“Lancer 456780, code name: Orphan, has arrived at the Bona Fide Factory; 20:09:55--on time, penalty avoided. Assigned Station for 10/25/20: Beholder”

The soft thump of his shoes echoed off the clean, porcelain walls of the factory. It reminded Orphan of the reoccurring thought that often appears when walking these halls: how much he hates this place with  his soul being. The place is purely odorless; one would think they have anosmia when they couldn’t detect a stench from the Ordure Zone. The polishness of everything--doors, floors, windows, stairs, toilets--puts him on edge. It’s a type of cleanliness that’s meant to camouflage, not content. Orphan could really say the same about the people who work here. Lancers are known for their welcoming attitudes and--

“Good evening, Mr. Orphan!”, exclaims Janitor Tycho with a glorious smile. “It’s always a pleasure to see you on the Graveyard Shift; you brighten up the gloominess of it!”

Smiles. A Lancer’s smile made every crystal tooth visible.  It didn’t matter if a person was insolent or pleasant...a Lancer always smiles. A smile that transforms their eyes into mini-crescent moons. The longer Orphan looked into those moons, he could see the madness boiling in the craters. Such madness is the reason why he gives Tycho a quick smile and keeps walking. Orphan walks through three sets of doors before he reaches the Beholder Room. 

Inside, the lights are on since the day crew recently finished work. Orphan gets to work setting up the equipment. The way Orphan goes around the room touching and fixing everything is a coping mechanism that calms his anxiety. The only equipment the Beholder Room requires is a chair, a clean window, and a button to stop the system. A Beholder is in charge of overseeing that the Humans make it to the Scooping District. The Humans are hooked by synthetic skin that’s on the back of their neck, and they’re carried in front of the Beholder Room in increments of twenty per hour. The only time there is a problem in the Beholder Room is when a Human falls off its hook, which rarely happens. A Beholder will press the button, which stops the system that moves the Humans. The Human is manually attached to the hook and the system continues. Watching the Humans isn’t the part that causes Orphan’s anxiety. It’s the fact that he watches them for ten hours and his thoughts are his only entertainment. He has given himself migraines thinking about Humans and why Bona Fide creates them. 

“Why does Human life matter?”

“So, this is what’s been plaguing your mind for twenty years”, a throaty voice interrupts Orphan’s thoughts. 

He immediately recognizes the voice: Aurora Lance, the mother of Bona Fide Factory. Orphan didn’t realize how clenched his muscles were until Aurora placed her delicate hand on his right shoulder to turn him around. Her aura is still as powerful as it was when he first met her. There was something otherworldly about her movement, her elegant clothing, her voice, her misty chocolate eyes. Orphan believes Aurora is about to fire him; questioning your boss is the best way to accomplish this. But she turns and looks out the Beholder Room’s window. The first set of humans comes in ten minutes, so she’s just looking at menacing hooks. The room is silent.

“Mr. Orphan...you stopped smiling on February 2, 2000. Nothing depressing happens in our universe, so the only reason is because of work. I understand that the...philosophy of being a Lancer is difficult to comprehend. And I am not mad at you for questioning my life’s work. In fact”, she pauses to look Orphan in the eyes. Hers still sparkle like morning dew on freshly cut grass; Orphan wonders if her emotions have been high all day. “I want to explain to you why all of this matters.” Orphan pulls up a second chair for Aurora and sits as his insides bubble with excitement. 

“When I made the first Human, I wondered the same, Orphan. Why does this small being, that I’m superior to in every way, matter? I saw it as useless as stone but didn’t have the heart to exterminate it. That’s the reason why I sent it off, abandoned it with the hopes that life would run its course without me being the villain. But the Human landed in another universe; I was still sure that the being would die eventually so I pushed the thought of the Human away.”

Aurora looks down at her hands, catching her breath. The twitch of her left eyebrow was a telltale sign that the story is about to take a turn. Orphan didn’t know if he could handle what she was about to share. He was already surprised that she abandoned the first Human ever created, seeing how much she cares about them now. The movement of Aurora crossing her legs breaks his thoughts.

