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THE ARCHITECT WAITED, HER CAR IN IDLE, CAREFUL TO REMAIN HIDDEN IN THE DARKNESS
. Her target rushed past, the stereo in the second-hand Honda blasting loud enough to vibrate the seats of her black sedan. The girl bounced to the music, unaware of the eyes following her as she pulled the car into the driveway of the darkened house.

She’d been following her all day. First to school, then the library, followed by a too-long stay at a local coffee shop. She considered taking the seventeen-year-old girl at the café, picturing all of the ways the girl could be persuaded to end her life. But, she had to be certain first; had to make sure.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in an eerie combination of navy and crimson. The Architect pulled forward, the headlights off. The car crept past the house as the girl opened the door of her Civic. Noise poured from the car, vibrating the pavement in loud, staccato rhythms.

Turn off the car
, the Architect breathed as the girl cut the ignition, climbed from the car and grabbed her few belongings—a white handbag, out of place for this time of year, a denim messenger bag and a large binder. Dark auburn hair bounced along her shoulders as she disappeared into her house, never noticing the black sedan.

The Architect stared, her mind lost in thought. She hadn’t seen the girl’s face clearly yet. Sure, she was the right age, the right general appearance. But what if the Architect had tracked the wrong family? What if the girl wasn’t Mari? Finding those who wanted to disappear, especially those familiar with the Architect’s methods, was difficult under the best of circumstances.

And this was hardly the best situation.

The Architect glanced in her mirror, noting the evidence of age and stress that had crept over her skin and hair these past ten years. She didn’t like this mission, didn’t want to be the one responsible for more deaths. But she had no choice—their lives, or hers.

She grabbed the picture tucked in the mirror’s plastic visor, staring at five-year-old version of Mari as blocks floated around her head. They’d called each other
friend
then. They had been close. Before the episode that changed everything; before the Architect chose life over friendship.

The Architect threw the car into Park and considered the small house. Nothing about the two-story colonial with blue shutters stood out. It resembled every other house in the quiet subdivision, each with its manicured yard and cookie cutter architecture. Nondescript. Expected.

A light drew her attention upstairs. She followed the girl’s shadow moving across blind-covered windows. Within a few moments the movements stopped.

“Nothing to do but wait. Make sure.” Her voice held a hint of all-too-familiar concern. She scrutinized the picture once more, settling on the slight scar extending from Mari’s nose to her lip. The Architect remembered the origins of the mark: the fight with other recruits days before the end, the glass that broke across Mari’s lip during a fit of rage and jealousy, the crimson blood that suddenly made the experiments, the dangers, too real.

Moments stretched as the Architect wrestled with her memories. She gripped the wheel, tapping out her annoyance.
Make a decision
, she said to herself.
Decide!
She laid a finger to her temple and centered her thoughts. Her eyes instinctively rolled back as the lids closed.

Darkness eclipsed her sight for a heartbeat, replaced by four brightly colored walls that slowly blurred into view. A white bed was placed in one corner, flanked by a white desk with a computer. She glanced around the room, noting every detail and comparing them to her memories.

Clothes littered the floor—just like before.

Makeup tossed carelessly about the room—no organization, no order.

Posters of bands she’d never heard of covered the walls. On the bed, the girl lay on her side, phone in hand.

Mari.

The Architect moved closer. The girl turned, her gaze looking through the Architect. She stopped and sucked in a sharp breath. The girl pinched her brow, boring into the blank spaces in front of her. The Architect knew the girl sensed her. She stared at the girl’s face. Same translucent skin and green eyes. Same high cheek bones, full lips, wide eyes. Same deep scar.

Found you
.

The girl inhaled a strangled breath, still peering into the emptiness of her room. She rolled over, swung her legs to the floor and stood.

“You’re curious,” the Architect muttered aloud. She stepped closer to her, wondering what she would do.

Mari edged forward, collapsing the distance between them. The Architect felt her breath on her neck. “You sense me, don’t you?” She visually traced the slight imperfection that reached from the left side of Mari’s nose toward her lip. “I’m sorry”, the Architect whispered. “I have no choice.”

The girl’s arms erupted in goose flesh. She stepped back, the color in her face all but gone. She reached out, slicing her hand through the space. Nothing. Once more she touched the air in her room. After a few moments she shook her head and retrieved her phone.

The Architect opened her eyes and blinked. Her breath came in rapid pants as she nodded. She had found her. Finally. “Forgive me,” she said as new shadows danced against the blinds in the upstairs bedroom.

Is it done?
The Creator’s voice stole her concentration.

Almost
. She couldn’t keep the tremor from her voice, even in her thoughts. The Architect didn’t like sharing her mind with the Order.

Finish it now
. The presence left her mind, leaving only an ever-present threat.

She clenched her teeth, compelled to both retreat and move forward. The lights in the house blackened and Mari came outside. She hopped into her car and sped down the empty street. Whoever she’d been texting had certainly gotten her attention.

The Architect turned the key and the sedan’s engine purred to life. She turned the car around and followed. The sky had blackened now, nothing but inky darkness punctuated with the yellow-orange glow of the street lights. This would be easier now that night had descended and the streets had emptied.

