Everyone had gathered at a specific point near the dining hall. The noise of everyone talking was exhausting, draining—but understandable, as all the people here were wondering, "What is the general director going to do now?" Those were the words everyone seemed to have on their lips.
But our group appeared rather calm, at least on the surface—except for Justine and her companion, who kept talking while criticizing everything and nothing, true social and human nuisances. Charlie and Victor were relatively quiet, though the way they spoke to each other was rather strange. Yvonne and Azaka talked among themselves, yet neither seemed worried about the current situation. Ousmane and Victoria were staring intently at the door, where the nuns and officials were beginning to appear. Finally, there was Maxime, standing there, watching everyone with a strange smile, as if he knew something that escaped us—mere mortals… otherwise, he seemed fairly calm.
Personally, I love situations like this, but I also find them somewhat boring, because I think I already know what's going to happen. First, they'll explain the situation. Then, they'll give us a monologue to explain why we had to form groups of ten. And finally, I think they'll call forward the six people who don't have a group to do something with them. But what exactly? That, I admit, I don't know—but I have a few hypotheses, though I doubt it will be as simple as that.
Now that I think about it, I've forgotten the name of Justine's friend—or maybe she never says it. When I see her talking with Justine, no name comes to mind. Is it her, or is my brain playing tricks on me ? It seems that no one knows her name except Justine—or at least that's what I think, since no one speaks to her. So is it my mind, or is it her own will to hide her name from us ? After all, it doesn't really matter… but I'd still like to know who I'm making survival plans with. Still, it won't be a problem for long. If Morganne does what we discussed, she'll be done anyway—because it will be either Justine or her…
"BOMMHK !"
A sound echoed throughout the garden, perhaps the entire orphanage. It was Doctor Dupont, tapping on the microphone to ensure all attention was on him alone.
"Good afternoon again. I hope that during these few moments of quiet, you were able to join a group and at the same time enjoy a little rest. Before we continue with more detailed explanations on certain topics, I would like to introduce some of my colleagues, whom you will inevitably meet over the next few weeks."
He had that charming smile on his face, as if the situation amused him. But he was very calm and observant, watching us one by one while he spoke, as if searching for something—or someone—or perhaps simply curious about the events to come.
A man stepped up to the microphone. He appeared much younger than Doctor Dupont, perhaps twenty years younger. His hair was light brown, his eyes bright hazel, his face youthful and his complexion very fair, almost angelic. He wore a priest's outfit, black and white, with a golden cross in the center of his tunic. Yet he radiated nothing sacred. His eyes were a nameless abyss; even from where I was standing, I could see him judging us… assessing us.
"Hello, my dear children. I am Father Daemon Caelestis. Today, you have been blessed by God. In your ignorance and innocence regarding this situation, the light of God has touched you."
He paused, praying with his hands clasped, then resumed with a determined tone.
"I will be your guide—a faithful friend who will always be there for you. If you need anything, you will find me in the chapel. And of course, do not hesitate to speak to me about your pleasures, for pleasures are part of our sins, and part of ourselves. So do not hesitate to come and pray to God with me."
"Clap ! Clap ! Clap !"
Many applauded as if enchanted by his speech. Some even cried at the kindness Father Daemon displayed. But a large portion remained silent, completely confused.
Doctor Dupont stepped forward again and took the microphone.
"I'm glad you liked my dear friend, Father Daemon Caelestis. But I especially hope you will also appreciate the next two, as they are very important friends to me—and to you, for they will be indispensable for your future !"
He put down the microphone and stood next to the general director, who observed everything without speaking.
An old man sitting next to the general director stood up from the chair specially placed for him. He walked toward the stage. He appeared to be around seventy years old, deeply wrinkled from age and fatigue. His hair was gray-white. His teeth were visible even when he didn't speak, yellowed and blackened. He was hunched with age, yet a certain vitality remained.
"Tochz! Tochz!"
He tapped the microphone with his finger to ensure it worked, then spoke in a calm and measured voice.
