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Message-ID: <51448asstr$1119449403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: El Sol <munster@eden.rutgers.edu>
Subject: {ASSM} The Institute Series Set III by ElSol (MC, MF) (3/4)
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Date: Wed, 22 Jun 2005 10:10:03 -0400
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        This email address is NOT read. If you wish to contact me please
do so ONLY at munster(at)remus(dot)rutgers(dot)edu.

	Thank you
	ElSol

<1st attachment, "institutecombo3.txt" begin>

THE THIRD INSTITUTE FLASH

   When To Tell Her: David's Story By ElSol

   "You can tell me about it," I said.

   "No secrets, huh?" Elizabeth replied, putting the menu down.

   "Empathics still have to guess what feelings mean," I said.

   "So what's your guess, David?" she asked.

   "I would guess it has something to do with me being Positive," I
answered.

   "Not everything has to do with your power," she said.  "This is a
relationship thing."

   "I don't understand," I replied.

   "I don't need to be empathic to know you aren't telling me something,
David," she said.

   I tapped the table with two fingers.  She cringed, along with everyone
in the area.  I reined in my emotions as my watchers stared down anyone
taking too much interest in me.

   "An interesting stew of feelings," Elizabeth said shaking her head to
clear it.  "It is unfortunate Healers are a combination of the most
powerful projectives with the least control over their projections."

   "The Director has asked me for a favor," I said.

   "And like every Institute Positive, you feel obligated to go where he
points," she sighed.

   "Positives are servants of humanity's survival," I recited.

   "Institute propaganda," she said.  "Or more accurately, the Director's
propaganda."

   "Is that what you think?" I asked coldly.

   "No," she replied carefully.  "But I'm a woman whose man is keeping
secrets."

   "Assigning a Healer to the Euro-Institute is a large enough gift that
they have to accept the terms of the Director's proposed merger," I told
her.

   "I had to get involved with the only Positive who can, at will, heal a
person's sex drive," she said studying me.

   "I'm used more effectively in a hotel full of couples, but the hope of a
cure IS useful propaganda," I said.

   "So when did you plan to tell me you're leaving?" she asked.

   "I've Healed you," I told her.

   "Without asking me!" she said sitting up.

   "I don't have to ask," I said.

   "You violated the Lottery," she insisted.  "The Institute only allows
one Heal a week because of its affects on you!  One couple every two weeks,
David; that's the Lottery!"

   "Read the fine print," I said.  "I decide!"

   She sat back and stared at me.

   "Why did you decide I needed Healing?" she asked.

   "I'm being based out of the new Euro headquarters," I said.  "I wanted
to leave you able to have the life you wanted."

   "What's the use of Healing me when only Positives, someone a Symbolic
has been in love with, and those you've Healed have normal sex drives?" she
asked.

   "The last Positive testing identified another Healer," I said.  "The
Institute has agreed to a Healing for the man of your choice."

   I looked out the window when something hit me.

   "You said Healers, why?" I asked.  "The discovery of a new Healer hasn't
been announced yet."

   She smiled and shook her head at me.  The wave of her satisfaction
struck me, putting me on alert.  Next to the Director or his youngest son,
Jason, Elizabeth was the most focused person I knew.

   She reached out to turn my hand over.  Her fingers lightly ran circles
on the inside of my wrist and down to the palm of my hand.

   As a Healer, I was not a more powerful projective than a normal
Empathic, but my gift of absorbing and healing physical damage meant I had
a heightened ability to reflect physiological reactions, like arousal. 
Unfortunately, it made me prone to the EM-Loop.

   Elizabeth's Healing allowed her to reach out to me with her hands,
emotions, and physical desire.  Her feelings mixed with my lack of control
caused a projection, which pushed Elizabeth higher but also set everyone in
the area off.

   Most Empathics used shutdown to defend against an EM-Loop, but it worked
against the Institute's purpose.  I pressed my hands on the table and set
for the backlash to my projection.

