<strong>Office of Doctor Thomas Sibellius Steinman</strong><br/><strong>Site #144</strong><br/><br/>"I am...displeased."<br/><br/>Steinman sat erect in his high-backed leather chair, staring at the particularly strained and pale face of a Class-D security guard stationed on Level 1 of the facility.  The man was completely out of his element, as most Class-D personnel were.  The Doctor had had to reassure him that GenCorps would be sending reinforcements before the GenMods managed to break through to the surface, and that he wouldn't even have to fire his weapon.  What he neglected to mention was that the guard would be shot on sight the moment said reinforcements arrived.<br/><br/>The news he had to give was not good news.  Apparently stray GenMods wandering the wilderness had been spotted running directly towards Site #144 on its external surveillance system.  They were immediately gunned down by the automated security, but this only confirmed Steinman's fears.  Mother's mind was far more expansive than originally anticipated, completely unbound by physical constructs.  For all he knew the entire damnable world was in a completely uproar.  That was the worst case scenario.  In all likelihood it had just stretched as far as the city and rebel headquarters, the two biggest hotspots for GenMod specimens.  By using the memories obtained from its handlers over the past year, it had known exactly where to look for healthy arms and legs to aid in its escape.  SecCom and New Olympus were undoubtedly as locked down as Site #144 was.  Given the sensitive nature of the facility's contents and the fact that it had sent out a distress call the moment the mass hysteria occurred, it wouldn't take long for certain troublesome individuals to make the connection.<br/><br/>"Is there anything else I can do, S-Sir?"<br/><br/>"No.  That's quite enough.  Continue monitoring the surveillance and alert me as to any changes.  Steinman out."<br/><br/>The Doctor pressed his finger down with just a little too much force on the communications button, staring furiously at the darkening screen.  If he were any other man, GenCorps would simply liquidate him along with the rest of Site #144 and be done with it.  He was in the wonderfully fortunate position of<em>not</em>being any other man, but that didn't make his situation any less frustrating.  The paperwork alone would bury him for months, and GenCorps would no doubt seek to tie him up with red tape for even longer.  Ultimately their resolve would fail in that regard, as it always did.  He was too profitable to have his genius restricted.  This incident was far more beneficial than they realized.  Though it would cost millions to replace the GenMod products lost in the rioting, it afforded the company a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  He, like GenCorps, was no stranger to spinning a story to his advantage.  Production of GC-473 would be difficult to approve now, but Steinman was confident that GenCorps would see reason once they realized just how much they stood to profit.  Money greased the wheels of all debates, and he had not gotten into his position by getting rusty.<br/><br/>His eyes raised to stare off into the darkness, reflecting nothing.  For an idle moment he wondered what thoughts might be passing through Mother's mind.  Hers was an infinite consciousness, and the GenMods were but drops of rainwater to its ocean.  Merely coming into contact with it would be enough to drive the more primitive ones completely mad.  He wondered if she knew the pain that her earnest desires were causing.  He wondered if she could feel as hundreds of minds went dim and disappeared from her view.  He wondered if she cared.  In her desperation, escape meant everything.  Perhaps she believes that, through her freedom, no more of them will ever have to die.<br/><br/>He wondered, idly, if she sought for<em>his</em>mind in the limitless scope of her influence.  And he wondered, with a slow smile, what she thought when she found nothing at all.