[hider=Jonathan Rex's diary][center][h3] Taken from Jonathan Rex's diary [X-Men by Ruby][/h3][/center]
??/??/2030

I had often found myself indulging in philosophical questions when leaving myself unoccupied by the works and the responsibility that this job usually has given me. For the most cases, it is a dull and unnecessary process. Philosophy doesn't give an answer to the physical world. It couldn't provide healthy meals for the third world nations nor can it advance human's intelligence toward the uncharted sector of the universe around us. All it can be done and achieve is giving us... No, me. Giving me a false sense of accomplishing something while blinding my eyes from getting nearer to the correct answer. 

But during these days, when the pregnancies are almost complete, I am most often found myself asking the same question again and again. Which path should I train the new mutant? 

A merciless sociopath? A scarred soldier? A delicate sweetheart? A bump? A prince? A masochist? A rapist? A sadist? Which traits should I take? What points should I leave behind? What ideas to be put into this creation? What preference to mend and remove? 

And what would the end result become? Will my creation ended up dying on the battlefield as a tool for the company? Would he restrain himself from doing the utmost horror and the unknown shades of man to those victims? Or would he release his anger and guilt to the lesser beings that were accidentally under his barrel? Would my nameless child become a leader or would he be a no namer? Would he felt the world using the heart that is so easy to be break? Or would he find and judge the world on his rationale? Would he value spiritual concepts or physical materials? What viewpoint would he hold on races, genders, socials, and morals? 

Sitting here, 12.00 am. It has been three days since I last asleep. The caffeine has managed to keep me awake for this long but I can feel the sleep is coming. And while embracing it like what my peers are doing right now, I couldn't help but to look over the numbers again. Checking things twice, ensuring the pieces of equipment still in fine shapes, and running the numbers again. This experience,... I couldn't help but having a sense of deja vu in the brain. It was just like having another son. 

And maybe, I should do something for him. [i]For this nameless son[/i].
[hr]
My dear son,

My nameless child that I have yet to meet,

I am your father, not your biological one although you can say that I am the reason that you came to exist. And you may judge me, cursed me the day that I was born or how a slut my mom was. It was all fine. 

I am writing here, beside your mother. She is much calmer now, despite how enraged she was a few months ago. Her hair is similar to her skin, so pale that the light could almost go through her. Her veins run across the body, connecting her weak pulse with the dark color object in her womb. I saw you. I saw you move in her. The way you hungrily sucking your thumb while clawing something invisible inside her womb, I hope you are having a good dream in there. 

For whatever you are going to become, I give you the first gift this world gave to you. And although you may curse me for letting you know this, knew that the thing you possessed is the sole reason your mother died. In fact, all that I was doing these nine months, eight days, twenty hours, forty-seven minutes and about thirty seconds while writing this is keeping her alive. It is quite remarkable how a person could change within a nine-month period, both physically and mentally. 

When I first met your mother, she was a very energetic girl. Her hair would glow with this dazzled aura of joyfulness and youth. And as such, it comes to question as for why does a girl like her would enter such a dubious building with questionable work ethic? It turns out, her parents were recently passed out in a tragic traffic vehicle. With four siblings that needed to care for, it was no question why she enrolled herself in the program. 

And she began to change when you came to life. That seemingly endless energy was quickly sucked away from her bone marrow during her second weeks of pregnancy. Her skin's color was drained away from her during the third week. During the first month, we were afraid. We were afraid that she would claw you out from her womb. Multiples had done it before and we won't risk it again. 

Thus, we restrain your mother, chained her to a hospital bed. We secured her mouth and inserted a tube to make sure that she would be strong enough for your developments. Could you imagine it? A sane person, being chained to a metal bed. She could see no one yet she is not blind. She could hear everyone, but unable to speak. All there is to calm her was the machine that read her pulse and its constant beeping in the dark room. For 7 months straight, all she can do is looking at that pitch black ceilings. Sleeping. Hearing. Eating. The process repeated without mercy, grinding her sanity barrier to a fine heap of sawdust. It is no wonder why almost no one makes it to eight months. For no sane person could. 

You should see her how now. Seeing how she changed. Touching her cold arms. Kissing softly on her forehead. Feeling her temperature getting colder and colder. But you don't, for you don't have a choice. You weren't given a choice who you will be born into. You weren't given a choice when and how will you see this world. And you certainly didn't allow to see your mother in her last time. 

But I'll give you a choice. A choice to become who you want. I'll teach you to see everything in this world and its various shape. You will know no agenda nor any ideologies for I will try my best to be your only teacher. And this is my gift for you, my nameless child, who are still waiting to be born, to become whoever you so choose. [/hider]