Just like every morning for the last quarter century, Director Samuel Lamm stepped from his front stoop directly into the back seat of a dynamic carriage. The sun hung low in the sky, burnishing the copper roofs and gated entryways of every house lining the street. Elsewhere in the city, workers trotted to get to their factories on time and machinery awoke and started to whir, but southeast Steen was quiet. Director Lamm peered out the window of the carriage, never once noticing anything beyond his nose. Instead, his mind filled with charts: ovulation calendars, breeding tables, pedigrees, energy output over time.
Today will be a good day, he decided. Yesterday the dynameter readouts had indicated a five percent increase in power production since the beginning of the year. Even better, he had scheduled five mating sessions this afternoon, each session another potential opportunity to increase power production and, of course, move closer to achieving the goals of his own private experiments.
Lamm’s carriage approached the twelve-foot tall, cinder block wall surrounding Steen’s power plant, and an iron gate swung open in anticipation of his arrival. Two crimson-coated guards inclined their heads as the carriage passed through, and one guard approached to open his door.
“Good morning, Director.”
Director Lamm nodded his head almost imperceptibly. Then, hands clasped behind his back, he turned to walk toward his office, which was in an outer building on the edge of the compound. But before he could take a step, the Deputy Director appeared from nowhere and intercepted him.
“What is it, Phillips?” asked Lamm with a put-upon sigh.
“A goblin—a goblin is missing, sir. She wasn’t in her pod when we opened it this morning.”
“Did you check the cellblock?”
The captain nodded. Lamm sighed again. So much for his good day.
“No more,” said Director Lamm, holding up a thin, elegant hand, “until we get to my office.”
The director took his time unlocking the door to his office, circling his desk, seating himself. He polished his spotless wire-rimmed glasses on a silk handkerchief and smoothed his short silver hair. Then he looked up at Phillips and gestured for him to continue. Lamm felt certain his staff had made a simple mistake; the goblin had merely been misplaced in another pod or dormitory.
“When the pods were opened this morning, one of the twenty in dormitory F16 was empty. A minder examined the pod and discovered its hose had been shredded. The minder immediately came to me, and I put the whole plant on lockdown. All the goblins are currently in their dorms. We’re counting them to make sure no others are missing, and Crimson Coats are sweeping all of the buildings and the yard.” Phillips swept his forearm across his glistening brow, pushing loose strands of blonde hair out of his eyes. “There’s no way she left the plant. We’ll find her.”
Director Lamm didn’t answer. He was too distracted by Phillips’ messy hair and loose collar. The deputy director was a child—no older than thirty. Young enough to be Lamm’s son, if Lamm had ever had children. Foolish, inexperienced, but undeniably competent.
“What number?” he suddenly thought to ask, wondering how the missing goblin fit into his breeding tables. A rap on the door forestalled Phillips from answering. Lamm nodded at him to open the door, and a Crimson Coat burst in.
“Sir. Sirs. Something strange. The hedge. The hedge… It’s…” He raised his arms above his head.
Director Lamm sighed and stood. “Show me,” he said, resigned. The harried Coat blinked, nodded, and led them out the door. They followed him across the yard, rounding the main building, and toward a section of the wall near the female goblins’ dorm wing.
Lamm saw what had set the man on edge from fifty feet away. A three-foot-wide portion of the thorny hedge that ran all around the inside of the plant’s circular wall stood several times higher than the hedge on either side. High enough that someone could have easily climbed it, hoisted themself onto the top of the wall, and escaped from the power plant.
Phillips, who was walking a step behind the director, spoke with an edge of disbelief in his voice. “I walked the perimeter yesterday afternoon. This section of hedge was the same height as the rest of it.”
The Crimson Coat who had led them here nodded emphatically. “It’s impossible, sirs! No plant grows this fast.”
Two more Crimson Coats stood near the hedge, staring at it dumbly. They looked up as Lamm and Phillips approached and promptly stood at attention.
“You,” Lamm addressed one of them. “Go fetch a pair of hedge clippers.”
She nodded and turned to follow orders.
“Wait,” Lamm said before she could walk away. Everyone looked toward the director, awaiting further direction. “Don’t tell anyone what you’ve seen here, inside or outside the plant.”
They all paused a beat to see if he would say more. When he didn’t, they expressed their agreement, and the female Coat set off toward the groundskeeping shed.
“You,” Lamm told the other Coat who’d been staring at the hedge, “find the guard who was stationed here last night. I don’t care if he’s at home or at a pub or hiding in a cave. Find him, and bring him to the Deputy Director’s office.”
“Yes, sir.” The Coat hurried away.
Director Lamm directed his gaze toward the remaining Coat, the one who had led them to the hedge, but couldn’t think of anything else to send him to do. He looked at Phillips.
“Well, back to your post then!” Phillips commanded. Disgust twisted his upper lip into a sneer. The final Coat’s face and shoulders relaxed with relief, and he just about ran in the other direction.
When he was alone with the deputy director, Lamm stepped closer to the hedge and leaned in to examine the anomaly. The new growth was lighter in color, a more vivid green than the rest of the plant. Not unusual. In fact, there was nothing unusual about the hedge, besides its sudden change in height. A biologist by education, the director was fairly certain of that. Although he’d of course take a few clippings for testing, just in case.
“What number?” Lamm asked without turning to look at Phillips.
“3961.”
“Ah.” He pictured the number on his breeding tables. Of course. He should have known.
St3961 wasn’t just any goblin. She was one of his primary research subjects, and now the first goblin to escape a power plant in decades. Her power had grown strong enough to allow her escape. This was bad. Very bad. The consequences would be chaos, not to mention a bureaucratic nightmare. Despite that, the director smiled. Because this escape meant that his experiments were working, and they were working more quickly than he had ever imagined they would.