   I absorbed the shockwave of sexual heat from the people in my range,
magnified it with my own feelings, and blasted it outwards.  This time I
kept pushing, using my continued projection to deflect any response.  I
needed to project until everyone burned out or fled.

   "Enough, David," Elizabeth said, raising her head from the table much
later.  "Fuck!  They're going to feel the residue of that for a week."

   I relaxed into the chair and looked around.  Most people made it out and
were probably searching for somewhere more private, but a few lay under
their table in the warm embrace of satiation.

   "Take care of the restaurant," Elizabeth said to one of my watchers.

   "Yes, ma'am," he replied before walking away slowly.

   "You initiated an EM-Loop," I said trying to stay calm.  "You know how
dangerous that is!"

   "Properly motivated Positives make the most babies.  A person who can
put a Healer into an EM-Loop, at will, has a certain amount of bargaining
power," she told me.  "The Director agrees."

   "The Director?" I asked.

   "You're looking at the new director of the Euro-Institute," she said
smiling widely.  "Although I think I'm going to adopt a different title,
director seems presumptuous."

   "You have a corporate career," I said.

   "It's getting worse, David," she replied, staring out the window.  "I'm
no Geddonist, but I didn't think we were going to make it."

   "What changed your mind?" I asked.

   "Jason," she said meeting my eyes.

   "He's just a boy."

   "The child has a profound affect if someone is willing to listen," she
said smiling.

   "He certainly changed the path of Joshua's life," I replied.

   "Jason believes we'll make it, and I have faith in what Joshua has said
about him," Elizabeth said with a sigh.  "In light of that, success in the
corporate world has become unimportant to me.  I have a different job now,
plus did you really think convincing people to buy stuff they don't need
matches up against being with you?"

   The last was asked with enough of an edge I did not need my power to
tell me answering it would be a mistake.  I was still feeling the effects
of the EM-Loop's original trigger so I focused a thin projection at
Elizabeth.

   "That's a good place to start your apology," she said pushing the table
towards me.

   "Not again!" one of the watchers exclaimed.

   END FLASH

   =========

   THE THIRD MOTHERLESS CHILD INSTITUTE STORY

   Case File #69: The Insanity of Emotions By ElSol

   The doors of the Institute shooting range opened, allowing two men in
dark suits to enter.

   "Holster your weapons!" one of them yelled at the Trainees.  With an
Operative watching, the Trainees knew better than to obey.

   "Do they get agents from the stupid factory now?" Jacob asked, walking
in.

   "Mr.  President!" the presumptuous suit exclaimed, stepping in front of
him.

   "This is the Institute, agent," Jacob said patiently.  "If someone here
wanted me dead, you couldn't do anything about it.  Besides, someone from
the Institute would only kill me at my father's orders, and he prefers
public executions."

   "The Director wouldn't do that, sir," the agent insisted.

   "You'll live longer if you assume my father would do anything," Jacob
said pushing past him.

   Elijah stepped in front of me as Jacob approached.  He took his
responsibilities as my protégé seriously, even the ones out of his purview.

   "Sir," Elijah said to the President putting his hand up.  The agents
took umbrage to his tone and stepped forward.  They immediately collapsed,
holding their heads as Elijah's lips tightened.

   "Our sister is going to get here any second, Jason," Jacob warned with
eyebrow raised in amusement.

   "Elijah," I said.  He released the agents and stepped towards the range
to continue directing the weapons training.

   "I thought only Operatives carried guns," Jacob said after a look up and
down the line.

   "Violence against Positives has escalated," I replied.

   "No one told me," he said staring at the agents as they got back on
their feet shakily.  "It can't be good."

   "You're a politician, Jacob.  People don't tell you a lot of things; for
your own good, or at least that's the excuse," I said shrugging.

   "Is there anything else my people aren't telling me?" he asked.

   "The New Christian Church is campaigning against your plans to have
Sarah become the next President," I told him.  "The agent who ordered the
Trainees to holster is a spy for the Washington Episcupus.  That's one
priest with an almost unhealthy ambition to become the next Abbas."

