The Boy was not Stupid 

"All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin. " 

- Byron 

"It looks like we've caught it in time."  

Guam was patching the damage that Sweden had caused. He was also keeping a wary eye on the pressure and temperature readings that were feeding across his visor HUD. 

"Good," Britain's chubby face was nodding nervously in the upper left-hand corner of Guam's HUD.  

"Make sure those readings don't stay in the red much longer. We've come too far to lose the dome now." 

Guam grunted as he carefully put his weight into turning the handle of his torque wrench. The tubing that Sweden had ripped from the walls required very precise pressure control and he was conscious of the gauge bumping precariously close to the red-line. Once he was satisfied that the tubing was properly secured he captured a still image of the repair and uploaded it along with a note of the readings to the central log that Britain was maintaining. 

Britain was sat in the anteroom outside the Chief Overseer's office. He scanned through the log that Mali had just uploaded. After confirming receipt, he checked off the open task on his clipboard and saved the file. He let out a long sigh of relief. There were still a few red alert icons blinking for his attention, but the integrity of the dome had been his primary concern. 

After setting Guam the repair task he had instructed Chad and Mali to begin unloading the delivery pod and organizing the contents so that work could begin on the expansion as soon as the remaining crews arrived. He had to hand it to Chad, the boy was not stupid. Opening the airlock to allow Sweden to escape had been a stroke of genius and had neutralized a potentially disastrous situation. He didn't think anyone in Guam's crew would have been able to stand up to the barbarian that had been trashing his precious dome like a feral animal. 

He sighed again, consumed by a deep sense of foreboding. As soon as the dome airlock had closed behind Antigua and the Southlander he had received a notification on his clipboard from the Overseer. Barbuda had been watching the feeds and had called Britain to his office when he saw his daughter being dragged away by the Southlander. Britain could see his career opportunities flitting away, but he was resolved to defend his team. His blood might not be noble, but his heart was in the right place. 

The meeting notification on his clipboard flashed and beeped at him. At the same time, the door to Barbuda's office hissed open. Britain felt his pulse quicken. 

It was time.  

"The Overseer is waiting for you," his clipboard informed him, "please enter." 

Britain stood up, folded his clipboard, and placed it in his breast pocket. He smoothed down the creases in his uniform before taking a deep breath and striding purposefully into the Overseer's office. 

"Britain, do come in."  

Barbuda was seated at the far head of his oval conference table. He waved the foreman in and indicated to a chair just to his right. 

"Please, take a seat." 

Britain dutifully took his seat. He placed his hands carefully on the edge of the table so that they would not fidget and betray the depth of his nervousness. He need not have bothered as the paleness of his complexion was obvious. 

"There is no need to be worried, Britain," Barbuda said gently. He was not a cruel man and saw no reason to play mind games, "Your recruits appear to have resolved the situation and the dome integrity has been maintained." 

Britain breathed a sigh of relief. He nodded curtly and was about to reply, but was interrupted by the overseers' raised hand. 

"I have no need to hear what you have to say on the matter, Britain," Barbuda continued, "I have summoned you here for another reason entirely." 

He traced a pattern on the table and the surface flared into life. Britain found himself staring at a close-up of the Southlander who had just made his escape through the dome airlock. The image was a still from one of the security cameras. It was the first time Britain had really seen the man's face.  

"Tell me something, Britain," Barbuda said, widening the field of view with a gesture so that the image now contained both the Southlander and his naked captive, "does this face look familiar to you?" 

Britain's mouth dropped in surprise. He stood up and gesticulated wildly at the image. 

"How... how is that possible?" he asked, "I scanned him through myself! He should be tied up in a Prime medical station." 

Barbuda's face betrayed nothing, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. The low born really did struggle to control their emotions. 

"Calm yourself, foreman," he said firmly. 

Britain remembered himself and sat back down hurriedly. His face flushed a deep crimson as the shame of his outburst washed over him. 

"Forgive me, Overseer," he said bowing his head and clenching his jaw in frustration. 

"The subject you processed and shipped over to the Prime medical facility is still there. No, this is another subject. It appears we have managed to score a genetic bullseye. Twins, and natural ones at that." 

Barbuda traced another pattern on the table and the still image was replaced by detailed medical data. 

"Naturally, we've been very thorough in our analysis of subject Alpha. Genetic and neurological scanning has revealed some interesting divergence from our own. While small, the divergence is significant enough that it would be fair to say that we are looking at a new species of human." 

