Before I was born, my mother was told that she could never have children. This news left her depressed as she longed to bear a child, and my father was weighed down with concern for his wife. Daily they prayed that they might have a child, yet years passed and their home was left childless.

Then, after they had long given up hope of conceiving, my mother became pregnant and I was born. They called me Theodore: God’s gift.

The world I was born to was stagnating. The human mind couldn’t keep up with the sciences it produced, and we had created for ourselves many problems that could not be solved with the knowledge that could be gained in a single lifetime.

Evolution had been too slow, our minds too feeble, and our bodies too weak to meet the challenges our species faced. Some believed that one god or another would intervene to save humanity, but so far, none had acted. These were the thoughts that filled my mind and drove my work on the project I had called Anthrodore, my hope for improving humanity.

In my formative years, I had been fascinated with the sciences. The intricate mechanics that moved the universe was to me elegant poetry, and I marveled as I gained understanding of the processes that formed the world around me.  Biology, the science of life, was of particular interest to me, and in my dream of fixing humanity’s weaknesses I pursued the field of genetics.

Years passed as I toiled to understand the complexities of the genetic code, learning what sequences produced specific proteins, and how the structure of the proteins functioned within the cell and allowed the cells to work together, forming the functions of the human body and mind.

Eventually the time came when I gathered a team together, and we began sequencing our own version of the human genome.  The work was long and monotonous, requiring endless research and experimentation, yet the occasional breakthrough would lift our spirits.

Our first task was to remove the genetic diseases that plagued our species. Tendencies for cancer and mental illness were among a battery of deficiencies that were cleaned from the genome. Next, we began optimizing physical traits. Strength and endurance were perfected. We altered the aging process to allow for longer lifespan and a shorter childhood. Years passed as we worked to increase the brain’s efficiency and to place seeds that could mature into various useful dispositions.

Finally, the time came for Project Anthrodore’s culmination. We grew artificial wombs that were regulated by computer, the various hormones and necessary nutrients fed to them by machine to produce the environment needed to grow a human infant. Placed into these were our modified human embryos.

Six lines were created with mild variation in physical appearance and inborn dispositions. From these embryos, we cultured hundreds more to be stored for future production.

Months passed waiting in anticipation for the emergence of our creation, and in the meantime, the care of each of the new children was assigned to members of my research team. I took two for myself: a male from the XR4 line, and a female CM1.

I counted the days to when my children would be born, and soon the time came when the first of the anthrodore emerged. We extracted the XR4 first, and the infant was placed in my arms.

“My, you’re beautiful,” I said as looked down at the newborn in my arms. I had known we had made them beautiful, yet it was still breathtaking to see such a perfect human form. “I shall call you Eugene, for you surely are of a noble kind.”

“Dr. Gaiason,” one of my aides called my attention, “the next womb is ready.”

Holding Eugene in my arms, I watched as the CM1was extracted. She was brought to me and placed in the arm opposite of her brother. She too was beautiful, perfect in every regard.

“Helen of Troy wasn’t so lovely,” I remarked as I pondered what to name her. “You will be gifted in every way,” I said, then paused as I thought of a name for one so gifted. “You shall be Pandora.”

It wasn’t long before the other infants had been each extracted and given to their assigned parents. That night we left our lab, filled with the joy of our creation and the knowledge that an increased potential for humanity was now a reality.

We vigorously took to the task of raising the anthrodore children. We monitored their growth and education carefully, and week by week we published our findings.

We had engineered our children to mature faster than a standard human, and their ability to learn and comprehend was more than proportionally matched. They soaked up every bit of education we could offer them and they longed for more. In their free time we allowed them to pursue their own interests. Pandora took an interest in the arts, and created beauty in every medium. And while her paintings and sculptures were breathtaking, it was her music that was utterly spellbinding. Once the ear was caught by her elegant melodies, her audiences would be captivated until she finished playing.

Eugene, on the other hand, spent much of his free time pursuing athletics and pushing his body to its physical limits, and when he wasn’t exercising his body, he would spend his time perusing the library, looking to gain knowledge on any subject he could get his hands on.