   Jacob turned towards the agent.  The man took a couple of steps back and
looked at me with hatred.

   "My baby brother isn't known for leaving enemies of our family
ambulatory, agent," Jacob said to him.  "I would appreciate your
resignation, but only because having Jason shoot you would disturb Sarah."

   "Why would Jason shoot this nice man?" Sarah asked sneaking up behind
the Agent.  Her smile let him know she had been aware of his
extracurricular activities.

   "He's been spying on us for Episcupus Matthew," Jacob said.

   "Father did teach us to sacrifice for the greater good," Sarah pointed
out.  "If Jason feels the need to put a bullet in the traitor, I'll have to
deal with any negative emotions.  This would be the best place for it; with
so many Empathics around, someone will help me find my center again."

   The agent took a step back.

   "You're not running, dear" Sarah told him.  The man's eyes widened
before he fled.

   "That's one problem," Jacob said turning back to me.  "So what's this
about the New Christians campaigning against Sarah."

   "They don't want me to be President?" Sarah asked.  "How wonderful!  I
don't want to be President either!"

   "Should I tell father?" Jacob asked her.

   "I'm sure if Joshua had not been assassinated, as the oldest, he would
beat the crap out of you for saying that!" Sarah told him.

   "Two old men punching each other's lights out over their little sister
is probably not the image we want our family to project," Jacob said. 
There was sadness in his voice at the mention of Joshua's death.

   "I'm sorry, Jacob," Sarah said putting her hand on his arm.

   "It's okay," he said.  "I'm glad I will finally be able to say he's
still my big brother."

   "Only the Director's conversion to the God Apart Cult was necessary,
Jacob," I said.  "Your conversion could destabilize the political landscape
and bring things to a head much sooner."

   Jacob and Sarah looked at each before turning towards me.

   "Jason, the voice of reason?" Sarah asked.

   "It could cost you the election," I told her.

   "In that case, let's announce I was the second Cultist ever," she said
brightly.

   "In due time," Jacob said.  Sarah gasped and turned to stare at him.

   "You planned to tell everyone about it?" she asked amazed.  "Before the
election?!?"

   "Little steps, Sarah," Jacob said with a shrug.  "We can get everyone
over the hurdle of voting for someone not New Christian, if she happens to
be the Director's only daughter.  After all, they passed a Constitutional
Amendment to allow any member of the Director's family three presidential
terms.  There are a lot of people assuming you'll be partaking in the
privilege that Amendment allows."

   "Maybe everyone will go insane and I'll lose," Sarah said hopefully.

   "People like to think the most powerful man in the world will pay more
attention to a President who eats Christmas dinner at his table," Jacob
told her.

   "Why are you here?" I asked Jacob.

   "A Gift Plane has landed," he replied.  "They will only talk to you
though."

   I nodded.

   "I need to speak to father about a few things," he said.  "He'll
probably want to go to the airport too; nothing like getting the despair of
our situation on the news while at the same time showing that the Institute
is the only hope for a future."

   "Go talk to daddy, Jacob," Sarah said pushing him gently towards the
door before facing me.  "Take me to the graveyard, little brother."

   I nodded and extended my hand to her.  I felt her age when she took it;
I also felt her strength.

   "Who has been maintaining the grave?" she asked angrily.  There was no
reason to reply; no one could have cared for her husband's gravesite well
enough to satisfy her.  She knelt down and spent a few minutes making it
match the perfect vision in her mind.

   "Sometimes I think my father shouldn't have tried so hard to save us,"
she said later.

   "Santos would be disappointed to hear you say that," I told her.

   "My husband was a better human being than I am," she said.  "At least,
better than the one I became after they killed him."

   "As the First Operative," I said looking at Santos's grave, "I don't
think he would have chosen a different fate than to die for duty.  It lets
every new Operative know what it means to walk in his shoes."

   "He might have died after doing his duty by me," she said.  "I would
have liked a baby."

   "You could've had a child any time," I said.

   "Not without Santos," she said between her teeth.

