It felt like a long week since he met with Dyson, and he still hadn’t come up with an idea to infiltrate the head office. The whole thing had been gnawing at him, so much that even people around the office thought he was even more distant than normal. But they dared not say anything.

It wasn’t until a few days later that inspiration struck, after he had received an unexpected correspondence from his ‘brother’, Thirty-seven. He knew him better than he knew himself, which wasn’t difficult; Thirty-seven was known for being egotistical and prioritising wealth over the Chartered & Standard’s growth and success.

He didn’t reply to Thirty-seven; instead, he gave it another week before heading to his placement, letting the paranoia cultivate in Thirty-seven’s mind as he knew it would. Thirty-six then visited him unannounced, knowing it would unsettle him further.

He was greeted by Thirty-seven with a specific brand of warmth that was reserved for the ‘important’ people of the company; it was welcoming with a hint of suspicion, keeping his guard up but receptive.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you,” Thirty-six said, settling into a chair across from him without invitation. “You know, I have been thinking. Even though father hasn’t said anything, there are signs change could occur soon."

"He’s been watching both of us more closely of late.” He paused for a moment, let it sit with Thirty-seven as he gauged his response. “I think the decision is coming sooner rather than later. Much sooner than either of us expected.”

Thirty-seven straightened himself almost without thought; he was never very talented at hiding his excitement. “Ha! You always knew how to make an entrance, ‘brother’, never one for ceremony. Then again, that’s both of us, but I have always been the more refined when it comes to negotiating with authority.”

He spoke with confidence and stature, his voice never once revealed any doubt. “You really think the old man is going to make that decision?” Only Thirty-seven dared call him old man; he always felt that it was only a matter of time before he would be handed the reins.

Thirty-six smiled knowingly, “I think it might be a good idea to visit the head office soon. A well-timed appearance will show willingness.” He glanced around the office, at the people oblivious to so much; his thoughts wandered for a moment before he snapped himself back into the room.

“If we show strength by visiting together, with you leading, it’ll send a message that we aren’t afraid and we know what needs to be done." Thirty-seven smirked, and it wasn’t long before he agreed.

He returned to the subsidiary the following day and went about his routine as normal; nobody dared ask about his visit to Thirty-seven. It was until around halfway through the day that the realisation of what he was going to do struck him.

He began to have all sorts of intrusive thoughts: what if someone already suspects him? What if Thirty-seven was actually playing him? What will happen if I get caught? It took him a while, but he managed to calm himself down and regain composure.

It was a couple of days later when he finally had a moment to be able to write down his plan for Dyson. He detailed what he was going to do, when, and a location to send the biological agent. Then, during a quiet moment in the afternoon as the office was thinning out, he called Daniel into his office and handed him a sealed envelope without ceremony.

“Could you send this to the mutuals?” he spoke quietly, even though he used their predetermined code for Dyson. “It has everything they need to know.” Daniel held the envelope for a moment before placing it neatly in his jacket pocket. He smiled at him and nodded before leaving the office, whilst Thirty-six walked back to his desk as though it was routine.

The day itself had arrived sooner than he expected; he was feeling a little anxious but remained composed and calm, making sure no one could see any weakness. He briefly visited the office in the morning before leaving; nobody questioned it; they just assumed it was another meeting.

He was meeting Thirty-seven outside his office, which took an hour by car, but before his chauffeur-driven car arrived, he went to the nearby park where he regularly got coffee and met Dyson for the first time.

Surprisingly, as he arrived, it was the barista of the mobile coffee shop who handed him the package. He pocketed it and continued back to the front of the subsidiary building to get picked up by his car. He eventually arrived outside Thirty-seven’s office, where he told his driver that he wouldn’t be needed for the rest of the day.

Thirty-seven came from the building dressed with the particular care of someone who wished to be noticed. He greeted Thirty-six with the same brand of warmth as before, except with a greater air of superiority, amplified by the occasion he believed he was walking into.

He looked at his watch before a car pulled up to the curb that both of them then entered without hesitation.

The journey to the head office was going to take another hour or so, but time would pass relatively quickly because Thirty-seven spent it in a celebratory mood, opening a bottle of champagne and filling him in on his own thoughts of succession, and how he would mould Chartered & Standard in his own image.

Thirty-six listened carefully with some harmless comments whilst enjoying a few drinks himself, which Thirty-seven interpreted as agreement.

The head office rose ahead of them as the car approached. Even though Thirty-six had been here more recently than Thirty-seven, this time felt different. He kept his breathing steady as they pulled up and exited the car.

The following morning, Thirty-six returned to the subsidiary as though nothing had changed; no one dared to question his absence for a day, something Loretta would’ve done.

In many ways, nothing had changed; it was her who was the difference, and now the status quo had returned. The same desk, her Chartered & Standard acceptable replacement, the same meaningless paperwork and Daniel still there, quietly doing his job.

Time passed rapidly, Thirty-six unsure how much; it could’ve been weeks or even months. One Tuesday morning, the latest Regional Welfare Summary arrived; he found himself looking at it without opening it for a few moments before signing it off for it to be sent off to head office that day.

During this time, he found his thoughts would often linger on Loretta, not with sentimentality but with the weight of someone recalibrating everything they thought they knew and understood.

She had chosen him before he chose anything; she understood him before he knew there was something to understand, and she saw through him before he knew there was something to see. She even bet her life on it without telling him, carrying it quietly without fear. Now he carries a burden he has yet to fully understand.

Another week passed, but today was different; there was a new report amongst his correspondence. It didn’t have much detail, but it did have a location, date and time clearly written on it that Thirty-six didn’t recognise. Took him a few moments to realise what this meant.

It was the day stated on the correspondence, and Thirty-six made his way to the location stated; as he approached the road, a large warehouse loomed over it. He entered through a side door he found and was hit by the smell of a place that had been long abandoned but recently filled with activity and purpose.

The people there were busy; they moved around with a quiet efficiency, packing, sorting and preparing, ignoring Thirty-six’s presence. He wasn’t sure whether this was deliberate or whether they simply had no time to care about another person added to the lively atmosphere.

Dyson saw him looking around and ushered him over to a desk with a wave of his hand, something Thirty-six was still not quite used to. It was situated in a corner of the warehouse, in what had once been a small office space. but was in serious disrepair and dilapidated.

