The yelling did not help her migrane. Metis tried to ignore the pain. She didn't quite understand the passion which motivated Jones but she was good at listening and taking orders so she sat and absorbed every word even though some confused her. Surprisingly she was quite calm throughout Jones' lecture. Nonchalantly, Metis cocked her head to the side:<br/>"Who's Hiter and North Korean?" Only ever focusing on her research field, Metis had no time to learn about the history of the world. She did not know the names of other countries, only that they existed somewhere in the world - the bad guys she was helping to fight against. Were these dicatators the people they were fighting against? Was the world truly as corrupt as the General had told her.<br/><br/>"It's not ideal but this is my home, besides it's better than out there." Metis had no connection to the outside world. She had no access to the internet; anything requiring the internet was passed on to one of her assistents. They found relevent materials she needed and the world outside the facility was kept completely hidden. Metis had only heard horror stories from her teachers and the general and they did not inspire her to look deeper. The outside world was tumultuous and scary; the pain she endured in the facility was meant to be a godsend compared to the pain out there. They told her this repeatedly, in case she forgot. "I was raised here, actually," Metis concluded, hoping to quell any further accusations.<br/><br/>Admittedly she was not happy but she did not remember what happiness was so did not complain. She hated experimenting on children but they were the best chance of making any real change in the world. The concept of 'freedom' was strange to her. No one was ever truly free. One of the general's speeches played back in her head: 'The genetic coding that causes the mutation is for us all; it is selfish to keep it to yourself, for the sake of humanity every mutated cell must be explored'. It made sense to her at the time but looking at Jones made her question it. Was Jones and the other children public access? Was the gene that made them different a form of consent to poke around? She wasn't so sure anymore.