In time, news of our experiments disseminated from the scientific journals to the media of the lay public. At first, the reaction was mild, but soon public feedback became increasingly negative. It started with letters informing me that it was too dangerous for man to take evolution into his own hands, or that my work would provoke the wrath of God. Then the protests came, and the petitions to the government to control the anthrodore. Some wanted to prevent the anthrodore from “polluting” the gene pool, while others called for the immediate destruction of my children.

It had been just a year since the birth of the anthrodore children when the protests came to the gates of our lab. We had come that morning for our weekly physical examinations. Our children had already grown to have the appearance of adolescents, but their minds had matured far beyond that, and we were hard pressed to keep our records up to date with their development.

I watched the protests from the window while my aides examined each of the anthrodore. Pandora had been examined first, and came to my side.

“We’re progressing faster than expected; just as you thought,” she said, and I allowed myself a smile of amusement from her subtle sense of humor, but a look of worry returned to my face as the jeers from the mob outside increased. “You’re worried about the protest?” She asked as my expression fell.

“A mob is a dangerous thing,” I said. “Hopefully they’ll disperse before we leave.”

The volume of the shouts rose from outside, and Pandora moved to the window. “I want to know what they’re saying,” she said as she pushed the blinds aside.

Light spilled into the room as we looked out over the crowd. The protesters carried signs bearing various messages. “Leave nature’s work to nature,” one read. “In the beginning GOD created man,” read another, and I shook my head. Other signs read, “Don’t be replaced by an anthrodore,” and, “Stand up for the rights of True Humans.”

Pandora sighed as she read the signs. “They fear us,” she said softly.

“Yes,” I replied. “They have invented all manner of reasons to be afraid, yet they are ignorant of who you really are.”

“Then should we not let them know us so they might be relieved of their ignorance?”

I hesitated. Pandora had long wanted to go out into the world, but I had been afraid of how she and the others would be received.

Seeing my hesitation, she continued, “Perhaps a controlled introduction would be best.”

I looked up in curiosity. “What do you have in mind?” I asked.

“A performance,” she started. “We can speak to their souls through our art, and pacify their fear. Even the least artistically developed of us hold great talent and can move an audience,” she finished.

“Oh my sweet Pandora, I hope you’re right. I’ll see what I can arrange. Tell the others what we’re planning.”

“Thank you father,” she said softly with a hopeful expression as she embraced me. “This will go well; you will see,” she said before leaving.

Pandora’s hope raised my spirits, yet I was still worried. Where my daughter was hopeful for her future among the rest of humanity, Eugene had become resentful of the people who shunned him and his siblings. He considered them beneath him and proudly thought of the anthrodore as a separate, higher species.

It took some time, but after several weeks I was able to find a concert hall willing to host a performance from the anthrodore, and set the date for a month later. My children spent much of the intervening time happily preparing for the performance. Pandora worked closely with the other anthrodore to put together a program, and to prepare her own works for their debut.

Eugene was doubtful about the effect of their exhibition, yet for the sake of his sister’s hopefulness, he put on a good face.

In the meantime, the media was frantic, publishing stories about the spectacle that was to be my children’s first introduction to a skeptical public. Some outlets simply reported the news, while others criticized “Dr. Theodore Gaiason’s abominable freak show,” and those who felt threatened by the Anthrodore called for protests outside the concert.

The day finally came for the performance. Guests were invited to come early to see an exhibit of the sculptures and paintings created by Pandora and the other anthrodore.  I greeted guests and walked among them to see their reaction, and was gratified to witness their expressions of awe as they walked through the gallery.

Soon all the guests were seated in the concert hall, and I took to the stage to introduce the performance. “I must thank all of you for coming to see and hear the art presented this evening. My children, the Anthrodore, have prepared a spectacular show for you tonight. So without further ado, I’ll let them show you who they are.” The audience clapped, and I took my seat to the side of the stage.

The first performer was the CR2 named Sophia. She played the harp and sang a moving song about soul of humanity. Then, in turn, each of the Anthrodore took to the stage and performed on various instruments. During the performance, I watched the audience as they were held and moved by the music. It appeared that this introduction was going to succeed after all, and I wept as hopeful thoughts entered my head.

