“Greetings,” said the Uber-Director in his odd, machinelike voice.

He interrupted the chorus of responses from his onscreen clients.

“To clarify what we’re doing here today, let me go over some salient points.” He turned his chair slightly and looked at another large screen to his right. It came on, showing a picture of six scruffy, scowling children. “These are the items up for auction. They come as a set. Though the set could be split up, it would not be wise, and would no doubt hamper the success of your mission.”

“Could you detail exactly what we’re looking at?” a dictator who had recently made CNN’s “Ten Worst Abusers of Human Rights” list broke in forcefully. “There have been rumors.”

“You are looking at six juvenile avian-human experiments in recombinant-DNA science. They are the most viable of any that have been produced. They can actually fly like birds.” The Uber-Director blinked twice, and the screen behind him showed a short video of six flying children. He was gratified by the gasps and murmurs coming from the viewers, but his “face” showed no expression. “They fly well,” he went on. “They have an uncanny sense of direction and superior regenerative and healing powers. They’re smart, wily, and relatively sturdy.”

“You sound as if you admire them.” A woman who had been nicknamed “the Iron Maiden of Silicon Valley” leaned forward.

“Admire?” said the Uber-Director. “No. Not at all. To me they are genetic accidents, mistakes.” No one dared mention his own form. “Nor am I so foolish as to underestimate them, as my predecessors have.”

There were a few seconds of silence, as the potential bidders contemplated the Uber-Director and the possibilities of his offered product. Then he blinked again, and the screen behind him went blank.

“You have received your packets of information,” he said. “I will answer no more questions. I will alert you as to when and where the bidding will take place. Please be aware that the opening bid is five hundred million dollars.”

More murmurs broke out from the wall of screens.

The Uber-Director permitted himself a slight smile. “After all, it is difficult to put a price on the ability to rule the world.”

Chapter 22

22

Terranean

“The demonstration is ready, sir.” The assistant stood with head typically bowed, barely managing to avoid saying “My Lord” or even “Your Grace.” That was the trouble with old-fashioned humans. Too ruled by emotion, too easily cowed. There would be no place for them in the New Age.

With a blink, the Uber-Director gave permission to begin.

Ten yards above him, a slight shadow signaled an existing cave. His informants had told him the bird kids often rested in caves. He hoped this demonstration would be more successful than the last.