Stillstand Ist Rueckshritt | armine's Blog

The physical demands and expectations put on him and the other male participants had been rigorous and of very high standards throughout the duration of the program. They constantly underwent exams, blood tests and regularly engaged in contact competitve sports with others in their group. Emil's code number had been T117GS; he had been required to identify himself regarding anything that went on within this underground establishment.

He had been allowed to tour (with a guide at all times) several of the labs stationed there; he had found the genetics lab to be both informative and interesting. He remembered glimpsing the little faces of the sleepy newborns; some peered at him with glassy light eyes, some wiggled their feet restlessly. Each of the infant subjects had been issued an ID wrist bracelet, with a number stamped on it, before they were assigned birthnames.

And in a hidden section, behind the lab childern on display, were clinicians busy at work with beakers, tubes, monitors, charts, graphs and vials of blood, to be viewed through the lenses of their cold, steel microscopes.

Emil stared hard at the colored sketch that he found laying on the parlor table.

"Where did this come from?" he asked his wife, who was knitting on the sofa.

"Mitzi drew that, in art class", was Bernadine's reply. "Where do you think we should display it?"

Emil picked it up and stared at it in partial disbelief.

The drawing so closely resembled a seashore he had visited so many times in south Greenland that chills ran up and down his spine.