1
People were all the same. This year, thirty years ago, five hundred years ago. Probably even cavemen. Killers, not killers. Dishonest, honest. Good people, bad people. The human condition. It all came down to character. Probably something you were born with, like people who could curl their tongue or couldn’t.
Alice Kern stared at the computer screen. Names. Dates.
Familiar.
Family.
She was down on the second floor of the Factory in one of the computer rooms. Down, because the floors here were underground. There were three floors total, all of them spanning the same length and width as the decoy private regional airport sitting above them on one of the steep, rugged mountains of the Wasatch Mountain Range near Salt Lake City, Utah.
Whoever had built the Factory initially must have