"I present myself to you as 'The Professor.' As you may have guessed, this is not my real name—not out of fear, but to maintain a certain closeness with you. Not to be part of your family, but to elevate you quickly and efficiently. Over the next few weeks, I will be your teacher. We will cover all sorts of matters essential for your future in this orphanage."
His speech was brief but left a certain unease in the air. After his appearance, I was certain that many events—positive or negative—would occur in the coming weeks. But one question haunted me: why are they so kind to us now? What future events are they preparing us for, that require them to appear so benevolent?
The Professor stepped down and returned to his chair, making way for the last person to present himself.
A man emerged from the shadows. He had brown hair and round glasses. His face was pale, marked with drawn features. He was thin—even under his medical coat—suggesting fatigue more mental than physical. But his eyes were striking: dark, deep, constantly moving, giving the impression that he observed more than he lived, analyzing every detail of the world with unsettling lucidity.
He approached the stage, took a position, and in a clear voice said:
"Good day to you! I am Doctor Mathieu Cordovitch. Like you, I am new here. Today, I will be discovering the orphanage's future activities and events alongside you. My specialty is human behavioral psychology. My role is to observe, to listen, and to understand. If you feel unwell or troubled, come see me. It is not a crime to be ill—but ignoring one's suffering can become one. And if you witness strange phenomena, or come across writings that seem out of place, I urge you to tell me immediately. Nothing must remain hidden here… especially what disturbs."
At the end of his speech, all the nuns and staff behind him applauded.
Pierre's face darkened. How could he know about the cooking journal ? Was he aware of its existence ?
Why him? Why only him?
Then he realized he could not be the only one with a piece of the journal. Others must possess far stranger objects.
But why? An experiment ? Human ? Extraterrestrial ?
Doctor Dupont took the microphone again.
"I hope you enjoyed their speeches. Personally, they moved me, reminding me of my first steps in this field, the first speech… but time has passed, and now I am an executive, not a spectator."
He paused, looking at us with an indescribable feeling in his eyes, then glanced at the podium, a slight smile appearing—a calm smile filled with long-hidden hope.
"Children, today marks the beginning of your lives, your very existence, for God has willed it. I understand your stress and worries—but fear not, for we are here to guide you through the next stage. I think you have understood much from my colleagues' presentations. Over the next two weeks, we will teach you essential skills for your near future. Explaining everything now would be foolish—you already have too much information for one day. Questions, like 'Why groups of ten?' or others, I will answer tomorrow. But know that each lesson you attend will be important—essential even—for these two weeks. So I hope you will appreciate them… Today, your schedule is primarily sports."
The general director stepped forward to take the microphone.
"Now, each group of ten will choose a leader among themselves. Once done, you will register with Sister Marie. Once everyone has completed this, we will guide you to your new rooms. You will have a two-hour break, so make use of this time to discuss future plans. Then at twelve, you will eat and continue with sports until six. The six without a group will remain; we will explain the next events to you separately."
The shock from Doctor Dupont's speech was already immense—but now, the general director left no time for anyone to recover after this information overload. She knew it was the perfect moment to outline the day's schedule.
For a moment, the world was silent, then erupted into a tumultuous chatter. Once the information sank in, everyone began shouting and talking at once. Chaos spread quickly, especially among the weak or undisciplined, Pierre thought. Humans, when pushed to their limits, often cannot think clearly. It is natural, it is human.
When the noise became too much, Dupont took the microphone again.
"Calm down. No need to panic. You have a few minutes to choose your group leader—there is no need to shout. We'll speak again once the choice is made."
Gradually, calm returned, though some were still panicked or stressed. Most relaxed at Dupont's sudden authority. He was clearly used to these excesses.
Pierre looked at the sky. Birds flew above the orphanage. Clouds drifted in every shape. The sun shone.
And at that moment, he knew.
He had known for a long time—but now, for the first time, he truly understood: he would have to commit unacceptable acts to survive—or to live. Many would betray him, abandon him. The path of deception is a lonely one. He would have to lie, manipulate, even use people as pawns for survival…
But one who does not attempt to climb a mountain with the strength of his own hands cannot change the course of his destiny.
End of this episode.
Thank you for reading !