The Gender Lie(58)

“Violet, how many boys are there?” I asked.

“Over a thousand. There are fifty-five rows, each row containing twenty-six cells.”

I did the math in my head and gaped at her. “Each one has a boy?”

Her eyes drifted to the blanket, her mouth twisting downward. “No. Some of the boys… they died in their cells. Most from self-inflicted wounds, but a few starved themselves. I guess… I guess their suffering was too much for them to handle.” I grimaced at the news, my heart contracting.

“That’s why I took the Benuxupane to Desmond this morning,” she added after a minute. “I didn’t think about it until today, but maybe it could help them contain these volatile reactions.”

I listened intently, but the idea of drugging them seemed wrong to me. These were boys taken at a young age and told there was something wrong with them, and then subjugated to experimentation on their DNA. They didn’t need more experimental drugs… they needed discipline and camaraderie. They needed each other, and people to teach them.

“You’re thinking of something clever, aren’t you?” she said, studying my face intensely, her words more of a statement then a question.

“I… I don’t think giving the boys medication is the right solution,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… medication isn’t really what they ultimately need. What they need is discipline, and the opportunity to learn how to socialize again.”

Violet’s eyes drifted upward, apparently in deep thought as she processed my words. I waited patiently for her response. “What are you proposing?” she asked finally.

“These boys are cooped up. They have been for a long time. In a cell, barely big enough to even exercise in. Children naturally have more energy than adults, and when they are unable to vent it, they start to throw tantrums or get upset. What happens after that, though? They still have energy, with no way to expend it.”

Violet nodded slowly, and I pressed on. “We’ve got to get the boys out of their cells and into mandatory exercise. Break them down—not like they have been before, but in a way that gives them a goal. A collective goal. Have the ones who are more stable help the ones who aren’t. Help them rely on each other—after all, only they know what they’re going through—we don’t. We don’t even have the words to help them, but if we can get them to start helping each other…” I trailed off, and Violet picked up the thread, excitement heavy in her voice.

“Then they will start to improve!”

I shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

“I think it’s a lot more than that. I know that when I was in martial arts classes, I felt closer to my classmates than anyone else, excluding my family. That’s really clever, Viggo! Much better than my idea.”

I started to reply, before I realized she had bounced off the bed and was halfway across the room. “Where are you going?” I asked, and she cast a beatific smile over her shoulder.

“I’m going to see if Desmond has time to hear your idea,” she called as she walked out the door.

I frowned and opened my mouth to protest, but Violet was already gone.



An hour later, Violet was sitting in the chair, watching Desmond’s face closely as I explained my idea. Desmond listened attentively to me as I spoke, and I kept a careful eye on her. After I finished, I waited patiently, curious as to how she would react.

Desmond’s eyes shifted back and forth between us, consideration on her face. After a moment, she smiled. “There is a lot of merit in your suggestion, Mr. Croft, and I would love it if you took the lead on this. I’d like you to start off with a small group of children—the ones deemed the least dangerous—and send me a daily update. Are you amenable to that, Mr. Croft?”

I eyed her warily, surprised at her rapid agreement. Every inflection of her voice, every change in her face, seemed genuine, and I was beginning to doubt my earlier assessment of her. I had no true reason to doubt her intentions, yet I still found myself feeling guarded and suspicious.

“It is, with two conditions,” I said after a pause. I felt Violet’s gaze on me, but I kept my attention on Desmond, watching her reactions closely.

She gave a small amused smile, but her eyes were wary. “And what would those be?”

“The first is that Tim is in the first group.”

Violet beamed at me, joy lighting up her eyes.

“He can be,” Desmond said. “What is your second condition?”

I braced myself before stating, “I want Melissa Dale to help me.”

Immediately, dark shadows flooded into Desmond’s eyes, and her entire face tightened. “No,” she said flatly, her tone low and lethal. “She is not permitted to leave her cell without my permission, and I am not granting it.”