Sanctuary

Chapter Two

Agent Gabriel Addanc (Agent G)

On a primitive level, humans are not much different from other zoo animals. They roam inside the confines of their invisible cages. They eat when I tell them to eat. They mate when—and with whom—I tell them to. They are compelled by pleasure, motivated by pain. They follow my rules in order to achieve what was once referred to as 'The American Dream'. Every once in a blue moon, however, I come across a case where the human refuses to accept my gift of life. These outliers are intriguing and I await each new case with much anticipation.

I stand in the center of Sanctuary mission control. The orb of glass that extends from the center of the ocean receives millions of data packets per minute. Real-time footage of Resident #573 appears before my eyes. She is magnificent. A mutation of the MC1R gene on the 16th chromosome has resulted in ginger hair reminiscent of the setting sun. That same mutation is responsible for the freckles that spread out across her perfect nose and cheeks.

Her personal data streams across my vision. Subject = Ciara O'Brien. Height = 5 feet, 8 inches. Weight=164 lbs. Age=20. Trigger = archive access. Keyword search = romance. Last known mate = none. Vitals = normal. Current emotional state = curious.

I watch mesmerized as she saunters down a set of wooden stairs. She stoops to pet a tiny kitten. As she feeds the creature scraps from her own supper, I scan the backdrop, analyzing each pixel carefully. The blue sea sparkles behind her. The low-hanging sun bathes the beach in a warm glow. So far, nothing is amiss.

I sense the presence of the analyst before she approaches. Like me, her skin is grey, her hair silver. She is new. As she progresses through the ranks, she will earn the right to define her appearance. If she becomes one of the best—like me—she will be gifted with the ability to assume any shape whenever she desires.

"Resident #573 shows above-average caloric burn," the analyst begins. "Her location-tracking chip indicates that she is probing the outer limits of the wall. This behavior, paired with her refusal to mate, hints at a significant problem."

"The archive access is also highly irregular behavior," I say. "Normally, humans are not interested in where they have been, their eyes are set on where their next meal will occur."

"Her archive search-record includes romance as well as ancient farming techniques," the analyst agrees. "It's a potentially dangerous indicator when paired with her other behaviors."

Resident #573 says goodbye to the cat and walks briskly down the ocean path. She does not look both ways before she crosses the antiquated California Highway One. She doesn't need to. Cars have not traveled down this famous highway for almost a century.

Some members of the Sanctuary counsel argue since cars no longer travel along this road, it should be replaced with something more aesthetic. Others insist that the highway that winds along what's left of the iconic California coast should be left intact. I personally feel that it's a part of human history and we are obligated to preserve it.

She walks through the less-desirable neighborhoods. The cottages are filled with those who have not yet achieved the Sanctuary birth-quota. Resident #573's dwelling is larger than most. Its prime location of the dwelling hints as her parents' success at following our rules.

Two small boys—red heads, no less—scamper together on the house's upper deck. They take turns tying thick cords around their tender stomachs. They laugh as they hop over the side of the house. I shake my head. These children are rappelling. It just doesn't compute. Humans are indoctrinated at a very young age. We impress upon them the reality of their fragility. Hurling oneself down the side of one's dwelling just doesn't mesh with Sanctuary dogma.