"He was skilful enough to have lived still,
if knowledge could be set up against mortality."

All's Well That Ends Well, Scene I, Act I

Science, he reflected, rarely performed according to expectations.

That one might expect science to perform to any sort of standard at all was a peculiarly human conceit. Science was, at its core, the investigation of impenetrable mysteries, the ordering of the unorderable, the struggle to comprehend things beyond comprehension. What were hypotheses and experiments in the face of nature's vast, uncaring splendor?

So, no, science could not be expected to perform on command. Still, he would have appreciated less chaos in the unfolding of his latest endeavor.

"The activated units have been decommissioned and destroyed," Threnody said behind him. Her voice was meek – as well it should be. "There was, um, an error in the coding for the late-stage accelerated growth sequence, which explains why they, um, were so…"

"Unruly," he said.

Threnody gave a nervous, shaky half-giggle. "Yes sir. Unruly."

"Correct the coding in the next batch," he said.

"Yes sir." She took a breath. "Sir. It was my fault that they were all activated."

"I was already well aware of that," he said. "The list of suspects was fatally short. Still, I appreciate your honesty."

Another nervous giggle, this one dying out into a thin whimper. Very gratifying. "I, um, also verified that the, um, tesseract gate at the Boys' Home is destroyed… along with the house… so anyway, it doesn't matter if the X-Men come back. Did you get – It's not all ruined now, is it?" she asked, clumsy in her hopefulness. "Your experiment?"

"I'm surprised to hear that you care so much about my experiment," he said, deliberately using one of his more sinister tones. "I had supposed that your interests lay… elsewhere."

That shut her up, if only – inevitably – for a moment.

He waited, attention focused on the data scrolling down the screen before him, to see how his alleged assistant would respond.

"N-no sir," she said after a moment. "I mean, you've helped me so much… of course I want to help you –"

"Excellent," he said. "You may begin by scrubbing out the incubation tanks. I will be needing them shortly."

"Yes sir."

She hesitated, but wisely chose to leave instead of talking further.

It was an unfortunate truth that he could not maintain full control over the many variables in this experiment. However (to paraphrase a trite piece of folk wisdom), one did not need to control all of the variables all of the time.

And – a fortunate truth – a little bit of deoxyribonucleic acid went a long way.

"'Each generation has enormous power over the natural gifts of those that follow,'" he said to the quiet, still air of his laboratory. "Well. Galton would be thrilled; I've proved him right at last."

There was no answer beyond the undercurrent hum and click of machinery. He had anticipated none. Talking to one's self was something of an eccentricity – but really, who else could he speak with? That short-sighted fool of a girl? Hardly.

The lack of intelligent company was something (perhaps the only thing) of the normal world that he truly missed. And would continue to miss, it seemed.

He spared a moment to press a hand to the healing wounds on his chest. Enormous power indeed; Summers and Grey had mutations far superior to his estimations. It would have pleased him more if they hadn't injured him almost beyond his ability to recover – but he was, if nothing else, a survivor.

"Now," he said, turning from the computer to the temperature-controlled racks beside it. "What can I do to ensure that our friend En Sabah Nur, 'whose influences are little suspected,' and who is 'at this moment working towards the degradation of human nature,' receives no more for his troubles than a black eye?"

He looked at the test tubes laid out in precise columns, each one cradling a microscopic embryo of tomorrow's more… gifted world.

What indeed.

Nathaniel Essex smiled.

--end--