“Twenty years later…," she clears her throat, “the Specter contacted me.”

Orphan feels his mouth drop open. The Specter was the sole authority of their universe; it made a lot of life-changing decisions and is a great advisor. The point is: something very good or very bad has happened for the Specter to contact you.

“The Spector had been watching the Human, and, astonishingly, he was pleased with its progress. My hypothesis surrounding the Human was incorrect. The Human proved to be remarkable as it grew. It didn’t have a quick learning pace like us, but it could learn and perform efficiently. It invented its own creations that proved vital for its survival. It became everything that I thought it couldn’t just with the power of time, tolerance, and tradition. 

 The Specter ordered me to create another and set its coordinates to the same place. He kept ordering me to make more and more with each success that presented itself. I created so many that the tribe of Humans were able to form their own society. They even named the universe that they now inhabited: Earth.”

Orphan had heard of this Earth before. The people of his universe didn’t know much about it or what environment it was surrounded by. They only knew that Humans could survive on Earth and naturally claimed that universe for themselves. But something is missing. 

“Ms. Lance, this is all very overwhelming and quite bewildering. But...it still doesn’t answer my question. It’s one thing for Humans to become a successful species, but why are they important to the Specter? Why are they important to you? Why should they be important to us?”

A computerized buzzer sounds after Orphan finishes his question; the first round of hooked Humans starts its travel by the Beholder window. Both turn their heads, watching the soulless Human bodies dangle like dolls missing their stuffing. 

“Look at them, Orphan. They look alive; their rosy tint lets me know that blood is at work under their supple flesh, I’ve watched their hearts perform their first pulse in the Clear Corners, and their brains are actively plugging in the network that allows neurons to travel. At this point, all they’re missing is their--”

“Soul," Orphan answers for her. He doesn’t skip a beat as he keeps his gaze on the Humans. “The soul is the only part that’s believed to be immortal in Humans.”

“The soul gives them emotional and intellectual intelligence. It’s the essence of their being that determines just about everything they do. The soul of the first Human was gold; when the second Human came it was influenced by the first. They both turned out to have souls of gold. The Humans after them followed in suit. This is why the Scooping Room is so important. Having a soul equals having a choice. That’s what makes them superior to us.”

This revelation causes Orphan to snap his head towards her, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed in disbelief. Aurora holds her hand out in a “wait a minute manner”.

“After watching humans operate and prosper for many years, I can predict that humans would revolt the moment they’re put in our position. This is because of their souls. Our universe, by order of the Specter, has been sentenced to creating humans for the rest of our lives. The Specter took our choice away from us, and we didn’t do anything about it. Humans’ souls make them determine that if they don’t have a choice, they don’t have a reason to live. There was never a time in the history of our universe where we were given or created a choice for ourselves. Humans have accomplished what we never will.”

It hits him at that moment. That he’s watched these bodies float across the Beholder Window and thought condescendingly of them. To realize that all it takes is one trip to the Scooping Room for Humans to become the superior species--it’s frightening. It doesn’t matter how long it takes for a Human to reach its true power. He’s not the superior anymore.

Aurora stands, heels clicking as she goes to stand behind Orphan. She can tell that this information is too much and feels regret blossom in her chest. Once again placing her hand on his left shoulder, her delicate hand gives the tense muscle a reassuring squeeze.  Glancing up at the clock on the wall, she sees that it’s almost time for the souls to be “scooped” into the Humans. Her hand slides off Orphan’s shoulder as she makes her way to the doorway. Before she rounds the corner, she leaves Orphan with one last piece of information.

“Humans are like my children. I’ve been creating them and teaching others how to create them for so long that it’s all I know. Just like any parent, I wish for a better life for my children. A life where they have a choice, a reason, to live. A life where they chose and determine why their lives matter.”

With that, Aurora walks down the white, porcelain hallway as a thunderstorm begins outside. Orphan is still sitting in his chair, staring at the Humans soullessly, as a heavy downpour starts to assault the factory outside.