“| think it’s a fucking horrible idea. But-” 05-6, often referred to as 
Cowboy, and once upon a time known as Mikell Bright, slips into his 
own seat. He adjusts his belt as he tries to make himself at home, 
but he hadn't felt right since he gave up his guns. He casts a barely 
concealed, avarice filled glance across the room at the current 
owner. She’d earned them, he had no right to ask for them back, but 
no gun felt the same. “You do a lot for family, especially when they 
get...” He searches for the word, having trouble finding something 
polite. 


“Old, Mikell. She got old.” Jack fills in, never one for politeness. He 
turns to his other side, making sure his younger brother was safe in 
his chair, and wouldn't fall out. He had to take care of TJ. The 
meeting set up was very explicit, no guards, no nurses, no one who 
wasn’t family. Period. “It’s weird to think of one of our brood getting 
old, but... She aged. Kind of quickly too.” 


“| thought she’d gotten herself a new body?” Yorick Elroy interjects 
from where he leans against the wall. As one of the younger 
members of the family, the roundabout grandson of Dr. Bright had 
chosen a standing position, preferring to let the elders get 
comfortable. The fact that it also allows him to monitor all the exits to 
the conference room, and get to them fastest, probably also factored 
in. “Il feel like she was involved with the ruckus at Site 23, someone 


Experiment Log 819-B-1 
Test: 
Subject: 
Results: 


Experiment Log 819-C-1 
Test: 
Subject: 
Results: 


It was estimated that subject had 
lost over half of his blood supply 
during the course of the 
experiment. 


Orange 
Effect of Consumption 
D-9078 
Subject reluctantly began eating 
the lollipop, commenting how he 
; hated the taste of orange". 
Subject exhibited no symptoms 
for the first several minutes. At 5 
minutes, subject complained of 
heartburn. Vitals remained stable. 
After 30 minutes, there were no 
further changes in subject's 
symptoms besides a slight 
increase in pain. Subject was 
released after lollipop was fully 
consumed and monitored for the 
next 36 hours. Subject exhibited 
significant stomach pains after 
eating, and developed diarrhea 
and slight malnutrition, congruent 
with symptoms of achlorhydria. 
Subject recovered after several 
days from natural regeneration of 
gastric acid. Subject also 
developed several peptic ulcers 
from the lack of phlegm protecting 
the stomach lining during the 
experiment. 


Yellow 
Effect of Consumption 
D-9948 
Subject proceeded to consume 


said.” 


“Might have been wish granting from 239,” opinions the youngest 
member of the troupe, Special Agent Serra Argent. She too chooses 
to stay standing, but, as opposed to her laconic cousin, she was 
pacing the Foundation side of the table, her hands never far from 
the pearl handled revolvers that were, if not her birthright, then her 
due. “You know, like with...” Her gaze drifts to where her father was 
drawing with his crayons. Everyone followed her gaze, and then 
glances away, almost as one. The family that guilts together... 


“How long do you think they'll make us wait?” Cowboy asks as he 
fiddles with his belt for what feels like the hundredth time in five 
minutes. 


“Not long,” says a voice by the door. The Foundation side of the 
Bright family turns their attention to the door, and frowns as one. 
Was there someone speaking? It was hard to tell. Nobody was 
there. 


She was Asian, and young, and kind of wide. It was hard to keep 
these facts in mind. She was dressed kinda like- and she was about- 
the only one of the group who could keep his eyes on her with any 
reliability was Jack, but then, he kept his mind outside of his body, 
so she really doesn’t work on him. “They sent me first, to make sure 
you guys were abiding by the rules.” She walks down the other side 
of the table, looking at chairs, checking underneath, in general, 
being a suspicious brat. She doesn’t bother looking at any of the 
people, they didn’t interest her. “No Sarah?” 


Bright snorts, as his family continues trying to find the source of the 
voice. He just stares at her, his chin propped on one fist, his eyes 
watering. “Looks like someone’s gone up in the world, my dear.” He 
offers a brief smile to his great grandniece, secure in the knowledge 
he was the only one who recognizes her. “And no, no Sarah. We 
wouldn’t have been able to bring TJ, no it’s okay, keep coloring.” He 
strokes his younger brother's hair to calm the boy, who looks up 
when he recognizes his own name. “If Mikell hadn’t gone out on a 
limb, with a ‘new experimental treatment.’ Sarah would have just 
been over the top. Besides. It’s not like she would've noticed.” 


“That girl notices more than you might think,” says the mature 
woman who follows her daughter into the room. Claire Lumineux the 
Second, or Junior to friends and enemies alike, was almost as bland 
as her daughter, but it’s more of a practiced blandness, borne out of 
a need to not stand out, to not be caught. She was thin, and her hair 
was almost completely white. She has a glare for everyone at the 
table, except for one. Her face softens when she sees TJ, and she 
visibly has to stop herself from walking around to that side of the 
table to touch him. A brilliant arc of electricity leaps from her fingers 
to ground in the chair as she pulls it out. She offers a wry grin as 
explanation. “Too much static.” 