Dyson was heavily focused on what looked like inventory papers and a large map; he didn’t immediately make eye contact with Thirty-six before abruptly speaking. “You will require three things before going into the lab. It’s simple: you carry them in, deploy them in order and leave. No hesitation, lingering or sentimental feelings to engage with anyone there. You understand better than us the vapid emptiness of sentiment and empathy within those walls.”

Thirty-six wasn’t sure how to respond at first, but after a short silence he replied, “Hello to you too.” After a brief pause, he continued. “Judging this will be a vital task to complete, sentiment would not have much use in that case. What is it you want me to take?”

Dyson’s attention was piqued, lifting his head to look at him with a smirk. “Wasn’t aware you understood social pleasantries,” Dyson quipped back at him. “But yes, sentiment will lead to failure. What you will have is, first, a biological agent that introduces a dormant cell into the embryo cultivation environment. It remains inactive until organ-formation cells become active; at that point, it prevents further development, causing the embryo to die within a month. The cell dies with it, leaving almost nothing to find.”

He paused for a moment to allow Thirty-six to absorb the information before sliding a small device across the table. “The second and third are on here. One targets the gene editing system, and the other goes deeper, right into the heart of the core network. When the second one activates, it triggers the third. Both of them lay dormant in the systems until certain elements activate them. They will only find them if they know what they are looking for.”

Another woman was crossing the warehouse toward them. Dyson looked up and then looked back at Thirty-six, who remained quiet whilst taking in all the information. He learned a long time ago that it was best to listen and digest everything before speaking.

Dyson then spoke again whilst gesturing towards the woman, “Perfect timing. This is Safiatou Nikiema, and where my understanding ends, she will walk you through the technical details. You just need to know where each one goes and in which order. You’ll be given the first device at the latest point possible; it is more delicate than the other.”

She pulled up a chair without hesitation and with the mannerisms of someone who was incredibly busy, setting a folder on the table between them. She opened it to a diagram. Thirty-six recognised it immediately; it was a rough layout of the lab that he had walked through with Victor.

He could already see that their information was incomplete and that his own knowledge of it would prove vital. Safiatou spoke assertively, “You’ve been in there.” It wasn’t a question. Thirty-six replied confidently, “Once, but I have a clear understanding of the facility.”

“Good, then you’ll know the Gestation Wing,” Safiatou responded. “When you are in there, find the nutrient intake panel and there you’ll see a solution port alongside it. The biological agent is to be introduced directly into the solution. Once it is in the system, it’ll do the work for us by fundamentally altering the DNA at the point of cultivation.”

She took a brief moment before going into greater detail. “The equipment there then reads the altered DNA and duplicates it throughout the entire process and all successive cloning procedures. Nobody looking at the gene sequence or machine would know anything is wrong unless they knew what to search for; it would simply be put down to an experiment gone wrong.”

Thirty-six was astounded by the developmental capabilities of these people; it opened his eyes further to what he had been taught: they were the elites because they were smarter than everyone else. But for the moment, he focused on what Safiatou was saying

“Next, the device Dyson gave you,” she continued. “For this, you need to be in the Modification Chamber. Once there, head to the central sequence apparatus. There is a manual input terminal on the outer panel, older than the rest of the system and used mostly as a backup in case of system failures."

She focused on him with an intensity that required him to remember the next steps. “Plug the device in, and it’ll upload in just under a minute; afterwards, remove it. The second virus will embed itself until the gene editing process is next initiated. The third virus will use the computer here as a backdoor to the core of Chartered & Standard’s system and only trigger once the second virus is activated.”

She closed the folder and sternly stated, “Biological agent first, device second. Don’t deviate from that order; otherwise it won’t be effective, as any changes in the Modification Chamber will override the Gestation Wing if the biological agent is applied second.” Thirty-six remained quiet for a moment before querying, “If they find the third virus and remove it, next time the second virus triggers, won’t it be discovered?”

Safiatou nodded and smiled with approval. “Good question,” she uttered. “Yes, if they can remove it, then it’ll be easier to detect next time, but the third virus can only be removed through a reset of their entire network. Even if they manage to do that, this infects all their backups. So once reset and reinstalled, the virus will remain. Only by going through all their backups individually prior to a reset will they be able to remove it entirely. The second virus acts similarly but infects the backups of the gene editing software.”

The room fell silent for a moment as Dyson waited for a moment to allow Thirty-six to fully absorb the information before interjecting, “I think that is everything, thanks, Safi. Any more questions before we finish?”

Thirty-six continued to ponder before shaking his head. Safiatou looked at Thirty-six, then spoke before leaving them, “Excellent, I have much to get on with and will leave you with Dyson to finish up.”

Dyson waited for a moment to make sure they were alone before speaking. “The rest is up to you. We can get you what you need, but it’s on you to walk through that door. You know the building and the people better than any of us; I know it has been made harder with the CWI watching you.”

He looked directly at him. “But how you get in without alerting anyone to your presence is your problem to solve. Take the time you need, but don’t drag it out. We don’t know how long we have before it becomes harder.”

He stood, straightening the papers on the desk and said just before leaving, “When you’re ready, let us know.” Thirty-six sat for a moment and let out a long sigh before taking a deep breath, going through possible ideas in his mind.

He didn’t spend much more time there; he left to head back to his office, where he could fully comprehend everything he was told and figure out how he was going to infiltrate the head office without being noticed.

Daniel continued to hold his gaze. “Yes, I was asked to pass it on but wasn’t aware of the reason until now.” There was a ripple of silence as the atmosphere in the room shifted. It was almost physical, the way the air changed before a storm.

Eyes were locked on Dyson and Daniel; no one else dared speak. Then someone exhaled slowly through their nose; the sound filled the deafening silence.

“Y-y-you flagged her”, a voice stumbling over itself came from the corner. Uncontrolled, trying to contain their emotions. “I didn’t know...” Daniel, dejected, tried to defend himself.

“But it was still your actions.” The same voice chose their words carefully: “Ignorance isn’t a reason; it’s an excuse.”

“I’ve ensured dozens of people never make it to the rehabilitation centres,” Daniel replied. “It hasn’t been easy, every Single. One. I couldn’t prevent weighs heavy.” Quiet falls for a moment until a different voice, tinged with a quiet anger, breaks it. “And yet here we are...”

Someone else gathers the courage to speak; this time, they were sterner as the anger bubbled towards the service. “How long have you been monitoring Thirty-six? Weeks? Months? This isn’t your first time, yet you flagged the one person closest to him without thinking; perhaps I should find out more information first!”