“We must recapture her quickly, alive,” said Lamm.
“Of course,” answered Phillips. “I’ll mobilize our full force of Crimson Coats.”
Today will be a good day, he decided. Yesterday the dynameter readouts had indicated a five percent increase in power production since the beginning of the year. Even better, he had scheduled five mating sessions this afternoon, each session another potential opportunity to increase power production and, of course, move closer to achieving the goals of his own private experiments.
Lamm’s carriage approached the twelve-foot tall, cinder block wall surrounding Steen’s power plant, and an iron gate swung open in anticipation of his arrival. Two crimson-coated guards inclined their heads as the carriage passed through, and one guard approached to open his door.
“Good morning, Director.”
Director Lamm nodded his head almost imperceptibly. Then, hands clasped behind his back, he turned to walk toward his office, which was in an outer building on the edge of the compound. But before he could take a step, the Deputy Director appeared from nowhere and intercepted him.
“What is it, Phillips?” asked Lamm with a put-upon sigh.
“A goblin—a goblin is missing, sir. She wasn’t in her pod when we opened it this morning.”
“Did you check the cellblock?”
The captain nodded. Lamm sighed again. So much for his good day.
“No more,” said Director Lamm, holding up a thin, elegant hand, “until we get to my office.”
The director took his time unlocking the door to his office, circling his desk, seating himself. He polished his spotless wire-rimmed glasses on a silk handkerchief and smoothed his short silver hair. Then he looked up at Phillips and gestured for him to continue. Lamm felt certain his staff had made a simple mistake; the goblin had merely been misplaced in another pod or dormitory.
“When the pods were opened this morning, one of the twenty in dormitory F16 was empty. A minder examined the pod and discovered its hose had been shredded. The minder immediately came to me, and I put the whole plant on lockdown. All the goblins are currently in their dorms. We’re counting them to make sure no others are missing, and Crimson Coats are sweeping all of the buildings and the yard.” Phillips swept his forearm across his glistening brow, pushing loose strands of blonde hair out of his eyes. “There’s no way she left the plant. We’ll find her.”
Director Lamm didn’t answer. He was too distracted by Phillips’ messy hair and loose collar. The deputy director was a child—no older than thirty. Young enough to be Lamm’s son, if Lamm had ever had children. Foolish, inexperienced, but undeniably competent.
“What number?” he suddenly thought to ask, wondering how the missing goblin fit into his breeding tables. A rap on the door forestalled Phillips from answering. Lamm nodded at him to open the door, and a Crimson Coat burst in.
“Sir. Sirs. Something strange. The hedge. The hedge… It’s…” He raised his arms above his head.
Director Lamm sighed and stood. “Show me,” he said, resigned. The harried Coat blinked, nodded, and led them out the door. They followed him across the yard, rounding the main building, and toward a section of the wall near the female goblins’ dorm wing.
Lamm saw what had set the man on edge from fifty feet away. A three-foot-wide portion of the thorny hedge that ran all around the inside of the plant’s circular wall stood several times higher than the hedge on either side. High enough that someone could have easily climbed it, hoisted themself onto the top of the wall, and escaped from the power plant.
Phillips, who was walking a step behind the director, spoke with an edge of disbelief in his voice. “I walked the perimeter yesterday afternoon. This section of hedge was the same height as the rest of it.”
The Crimson Coat who had led them here nodded emphatically. “It’s impossible, sirs! No plant grows this fast.”
Two more Crimson Coats stood near the hedge, staring at it dumbly. They looked up as Lamm and Phillips approached and promptly stood at attention.
“You,” Lamm addressed one of them. “Go fetch a pair of hedge clippers.”
She nodded and turned to follow orders.
“Wait,” Lamm said before she could walk away. Everyone looked toward the director, awaiting further direction. “Don’t tell anyone what you’ve seen here, inside or outside the plant.”
They all paused a beat to see if he would say more. When he didn’t, they expressed their agreement, and the female Coat set off toward the groundskeeping shed.
“You,” Lamm told the other Coat who’d been staring at the hedge, “find the guard who was stationed here last night. I don’t care if he’s at home or at a pub or hiding in a cave. Find him, and bring him to the Deputy Director’s office.”
“Yes, sir.” The Coat hurried away.
Director Lamm directed his gaze toward the remaining Coat, the one who had led them to the hedge, but couldn’t think of anything else to send him to do. He looked at Phillips.
“Well, back to your post then!” Phillips commanded. Disgust twisted his upper lip into a sneer. The final Coat’s face and shoulders relaxed with relief, and he just about ran in the other direction.
When he was alone with the deputy director, Lamm stepped closer to the hedge and leaned in to examine the anomaly. The new growth was lighter in color, a more vivid green than the rest of the plant. Not unusual. In fact, there was nothing unusual about the hedge, besides its sudden change in height. A biologist by education, the director was fairly certain of that. Although he’d of course take a few clippings for testing, just in case.
“What number?” Lamm asked without turning to look at Phillips.
“3961.”
“Ah.” He pictured the number on his breeding tables. Of course. He should have known.
St3961 wasn’t just any goblin. She was one of his primary research subjects, and now the first goblin to escape a power plant in decades. Her power had grown strong enough to allow her escape. This was bad. Very bad. The consequences would be chaos, not to mention a bureaucratic nightmare. Despite that, the director smiled. Because this escape meant that his experiments were working, and they were working more quickly than he had ever imagined they would.
“We must recapture her quickly, alive,” said Lamm.
“Of course,” answered Phillips. “I’ll mobilize our full force of Crimson Coats.”