“Now now auntie. Don’t go trying to scare the poor Jailers. You know 
our blood doesn’t run easily.” The next man through the door wears 
heavy shades, to hide his eyes, and walks with a red tipped cane. 
He’d left the dog at home, because he knew it would have tried to 
bite someone. David Blindman, often called The Legitimate Son, or 
the Legal Heir, was there to speak for the Unnumbered Brood, the 
many children sired by O5-6 in his younger, wilder days. Some of 
the Brood claimed descent from others of the Bright family, but they 
were all lumped together under one banner, for better or worse. 
David nods to his father, and easily settles into a chair. “Father. I'd 
say it’s good to see you, but you made sure that’s not true.” 


“David,” Six rumbles. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, hands 
once more on his belt. “We've had this argument. | wanted to save 
you-” He glances down the table, at his youngest brother. “From 
everything.” 


“You've always had a funny way of protecting people, son.” The two 
seated Foundation employees jump to their feet as a young, dark 
skinned woman, dressed in a traditional hijab and form-hiding dress, 
floats through the door. | feel the need to point out that ‘floats’ here 
is only used as in the sense that it appeared so, not that she was 
actually levitating. You have to be specific when describing these 
people, you never know what they can actually do. She smiles at the 
men behind the table, and gives each of them a big hug, and then 
does the same for TJ. He just seems annoyed that she was keeping 
him from coloring. “Hello boys, it’s good to see you,” she says, still 
grinning as she makes her way over to her side of the table. Once 


called Evelyn, and sometimes called Two, since her defection and 
rejuvenation she tended to go by the name Echidna, or, when she 
was feeling romantic, Mother of Monsters. It was a title she came by 
both naturally, and artificially. She slips into a seat with the grace of 
a queen, her voluminous dress bulging oddly in places, before she 
smoothes them out. 


“Your father couldn't make it?” She addresses the question to Mikell, 
but it’s Jack who answers. 


“Dad's retired. He made it quite clear he didn’t want to get involved 
with any of this, even if it was family business.” The lady who 
creates creatures for a living arches an eyebrow at her son, but lets 
it pass. If her husband wanted to retire, well, good for him. At least 
he got out. 


The last person to enter the room was the only one who was trusted 
by all of them. A tall, thin ginger fellow, dressed in purple, Arabian 
style robes, he was known by many names. Dr. Joseph Tamlin. 
Yosef Bin Tamlin. Yoshua bin Yosef. Time. That Asshole. O5-13. 
The Wibbly in the Wobbly. Oh Fuck, Why Is He Here. The Wall 
Breaker. And dozens, if not hundreds, more, spread across 
thousands of years of human history. Many people theorize that 
Tamlin is not a name, but a title, passed on in secret. These people 
are wrong. Probably. Possibly. In most timelines. It gets weird, 
y’see? Time is happening, all at once, together- “Don’t bother, they 
won't understand,” Tamlin comments to the room at large. Both 
sides of the table exchange a glance, but don’t say anything. They 
were all used his random outbursts. He was pushing an old TV-on- 
a-stand set up, like people of a certain age will remember from 
grade school, with the VCR on a shelf below TV. He glances over 
the assembled personages, mentally checking people off on his list, 
and nodded to himself. “Good! We're all here, we can begin.” 


Yorick does his own mental count, and then raises a hand. “Ah, 
pardon me, but | don’t think-” 


He is cut off by Tamlin. “Yes, Claire is not present, despite having 
been the one to call this meeting. The reason why, is here.” 

Gesturing with a video tape. “Claire gave this to me in 1981, to be 
played on the occasion of her death-” A collective gasp from both 


sides. “Which, according to her notes happened-” He pauses, his 
eyes on the far wall. As if drawn by some dread magnet, all eyes, 
and faces in David's case, turn towards the wall, and the clock upon 
it. The hands tick forward, until they point at the 12 and the 5. “Just 
then.” 


David, Claire the Second, Jack and Serra all lower their heads for a 
moment, in sorrow and respect. Nobody would lower her head for 
her grandmother, but since no one would have seen, she doesn’t 
bother. Yorick keeps his eyes on Tamlin, while TJ just continues 
coloring. Evelyn buries her face in her hands and sobs at the 
thought of outliving her child. Mikell just grumbles, like he always 
does. “God damn precogs. And her with her flair for the dramatic, 
waiting until we were all gathered to die. Ow! What the hell was 
that?” He rubs the back of his head, glaring around the room. But 
Nobody had hit him, so he quickly forgets about it. 