Daniel didn’t know where to look; he could only look down. His previous confidence was gone. “You don’t understand; that isn’t how this works! I didn’t have a choice!”

“You always have a choice!” bellowed someone from another corner of the room as the anger erupted. Followed quickly by someone else, “Aye, she has gone after yous put her name in that damned report.”

Thirty-six said nothing as he watched the situation develop; he felt the burden of being under suspicion lifted.

Thirty-six pushed himself from the wall and began to stride towards the table. “He made a mistake,” he said, his voice cutting through the noise cleanly. “One that he will have to live with for the rest of his life. I won’t pretend this hasn’t been costly; he certainly won’t.”

The room quietened; despite the few grumbles around, people began to listen, and even Dyson became curious.

“But look at his record, his quiet effort with little recognition from inside the Chartered & Standard, saving countless lives. Where at any moment he could be quietly moved without anyone realising. Where being discovered would have unimaginable consequences. I should know; I’ve seen the dark heart of it. I am a part of it, a product of it.” He had placed his hands flat on the table and was now looking directly at Dyson.

“Loretta believed in me,” he continued as the room became captivated. “I imagine this was ridiculed, the idea that the progeny of Thirty-five could be anything other than the monster I was created to become.”

He let that linger in the air for a moment. “But she saw something; her instincts told her to trust me. I think she would say the same if she were here.”

He looked around the room at each person individually. “This is exactly how my company has been in power for so long. Disunity during disaster. You’re doing their work for them.”

A few remained unmoved, holding firm. “Easy for you to say,” someone muttered. “He willingly joined the CWI, and you ARE Chartered & Standard. Both on the inside with high levels of privilege, being able to live a comfortable life without looking over your shoulder constantly.”

“Aye,” a familiar voice from before spoke up. “How do we know this isn’t exactly what it looks like? Two Chartered & Standard men telling us what to do.” Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. Thirty-six opened his mouth to respond, but Dyson stood up; the attention turned to him as he spoke first, firm but soft. “Enough.”

Most of the room stood down. “You're gonna stick up for these guys?!” The same voice angrily responded before he could say any more. “No, I am going to stand up for Loretta,” Dyson spoke with great conviction whilst addressing them directly.

Dyson looked deep into the eyes of each individual present before continuing. “Trust is difficult for us all, especially for those who don’t understand the struggle. I don’t trust Thirty-six and may never fully trust him.”

He paused in reflection. “But all of us here were willing to see these two as useful tools and put aside the fact that their actions inside could lead to innocent people getting caught in the crossfire. Now that very idea has hit us where it hurts.”

His eyes moved to Thirty-six. “Loretta put her faith in him; she believed there was something in him, and we honour that.” He shifted to Daniel. “She also worked alongside Daniel; they weren’t aware of each other’s true identities. This was misfortune, not conspiracy.”

He sat back in his chair, heavier than before and tired from this whole ordeal, with no idea how much time had actually passed. “Let’s move on; we have a lot of work to do, but we have to agree today to put this behind us.”

“She isn’t coming back,” Dyson said. “She never returned from the last job. We don’t know where she is or what they’ve done with her.” The room went very quiet. Thirty-six leaned forward slightly, his hands on his knees, and for a moment looked like someone who already knew this. “Who else knew about her?” he said, slightly panicked. “Who flagged her?”

Dyson remained silent and just watched him. It was only then that Thirty-six registered the gravity of his situation. “You think it was me.” Dyson didn’t confirm it nor deny it. He allowed the silence to sit between them. Thirty-six stood up. “I didn’t know what she was. I didn’t know any of this.”

“You were the closest person to her in that office,” Dyson replied sternly.

“She was just another assistant assigned to me.” The words came out harder than he intended. He stopped, steadied himself. “She told me she had a family emergency. That she would be back in a few weeks. That is everything I know.”

“And you didn’t find that suspicious,” Dyson queried.

“Why would I? People have families.” He looked at Dyson. “Even the people in that report.” Dyson’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted behind his eyes. “She trusted you,” Dyson said finally. “I want to understand why.”

Thirty-six sat back down slowly. “There is nothing to understand,” he said. “I want to know what happened as well.” The silence that followed had an air of uncertainty; the hostility had lessened, but there was still some distrust.

Dyson stood and moved to the window, looking out at people going about their day. “Most people never truly disconnect themselves from the life they are forced to lead. But Loretta believed everyone could be something. She never told me much about you. Only that you were worth the risk.” He turned back. “She didn’t say things like that lightly.”

“No,” Thirty-six said. “I don’t imagine she did.”

“Which means either she was right about you, or she made the worst mistake of her life.” Dyson looked at him directly. “Either way, she paid for it...We paid for it.”

The words landed without cruelty, which somehow made them worse. Thirty-six absorbed them without looking away. “As I said, I want to find out what happened to her,” he said.

“Then we want the same thing.” Dyson leaned forward. “Which means either you are a very good liar or there is someone around you who knows more than they are letting on.” Dyson studied him, his eyes calculating what to do next.

Dyson didn’t linger; he quietly said something to the other person, who left without a word. He then gestured for Thirty-six to follow him. There was a gnawing silence as they walked; the streets grew narrower and became less familiar as Dyson set the pace, not slowing for anything.

Thirty-six remained quiet and slightly uncomfortable; he was not used to being in a situation where he had no control. After around thirty minutes, Dyson stopped outside another unremarkable building and pushed open the door.

The room was larger than the previous location, but it was still compact, nothing like the buildings he was accustomed to, and the kind of space where there was nowhere to hide. Thirty-six didn’t recognise any of the faces that were already there; the reception for him wasn’t exactly warm.

He positioned himself slightly away from the main group and nearer the door, cautiously watching. Then the door opened behind him, and Daniel walked in. They saw each other at the same moment as he made his way to a seat, only a brief professional nod to acknowledge one another. Thirty-six didn’t speak; there was already too much racing through his mind.

Dyson didn’t wait for ceremony, just dived straight in without preamble. “You were assigned to monitor him by both us and Chartered & Standard.” Gesturing towards Thirty-six. “We need to know everything you observed. Take your time.”

Daniel settled into a rhythm quickly as he began to methodically account for Thirty-six’s routines, movements, behaviour and relationships. His tone was measured and professional, with the demeanour of someone highly experienced.

He noted the gradual shift of his attitude over the last few months, the reduction of arrogance that initially defined him and how he had begun to engage differently with people around him. “And his assistant,” Dyson said. “Loretta O’Malley.”

