Prologue

A small breeze blew through the park, appearing from nowhere and disappearing just as suddenly as it rustled the fallen leaves and added a crisp feeling to the serene fall atmosphere. The zephyr's peaceful nature was counterbalanced by the harsh yet regular sounds of the surrounding city: sirens, honking cars, and construction sounds, the usual ambiance a city-dweller grew to expect.

On this particular morning, the park was relatively empty; except for the morning joggers on their routine run or walking their dogs, there was almost no one enjoying the trees' sudden turn to the deciduous. All the children who usually populated the area were cloistered within their various schools, and the rest of the city was, as could be expected, in their own mind simply too busy to stop and enjoy the day. Without people to give it life, the park seemed somewhat hollow, a surreal yet meditative shell of the purpose it usually served.

As if to add to the strange feeling brought by the park's emptiness, a man dressed conspicuously in a suit and dark glasses sat alone on a park bench, a newspaper unfurled before him, his purposes for being there completely shrouded within the atmosphere of isolation the park provided. However, had his eyes not been concealed by the glasses, it would be apparent to any passerby that he was not reading the paper. He was deep in thought.

A lone jogger in a tacky jumpsuit soon rounded the bend nearest the bench, music blaring in his ears, bringing the seated man's peaceful escape to a crashing halt. He stopped for a moment to drink from the adjacent water fountain, then sat down on the bench next to the dark-suited man.

The man's newspaper was lowered a little bit. “So?”

“Strenuous,” the other man replied, attempting to catch his breath. “The air's especially thin today.”

The first man folded up his newspaper and placed it in his briefcase. The jogger watched his hands and the pale, slender fingers that were attached to them.

“I meant how did it go,” the suited man corrected.

“Ah. Well, I think I can get in now,” the jogger said hurriedly.

“You think?”

“There's a chance that they've installed some more rigid software in the database since I first explored it. They most likely saw me in there.”

“Hmm...” the man in the suit mused, pensively watching the wind rustle the trees. “Then I need you to do it as soon as possible.”

“I don't know,” the other said. “Deleting a birth record from a hospital database isn't only against civil law, it infringes on federal ground. The government doesn't appreciate having citizens that don't exist.”

“I'm well aware of that,” the first rebutted.

The second became slightly annoyed. “Is it this important? Is my safety only relegated to the background?”

“I don't mean to offend you, but this-” he paused for a moment, “-experiment could be worth much more than you. I can't have people finding out about her existence, or else the media and then the CPS will be all over it.”

The jogger sighed. But he knew, as he always did, that his job was a profession in which one must take risks.

“I'm on it,” he replied, getting up slowly and stretching his legs.

“Indeed,” the man in the suit affirmed, looking not at the other man but at the morning sky. The jogger gave the requisite huff and was off again, disappearing around the next bend, leaving the man alone on the bench with leaves swirling about him.