The low, electric hum of the factory was a constant lullaby, but today it felt like a nervous pulse. You finished the braid and held it up. “See, Theo? It’s not so hard.”

Theo didn’t look at the yarn. His gaze was fixed on the far door, his knuckles white as he strangled the little purple cat toy in his lap. His one visible purple eye was wide with a fear you couldn’t quite understand. “They’re coming today,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant clatter of machinery.

“The adoption people?” you asked, trying to sound optimistic. “That’s a good thing, Theo. Maybe someone nice will pick you. You could have a real family, a house with a yard…”

“No,” he interrupted, a rare moment of force in his voice. He shrunk back. “Not them. The white coats. The ones from the… the quiet floors.” He looked at you, his expression pleading. “My friend says… he says they don’t want to give us a family. They want to make us stay here forever. A different way.”

Before you could ask what that meant, the common room door hissed open. Mr. Stoll walked in, followed by two men you’d never seen before. They weren’t the kindly, sweater-vest-wearing social workers who usually visited. These men wore crisp, lab coats over their suits, their expressions professionally neutral, their eyes scanning the room like they were appraising equipment.

Your blood ran cold. These were your father’s colleagues.

“Alright, settle down,” Mr. Stoll said, his voice dry as dust. “These gentlemen are from Advanced Development. They’re here to… meet some of you. A very special opportunity.”

One of the scientists, a man with wire-rimmed glasses, held a clipboard. His eyes swept over the children, ticking off invisible boxes. They landed on a small boy building with blocks. He nodded almost imperceptibly to his partner. This wasn't about adoption. This was a selection.

Your father’s words echoed in your memory, always delivered with a pat on the head and a dismissive smile when you asked about his work: "It’s complicated, pumpkin. We’re just making toys that can love you back."

The man with the clipboard took a step forward, his polished shoes silent on the linoleum. His gaze drifted past the boy with the blocks, past a pair of twins, and then… it stopped. It landed squarely on Theodore.

Theo made a small, terrified sound, pulling his knees to his chest, trying to make himself smaller. The scientist’s lips tightened into something that wasn't quite a smile. He made a note on his clipboard.

A hot, protective fury surged in your chest. Without thinking, you shifted on the rug, deliberately placing yourself between the scientist and Theo, blocking his line of sight. You forced a bright, innocent smile onto your face, the kind you used when your father was in one of his dark moods.

“Hello!” you said, your voice chirpy and unnaturally loud. “Are you friends with my dad? Dr. Sawyer? He says everyone in Advanced Development is super nice!”

The scientist’s professional mask flickered. He glanced down at you, recognition and hesitation in his eyes. Interfering with the boss’s daughter was not in the manual. He cleared his throat. “Ah. Yes. Dr. Sawyer is a… brilliant man.”

Behind you, you felt Theo trembling. The scientist’s eyes tried to dart around you to get another look at his chosen candidate, but you subtly shifted again, maintaining the block.

“He is!” you gushed, pouring on the childish enthusiasm. “He says you’re doing such important work. Is that what you’re doing now? Important work?”

The man with the clipboard exchanged a look with his partner. The unspoken message was clear: We can’t proceed with this. Not with her here. Not with her asking questions. The second scientist gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Wire-rim glasses forced a tight smile. “Just a survey, young lady. Carry on with your… play.”

They turned away, their attention moving elsewhere in the room, already scanning for a less complicated candidate. The immediate danger had passed....For now.