The Navy office is stark, its fluorescent lights casting a clinical glow over the folding chairs arranged in a semicircle. Commander Beaker stands at a whiteboard, his uniform crisp but his face weary. The girls' parents—Robert and Judy Danvers, Hannah and Eugene Park, Rahul and Alisha Patel—sit attentively, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. The girls, Ella, Roxana, Eileen, and Helana, slouch in the back, exchanging wary glances.

"Thank you for coming," Beaker begins, his voice steady. "I welcome Robert and Judy, Eileen's parents; Hannah and Eugene, Roxana's parents; and Rahul and Alisha, Ella's parents. You've signed the security oath, so we can share more about the program your daughters are in. We tried to keep you in the dark, and that was a mistake. It disrespected your authority as parents, and I apologize. Going forward, you'll be fully involved."

He paces, choosing his words. "Over the past fifty years, military intelligence and academia have deepened our understanding of human nature—political science, conflict, war. Advances in computer science, particularly artificial intelligence, allow us to analyze vast data instantly. This technology birthed this program. Some children are different. We don't know why—epigenetics, technology exposure, divine intervention, or life's resilience—but some, like your daughters, have an awakened consciousness. They blend spiritual and physical attributes, mental and physical skills, rare in past generations."

Beaker pauses, meeting their eyes. "Our AI predictive algorithms excel at forecasting broad trends. By mid-century, political tensions, resource scarcity, climate shifts, and human hubris could spark a global conflict worse than the World Wars. It could be an extinction-level event, with a projected 95% depopulation. We believe these 'New Kids,' in their forties and fifties by then, could mitigate or delay this crisis with proper training, saving millions. But our models suggest they may be too few, too late, to prevent it entirely."

"This program is experimental," he admits, "and lacks full Navy or Congressional support. We operate on a shoestring budget, hounded by officials who see it as a waste. I'm committed to making it work—too much is at stake to leave to chance. It sounds like a kids' movie, a few youngsters saving the world, but here we are. I need your support."

Hands shoot up. Beaker points to Hannah Park. "Yes, Hannah, may I call you that?" Hannah nods, her voice soft but firm. "You mentioned a spiritual blend in these children. Will prayer be part of the program?" Beaker chuckles. "I used to pray nightly, then throughout the day. Now I live in constant prayer. Yes, spirituality is vital, as the girls have shown."

Judy Danvers leans forward, skeptical. "How can four girls impact the world? It doesn't make sense." Beaker replies, "There aren't just four. Others exist, but these girls score highest on our tests. We don't expect them to save the world alone. By nurturing them as mentors, teachers, role models, they'll inspire thousands, maybe millions. We'll guide them into influential roles—science, politics, religion, academia—to amplify their impact."

Robert Danvers frowns. "If they're that special, was the gunman targeting them?" Beaker says, "We don't know. It could've been random. But we're maintaining a hidden security team around the girls. If you notice them, don't stare, wave, or talk—just ignore them." Alisha Patel, her voice tight, asks, "Are you taking our children away?" Beaker responds, "Absolutely not. For them to be influencers, they need normal social development—high school, college, like any kid. A military lab would isolate them, undermining their ability to connect, which is critical."

Eileen raises her hand. "When we're 16, can we date? That was the plan—will it change?" Beaker smiles. "Your life should be normal. Dates will be vetted, and you must guard sensitive secrets, making dating tricky but not impossible. In the future, having families will be important. Your husbands will need a meeting like this, to be part of the plan. Secrets don't work in marriage." Ella crosses her arms. "If you're talking arranged marriages, forget it!" The girls nod vigorously. Alisha glares. "It's too soon for that." The parents nod in agreement.

Eugene Park asks, "How will you train them? Just Saturday classes?" Beaker replies, "Occasional Saturday classes, sometimes after-school meetings. In high school, they may join military exercises for real-world experience, more so in college. Never with live bullets, guns, bombs, or alien invasions—just safe training." He concludes, "That wraps it up. We'll have regular parent meetings to keep you informed."