   "We should be getting back, Sarah," I told her.

   "Are you ever going to call me sister?" she asked.

   "Technically, you're not," I said, repeating an answer as old as the
question.

   "And spiritually?"

   "Remember what you said once: with Joshua dead childless, Jacob
genetically anomalous, and your Santos murdered, the Director's line was
ended," I told her.

   "I was very angry at daddy when I said it," she whispered.  "I didn't
know you were there.  I'm sorry you heard it."

   "There's no reason to apologize for speaking the truth," I replied.

   The Director and Jacob appeared on the path to the graveyard.

   "We've decided to move Joshua's remains," Jacob said coming to a halt in
front of Sarah.  "Everyone in the family will be buried here."

   He looked over at the gravestones of his wife and adopted son.  Sarah
put her hand in his and walked with him to the graves.

   "My enemies have taken their toll on this family," the Director said
staring at the backs of his children.

   "Their time draws near, sir," I replied, making him turn the chair to
study me.

   "Sometimes, son," he said finally.  "You scare even me."

   ----

   "Sweep, Elijah," I said stepping out of the gravlimo and onto the
airport tarmac.

   "Already done, sir," he said.  "Everyone is clean."

   "Deep-level?" I asked.

   "No, sir," he replied blushing.

   "The Director's life is in your hands, Elijah," I said without looking
at him.

   "I'm sorry, sir," he replied.  He stepped in front of me and looked
closely at everyone in the crowd.  They took a couple of steps back knowing
what he was doing.

   "They're clean, sir," Elijah told me.

   I walked forward to give Jacob, Sarah, and the Director space to climb
out of the gravlimo.  Jacob's Agents fanned out facing the crowd to back
them up with their presence.

   "Are you ready, father?" Jacob asked looking at the Director, who took a
deep, calming breath and nodded.  Most people saw Gift Planes as cause for
celebration--to the Director, they were defeats.

   I walked in front of our group and got bombarded with questions.

   "Jason, what country is the Gift Plane from?"

   "Would you really have killed the Episcupus?"

   "How is the Director's health?"

   "Any comments about the Abbas's sermon at the Mount?"

   An overly eager reporter with a holo-camera on his shoulder stepped in
front of me.  I put a bullet through the camera lens before he realized his
mistake.  I tracked on his head until he was out of my way.

   "Maybe we can have someone with Operative status assigned to the White
House," Sarah said to Jacob.

   "You see," Jacob replied.  "We need brilliance like yours in the hot
seat."

   "Sir," an airport executive said as we walked up to him.

   "Tell the tower to signal the plane," Jacob ordered.  "My brother is
here."

   I looked at Elijah.

   "Deep-level, sir," he said.  "The plane is clean."

   A couple of minutes later, the door opened and five people almost as old
as the Director stepped onto the steps leading to the ground.  Four of them
walked down and approached us.

   "Are you the one the Prophet called the Director's Hope?" their leader
asked staring at me.

   "Yes, he is," Sarah answered.  "How did you hear that name?"

   "A missionary came," the old man replied.  "We have brought you a Gift."

   I nodded, and the old man turned to signal the one they had left at the
door of the airplane.  Children poured down the stairs suddenly; from their
energy, the flight must have been tough on them.

   "The remaining wealth of our nation," the old man told me.  "Our Gift to
you."

   I signaled the assembled staff to move forward and make sure no child
needed immediate medical attention.

   "We thank you..." I stopped as someone wearing white stepped out of the
airplane.  She was young, maybe sixteen, and her uniform clearly tried to
imitate David's use of a white Operative uniform to mark him as a Healer.

   "She is our Santera," he said.  "I believe your word is Healer."

   "There are no words to express our gratitude, sir," I said, bowing
respectfully at the enormity of their generosity.

   "We killed our first Positives," he said reaching out to straighten me.
"We have earned no gratitude."

   "Where are the parents?" Sarah asked.  Usually, a Gift Plane did not
include only children.

   "A price must be paid for our sin," the old man replied.  "They have
chosen to pay it."

