Every generation has its war. For my grandmother, it was the resistance against the Nazis of World War II. My mother's fight was the Six Day War, in which she was one of the first female Israeli fighter pilots. As a child, I loved their stories, but it seemed the wars were over and I would not be able to follow in their footsteps.
Only a child could believe so — that any time is one of light and peace.
A terrorist's suicide attack killed my mother and grandmother, leaving me to recover in the hospital and then seek vengeance for their deaths. I joined Mossad with the intent to be the best of the best, to fight on the front lines and punish the terrorists for what they had done. Any terrorist. All terrorists. I believed they were the enemies of my generation.
Instead, I was assigned to Intelligence. Trained in analysis and strategy. I was good at it — very good, able to predict our enemies' moves almost before they considered making them. I hated it. Chained to a desk, unable to fight the foes of my people. Even then, I admitted the job was necessary… but I did not want to be the one to do it. I believed, if I did my job good enough, if I was the perfect soldier, I could be promoted out from behind the desks.
I wanted action.
He came in the night — my ally, my enemy. The man in the horn-rimmed glasses. He lied to me, but I believed exactly what I wanted to hear. That they would train me for a special CIA program. That I would see action. That I would fight. They tested me, studied me, trained me. They pushed my body to its limits and beyond. Somewhere in all of that, I regained something I had never realized I lost — trust. Trust in myself. I had spent years trying to be more than I am. To be better. To be good enough. To live up to my family's legacy. In all that, I forgot that I am good enough.
When I remembered, my mind opened to the world. It was like walking out of the darkness into the light, if you could do so without being blinded by glare. So much in the modern world is digital. Nearly all of that is sent somewhere — bounced around satellites and transferred to somewhere else in the world. All of that information is so many open books to me. Every IM. Every email. Every uploaded or downloaded file. I can hear it, send it, control it.
After I manifested, he gave me my first mission.
He left me to die.
I was sent to Tanzania, to retrieve a file from a scientist's computer. To prevent him from creating a lethal weapon and selling it to the highest bidder. I succeeded in my mission. I was captured. I escaped. All of this, I did alone. Because I can trust myself — and he reminded me that the only person I can trust is myself.
Then I returned to America in search of the truth. The truth is this: I was wrong. Terrorists are not the enemies of our time. For all the evil they do, they are incidental. Our enemies are the people behind the Company. The people who would imprison, control, and use the Evolved.
I began to work against them. To warn those they were after. To look for the source of their orders, so I could find the head of the serpent and cut it off. Then he contacted me. Asking for help. The nerve of the man. But I agreed, because what he asked for was what I already intended to do. To bring down the Company.
Two years ago, we set out to put a wrench in the Company's gears. To remove the dual systems by which they tracked their Evolved subjects. Their targets, tests, and case studies. Their victims. We failed — but not by our lapse. Two years ago, New York City exploded. The explosion changed everything.
I was to fly into orbit on a Chinese space shuttle, thereby getting close enough to terminate the isotope tracking satellite. But I needed proper documentation, and I needed to get to China — neither of which was possible in the wake of the explosion. Oh, I could have penetrated even the emergency security measures they activated, of that I have no doubt… but not from this side of the globe. Because I could not get to China, I could not complete my task.
I took up another one instead: helping those endangered by the Company and the laws the Company has created. It is a good thing to do, while we bide our time — myself and the man who has already betrayed me once. Where my mother and grandmother were able to confront their foes on the battlefield, I must fight in the shadows, because my enemies do the same. I must be the analyst, the strategist.
It is a good fight, but I still wait. Somewhere, there is a serpent's head. Someday, it will make a mistake. I will be listening. And when it happens, I will not fail.
I will end the Company.
