Regulators, p.1
Regulators, page 1
Regulators
Regulators: Book 1
C.Miller
This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, locales, events or incidents, are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text Copyright © 2013 C. Miller
First ebook Edition: February 2024
Cover Art: C. Miller
Fonts: Cloudsters designed by Sarid Ezra
August Stories designed by Sarid Ezra
Over the Rainbow designed by Kimberly Geswein
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author.
Content Advisory
This book contains:
Mature themes
Sensitive topics
Strong sexual themes, situations, and dialogue
Strong cursing and language
Themes and scenes of violence
If you’re concerned about the content of any of my books, there is more information available on my website.
For more information about Regulators, you can head to the series page.
Website: www.cmillerauthor.com/my-books
Regulators: www.cmillerauthor.com/regulators
Chapter 01
JCE-286
I stared at myself in the mirror, watching my eyes change from brown, to blue, to green, and then back to brown.
It got old eventually, but I couldn’t help worrying that one day I would wake up looking different and never be able to change back to myself. I wondered sometimes if what I looked like was actually what I looked like. I didn’t really know. I just knew that one appearance wasn’t a struggle to keep up and never had been. Any changes to it had been gradual and not unlike the majority changing, as far as I could tell. It was always a struggle otherwise, a pretty unpleasant one. It was what it was.
Today . . . I was still me. I was still who I was almost completely positive was me.
I threw on the standard white uniform that had to be worn outside our sleeping quarters under the Reg roof, laced up my black boots, and then threw my dark hair up into a bun that was neatly done enough to the point of being passable. Passable was mandatory here, with all things.
I walked to the main door of my room and placed my hand on the scanner to the right of it. I watched the screen above it read the same thing it always did in the morning. At least the same thing it always read when I was wearing my own handprint and had taken my medicine, along with doing all other morning things that were required before leaving my room.
JCE-286 ACCEPTED
The door opened, sliding from the middle and going into the wall in both directions like doors did. I walked out and it closed behind me, locking itself again.
I really didn’t understand why doors always had to be locked. There was no point in asking, though. It was what it was. All things just were what they were.
Kelsey was waiting for me just on the other side of the door to my room, as excited as she always was about starting the day. She didn’t have to look excited to be excited. Learning was so much fun. A new day was an opportunity to potentially learn something new. For her.
She fell into step beside me. “What were you doing in there? We’re almost late.”
“We are not almost late,” I informed her, gesturing at everyone else walking in the same direction in their same white uniforms, the only variations being the sizes and ID’s. No one was rushing because we were not late. “I’m two minutes later than usual.”
“One minute, thirty-seven seconds.” To her, that meant one thing. “Late.”
“Later than usual doesn’t mean late.” I’d never been late. Almost late a few times, but that was beside the point.
She had this weird thing about time and how it was spent. Math. She really liked math, and time was numbers, so she really liked time. I understood that well enough because I knew her, but I really didn’t get how or why it was such a big deal. Two minutes.
I kept my eyes forward to ask, “And what did I tell you about bombarding me with numbers first thing in the morning?”
“That it makes your head hurt.” She grinned at me apologetically for a second or two. It didn’t really make my head hurt. I just hated listening to it. “But you’re late, Jaycee.”
I really wasn’t. If I could’ve gone back in time, I would’ve ensured I spent one minute and thirty-seven seconds less on what I’d been doing, to ensure I didn’t have to listen to this. Anything more and it would’ve been you’re early even with the same amount of people going the same direction. It was a lucky day when I got out of my room at what she considered the correct time.
I wondered sometimes . . . if they had to make us all like we were, why they couldn’t have just made us all think the same. It would’ve saved me a lot of frustration, if I could’ve been as weird as my best friend. Or weird in the same ways at least, maybe to where we could’ve enjoyed the same things. Maybe not enjoy the same things but possibly not dislike. They could’ve at least had different rules about friendship than what they did.
Rules were rules, though, just like a friend was a friend.
The morning was the exact same as every morning, and I was not even remotely close to being late for anything. I arrived everywhere somewhere in the middle of the pack just like with everything on every day, the only variances being the specific order of arrival, which had as much to do with other people as it did me. No one was late. No one was ever really late. I’d seen it happen maybe five times in my entire life.
No one was ever really late, and everything was exactly the same.
We did physical training—PT—in groups in our training space. We ate breakfast in groups in our eating space. We had classes in groups in our learning space. Gymnasium, Dining Hall, Classrooms. They were all just different spaces to do things. The same things every day, with only the slightest of variances that in no way changed it from being the same. Ultimately.
They’d said something about it when we were younger, that stability was important. We’d been a little bit older when Kelsey finished that statement for me in private, or as close as we ever came to the word.