   "The children will be raised by parents who respect your past," Jacob
assured them.

   "It is unnecessary," he replied.  "We destroyed our only hope of
survival.  We deserve to be forgotten."

   The Director turned his gravchair around and went back to the gravlimo.

   "It is not your fault," I told the old man when he looked about to shout
after him.  "Every time he hears of a country that killed off their First
Generation Positives he sees it as his failure, not theirs."

   "There was nothing he could have done, we would not listen," the old man
said desperately.

   "You will not convince him," I said.  "How can we make you comfortable?"

   "A spot where we can watch the sun set over water," the lone woman in
the group said.  "Our task is done."

   "I will sit with you," I said.

   "There is no need," she replied.

   "I define what is needed differently," I told her.  "I know a spot."

   ----



   It would have taken them longer to die except for the freezing rain;
only the old man who had spoken was alive after the third night.

   His eyes signaled me so I jacked into him.

   *Take care of our children.*

   I nodded.

   *Do you believe God will forgive us?*

   "Mine does," I said.  "I cannot speak for yours."

   *The missionary, he spoke of your Purpose.  Are you strong enough?*

   I looked at the spot where the sun was beginning to rise; there was no
harm in telling him the truth so I did.

   *Es justo that at my death, my failures be held up in the light of your
father's successes.*

   "The Director is not my father," I said.

   *No, you would not see him as such.  He was truly sent by my God.*

   ----

   "Did they suffer?" the Santera Healer asked, sitting down next to me in
the Institute dining hall.  Most of the table was covered with the remains
of my first meal in days.

   "Yes," I said, shocking her.  She turned away and sobbed.

   "Old bones don't take freezing rain well," I said.  "It was a better
death than dehydration and starvation."

   "My name is Amada," she said.

   "Jason."

   "I know," she said.  "They speak your name like you are..."

   "Whatever anyone says about me, Amada," I interrupted.  "I'm either much
less or much worse."

   "You sat with them so you're probably more," she said staring into my
eyes.  "Everyone I've spoken to here says to be careful with you so you're
probably worse."

   "You're sixteen?" I asked.

   "I've seen a lot of death," she said.  "There are more people in the
Institute than I saw in my country."

   "I'm sorry," I said.

   "You're not though," she said studying me.  "You don't feel..."

   "I don't feel what you feel, Amada," I said.

   "It's comfortable to sit with you," she said looking around the room. 
"You don't affect me."

   "David will teach you how to adjust to having so many people around
you," I told her.

   "Empathics can't shield," she said.

   "David can show you something almost as good," I said.  "For now, it
will be easier if you spend time around me.  You cannot project what I feel
so it will reduce the feedback."

   "There is one thing coming from you that I do recognize," she said
putting her hand on top of mine.  It was a mystery; I had never felt sexual
desire as hunger before.

   "Are you doing this?" I asked seriously.  She shook her head and looked
around the room for someone who might be.  It was impossible, but I jacked
into everyone within Emphatic range to discover the hunger came wholly from
within me.

   "Interesting," I said.

   "Do you want to do something about it?" she asked.  "I am of age, and it
is time for me have a child.  A Positive would be the preferred father and
you, the best."

   The Director was going to like Amada.

   "I am biologically incapable of having children," I told her.

   "Then you can help me celebrate life," she replied.

   "Positives and Positives don't do well together," I said.

   "I'm a woman first, a Santera second, and somewhere far behind those,
whatever the Institute calls me," she said smiling.  "I'm sure I won't be
the last woman to jump into bed with the wrong man."

   "How much death have you seen?" I asked.

   "I didn't want to get on the plane, Jason," she said meeting my eyes
like no one ever had.  "My father killed my mother and himself in front of
me, to take away any reason I had to stay."

   "That has to be the worst intro to foreplay I've ever had to overcome,"
I told her.

   "The only things left for me are the children I will have, the pain I
can heal, the hope that someday I will be unnecessary, and a few precious
seconds I can steal for myself in someone's arms."

