January 5, 2030

  The streets were bustling with crowds of people in the main cities of South Korea. From tourists to the locals, all were celebrating a hopeful new decade after the devastating events of the 2020s: natural disasters, celebrity scandals, political corruption, riots, increased terrorism and even newly emerged viruses. The people hoped, almost prayed even, for a new prosperous decade where people come together once more as humanity.

  But behind the vibrant city full of laughter and festivity, in a certain government office in the centre of Seoul, an elderly man looked down incredulently from his window before turning his attention to a newly formed bill proposal on his desk. The elderly man sorely sat down, not touching the thin file in front of him. He gazed at the neatly dressed woman in front of him and asked with a reluctant sigh, “This is the bill?”

  The woman with her tidy long ponytail nodded her head and replied, “My boss asked me to remind you not to forget their favour in your election.”

  The elderly man with his slicked-back, gelled grey hair didn’t argue with her as he lifted the file and plainly commented, “It’s light.” The woman didn’t respond, clearly trained to only say what needed to be said.

  He flipped through the file, scanning the bill before putting it down on the desk. He loosened his tie and leaned back on his chair, pinching the bridge between his eyes as he glanced back at the woman, “You ask too much of me.”

  The woman smirked candidly, “I believe you are mistaken, we are simply asking for your signature, Mr President. This is for the evolution of humanity.” President, huh? What a joke. The elderly man chuckled at the irony. He got what he wanted yet why does he feel unfulfilled?

  Noticing the reluctance in his expression, the woman then added, “We shall take responsibility for all variables and costs. All you need to do is sign…” The woman placed a pen in his wrinkled hand before placing it at the bottom of the file, “…right here.” She took her hand away gently and waited.

  His breath hitched at her boldness as he felt the lingering chill of her cold, grave fingers, “…If I do, the public can’t — no, must not — know this is happening.”

  The woman’s lips curved up so genuinely, it was almost pure as she assured him, “We shall make it look like a naturally occurring accident.” At her assurance, the President signed the bill and hurriedly closed the folder before standing up to hand it to her. The woman took it and bowed, “Thank you for your cooperation.”

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  The President scoffed, “What cooperation? More like coercion.” He paused, watching her turn, before adding, “If this goes wrong, all of you will pay.” The woman remained unfazed and with her back unturned, had a cold, stoic face contrary to her amicable, warm mask she wore in front of him.

  She lightly remarked, “Perhaps. But it is us who will pay. We’re now in the same boat, Mr President…” She then turned her face to him with a crooked smile and whispered, “Both you, the government and us. So make sure to keep things under wraps.” She didn’t turn back as she held the light bill in her hands.

  His hands trembled as the President flopped back on his seat and held his weary cheeks. He murmured in regret, “What… have I done?”

  ***

  Less than a month later, on February 2 at 2am, it happened. Various explosions happened across the country of South Korea from Incheon, Busan, Hongdae, and Seoul and many more provinces. The government quickly deployed military units in response under the direction of the President. The citizens celebrated the quick action of their President as they subdued the terrorist attacks across the country.

  On the TV in the Presidential office, the news anchor reported, “...However, despite this quick action, many lives were lost, especially as it has been confirmed that the terrorists placed multiple bombs near orphanages across the country. Many of our future generations have unfortunately lost their lives… we have special expert Dr Joo—!!”

  “Turn that off!” The President roared. His poor secretary hurriedly turned off the TV, wondering why the President didn’t want to listen to his achievements. The President glared at the young man who scurried out of his office before he threw piles of documents from his desk on the floor. He could hear her infuriating voice like a curse in his head that wouldn’t go away.

  ‘We’re now in the same boat…’

  ‘Both you, the government and us…’

  ‘Keep things under wraps.’

  “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” The President huffed as he slammed his fist down on the table. His voice softened as he choked, thinking about his own children, “…those kids.” Tears trickled onto his desk as he gritted his teeth, a silent plea for help.

  ***

  3 days after the ‘terrorist attack’ on South Korea, in a remote, government-controlled area of Gyeonggi, lay a well hidden sanctuary. Many kids from ages 3 to 14 were cleaned, then told to line up according to age. They wore the same lab uniforms in light grey and white.

  Tang Seohwa, aged 10, clung to her twin older brother Tang Seoyong as they walked together to the front of the line where they were given name tags by a burly man in a black mask. Seoyong held Seohwa’s hand protectively, feeling her trembling hand. The man stuck the label GG8-32 to Seoyong while Seohwa received the label GG8-33.

  The man gruffly wrote down on his clipboard to confirm their numbers and ordered, “Move up to that man in white mask.”

  Seoyong and Seohwa stayed together as Seoyong whispered assuredly, “Seohwa, it’s ok.”

  “Oppa, I’m scared.” Seohwa sniffled quietly behind him, afraid the adults would notice. Seoyong shushed her consolingly, “Seohwa, as long as I’m here, everything will be ok. Have I ever lied to you?” At her brother’s consolation, she wiped her tears and shook her head. He smiled softly as he added, “Then, we have no problem, right?” She felt a bit more confident with his gentle assurance as they stayed quiet in the large hall.

  After many minutes had passed, they saw a man in white with a huge metal leg walking to the stadium as he faced the children. He was given a large red horn by his assistant before he pressed it, silencing all the chatter of the children. He smirked, “Good. Now then… WELCOME!” He raised his arms wide, almost theatrically, his voice resounding throughout the hall.