The mall's food court buzzes with after-school chatter, the air thick with the scent of fries and cinnamon pretzels. The girls sit at a sticky table, sipping sodas, their school bags piled nearby. Ella twirls her straw, skeptical. "Do you think we're that special? This feels like Much Ado About Nothing. Beaker's hyping it to scam more funding." Helana, her voice quiet but certain, says, "You're more special than you know." Roxana adds, "You're the special one, Helana. Time traveler from the future." Helana’s smile is bitter. "A future I've apparently wrecked. Maybe I'm not so special."

Eileen, grinning mischievously, says, "Let's use this. See that couple by the theater? Never seen them—bet they're agents. Let's telepathically make them leave four tickets at will-call." Roxana, nervous, says, "Beaker said no talking to them." Ella replies, "He meant don’t be seen."

"Nothing about telepathy." The girls focus, visualizing the couple buying tickets for their chosen movie. After a moment, the woman walks to the ticket counter, leaving the man looking confused. Eileen’s eyes widen. "It worked!" Helana says, "The guy didn't get it—he's not sensitive enough." Roxana giggles. "Girls are more sensitive." Ella asks, "Did she hear us, or did we zombify her?" Helana replies, "She heard. Controlling her would be wrong."

Ella leads them to the ticket window. "Will-call for Roxana, Ella, Helana, Eileen," she says to the agent. The agent hands over four tickets. "Here you go. Theater four, to the right." As they enter, Ella's phone rings. A woman's voice says, "Enjoy the movie, girls, but don't do that again, or I'll report it. We're protectors, not servants." Ella laughs. "Busted. But we got the tickets."

Eileen asks, "Can we do that for snacks?" Helana warns, "Don't push it. Mom says abusing gifts can make them fade." Eileen smirks. "Let's get boys to meet us here next time. Not a date if it's accidental." Roxana scolds, "Eileen! Yes, it is. I'm telling." Eileen snaps, "Don't be such a scaredy-cat." Ella intervenes, "Girls, stop. Movie's starting."

Mr. Danvers' SUV smells of coffee and leather as he drives the girls home from the theater, the October dusk painting the sky in purples. "How was the movie?" he asks, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. Eileen says, "Awesome!" Helana, her voice soft, says, "Troubling." He asks, "Troubling how?" Helana hesitates, choosing her words. "There's this actor—attractive, muscular. I find him dangerous."

Eileen grins. "All hotties are dangerous." Mr. Danvers, his tone gentle, asks, "Dangerous how?" Helana, her cheeks flushing, says, "If he were here and smiled at me, I'd run to him. My mind would scream stop, but my body wouldn't listen. Men like him shouldn't be in public." Ella shifts uncomfortably. "This is a Mom thing." Roxana says, "Your mom would talk about friends who chased men and suffered." Eileen adds, "Mine would book a therapist." Ella says, "You're elected, Mr. Danvers. But don't say anything embarrassing."

He chuckles. "I'll try. Helana, there's nothing wrong with you. These feelings are normal, but learning control takes time. That's why we want you to wait before dating, to handle these decisions better. Even if you mess up, it won't ruin your life. Those friends Alisha mentions? Their parents abandoned them. We'd never do that, I promise."

Helana asks, "Will we control these urges by 16?" He replies, "No. They never fully go away. Avoid situations where things could spiral—parties with no parents, drugs, alcohol. Even if you're strong, a little alcohol can weaken that." Eileen, curious, asks, "Do you still fight these urges, Dad?" He says, "Yes. Last week, a pretty coworker asked me to lunch. It seemed innocent, but could've led somewhere wrong. I said no. Pretty women are as dangerous to me as muscular actors are to you. I avoid those situations to honor your mother." Eileen giggles, "And because Mom carries a gun." The girls laugh.

Eileen asks, "Can we have our bikes back? With agents watching, we're safe." Mr. Danvers says, "I'll talk to your parents. Agents help, but I know you girls. You could ditch them or confuse them with telepathy. Promise to be responsible if you get your freedom." The girls say in unison, "We promise, Dad!" He pulls into Ella's driveway. "We're here. Tell Alisha hi. We need to discuss getting my girls home. We can't keep imposing on the Patels." Ella says, "We'll talk, Dad," as the girls spill out, racing into the house.

In Ella's bedroom, the night is quiet, the glow of a desk lamp casting soft shadows. Roxana sleeps, her rosary tucked under her pillow. Ella opens her diary, her thoughts swirling.