   I jacked into her and took away the moments after she had put her hand
on mine.  They would come back to her after we were done, but I could give
her more of the seconds she craved with just the offer of pleasure lying
between us.

   "Do you want to do something about it?" she asked.  I sent a wave of
affirmation through my link.  Her eyes lost focus, and she took a deep
breath before looking around.

   "This way," I said standing up still holding her hand.

   Amada deciding she did not want to wait to get to my room before she
started stripping had less to do with the looks we got than was healthy for
the human race.  Positive/Positive relationships happened, but most were
kept secret or public enough to maintain a lack of seriousness, like
Elijah's wagers.

   I keyed Amada's desire to grow by leaps and bounds with each step that
brought us closer to my bed.  There was something inside of me growing on
its own, and I wanted her on the same mountaintop when it exploded out of
me.

   I slammed my door open and pulled Amada in front of me.  Her nails dug
into my shoulders as my lips crashed into hers.  There was no time for
anything other than feeding each other's hunger.

   Amada's lust was mad: my jack pushed her, but she also received what was
burning everything out of me.

   I picked her up and threw her on the bed.  Her back arched as the
trigger I set went off.  I was naked before her pleasure completed its
cycle.  She looked up at me as I grabbed her legs and pulled her to the
edge of the bed.  Amada's eyes seemed to glow as I fucked into her with no
control.  Her nails cut into me as what she received a direct skin-to-skin
connection to what I felt.

   "DIOS!" she screamed.  It would have been blasphemy for me to scream
that in his house so I made do with biting my lip until I could taste
blood.

   "No!" she whispered as the pain gave me a semblance of control.  She
locked her ankles behind me and tightened her thighs around me to push
against our joining.

   It was in her mind; nothing would please Amada more than to have those
few precious seconds be ones even I could not control.  There was no reason
to hold back.  I grabbed her hips in holds tight enough to bruise.  I pried
us far enough apart to thrust into her hard.  The stroke made her release
the pressure she held me with so I could give her another.

   I did it for myself; I took what I wanted from her body, whatever it was
that seemed to feed me.  She screamed as one last thrust let me discharge
what was inside of me into her.

   "I see why Positive on Positive relationships are frowned upon," she
said minutes later, as we lay beside each other staring at the ceiling. 
"You'd fuck each other to death."

   I would have to ask the Director what was wrong with me, but first I
wanted to string together enough seconds for Amada to last a lifetime.

   ----

   "Sir," Elijah said, opening my door.  I had been awakened seconds before
by Amada's writhing.

   "Robert's been killed," he continued before I jacked into Amada.

   "Where's Sheila?" I asked reaching for my robe.  Robert's death
explained Amada's restless sleep.

   "What's wrong, sir?" Elijah asked.

   "Where is Sheila?"

   "She is in conference with the Director; they're waiting for you," he
said.

   "Sit," I said pointing to my bed.  He had learned to follow my orders
without question and immediately climb onto the bed.  "Tell every
Telepathic in the Institute to put up the strongest shields they can and
stay behind them until I give word."

   "Yes, sir," he said closing his eyes.

   I ran towards the Director's conference room.  Sheila was staring at the
table as an Institute tech set up for the download of Robert's earcell.

   "Jason?" the Director said without taking his eyes off Sheila.

   "What's wrong with her?" Stephanie asked getting up from her chair.

   "They were a couple," I said walking towards Sheila, "from the moment
they met."

   "She'll kill every Empathic in range," the Director said, "and they'll
kill everyone in theirs."

   I put my hands on Sheila's shoulders and jacked into her--nothing, and
Sheila diving deeper into it.  I set my feet and jacked into Amada. 
Sheila's loss was dragging the Healer into an EM-Loop.  I followed the echo
of Amada's emotional projections to every Empathic in the Institute and for
the miles their ranges overlapped.

   I had no choice; Sheila had dragged them down too far.  I jacked deeper
into each Empathic and focused their talent on me.  They could not feel
what I felt; I spoke a different emotional language.  It made me a filter
through which Sheila's emotions became bearable.  With the Institute
protected, I turned on Sheila.