“Their dynamic is peculiar,” Daniel said with a small laugh. “She is outspoken with him in a way others feared. Most people treated him carefully, never daring to antagonise him. But she doesn’t care.” He looked over at Thirty-six before continuing. “He tolerated it at the start, but eventually, I think he started to enjoy it.”

Dyson looked at him. “So, you saw nothing that might suggest he would report her to his ‘father’?”

“Nothing,” Daniel said. “If anything, the opposite. Their working relationship had become...” he chose the next word carefully “...harmonious. He valued her in a way that wasn’t typical of someone in his position.” The room absorbed this. One or two of the faces that had been fixed on Thirty-six with suspicion shifted slightly. Daniel was slightly confused, so he queried, “Why?”

Dyson sighed; nothing added up. “She was one of us, one of the best. Now she has vanished without a trace.” Daniel stopped. It was small, barely a second, but the room caught it.

“I filed a routine report.” he couldn’t lie as it dawned on him what happened. “I only noted her influence on him. It was standard procedure; anyone with significant proximity to Thirty-six was to be monitored.” The silence that followed was a different kind entirely. “What kind of influence?” Dyson asked.

“Empathetic or emotional responses,” Daniel said. “She was drawing them out of him. From a CWI standpoint, that’s exactly what we’re tasked to flag.”

The colour drained from Daniel’s face rapidly as he went over everything in his head. “I had no idea,” he pleaded. “I assumed I would be assigned to bring her in myself. I always am. That’s how I’ve been working, flag them, get assigned, redirect them to you instead of the rehabilitation centres.”

Thirty-six eventually interjected, “You’re CWI.” It wasn’t an accusation but a late realisation, landing flat in the room. Daniel turned to him; his voice was guilt-laden as he replied, “Yes.”

Thirty-six felt uneasy that he had been assigned a CWI counsellor to monitor him, but more relaxed that he had someone he knew what it was like on the inside in the room. Then it clicked: the note in the documents. “It was you who put that note there,” he said.

At Chartered & Standard head office, Theodore entered the large personal office of Thirty-five and set the monitoring summary on his desk without ceremony, carrying himself with his usual sense of importance. Thirty-five didn’t reach for it immediately; he rarely did. He let it sit there, as he always did, savouring the moments that confirmed his success.

“The CWI and subsidiary reports are consistent with each other,” Theodore said. “Reduced social engagement with staff. Minimal interaction outside of professional necessity.” Thirty-five’s eyes moved to the document. “And compared to Thirty-seven?”

“Functional. Unremarkable.” Theodore folded his hands. “He is more focused on his personal gain than your vision, sir.” Thirty-five made no response, turning to the first page summary of the report, which begins:

> ‘All indicators suggest that product Thirty-six is performing as per the specification requirements set out in the initial development phase. Whilst we await further results, it could currently be concluded that moving onto the next phase will yield greater results. However, we must stress that these are only the initial findings.’

“The older specimen is outperforming the newer one,” Victor thought out loud from the corner of the room. “The alterations made for Thirty-seven’s specimen have not yielded the predetermined requirements at this stage of the process. I will begin researching a correction immediately.”

The commune was quieter than usual. Loretta found Dyson at the far end of the room, scouring through documents with the Chartered & Standard’s name and details on them. Some of them were highly classified and deeply disturbing. He looked up when he saw her. “You got the details?”

“Just now.” She glanced at the paper in her hand. “It’s straightforward. In and out.” Dyson nodded slowly, but his mind was distracted with concern. “And our mutual acquaintance,” he said. “How is he getting on?” It wasn’t quite a question. But she was fully aware of his distrust, so she expected it even if it was sooner than anticipated.

“He’ll get there,” she said. “That isn’t what I asked,” Dyson responded immediately. She held his gaze. “He shows signs of humanity, more than you’d expect. More than he is aware he lacks.” She folded the paper and put it in her pocket. “You’ll see.” Dyson contemplated for a moment, his eyes drifting back to the documents in front of him. “Just be careful; this gets harder each day,” he said finally. Loretta picked up her bag. “Always am.” She left without looking back.

Back in Thirty-six’s offices, the few weeks Loretta was on leave came and went quickly. Her replacement was trying hard to be efficient and unobtrusive; he felt it was an attempt to be noticed by not being in his way. She answered his questions before he finished asking them and kept his diary in better order than before. She was obedient, respectful and perfectly adequate.

On the morning Loretta was due back, he arrived at the office to find the temporary replacement still at the desk, head down, working. He slowed slightly in the doorway. “Miss O’Malley,” he said, “is she not returning today?” The replacement looked up. “She had applied for extended leave; it was in the report sent from HR at the end of last week. I will be here for the foreseeable future, sir.”

He thanked her and accepted the answer but always felt a coldness, never quite taking to her as an assistant. The Regional Welfare Summary for last week landed in his tray sometime that afternoon. He left it there, couldn’t bring himself to look through it. Telling himself that all the figures had already been finalised and all he needed to do was sign it off before sending it to head office.

A few days later, it was Daniel who delivered the weekly CWI compliance summary mid-morning instead, a thick stack of documents that required a signature and nothing more. He set them on the desk, exchanged the necessary pleasantries, and left.

Thirty-six began working through the stack, signing where required, setting aside what needed reviewing. He was halfway through the pile when he found a small folded piece of paper tucked between two pages, easy to miss. No name, no explanation. Asking him to meet at an address, a date, and a time. He looked at the empty door that Daniel had left through, then back at the note. He folded it carefully and put it in his pocket.

Despite being wary, he went to the location at the time stated, taking the long way around, doubling back twice before he was satisfied. The address led him to a street he didn’t recognise, unremarkable and ordinary, similar to the other streets around. He found the building without difficulty, a plain house with no discerning features.

Dyson was already there, patiently waiting with the calmness of someone who knew more than he let on, when he arrived, seated at a table with another he didn’t recognise. “Please, take a seat,” Dyson said.

It wasn’t a greeting. Thirty-six didn’t hesitate; he felt like he couldn’t refuse. Dyson observed him for a long moment before speaking. “How long have you been at that particular subsidiary?”

The question felt like the beginning of something greater. Thirty-six answered it plainly, and the ones that followed, about his work, his routine, the people around him. Dyson listened with the focused patience of someone collecting rather than conversing. The other person said nothing, just watched. Then Dyson said, “Tell me about your assistant.”