Lastly, Pandora and Eugene took the stage. She sat at the piano while Eugene tuned his violin. Then they started playing. The music was magnificent and produced a series of emotions. Pandora then added lyrics of an epic ballad to their moving production. Eugene then joined the song, and their harmony told the story of heroes and gods.

A tumult of applause broke out at the end of their song, and each of the anthrodore came to the stage to bow at the end of the performance. The energy of the room was electric, and I knew that my children were well met.

Outside the concert hall was another matter.

When we left the hall the crowds outside erupted. Protesters taunted us and spat in our faces as we made our way to the street. Then someone threw a brick that pelted Sophia’s back. The police officers who were supposed to subdue the mob were nowhere to be found, and the crowd jumped the barricade to attack. Pandora stood by Sophia and pushed back the crowd, but she couldn’t keep them back without hurting them, and they closed in. Then a scream rang out as the sound of gun fire echoed through the streets. Pandora went down. At the sight of his fallen sister, Eugene was livid. He ran to her, leveling those in his way with his powerful fists. The crowd drew back when he came to Pandora’s side.

She had been shot in the chest, and his mournful roar chased away the remaining crowd. I came to their side and tested Pandora’s pulse and breathing.

“She’s still alive,” I said, and Eugene nodded. “We should get her back the lab; I’ll be able to fix the damage there.”

Our vehicle was brought around to us, and we loaded Pandora’s motionless form into the back seat. Eugene sat with her and monitored her condition.

We got to the lab and laid her on the examination table. One of the anthrodore fetched my medical equipment, and I used my tools to determine her condition. The bullet had pierced one of her lungs and was lodged in her spine. We extracted it and patched up her torn tissue, and I gave her a drug for the pain.

Several hours passed before she awoke, and she groaned as she opened her eyes. The spot where the bullet had entered was left with only the light appearance of a scar, and her breathing had returned to normal.

“That was not what I expected,” she said as she sat up.

“We should have,” retorted Eugene, caught in his emotions. “Humanity will never accept us.”

“They will, Eugene; be patient,” Pandora replied.

“For how long, sister? Until they kill us all?”

“Oh my brother, you know the audience was reached tonight and left unafraid.”

“But those were the elite and well-educated of society; how can we ever hope to dispel the prejudice of the mob?”

“We will,” I said as I stepped into the conversation.

I took Pandora and Eugene home. Pandora seemed well recovered, but I wasn’t sure about Eugene. His anger was still close to the surface, but I hoped it would pass.

The next day, we went into our lab to find it broken into and vandalized. A note on the door read, “Your work ends here Dr. Gaiason.” It seemed after the incident last night, the public was emboldened against us.

We sorted through the wrecked lab. Many computers were demolished, and the wombs and anthrodore embryos were stolen. We had fortunately backed up our work off site, including a small sample of embryos, and this would only be a temporary setback.

While I looked though the lab, a police officer came to the door. I hadn’t yet called the police and was surprised to see him, but went out to show him in.

“Hello officer,” I said in greeting. “I take it that someone has reported the break-in at my lab?” I said it as a question.

“No,” said the officer gruffly. “I’m here to inform you that you and your Anthrodore are to appear in court. You and your creations are charged with assaulting the crowd outside yesterday’s concert,” he finished.

“What?” I started, appalled to hear the charges. “How can that be? They attacked us!” I shouted.

“Don’t shout at me!” the officer shouted back. “It was your anthrodore who beat and injured several protestors! Scores of witnesses have confirmed it.”

“They were acting in self defense…” I started but the officer cut me off.

“Save it for the judge,” he said, and left.

I went back into the lab, crushed. Pandora had been so optimistic about her place in humanity, and now our lab was in shambles and we were going to stand trial for defending ourselves.

Months passed between hearings and endless litigation as we awaited our trial. While we waited, the political attitude toward the Anthrodore became increasingly toxic. Pundits spewed vitriol across the airwaves, and the social media was awash in misinformation and fearful hatred of what they did not understand. It wasn’t long before the politicians took notice of the political environment and began proposing resolutions against the Anthrodore.