   "I will not allow this, Sheila," I said.

   *I LOVED HIM*

   "I will not allow this."

   *WHY?!?*

   "Because Robert wouldn't have wanted this, Sheila."

   *LIAR!  YOU'RE THE DIRECTOR'S DOG!*

   "Of course," I replied, infusing each word with scorn.  "Always first is
the Institute."

   A woman in love and lost turned on me as if I were the one who had taken
her love away.

   "I will hate you for the rest of my life," Sheila said hours later as
she got out of her chair.

   "I'm sure it will be longer than that," I replied.  Amada walked in
after Sheila left and stared at Director and me.

   "Is that why you don't allow Positives to have relationships with other
Positives?" she asked.

   "It's a policy, whose time has come to reconsider," I said.

   "Yes," the Director said sitting back in his gravchair.

   "They're still human, sir," I told him.

   "If you hadn't been here..."

   "I was," I said.  "Amada can you talk to Sheila; I did not handle her
gently, and she needs someone who can."

   "I would say rather, she did not handle you gently," she said to no one
in particular.

   "How old is that child?" the Director asked when she walked out of the
room.

   "Old enough, sir," I replied.

   "This is impossible," the tech said looking at his gear in shock.

   "I wonder why so many people say something is impossible at the exact
moment it is proven not to be," the Director said impatiently.  If the tech
had straightened any faster, he would have needed a gravchair of his own.

   "Sir, the earcell's transmission was blocked," the tech said.  "We have
nothing after Operative Robert entered the institution's grounds."

   "Institution?" I asked.

   "Someone stuck an Empathic in a mental institute; Robert went to take
him off their hands before any damage was done," the Director informed me.

   "We're supposed to believe an insane Empathic could kill an Operative?"
the tech asked.

   "Actually, we're NOT supposed to believe that," the Director replied
staring at me.  "Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to meet you, son."

   "Load Robert's case file to my gravcar, tech," I said walking out.

   ----

   "If you were going to be this clumsy, a written invitation would have
saved time," I said walking up to the mental institution's doors.  The
grounds were abandoned, as was the approach to the building; no one sat at
the reception desk either.

   Every door except the one at the end of hallway was closed.  The open
door led to the dining hall with a table set for one in the middle.

   "Turn towards me, animal," someone said from behind me.  I turned around
to watch three groups of four people walk around the dining hall; one group
took position behind me, and the other two to my left and right.  At the
door, another group of four stood in front of a man wearing a uniform.

   "It didn't take sixteen to kill Robert, did it?" I asked.

   "The mind reading animals were enough to kill your owner's dog," the
uniform said.  I sat on the floor in a half-lotus position and studied the
people surrounding me.  The scars on some of their faces told the story.

   "You chose slavery," I said to the uniform.

   "There are no other choices for humanity!" he spat.

   "Let me guess," I said.  "Holding the tiger's tail with one hand and
using the whip with the other hasn't worked out, especially with
Telepathics."

   The Positives growled at my tone of voice and some took a step towards
me.  The aggressive position revealed collars around their necks.

   "Your Director lies," the uniform told me.  "Only by enslaving these
animals and their power can we survive."

   "How many did the Telepathics who broke free kill?" I asked curiously.
The uniform stared at me with fury pouring out of him.

   "To really hurt you, other Positives would have been their first
targets," I said.

   "The renegades destroyed entire stables," the uniform admitted.  "We
need new slaves, and the Institute is greatest deposit of animals in the
world."

   "To take over the Institute, you need either the Director dead or in
your control," I said nodding.  "But it's not something I'm likely to
allow."

   "You're a smart animal," the uniform said laughing.  "It's too bad we
cannot spare your life to train you to a beast's proper place."

   "These are your best," I said looking around the room.

   "Enough to kill even you," the uniform said.  "Though I'm told you are
not the most powerful Positive, just the most loyal of your master's dogs."