“Anyways,” Tamlin continues. “This is her last request. Any 
objections to me playing it? No? Good.” He carefully inserts the tape 
in the VCR and hits play. He makes his way over to the light switch, 
to allow better viewing, then pauses, looking at how tense the other 
occupants of the room have become. “Yes, let’s leave the lights on, 
shall we? Don’t want anybody getting ideas.” Although he was most 
definitely looking at Nobody when he said it. She just shrugs, and 
tries to look innocent. 


The tape starts with a view of a young African woman, her hair done 
up in long beaded braids, dressed in a simple yellow dress. She sits, 
staring at the camera, her hands clasped in front of her. 


Serra frowns, looks at Claire 2, and peered at Evelyn, shook her 
head, and leaned forward, mouth opening to ask her Uncle Jack a 
question. He just presses a finger against her lips, not looking at her. 


“I'll explain later,” he reassures her. 


She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the 
wall, pouting only a little bit. 


On screen, Claire nods, seemingly in Jack's direction. “Yes, that 
would be best, thank you. Hello everyone!” she says with a bright 


smile, her gaze seeming to rove those assembled. The others kind 
of nod in response, aware that, on some level, she was seeing 
them, or had already seen them, or whatever. 


SCP-590 doesn’t look up from his crayons. He just lifts one hand to 
wave at the screen. “Hi Claire! | miss you!” His brothers stare at him 
in shock, unused to him being verbal. 


Claire on screen smiles wider, looking towards her beloved brother. 
“| miss you too, TJ. You keeping an eye on your big brothers?” She 
doesn’t seem to expect a response, as she returns her attention to 
scanning the company. “Hello, again, my family. It’s lovely to see 
you all together, even if the circumstances aren’t the best. So. Let’s 
get the legal-eze out of the way. I, Claire Lumineux Senior, born 
Claire Bright, most often known as The Little Sister, being of sound 
mind, and currently, sound body, do hereby declare this to be my 
last will and testament, and do declare Joey Tamlin to be the sole 
executor of my estate.” She takes a deep breath, and pauses, 
cocking her head to the side. Her gaze falls on where Jack was 
shifting, looking like he was about to speak. 


Jack frowns at the screen, and closes his mouth. For several 
minutes, there is silence, the real life Bright staring at the onscreen 
Bright, as if each was seeking to outlast the other. Everyone else 
shifts nervously, unsure of what to expect. Finally, Claire, her eyes 
narrowing into a glare, speaks again. “If you don’t say it, | can’t 
respond to it, you know how this works.” 


Bright blows out a mouthful of air, a great long exasperated sigh. 
“How can we be sure you're dead?” At that exact moment, every cell 
phone in the room rings in with their individual ‘picture text’ ring tone. 
Jack tries hard not to look embarrassed as the gentle strings of the 
Macarena overrides the other tones. He flips his phone open, 
looking at the gruesome photo therein. “Well. At least she died in 
bed.” 


“Yes, I’m sure that was a great comfort to me,” Claire replies with a 
wry grin, shaking her head at her brother. “I have passed, although 
my shadow will rest long upon this world. After all, what good is 
being able to see the future, if you can’t go on changing things after 
your death? Ha! Dark won't have nothing on me, you can bet your 


britches!” Her eyes rove the table, her grin threatening to split her 
face in two. “Not even Hari Seldon will match my machinations! But, 
right, not gloating.” She clears her throat, trying to pull her features 
to a more sedate, neutral expression. “My will. Yes. Let’s do oldest 
to youngest, shall we?” 


Her gaze turns to her still weeping mother. “Mom.” Evelyn’s head 
lifts, staring at her daughter, her eyes red from crying. “I have so 
much to thank you for. You gave me life. You got me out before 
certain people-” Her eyes drift towards her older brothers. “Could 
make my life a living hell. And you gave me a new body, when the 
old one failed.” Absently patting her braids. “So, | have decided the 
only way to reward you, is with life. Joey?” 


Dr. Tamlin reaches into a bag beside his chair, which he didn’t walk 
in with. Very carefully, he pulls out a small box, smaller than a 
breadbox, bigger than a ring box, and walks around the table to set 
it in front of Evelyn Bright. 


She reaches out slowly, hesitantly, and flips up the lid. Her face is a 
mask of wonder as she stares with-in, multi-colored lights reflecting 
on her face. She carefully turns the box so the rest of the family can 
see it, and is rewarded with gasps of delight. Inside the little box is 
an egg, no bigger than a chicken's egg, but the shell is covered in a 
slowly shifting array of colors. It glows from the inside, a warm, 
healthy glow. Evelyn closes the box with some reluctance, and 
draws it back to her, her hands clasped above it. 


“It’s called a Mundane Egg. According to the dealer | got it from, it’s 
supposed to contain another universe inside, another little big bang, 
waiting for entropy to spiral out of control so it can have its turn. | 
don’t foresee it hatching in your lifetime, but | think it’s still something 
fun for you to have. You were a fantastic mother, as much as you 
could be. Thank you mom.” 


Echidna lowers her head, and pulls her veil across her face, to weep 
in solitude.