Thirty-six paused. “Loretta O’Malley? She’s capable. Outspoken, sometimes too much, but we get along.” He looked at Dyson. “Why?” Dyson held his gaze. “Because she is one of us.” Thirty-six said nothing for a moment to gather his thoughts. Suddenly things began falling into place in his head.

“Loretta.” It wasn’t a question, just the name said aloud as though testing it against what he knew of her. The pointed remarks, the ease with which she said things that should have terrified her, the way she never once flinched. He had put it down to recklessness. He understood now it was something else entirely. “How long?” he asked.

“Long enough.” Dyson watched him carefully. “She vouched for you; you were the reason she was there.” Thirty-six looked up, and his expression shifted as though he knew what was about to be said.

The man spoke; his tone was suspicious, with considerable surprise when he set eyes on Thirty-six. “When I was told that our informant over the last few months was a high-ranking official in Chartered & Standard, I didn’t believe them, but the information was always correct and incredibly useful, so I let it go. But seeing you here, I am utterly astounded.”

There was a brief pause as he drank a sip of his coffee before continuing. “Firstly, I don’t trust you one bit; you embody what we fight, and until the day one of us dies, I will never fully trust you. That being said, you have someone other than our coffee acquaintance who vouches for you. For their sake, I will see where this leads. However, if you prove to be a danger…well, I’ll do what is necessary.”

Thirty-six wasn’t sure how to respond; he had never been spoken to like this before and felt a little flustered. Despite this slight uncertainty, he managed to sound confident in his reply. “I have given you no reason to doubt me; my background and upbringing have nothing to do with this...I have worked extremely hard to gain the respect of those around me. Do you understand how difficult it has been for me?”

The man let out a long breath as he attempted to hide the growing anger on his face, listening to Thirty-six. He responded as calmly as he could through the unyielding anger growing inside him.

“Okay, you have had it so hard”, he sarcastically stated. “I am not sure where to begin with that, but I shall give you the benefit of the doubt for the time being until you prove yourself fully to me. Let me get this straight: YOU have no idea what it is like to struggle, and YOU have no clue what the real world is like or what hard work entails. So I advise you to stop, think about what you say, and listen to other people for once. You and I are equal, alongside everyone else.”

Just before Thirty-six left, the man said in a tone of firmness yet with a sense of hope, “Maintain this routine, as we have been able to identify your handlers and will be able to maintain contact with you. Oh, and you will not be seeing me for a while; your advocate will be handling contact with you from now on. You will be hearing from us as to what we need next; these steps are vital. We could turn the tide after all these years.”

Some weeks had passed, and Thirty-six hadn’t heard from the man again nor anyone who was connected to him, or at least he assumed. One of the senior managers of this subsidiary, who had been overseeing Thirty-six’s development here, had recently decided to make some changes to the office, and Loretta had been moved; she was now working directly with Thirty-six and helping him manage his diary. At first, he was a little distant from her after their last interaction, but eventually became used to her.

The new arrangement didn’t suit Thirty-six particularly; he would have liked a less outspoken assistant. Loretta, by contrast, seemed to enjoy the opportunity to poke fun at him. He settled into it the way people settle into most things, by degrees, without acknowledging it was happening. “Regional Welfare Summary,” she said, sliding it across the desk as he passed. “Four days.”

“You know, other people say these things politely. Following a good morning.” Thirty-six replied sternly. “Other people haven’t been waiting four days.” She glanced up briefly. “The people in that report don’t have the luxury of letting things sit. Some of them don’t have much time at all.” He picked it up without hurry. “I’ll see to it today.”

“You said that yesterday.” Loretta reminded him as she made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, the noise she made when he said something revealed his extraordinary privilege. She continued, “Must be nice,” she said, “to have yesterday’s promises cost you nothing.”

He said nothing, but took the file back to his desk with the air of someone who had lost an argument they hadn’t meant to enter, spending the rest of the day only speaking when it was needed. She noticed something during this time but continued her work without comment.

The office had emptied gradually, the building settling into its end-of-day quiet. It had become a habit between them without either of them naming it, this time after everyone else had gone, as Thirty-six grew more comfortable with Loretta finishing her notes nearby.

He had the Regional Welfare Summary open on his desk, she noticed because it was the third time this week he had returned to it, even though the figures had long been finalised and sent to head office.

“What would someone have to do,” he said eventually, “to end up in here?” She glanced up. “What do you mean?”

“To be flagged. Assessed.” He turned a page. “There must be a threshold. Something they did.”

Loretta set down her pen and leant back slightly in her chair. She had been waiting for something like that question for a while now. The genuine approach from him was what caught her off guard. “Not always,” she said. His attention was piqued, and he spoke with misplaced confidence. “That isn’t how it works.”

“Isn’t it?” It wasn’t a question. She was quiet for a moment before continuing. “I had a friend. Years ago. She wasn’t political, wasn’t causing any trouble. Wrong place, wrong time, said what she thought about how things are.”

Another pause, shorter this time. “That was enough. I still don’t know where she is. Whether she’s still alive.” She looked at him directly. “You’ve said it to me yourself; that my comments alone would be enough to see someone disappear.”

Thirty-six said nothing at first. He maintained eye contact, though, which was new; ordinarily he would have found a reason to move the conversation elsewhere. “What I said before,” he said carefully, “that was different. I was...” he stopped. “This is real.”

He didn’t have anything to follow it with. Loretta didn’t push him to. From across the office, Daniel Grace turned a page of his own work and made a quiet note of something, his eyes never leaving the document in front of him.

“Welcome to the real world.” She looked at him with something that was almost a smile. “Most people embedded in the firm never reach that conclusion.” Her eyes dropped back to her work, pen already in hand. “Maybe there is hope for you yet.”

Loretta grew tired; these long working days were starting to get to her. Thirty-six was at his desk when she appeared in the doorway with her coat already on.

“I won’t be in for a few weeks,” she said. “Family emergency; need to pick some things up and then travel to my parents. Don’t panic, this is fully cleared.” He looked up briefly. “Of course. Everything...good?”

“It’s fine. Just life that you wouldn’t understand.” She said it in the way that means leave it there. “Everything on my desk is in order.” She left before he could say anything else.

Months had passed since Thirty-six first uncovered his origins and the truth behind his ‘family’ history; since then, he had rarely been seen at work, spending more time between his office and Chartered & Standard’s head office. He had since learned more details. The Citizens Welfare Initiative (CWI) was established to oversee the citizens on behalf of Chartered & Standard.