   "Sixteen Positives," I sighed.  "I was so close to breaking even. 
You're going to put me eight million behind in one shot."

   The Empathics were the first to look nervous; those had always known
within seconds that I was different.  I nodded towards them so the uniform
would notice their discomfiture.

   "Animals!" he yelled, focusing their attention back on me.  His eyes
turned to me again.  "You can't believe you can control this many!"

   "I have to give you credit for the willful ignorance necessary to try
this stupid a plan," I said.  "A bullet would have served better, but I
guess I shouldn't expect much from someone who tried to enslave a greater
power than their own."

   "What are you talking about?"

   "A mouse trap to kill a Positive except..." I said and looked around the
room again.  "Ask them."

   He stared angrily at a couple of them.  They tried to reply but no words
came out of their mouth; their masters had cut out their tongues.

   "You don't let the Telepathics enter your mind even if it might save
your life," I said.  "In that case, I'll be the bearer of bad news. 
They're trying to tell you the Institute's classification of me as a
Positive is inaccurate."

   The uniform was smart enough to take a step back.  I drew my gun from
the holster.

   "Kill him!" the uniform yelled and they tried.  The Empathics rolled
waves of despair at me; the Telepathics used their Scream; the Pheromones
dug into me with power; the Symbolics grasped my symbols to twist them.

   I put a bullet into the uniform's leg to keep him in the room and put
the gun on the floor.

   None of the Empathics were the equal of an untrained Healer like Amada.
The Symbolics total power did not add up to Simon's.  The others were
weaker than the Institute's average Positive of their type.

   I jacked into the sixteen and studied their lives.  No one deserved what
they had been put through; I pulled the jacks and their lives out of them.

   The uniform screamed in fear as his slaves collapsed around the room.  I
picked up the gun and walked to him.  A bullet in his arm became necessary
when he reached for a weapon.  I jacked into him to mitigate the pain; he
could serve the Institute by staying alive a little longer.

   "What are you?" he asked with the false courage I lent him.

   "A thing.  A creation," I answered.  "But that's not really what you're
asking.  I think the best classification for me would be Positive-Killer.
The Director probably thought it too dramatic."

   I knelt down next to him and waited for the question I made inevitable.

   "What do you mean creation?" he asked; his words were my words.

   "The Director made me, though I prefer created," I replied.

   "Clone?"

   "No," I said.  "I do look like him, but even your God created you in his
image so the conceit is forgivable."

   "I don't understand."

   "Centrally, I am derived from the Director's genome," I told him.  "He
augmented the blueprint with others: Michael, Miguel, Santos, and David. 
At least, two of those should be familiar to you.  The important thing is
they were each of a different type of Positive power."

   "We tried to combine the animal powers," he said surprising me.  "We
failed."

   "Excuse me for a second," I said and flipped through his mind to find
out what he was talking about.

   "You misunderstand," I said after some thought.  "The Director was not
trying to combine the Powers to create a fifth.  He sought to create a
limit on the ones that already existed."

   "Why?"

   "How successful were you in controlling your slaves?" I asked.  "You
must have power greater than the one you are trying to control to succeed.
I am a gift of power to humanity."

   "But we cannot control you?" It took only a little push to get those
words out of him; the failure of his nation had stripped him down to almost
nothing.

   "The Director constructed a single cell embryo," I said standing up and
pointing the gun at his head.  "There was no ova or sperm involved in my
conception.  No cell cloned.  No woman's womb to carry me.  Can you imagine
the breadth of problems he had to surmount to hear my first cry?"

   I tilted my head and smiled down at him.

   "God walks up to the bar, sits beside you, says 'I am the Lord God, thy
Creator!', and asks a favor," I said.  "What would you do for him?"

   I put a bullet in his head when he did not reply.

   "What wouldn't I do?" I asked the corpse.

   With Operative case files open to the public, I had given the Director's
enemies the excuse they needed to wage an open war against the Institute.

   Against me.

   THE END

   To be Continued in the Final Set of Institute Stories


   

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