Stability is important for control.
Needless to say, they put a quick stop to that conversation and Kelsey never said anything like that to me again. Not exactly. Being friends with her had its pros and cons, more pros than cons to be sure. I didn’t care for the numbers. Her generally knowing more than I did could’ve potentially been not only helpful but amazing, but she never really had much of anything good to say where that knowledge was concerned. Some days, pros and cons changed and one could seem like or be the other. That was life, and it was what it was.
They watched us that day, just like they always did every day. They watched us—the scientists in their coats along with our instructors in their black uniforms—and they jotted down notes into their little computer screens. They were always watching and taking notes. All the time. Sometimes even inside our rooms, but those were most always our own space.
It was at some point during Modern Warfare and the Initial Downfall of Traditional Weaponry that my arm buzzed me.
I startled in my seat of course, because it rarely ever happened during learning times, if at all. Once every few months and no more than, if you were lucky. Lucky meaning well-behaved in this particular instance. It wasn’t time, and I hadn’t done anything wrong. I looked down at the mostly metal band across my wrist—my com—and one word was written on the small screen in green letters.
OFFICE
I sighed and stood, walking down my row and holding my wrist out to my instructor as I passed him. He nodded his head at me, not breaking in his speaking of things we already knew about. They clearly thought we were very stupid, to keep teaching us the same things and hardly ever anything new. I knew there was a lot more they could be teaching us. I didn’t get to take those classes, though. I didn’t understand how it was teaching when we already knew, but it was what it was, and asking wasn’t worth getting in trouble over. I’d seen it happen.
I put my hand on the scanner at the door, it opened, and I walked out, hearing it close behind me. I started making my way to the office, as instructed. Another door down the hall opened as I was walking past it. I checked the stitching at the chest of the guy when his own door was closing behind him.
BRT-311
“Office?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered stiffly.
One more opened in front and another behind. A female—PGE-258—stepped out from the former.
“Wait up,” the guy from behind said. GAR-164. We didn’t wait for him, but he caught up easily by jogging with us walking. We weren’t supposed to do more than walk in the halls. “Wonder what we did wrong.”
“Apparently I was a minute and thirty-seven seconds late this morning,” I said under my breath. I decided not to mention him doing something wrong while jogging in the hall.
He had to already know.
GAR-164 frowned. “Not one of you.”
I just shook my head, not caring to respond to him. I knew what he meant.
“She said apparently, you idiot,” PGE-258 stated. “Meaning someone else pointed it out to her.”
“I’m sure she’s thinking the exact same thing about you,” BRT-311 said with a grin. “She’s clearly what you thought the other on
Not one of you. Idiot.
It was accurate, for people like Kelsey.
The other guy mumbled something about brains that we all heard but chose not to respond to, and we all walked to the office in silence after. We weren’t supposed to be too friendly with people we weren’t friends with, and we’d clearly passed the point of conversing to gather information. There was no purpose in pushing past that. Besides, it was best not to bother. They must’ve agreed with me, to not say anything else.
But of course they agreed with me, and of course they didn’t care.
There were four instructors, the headmaster, and one Gen in the office when I arrived there with the three other Regs. I’d only ever seen a few Gens in my life, outside pictures and videos. Our physical combative instructors were Gens, and I’d seen one or two walking around otherwise. No more than that, and only new ones when it was time for them to be replaced. That didn’t happen as often as it used to. It had happened quite a bit when we were younger.
This Gen stood stiffly near the back of the room, close to the door. They always stood like that. I had to wonder if ways of standing had been altered for them on a genetic level somehow. The first thing I noticed about him was . . .
He wasn’t quite as large as the others I’d seen. That was strange. He was still much larger than everyone else in the room, both in height and build. Especially build, but he still had almost half a foot in height on the next male down, which was BRT-311.
“At least they can walk together,” one of the instructors said under their breath to the one standing next to him.
They never seemed to realize that we could all hear them when they thought we couldn’t. I supposed it was easy to forget, when you were normal. Easier when we interacted with them personally as little as possible, meaning we didn’t respond or react to their remarks more often than not. Most of us, at least.
You got used to them, but sometimes it was easier to tolerate than others.
When we were all inside the room, we stood at attention, waiting to hear why we’d been called here. I’d never spoken to any of the other Regs here with me past what we’d done in the hall, so I didn’t have the vaguest clue why we’d been called together. It was very out of the ordinary, and things were always the same here. I’d never been called to the office or anywhere else without having some sort of idea as to why.
The headmaster stood from behind his desk, walked, and then stopped when he was in front of us. I didn’t care much for him, but he wasn’t as bad as some of the instructors I’d had over the years. That was probably only because I rarely had to interact with him.