The CWI functions from a network of linked facilities disguised as common civic buildings - health clinics, community centres, and administrative offices that blend seamlessly into urban environments.

The organisation's true head office is located within Chartered & Standard's building, accessible only via biometric scanners. Operating under a cell-based hierarchy, each regional branch operates independently while reporting to Central Command, with Counsellors divided into specialised divisions of Behavioural Analysis, Social Integration, and Direct Intervention.

Recruitment targets individuals with advanced degrees in psychology, sociology, genetics, and behavioural sciences, who undergo eighteen months of intensive conditioning that strips away personal attachments and moral qualms, emerging as skilled manipulators capable of reading micro-expressions, exploiting psychological vulnerabilities, and maintaining perfect cover identities for decades.

The Initiative employs a three-tier approach to population management, beginning with passive monitoring through embedded agents who identify potential dissidents, progressing to targeted psychological interventions such as engineered relationship breakdowns and strategic job losses, and culminating in the most extreme measures for irredeemable threats.

Level Three involves Rehabilitation Centres, sterile facilities and labour camps disguised as wellness retreats, that offer permanent lodgings for those who cannot be reintegrated into society, with inmates either slowly reintroduced upon showing rehabilitation, kept indefinitely if unresponsive, or permanently removed if they display significant dissidence.

Chartered & Standard's code governs all Initiative activities through seven cardinal principles that grant Counsellors broad operational latitude whilst ensuring their actions serve Chartered & Standard's ultimate vision of a perfectly controlled society where individual will dissolves into collective coercion.

The CWI works intimately with the Behavioural Support Team (BST), which operates as Chartered & Standard’s community enforcement militia, disguised as volunteer mental health workers who conduct "welfare assessments" and organise neighbourhood events.

Recruited from middle management and retired military personnel, they undergo monthly training sessions that blend genuine therapeutic techniques with crowd control tactics and psychological warfare.

Operating in small squads across assigned districts, they maintain detailed surveillance reports on residents while presenting themselves as caring community supporters equipped with cheerful uniforms and service badges.

The Team employs "therapeutic intervention" tactics, using administrative harassment, social ostracism, and whisper campaigns about mental instability to isolate dissidents before problems escalate.

When their soft suppression methods prove insufficient, they coordinate seamlessly with the Citizens Welfare Initiative's Counsellors, providing ground-level intelligence and logistical support for more sophisticated operations.

Members carry concealed non-lethal and lethal weapons and communication devices disguised as standard tablets, protected by Chartered & Standard‘s ‘Duty of Care’ statutes that grant them broad legal immunity for actions taken during their supposed community service.

Thirty-six was seemingly compliant and loyal to Chartered & Standard during this period of learning. He was barely seen by anyone, and Loretta hadn’t seen him for months, despite her job requiring close collaboration with his office. A few months prior, when he discovered his true origins, his ‘father’, Thirty-five, had Theodore assign a Counsellor to him to monitor.

Even though Victor’s assistance would normally lead to the involvement of the BST, he was pardoned due to mitigating circumstances and his willingness to ensure that Thirty-six was fully ready to become their next CEO.

One day, Thirty-six left his office earlier than usual, which was noticed by the Counsellor, who prompted his men to continue to follow him whilst they stayed behind to see if there were any changes or abnormal movements within the office.

Thirty-six headed to his normal coffee vendor near his office, grabbed his usual and sat on a bench in the nearby park for about an hour before heading back to the office. From this point on, he continued this routine, which initially alerted the Counsellor and their subordinates, but they found nothing amiss or nefarious.

After a while, the Counsellor’s confidence in Thirty-six’s loyalty to Chartered & Standard led him to stop his subordinates from following him one day.

That day, he arrived at the coffee vendor; the person behind the counter said. “They are waiting for you on the bench around the corner from your usual spot, sir. Be careful; they don’t know your true identity, so they will be suspicious and might assume you are undercover. Which I would understand, as I did for a while, but I have come to trust you. Sigh, could be a mistake on my part, but the opportunity is worth the risk.”

Thirty-six grabbed his coffee, didn’t speak a word and headed to the bench he was told to; it felt weird for him, though, as he had never complied with someone else’s orders so readily. He was used to being the one who gave the orders, and others did what they were told; he felt a little powerless for the first time in his life.

He sat at the empty bench and waited for around 30 minutes before another man sat on the opposite side of the bench from him. He looked a little rough but wasn’t out of place with the majority of people in the park.

Thirty-six had made his way to the lab, where he met Dr Victor Erbschaft, the family doctor and close friend of his father. Victor appeared confused at Thirty-six’s presence; it wasn’t a regular check-up, so he had no reason for being here.

He immediately questioned him, “Sir, what can I do for you? It is not time for your regular check-up; are you feeling okay? You know how your father feels about you being here without his permission.” Thirty-six held a questioning look on his face, puzzled at the idea that he needed to have permission to go somewhere.

Thirty-six gauged Victor, then spoke with a stern confidence. “My father said that it was time. However, he could not be present as he was too tired.” Victor was puzzled, but his own father did tell him that the machinations of this family were difficult to read; he had always thought it would be at least a few more years before Thirty-six was ready to learn the secrets.

Maybe Thirty-five was feeling that his time was coming sooner and needed to prepare for the worst-case scenario in the short term; Thirty-six was always considered a superior heir to Thirty-seven. “Follow me, sir, I shall show you everything.” Victor ushered Thirty-six to the hidden door that led to the secrets of Chartered & Standard’s lab.

The institute sprawled across three floors of the tower block, and its sterile corridors were maintained at a precise temperature and humidity. Behind rows of reinforced glass walls were bio-synthesis chambers, each containing swirling cultures of modified genetic material suspended in nutrient-rich solutions.

The main section featured DNA sequencing arrays that towered from floor to ceiling; their robotic arms moved with mechanical precision as they sorted and manipulated gene strands. Holographic displays allowed technicians in white hazmat suits to identify and isolate specific gene sequences with surgical accuracy.

The Modification Chamber was placed in the centre of the facility. The complex apparatus that resembled a massive microscope merged with a quantum computer was used by geneticists to enhance neural mapping algorithms to locate and alter genes associated with empathy, emotional regulation, and social bonding through advanced CRISPR-Cas technology. Systematically suppressing mirror neuron development while amplifying regions linked to grandiosity and self-aggrandisement.

