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This, I
believe, was merely an exercise in fun. I intend never to carry nor fire it.
The immediate power of rank is exhilarating—I will follow Josef always.

 
    September 9, 1939 .
    My
time to note these happenings is short as our work (I shiver in excitement at
the possible outcomes) is all-absorbing . I shall
scratch a few lines, regardless. My heavy eyelids conspire, so, to close. A row
of rooms occupies our time. None of the geniuses escaped. They stood, each a
dignified, national treasure, like sullen statues to collect—inside their
homes. The papers of a British fellow (Waddington? Yes … Conrad, I think) have
provided a template for this phase. Waddington’s studies have proven, through generational
aversion and other metrics, it possible to pass along knowledge solely via
genetic contribution. As this scholar, a visionary, stumbles about to aid our
enemies, we shall nurture the roots of his ideas. The summation is this: we
have a team of eight working to coordinate each room—four rooms in total.
By installing screens, forcing cigarettes and amphetamines to keep our subjects
alert, we rush to introduce, for instance, surgery to a physicist in one room;
the teachings of the ancient Greeks to a surgeon … not one of our astute
inmates is mistreated—as such—yet are not allowed more than two
hours of rest a day. Time—an unaffordable luxury. As each man reaches his
capacity, he shall be relieved of his genetic contribution: an indelicate topic
we’ve yet to and soon, will need to, broach. The guns likely won’t help that
collection.
    These
are top minds. In theory the samples will contain the world’s knowledge.
“Epigenetics,” Waddington calls it, will be our greatest weapon. We’ve
distilled his concept.
    Already,
LeMarc shows signs of capacity. (We have renamed each man.) This subject, Tel
Aviv born, has an IQ which places him to the far right
of the median, exceptional, at 240. Though a philosopher, he has quickly
conquered mathematical lessons through abstract theory. With no time for
overlap, we push on, considering LeMarc’s linguistic aptitude (already, he is
fluent in German, Latin, English, French, and Aramaic). We will now maximize
that quarter within him—“top him off” so to speak. Those who speak Mandarin,
Spanish, Hindi, Arabic, Russian, Japanese, and Portuguese await him. Topics of
all sorts have been listed. Indeed, I am the keeper of lists.

 
    The
One Who Was Different put the journal aside and opened another near its middle.

 
    March 15, 1957.
    Involuntary
surrogate appears to be experiencing amniorrhexis. Relatively violent goings-on
within the woman have me perplexed. For months I have reviewed gestation times
for the mammalian components of the dark project, yet I float, alone, in
uncharted waters. If time and resources had allowed, I may have acquired a
second surrogate for the isolated, superior, unadulterated human zygote.
Risking the journey to Glasgow to gain access to the ultrasound machine eased
my fears a bit. However, I was disturbed by the amount of ministering two of
the fetuses performed with respect to the third. They seemed as ants—or
perhaps bees—to be tending their womb-mate in an aggressive, albeit
caring way. The machine affords a grand, if not gray-scaled and grainy view
into the lives inside. While the machine’s inventor rubbed the probe over my
soporous ward’s abdomen, counting heads and arms and legs and such, I watched
behaviors—thankful none ripped at his companions. It easily could have
been so.
    C. rhombifer is the second-most
predominant component in this complicated amalgam, and there are many unknowns.
Oh, for the foreknowledge of triplet behaviors, or even twins—in
utero—to compare. I am amazed and humbled by the progress we have seen in
this program and wish to give credit where it is due: those masterful eyes and
minds within the men who isolated the genes and traits of our target species.
They, having excelled in a sprint,