Britain grunted in response. 

"Makes sense," he said, rubbing his nose, "I'm no biologist, but our gene pools have been separated for a long time. Things were bound to change." 

"Aye, that they were. However, it's a little more complicated than that." 

Barbuda swiped away the data and pulled up a detailed scan of subject alpha's neurological activity. He double-tapped the table and a three-dimensional hologram of the scan leaped up between them. The image was a kaleidoscope of activity. Tiny electrodes and sensors, implanted in Denmark's skull while he was unconscious, were feeding the scan with a real-time stream of data. Barbuda held up his right hand. He clenched and unclenched his fist. The table projector recognized the gesture and locked the brain scan image controls to his hand.  

"Overall, the brain activity is very similar to our own," Barbuda said.  

He turned his hand slightly and slowly pulled his arm towards his chest. This caused the brain scan to rotate and zoom in. He kept pulling his arm in until he found the spot he was looking for. Then he clenched and unclenched his fist again to release the projector control lock on his hand.  

"Do you see this pine cone-shaped mass?" He asked, waving his finger through an area of the scan. "That's his pineal gland. The unusual thing about it is that it's roughly four times the size of yours or mine." 

"Now, our neurologists have never really been able to definitively nail down exactly what the pineal gland does. Needless to say, finding one so massively overgrown, presents a number of questions." 

Britain was intrigued by what he was looking at.  

"Is it just me, or am I seeing an electromagnetic radiation signature in that scan?" He asked leaning forward intently.  

"Why yes," Barbuda replied, pleasantly surprised, "it's almost like an organic radio transmitter." 

"That's incredible!" Britain exclaimed, he thought for a moment before continuing, "does that mean he can read minds?" 

"So far, we've not seen any evidence that he can," Barbuda said, "but we must accept that there is a possibility that some other part of his brain functions as a receiver. The neurologists speculate that he might be able to pick up signals from another pineal gland like his." 

Britain sat back in his chair.  

"The twin," he said thoughtfully, "he must have a similar-sized pineal gland. I wonder if they're talking to each other right now?" 

Barbuda shook his head, "I doubt that very much, the signal isn't particularly strong and only goes out in sporadic bursts. There is no way that would get through the Firewall. It also doesn't appear to be transmitting any data anyway. At least, that we've been able to decode. We were able to induce a signal response from the gland by recording the signal and transmitting it back. Our hunch is that its function has something to do with location awareness." 

"Ok... so what does this mean?" While fascinating, Britain was not sure what this information had to do with him. 

"Well, for one thing, it means we have to be much more careful when we interact with the natives. However, that's not a concern for you or your crew. No, I'm going to need you to accelerate your expansion program. I think there is little doubt that there is a surviving population of humans on the Southside and we need to expand our beachhead, with greater bandwidth for military support. Just as a precaution, in case the locals aren't friendly. Which is quite likely considering that both subjects have been armed like medieval warriors." 

Britain nodded, "Understood, sir. I'll bring forward the project timelines for the second gateway and increase pod deliveries to the first dome." 

"Excellent," Barbuda replied, "There is one other thing I must impart on you. I will be returning to the Prime Citadel as soon as this meeting is completed. There are several things I need to take care of and I feel I will have a better run of it if I do them in person. The Elder Council has raised some, shall we say, ethical concerns? I intend to show them the error of their ways before their moral anxiety becomes an impediment to our survival. I would also like to see subject alpha in person." 

The overseer leaned over the table and swiped away the holographic brain scan. With a few deft gestures, he had pulled up Britain's personnel file. He highlighted the status and rank fields and wiped them clean. 

Britain was suddenly very nervous. What was happening here, he thought, am I being demoted? 

"Relax, Britain," Barbuda soothed, chuckling at sudden pallor that had washed over the foreman's chubby face. 

"Against my better judgment, I'm deputizing you. Unfortunately, you are the only person on my staff who I feel is qualified enough to look after things while I'm gone. You are now responsible for the Gateway project. As you are no doubt aware, promotion beyond the role of foreman requires a particular cultural status." 

Barbuda let the last sentence hang in the air for a moment. Britain felt his heart rate skyrocketing. He started to hyperventilate. 

"Welcome to the nobility, Britain." 

Chapter 32

Art  by Daniel Sheldon https://www.facebook.com/speednperspective & https://twitter.com/Beatroute