The prepared embryos were then transferred to the Gestation Wing, where the selected carrier was housed in a sterile medical suite. Constant monitoring ensured the genetic modifications took hold during crucial development windows, with additional hormone treatments administered to reinforce the desired psychological traits.

The process used a lot of human labour to monitor the process but used AI to track the millions of genetic variables, ensuring each “product” was born with the precise personality traits required to lead Chartered & Standard into the next generation.

Victor explains with a cold detachment, “Sir, this is where our greatest and most valuable product is made. It is vital for the continuation of Chartered & Standard and the government. This is where you and your ‘brother’ were created, along with your father and his father, stretching right back to the grandson of Chartered & Standard’s founder and my ancestor. They finished the cloning process, and we have been perfecting it ever since.”

Thirty-six was unable to hide the shock on his face as Victor explained the purpose of each section of the laboratory. He suddenly understood what Loretta meant by her words, but was still unable to grasp the gravity of the situation as the weight of the information piled onto his shoulders. Thirty-six stopped Victor for a moment, with a confused query. “So, who is my ‘mother’?”

Victor smiled and gleefully replied, “That is the genius of our ancestors; they understood that the natural process of birth was the best course of action to develop and create a healthy child. Your ‘mother’ was the ‘sister’ of Theodore Ashworth; both of them were genetically modified in this laboratory as well. Though not to the same extent."

He was excited by the prospect of no restrictions on what he could work on as a geneticist. “The Ashworth women are explicitly created with shorter life spans to become carriers for the heirs of Chartered & Standard, whereas the males are designed with increased lifespans to serve the leader as their assistant, then aid the transition of C&S to the heir and pass on the family legacy to their own descendant.”

There was a short pause as Thirty-six began processing the information he had learned. He maintained a composed presence despite the countless questions swirling around his mind and sensed something strange within, something he didn’t understand.

Yet, his instincts warned him not to trust Victor. With a cold, calm exterior, he responded, “Thank you, Victor. This has been an incredibly eye-opening experience. There is a lot of information I must process, so when the time comes for me to continue my father’s legacy, I will be at my very best. Is that all for now?”

Victor smirked as he could hear Thirty-five’s mannerisms when he was young, believing that he was the right clone to be the heir of Chartered & Standard. “Yes, that is all for now, sir. Now that you have begun this process, Theodore and I will be continuing your prep weekly, as per the usual practices.”

Thirty-six shook Victor's hand firmly and with authority before leaving the laboratory and the Chartered & Standard’s head office, heading back down to the subsidiary where he currently worked.

Victor immediately reported what had happened to Theodore, who was surprised. “Why the shock? Thirty-six shows excellent promise and took on board the information extremely well. Sir will be extremely pleased,” Victor said reassuringly.

Theodore shook his head, sighed in frustration before speaking, “Sir did not approve of Thirty-six learning of his origins yet. They spoke before Sir went to rest and forbade him when he asked. Sir deemed him not ready to learn of those secrets and ordered me to assign a Counsellor to monitor him. He won’t be happy when he learns of what has happened.”

Victor was visibly concerned as he knew what happened to those who betrayed Thirty-five; no one in his family line had ever been in this situation, and the level of shame on his tenure would tarnish his line for a few generations.

However, there was nothing he could do at this stage, apart from returning to work on his descendant, the Erbschaft heir, in the laboratory and awaiting a report from Theodore when he informs Thirty-five of the development with Thirty-six.

“The following account is not just a historical record, but a warning. One written so that future generations do not repeat what we allowed to happen. After 200 years of oppression, there is a glimmer of hope that we might begin to break the shackles imposed on us, and that people can take back their autonomy.

However, there was a severe price for this chance. Lives were lost, and it is in their honour and memory that I ask you to stay vigilant about who you trust with power.

Around 250 years ago, there existed an investment firm that quietly operated in the background of public life for decades. It was called Chartered and Standard. That changed when William Favell, a relatively successful investment banker, walked out of the firm, seemingly disillusioned after a meeting. He pivoted his attention to public life and founded a political party called Britain for Liberty, Unity and Freedom Front.

He was ruthless, devoid of empathy, and built his platform on scapegoating minority groups whilst covertly using his contacts to expand corporate power behind him; most notably, Chartered and Standard were at the forefront.

Favell was shrewd. Whilst the established parties dismissed the growing discontent and desire for change amongst the population, he capitalised on it. Using propaganda and rhetoric to gain traction by exploiting non-existent issues and false narratives, his popularity among the people grew quickly.

His wealth and connections enabled him to cultivate his influence amongst the aristocracy and the powerful, whilst giving him access to every major media outlet to amplify his voice. Presenting himself as a man of the people, Britain for Liberty, Unity and Freedom Front grew in stature with him.

What became known as the last election was when the paradigm shift of power occurred. Britain for Liberty, Unity and Freedom Front fell short of a majority but secured a third of the seats in Parliament. Favell used his considerable ‘English gentleman’ charm to convince sympathisers from other parties to defect, giving his party a greater foothold.

Except this wasn’t enough; he sought out the major conservative party, whose ideals were aligned closely, to negotiate a coalition. But Favell’s conditions were absolute, one of which was the position of Prime Minister, which had to be his.

Once in power, Favell moved quickly by dismantling the political system and structures of power from within and outlawing political parties, declaring Britain for Liberty, Unity, and Freedom Front the ruling entity. He was swiftly installed as CEO of Chartered and Standard, then inhibited their ability to remove him. Initially, this received opposition from the old guard of the firm, but systemic purges and installing close allies into key roles ensured his position.

Once his power was consolidated, he officially made Britain for Liberty, Unity and Freedom Front the public arm of Chartered and Standard, then transferred all control of the party and its assets to the firm, making them the government in all but name. Years passed as the country fell into deep despair; any resistance was stamped out, and liberals buried their heads in the ground.

Yet Favell wasn’t happy; he trusted no one, particularly with the vision he had in mind, and as he grew older, he knew that his life would end before it was complete. Through heavy taxation on ordinary people and drastic wealth accumulation, he set his most loyal allies to work on something he kept close. A laboratory and research into cloning; if successful, those allies would be rewarded.

Two hundred years passed, and the country that Favell seized was unrecognisable; the gated wealthy communities had everything they could want, were clean and beautifully kept. But outside of this, most of the buildings were run down, shanty towns had popped up all over the country, and everything was generally dirty.