The car sped up the hills behind Mari’s house, taking the turns faster and faster. The Architect followed, oblivious to her surroundings. She narrowed in on Mari. The Architect saw the inside of the car, the dark grey vinyl, Mari’s iPhone lodged in the cup-holder next to her, the music pounding from the old speakers. A deep sob escaped Mari’s throat as she blinked back an endless river of tears.

I’ll end your misery
, the Architect thought. She closed the gap between the cars, her thoughts never leaving Mari’s.

The Architect pushed into Mari’s mind and watched the phone light up and vibrate. Mari focused on the road and the hairpin turn just ahead. The phone vibrated again. The Architect compelled Mari’s hand to grab the shaking metal. Mari resisted, her forehead wrinkling with the strain. Again the Architect pushed, and again Mari resisted.

The Architect carved deeper into Mari’s thoughts, taking them as her own. Tears poured over Mari’s cheeks. “
No
” filled her mind as her arm shook.

“I’m sorry,” the Architect said as she forced herself past Mari’s pain and urged her to again reach for her phone.

The Architect pressed the accelerator, absorbing the power of her car as it caught up and hugged the Honda’s bumper. Mari continued to block the invasion, her arm cramping with the effort.

The Architect doubled her efforts. “Grab the phone,” she screamed in the empty car while she pictured Mari’s hand on the phone. “Grab it now!”

The Architect looked through Mari’s eyes, noting the turn coming too fast. Their hearts pounded in unison. She forced Mari’s head to the right. Mari’s skull squeezed around her and tightened from the attack. Controlling her arms at last, the Architect forced Mari to pick up the phone. Mari’s eyes focused away from the road as she fixated on the illuminated text.

Mari’s head, arm, hand shook. Her heart beat faster and faster. Uneven breaths turned into fear-laced pants. She forced her will on the Architect, desperate to regain control. But it was no use. The Architect had trained for almost as many years as she had lived. She had too much experience, too many other victims she’d claimed for the Order.

The Architect kept Mari’s gaze glued to the phone. The car plowed through the barricade and skidded across the low scrub brush and dirt.

The Architect released her hold, an echo of Mari’s fear still lodged deep within her. Mari spun the steering wheel. Her sight filled with the image of the cliff just ahead. The Architect left Mari’s thoughts, slammed on the brakes of the black sedan and watched as the girl’s car careened off the cliff.

The Architect’s car fishtailed to a stop. She opened the door and walked to the cliff’s edge. Sparks snapped to life as the car scrapped along the jagged rocks below. Flames quickly engulfed the car, casting an orange glow on the thick smoke rising into the air.

She inhaled a ragged breath. A decade of tension began to leave her neck and shoulders. The end would be here soon. She would finish her tasks, prove herself to the Creator, and take her rightful position in the Order. Finally.

Stretching hers arms and back, she walked to her car. Mari’s picture stared up at her. She clutched the weathered paper and rubbed her finger across the smiling face. “I’m sorry, Mari. There was nothing else that could be done.” The Architect tore the picture in two and used the cigarette lighter to set the pieces on fire before launching the lit remnants out of the window.

The visor held three more pictures. Three more contracts. Part of her hoped she would be less successful in the future.

The Architect leaned back against the seat and allowed her eyes to roll back.
It’s done
, she thought as a slight chill rolled across her skin.

Good.

Project Stargate 2.0

The Solomon Experiments

Dr. LeMercier’s Personal Journal –

Aug. 31, 2002

Day 63:

The experiments are going better than expected. The new recruits have bonded with each other and with their mission. They grow stronger every day, both in terms of their psychic abilities and their overall strength. Seven of the ten objectives are already mastered. The next three will be the most difficult.

The siblings show the most promise. The boy is able to bend matter, camouflage himself and the others, and manipulate those around him. The girl – she is the one I find most special. Faster than the others, and more ruthless. Remote viewing, clairvoyance, telekinesis—the girl mastered them all in ways I dared not imagine. I anticipate her mastery of telepathy within the next few months.

It isn’t only her abilities that impress me; it’s her willingness to do anything to win. She isn’t bothered by conventional ethics. Not yet. She makes difficult choices in times of crisis. She’s the one I’ve been waiting for, the one we need if we are to be successful this time.

There is something special about this girl, something almost familiar. I’ve asked Christyn to tell me more about her. But Christyn remains quiet. She tells me it’s not the right time. She says the increased knowledge may taint the experiments. I have my own suspicions and I will discover what Christyn hides from me.

Dr. Tate designed a special training circuit for the recruit, one that will satisfy her need, her hunger to win. She begins the training tomorrow, away from the others. They can’t know what she is learning; difficult as their skills grow almost as quickly as hers.

Dr. Jennings won’t approve of my new objectives. Christyn won’t either. They will spend the next few days arguing their point.

I don’t care.

All progress takes sacrifices. The recruit’s sacrifices will guarantee the experiments’ success. A necessary objective.

MY BREATH COMES TOO FAST
. The images accelerate and repeat. Nothing I do stops them and I lose all focus. I tighten my grasp on Josh, digging my nails into his arm.

“What’s wrong?” Josh’s voice doesn’t reassure me now.