He definitely wasn’t the most pleasant person.
“As you all know . . .” he started slowly, “yours is the first group of Regulators we’ve had in all our trying. The first successful Generation.”
First-Gen Regulators. We were more than aware.
All the others had died, apart from a few here and there who were either extremely lucky or unlucky. Lucky or unlucky depended on your views about life and death and the side effects of what they did to us, especially when it was unsuccessful.
It all seemed extremely unlucky to me.
“We’ve already sent one group of Regulators out on their first mission,” the headmaster went on. “It, also, was a success. Prepare yourselves. The four of you will be leaving in two hours.”
I asked, “For what, Sir?”
“Your first mission, of course.” The headmaster frowned, either at having to answer my question or because of the answer to it. “Get used to the faces next to you. You’ll be seeing a lot of them.”
“What is the mission?” BRT-311 asked.
“The Gen will fill you in upon arrival at your destination.”
The Gen would be going with us? That was ridiculous. They couldn’t go anywhere without people knowing what they were.
“The likelihood of being discovered if a Gen accompanies us is . . . well, too likely,” PGE-258 said. “Isn’t that the purpose of sending us out—so that we can go where they can’t?”
“He can fit in.” The headmaster almost grinned. “Besides, you’ll need protection. A few things before you go?” He paused, though there was no need to. “We’ll be sending two months’ worth of medication with you. Ensure you’re diligent in taking it regardless of not being on your typical schedule. Become accustomed to using the names chosen by your peers. I’m sure you all know well enough not to call them by their identification while out. I’m sure you also know well enough not to speak a word of our wonderful facility while you’re out.”
Obviously. It was also ridiculous how stupid they thought we were. So unfathomably ridiculous.
“You’ll likely be very overwhelmed by the world when you get out in it,” he went on. “Don’t let it compromise your mission. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” all four of us said.
“One more thing. . . .” The headmaster raised an eyebrow. “If the life of your Gen is compromised or there’s something he can’t physically handle on his own, say the word and backup will be sent. Spend the next few minutes in the adjacent room getting to know one another. You’re to go to your rooms after and prepare yourselves. Do not tell anyone that you are leaving. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” we all said again. I clenched my jaw afterward.
The headmaster walked to the door of the adjacent room and opened it. The four of us walked past the Gen to go where we’d been instructed to. It was only after we’d been shut inside that I realized he’d followed us in.
“Names,” the Gen said immediately.
“Brent,” BRT-311 said.
“Paige.” PGE-258.
“Garret.” GAR-164.
“Jaycee,” I answered.
Brent grinned again, like he’d done in the hall. “I like that.”
I didn’t pay any attention to the expression past noticing it was there.
“Thank you.” I said that, though Kelsey had been the one to think of my name when we were little. It was the only polite way to respond. I looked up at the Gen, who really could likely pass for a very large youngish man. At least . . . I thought he might be able to pass. Possibly. I could only guess. “What’s yours? If we’re going to be together.”
“SEB-16945276,” he answered automatically.
“Seb.” I nodded, but I didn’t know . . . “Can I call you that, or do you have something else you go by?” Was it all right to potentially call him part of his ID?
Seb stared at me for several long seconds with his green eyes, not saying a word until, “Yes, and no.”
Strange, that no one called him anything else.
“So you’re the brains.” Garret said that to Paige then looked at me to say, “Sorry for assuming.” It hadn’t been the first time someone had assumed as much due to me repeating something Kelsey had said. I sometimes spoke without thinking enough.
“If that’s what you want to call it,” Paige responded humorlessly.
“What can you do?” Brent asked.
When I looked up at him, he was staring at me.
“Yeah, what can you do?” Garret asked.
I shook my head, a bit unhappy that getting to know people was essentially nothing more than names and abilities. But it was what it was.
I looked to Paige. “May I see your hand?”
She extended her hand between us without hesitation. She was likely too curious not to, if she were anything like Kelsey when it came to learning.
I took it. She was much smaller than just about everyone in the world, or smaller than just about everyone I’d seen in the world. I wasn’t sure how she might stack up against others. I couldn’t manage the height difference, but I could manage the cute, angular face and the light hair. Skin. I hated skin, but it was so much easier when I got bits of it on me.
“Shapeshifter,” Brent said appreciatively.
I released Paige’s hand—she seemed to be both startled and thoughtful—and let myself slide back over the fake face of the female standing next to me. I didn’t like holding it longer than necessary. Truth be told, I didn’t like doing it at all. Eyes were the least bothersome thing to change, and even that was unpleasant enough.
