covered with glass from the Shadows' throwing beakers at the floor. He expects to have to put on an unfair expression and punish them. He expects to sluggishly wander to his bedroom and grieve.

But none of those things happen.

The three little Shadows are sitting on the white couch at the end of the room, their eyes fixated upon him and the doorframe behind him. They appear to have been waiting for his arrival.

He blinks at them. He wants so badly to greet them with a polite "hello" and smile and ask them what they've been doing while he was gone. He wants to say something, to say anything. But he says nothing at all.

Red sits up. "Mr. Quinlan? What's wrong?"

"There's something sad about your expression," comments Chris.

"You don't look well," says Blake.

Roget looks at all of them. He wonders if he ever even gave them scientific monikers, or if he just named them automatically because of how vivid and understandable they were when he first created them. The head scientist surely won't approve of him having given them their own real, human names, especially because... because...

...because they aren't children, and they deserve to be treated like the subjects that they are.

He sets his papers down on the counter, leaving his suitcase in his hand. "Why were you waiting for me?" he asks, countering Red's question.

The Shadow's rounded horns seem to have grown even longer since the last time he saw him. Red must be slowly maturing. "We wanted to know what the science-men said about us," says the LSES, his crimson eyes proudly glittering. "Did you ask them about letting us see outside of here?"

"Did you ask them about letting us perform?" asks Christopher, blinking his velvety-purple eyes.

"Did you ask them about us at all?" Little Blake stands up on the couch, his white eyes the color of stars in the sky.

Roget bites his lip. He shakes his head softly, an answer that deflates all three faces in front of him. Red narrows his eyes, upset, and the other two only look downward, sullen that their performance in music had been no topic of discussion at the "science-men meeting."

The scientist walks over to the couch, gently parting Red and Chris and making room for him to sit. He sets himself down in the middle of them and wavers, unsure of what to say, how to begin this conversation, or if he should even be having it at all.

They are not children, he tries to tell himself. They are subjects, and they deserve to be treated as such.

But they live with emotion. They dance and sing to music. They are self-aware. They feel pain, whether on the inside or outside, and have never experienced genuine suffering before, making them innocent. They understand freedom. They understand words. They understand brotherhood. They understand him.

...He will have to put their strength, their regeneration, their emotional properties to the test. He has no other choice. They were made for the future of the military-- and they should not be coddled by him. If anything, he should be the one testing them.

"Do you know what purpose you were created for?" he asks, looking at Red.

The frustrated Shadow stares at him. "You used to say it all the time," he declares. "Something about the military."

"What's the 'military'?" asks Blake, leaning over Dr. Roget's shoulder to look at his briefcase.

Roget falters. If he tells them for what purpose they are made, then perhaps they might be inclined to run away...

But no. He cannot avoid it any longer.

"The military is an institution made for protecting this country," he says. "Humans are trained day in and day out to fight and learn how to kill and pilot war machines. You, all three of you, were made as an upgrade to the defense and offense of the military."

He swallows the lump in his throat.

"You were made to kill."

*Part 3 coming soon...*