Our studies that detailed the nature of the genomes we created were used to argue away the rights of the Anthrodore while my children and I were never consulted.

I listened daily to the debate in the legislature.

“I hold here information concerning the genetic structure of the Anthrodore,” said a lawmaker, who held up a journal in which one of our studies had been published. “It lists the genes that were altered by Dr. Gaiason and his team, and it turns out that they worked on almost eighty percent of the genes in our chromosomes. Now do you know what difference exists between the human genome and that of chimpanzees? Only one or two percent!

“Now we’ve been treating these anthrodore as if they were human, but their genes are eighty percent different from ours.” His inaccurate comparison angered me, but I listened as he continued, “Eighty percent,” he repeated again, “but the chimpanzee only differs from us by two. How, then, do we even think of the anthrodore as human? Should they not be thought of as something else? Something to be controlled?” I couldn’t listen anymore and shut off the broadcast.

The trial was another front altogether.  The prosecution had argued that the Anthrodore were too dangerous to be allowed to remain free and that they should be taken into custody, or at least confined. I protested, but the judge agreed with the prosecution and ordered that all anthrodore be confined to the lab.

The drive home wasn’t long enough, and I didn’t want to have to face Eugene and Pandora. They would be the first to hear the judge’s ruling and I shuddered to think of Eugene’s reaction. He was becoming increasingly irritable and embittered, and many of the other anthrodore were beginning to adopt his attitude toward what they thought of as the lesser humans.

I arrived home all too soon, and felt completely unprepared. As I walked down the path to the door, Pandora came out to meet me while Eugene waited in the door way.

“I take it by your look that the judge didn’t rule favorably,” said Pandora with a hint of concern in her voice.

“Well, they’re not taking you into custody, but the judge has ruled that you and the other anthrodore will be confined to the lab.”

Pandora nodded at my explanation, but I heard a loud wooden crack as Eugene punched the door frame.

“What? We don’t even live in the lab!” Eugene responded angrily.

“It’s only temporary,” started Pandora. “We’ll be able to prove our actions were in self defense when the trial comes, and then we’ll be exonerated.”

“Yes,” I said, “but I think it’s best that we comply with the judge’s order until then.”

“Why should I be compelled by their laws?” he said wryly, “Did you not make me to be superior? I am more intelligent and stronger than any human. Should not the weak and ignorant be ruled by those who are wise and strong?”

“If the most wise and just could always rule, then such an aristocracy might be favorable, but my son, although you are indeed quick and intelligent, I fear you are not yet wise,” I said to his diatribe.

A look of rage filled him as I spoke. “We shall see, father.” And with that, he bolted away from the house at such a speed it was hard to know which way he had gone before he was almost at the end of our street.

“Should I go after him?” asked Pandora.

“No,” I said, “Let him cool off; we’ll see him later.”

The other scientists and I moved the anthrodore to the lab that night. All of them were upset by the move, but none quite as mad as Eugene, though some of them seemed to have a look of knowing when his flight was mentioned.

The other scientists and I stayed at the lab that night with our children. Over a year passed this way, and the police endlessly searched for Eugene.

Then early one morning, a knock came from the outside door. I went to see who it was, and was surprised to see Eugene standing on the other side of the glass door. When I got closer, however, I realized that it wasn’t him, but rather another, younger XR4. I puzzled over the matter as I opened the door to meet this new anthrodore clone.

“We have come to offer you and the others your freedom,” said the XR4, and I realized that there was another clone standing with him next to the wall.

“What do you mean?” I asked, with only the smallest inkling of what had happened.

“Eugene has taken control of this city, and he offers you, the scientists, and the other anthrodore their freedom.”

“What? This can’t be. You might be strong and intelligent, but there is no way you can stand against military and governments of the planet.”

“But what you don’t understand is that there are already hundreds of thousands of us spread across the globe and we have already taken control of key military bases and government command centers. There is no other government to resist us.” While he spoke, the events of the past fit together in my mind. It was Eugene who stole the cloning equipment.

“As of now we are in control.”