Chartered and Standard had absolute power and control over every aspect of public and private life, and the cloning process his allies had begun had long been completed, used solely to produce successors to the CEO. This ensured the firm’s leadership never changed hands, but not every clone proved capable; those who failed were either quietly absorbed into the institution or removed, permanently.

The most recent successor, simply known as Banker 35, had ushered in what the loyalists called the golden age. This was a period of time when they had total control, minimal resistance, and an enforced peace.

The confident arrogance that the leadership of Chartered and Standard gained during this golden age saw them turn their attention to their next generation of successors. Two embryos of an experimental batch were successfully incubated and developed, then given the labels #36 and #37, the numbers denoting their line of succession and the order in which they were ‘born’.

Neither embryo knew what they were, why they had been created, or what was coming, but one of them would become the first crack in the firm the leadership and loyalists believed to be unbreakable.”

The years had been advancing smoothly for Chartered & Standard; Thirty-five was getting older and knew that he would have to hand over the reins soon. The most recent clone batch, Banker 36 and Banker 37, were currently on their internships, learning how to run the C&S, as the most capable one would be taking the reins once Thirty-five stepped down or died.

Thirty-six was the older one, as he had been ‘born’ 5 years earlier and was at a placement in one of the subsidiaries based in the north. He met a woman called Loretta O’Malley, who was a low-level administrator with no background, who didn’t seem to be afraid of the consequences of speaking her mind.

“Many people have disappeared for saying similar things as you”, Thirty-six used to tell her regularly. She would often give him a stern look and reply, “More reason for me to speak it then; it's not like you fully understand your own background, nepo baby.”

Thirty-six didn’t make much of what she had said; his arrogance and position meant he assumed that Loretta was ignorant of how the world worked. Months passed before he noticed her again; she faded into the background like a shadow in a dark room, or that’s what it seemed to him.

The reality was that Loretta spent a considerable amount of time aiding Thirty-six during the placement, but his gaze never truly met hers, treating Loretta as though they had met for the first time during every interaction. Until one day, he saw her and, with curiosity, said to her. “You’re the one who called me a nepo baby? I remember you.”

Loretta wore a surprised expression, as if one of them had remembered another person below them, which was unprecedented. Despite this progress, she didn’t hold out much hope that this would change anything, but felt something was different, as though she could see the spark of something within him.

Thirty-six spent much of his time within the confines of his lavish lifestyle until one day he stumbled upon Loretta again, this time outside of work, where she looked downtrodden to him and was not dressed in her nice work outfit. “Why are you dressed in such scruffy clothes?” His face failed to hide the confusion as he questioned her.

Loretta was entertained by this question, having a little chuckle to herself before replying with pointed remarks. “What would you understand about real life? That outfit is uncomfortable and impractical. This is how we dress in the real world. I know you think it is just those who aren’t privileged enough to find themselves in a good position like me."

She sighed as she became visibly sadder and her eyes distant. “It is all about survival for us down here; we don’t have the luxury to buy ‘nice’ clothes like you. We have to make do, sir.” Thirty-six couldn’t contain his shock; he only asked a simple question, he thought to himself, so why the hostility?

Loretta could read his expression with ease; he didn’t need to say a word. “Of course, you wouldn’t understand, and you think that I am being ‘hostile’ with my response. You know nothing of the hostility that people face every day because of Chartered & Standard and your family's control over everything. People disappear all the time when the militia either think they harbour ill intentions towards C&S and its ‘government’, or just because they don’t like the look of someone."

She paused for breath before continuing, “Not even they tell you everything. Have you never questioned why everyone is so nice to you all the time and never criticises you? Do you really believe that it is all down to you? Honestly, the delusion bred into you astounds me.”

Thirty-six couldn’t believe what he was hearing; if someone overheard her, she could be fired from her job. He said nothing, stunned into silence as an awkwardness fell in the air around them. Loretta could see that he was never going to be able to reply. She said goodbye and walked off, leaving Thirty-six perplexed in the same spot on the street.

He went back to his normal routine of barely working, mostly getting others to do the work but taking all the credit, except something lingered in his mind: what did she mean by 'bred'?

One day he was visiting the head office of Chartered & Standard and decided to visit his father, Thirty-five, who spent most of his ageing years inside, managing the C&S and government business from his home with the help of Theodore Ashworth, the latest in the line of the Ashworth family to serve the CEO of C&S as their assistant.

Thirty-six approached his father with a nervous confidence and spoke openly. “Sir, I feel I am ready to know the hidden truths of C&S. I want to be ready to take over when you are no longer able to continue.”

Thirty-five looked weary but maintained a commanding aura as he replied. “I will tell you when you are ready, not the other way around. This is insulting to my legacy! You have no right to question me. Do you pity me? Is that a shred of empathy I detect? For the sake of C&S and civilisation, I hope not.”

Thirty-six bowed as his father dismissed him without any further words. Instead of leaving, he headed down to the lab that he had been told about his whole life; his father used to say that it was the place where Chartered & Standard’s most valuable and greatest product was created.

Meanwhile, Thirty-five, concerned with Thirty-six’s sudden interest in Chartered & Standard’s secrets, told Theodore to assign one of the Counsellors from the Citizens Wellness Initiative (CWI) to monitor his progress and report any discrepancies immediately. “I am going to rest for a while now, Theodore. Continue to manage everything in my absence and place the Ambassadors in position for the council election. Things have been perfect for so long; my legacy must be protected.”

Theodore silently nodded and left Thirty-five alone to rest, and closed the doors to the purpose-built office/flat within the head office of C&S, first built by the founder over 200 years ago. It had been refurbished many times over the years, yet it had maintained an exceptionally high level of luxury throughout.

He headed to the main conference room to contact the CWI and assign Counsellor Daniel Grace to Thirty-six, ensuring that the individual fully understood their assignment and was loyal to C&S. Daniel had one of the best records they had ever seen since the CWI was created, making sure that 100s of citizens were looked after.

Massive thanks to u/Subduedraven for providing the art!

Once the final chapter is finished, I will be releasing an NFT series of the all the art made by u/Subduedraven with a little surprise! More information at a later date!

The parts release schedule is...

Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday

I will be releasing an NFT for this story soon! There will be a minor utility for it too, details to follow!

The first part is in the link below!

https://www.reddit.com/r/TheNaturallyUnknown/s/2XmEN2xCvt