Brooding [OTA]
Near the habitat area there was a tired old man, sitting on a resting bench with his face in hands and trying so hard not to be daunted after giving up on trying to find the man he wanted to have a word with.
There was never a middle ground for Arik Soong. Either wild success or complete disgrace.
In his youth he'd been considered a brilliant scientist with all the potential in the world. He'd been published many times over, his work into genetics and genetic manipulation famous. He'd dedicated everything to his modest and brilliant parents, he'd promised one day he'd make the world a better place. Or, optionally, that he'd make a better world.
That's why he'd taken the embryos; to warn them of the world that existed so that together they could make that better world. His warnings to his children were twisted in their young minds in his absence. They were too ambitious, too violent, made from antiquated DNA that he very well knew had the tendency to aggression but he'd been sure they could be reared away from it. They were all his children, and he couldn't convince himself that they had been without hope. They were all dead, now. That was about as hopeless as one could get.
A silly old man, that's what he was. And for a moment he let himself entertain those delusions of grandeur and self-importance again, with a virus that he'd helped stop and brilliant, resourceful little automatons that his descendants created that seemed to have everything in perfect proportion. Now there was a chance that he'd led to another Malik, another monster, only one that no one was able to stop from ravaging worlds.
He had hoped he'd been wrong about Travis. He was inclined through some odd distant connection to believe Avon, to let his suspicions be confirmed that Travis was indeed a madman.
He had kept the Augment that he'd met a secret, and he thought highly of her. Was she going to be like him? Was he going to let his desperation or fondness cloud his judgment time and time again?
Probably. Because he was a tired and foolish old man who didn't know any better.
There was never a middle ground for Arik Soong. Either wild success or complete disgrace.
In his youth he'd been considered a brilliant scientist with all the potential in the world. He'd been published many times over, his work into genetics and genetic manipulation famous. He'd dedicated everything to his modest and brilliant parents, he'd promised one day he'd make the world a better place. Or, optionally, that he'd make a better world.
That's why he'd taken the embryos; to warn them of the world that existed so that together they could make that better world. His warnings to his children were twisted in their young minds in his absence. They were too ambitious, too violent, made from antiquated DNA that he very well knew had the tendency to aggression but he'd been sure they could be reared away from it. They were all his children, and he couldn't convince himself that they had been without hope. They were all dead, now. That was about as hopeless as one could get.
A silly old man, that's what he was. And for a moment he let himself entertain those delusions of grandeur and self-importance again, with a virus that he'd helped stop and brilliant, resourceful little automatons that his descendants created that seemed to have everything in perfect proportion. Now there was a chance that he'd led to another Malik, another monster, only one that no one was able to stop from ravaging worlds.
He had hoped he'd been wrong about Travis. He was inclined through some odd distant connection to believe Avon, to let his suspicions be confirmed that Travis was indeed a madman.
He had kept the Augment that he'd met a secret, and he thought highly of her. Was she going to be like him? Was he going to let his desperation or fondness cloud his judgment time and time again?
Probably. Because he was a tired and foolish old man who didn't know any better.