Desert Laboratory
1996
"We've got a deal, you need to do your part."
The guard looked worried. He wasn't worried because he was abusing the trust of his position, or that he'd promised to help a dangerous specimen escape where he might - no, would - commit more crimes. He was worried because he'd just lost $2000 in the stock market after following Chapman's instructions.
"It's not that hard," Chapman continued. "All you have to do is follow what I say."
"Yeah, but $2000. That's a lot of money for me. It takes me a month to earn that."
"Harvey, I made this facility a million dollars a month, twelve months out of the year. Don't you think I can make us some money in your little account?"
"Yeah, but $2000...."
"You knew there would be draw-downs. I explained to you how this works. You follow my system and we'll make the money to do what we want. I'll get what I want and you'll get what you want."
Harvey knew it was true, but it was just so hard.
"If my wife finds out about the $2000 she'll kill me."
Chapman was sitting at his computer table, six computer screens ranged in front of him, masses of charts and tables. The financial markets he traded were closed, and he had his back to the screens. And his back was also to the tiny key-hole video camera he knew was in the room. The radio was on and a few books were piled in front of the microphone. Casually, so that no one, not even the guard he was talking to, suspected Chapman knew about the surveillance.
"If my wife finds out about the $2000 she'll kill me," the guard said.
"She'll really kill you?"
The guard looked down at Chapman. He was twenty, half the guard's age. His eyes were so clear and innocent. The guard could never tell whether he was joking or not.
"No, of course she won't really kill me."
"Then what are you worried about?" He still couldn't tell if Chapman was kidding.
"She'll be angry. Hurt and angry."
"But what will she do?"
Harvey was silent a moment. He couldn't tell where this was going.
"Nothing."
"Then what do you care?"
Harvey might have said that when his wife was angry he felt bad about himself, and that when she was hurt, he felt hurt too, but he didn't have the words, and he knew, somehow, that Chapman would not understand, and didn't really care.
"Look," Chapman said. "We have a deal. Your wife isn't going to kill you. Wives don't do that. I mean, who do you even know who's killed anyone." He looked at the guard so sweetly, so innocently. His eyes were so blue, the whites of his eyes, so white.
"No, one, of course," No one. Except you. Chapman had made his point. He and Chapman had a deal, and Harvey decided it would be better for everyone if he stuck with it.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Chapter 2
Becky was collapsed on the sofa when her son Faber walked into the living room. He was such a big man; she was always proud to see him. Nearly 7 feet tall, broad-shouldered, he was even stronger than he looked. And best of all, he was kind, in every fiber of his being. Katy was a perfect counterpoint to him. Pale and willowy where he was dark and muscled. She wasn't a short woman, but her head barely came up to his chest. He was a generous soul and he attracted others to him whowere equally generous in spirit.
Faber was already looking concerned as he walked into the room, and Katy let go of Faber and came to Becky as soon as she saw Becky's appearance. She sat down on the couch on Becky's left and hugged her. Faber sat on his mother's right and held them both.
"Becky, you look terrible, what's wrong?" Katy squeezed Becky's arm. Becky was still wearing her white lab coat. One sensible-but-professional black pump was on her right foot. Its mate was across the room by the front door.
"Oh, you two sillies." Becky smiled at them. "Nothing's wrong. I just had a long night. Very promising advances in our work. I'll just catch a bit of rest and head back to the lab."
Katy shook off the worry that had come up the moment she saw Becky. She drew back a little bit, relieved. It must be have been something significant to keep her up the entire night. "It must be exciting to a scientist. What have you discovered?"
Becky paused a moment and turned away slightly. "Well, we transposed some genomes and found a transvectored matrix." She was almost mumbling. "I can describe it to you in detail if I can find some graph paper and a scientific calculator. Although maybe I'd be better off with some warm milk and a bit of rest first the description of our work is really quite involved."
"Let me make you some warm milk," Katy said with genuine kindness and not a little relief at the prospect of missing the mini-seminar that seemed to be looming.
Faber normally would have smiled at his mother's tactic. She had taught him many ways of evading questions, ending conversations, and making people go away. The multi-syllabic words, the request for a calculator and the promise of a detailed scientific explanation was overkill. Generally just one of those techniques could politely send anyone running. He'd never seen Katy use those techniques on Katy before, and never in such a sledge-hammer-like way. Clearly, there was nothing to smile about today.
Faber hugged his mother against his shoulder and rested his head on the top of hers. He waited until they could hear Katy's soft movements in the kitchen, the clinking of cups, the milk being poured into a saucepan.
"What's the matter, Mom? You seem afraid."
"Seem?" That was one of their code words. Unconciously, Becky looked down at her clothes and drew her collar against her neck, but there was not hiding it. Faber knew she was afraid.
He held her right hand in his two large hands. "Was someone hurt at work?"
Becky shook her head.
He lifted her hand to his face, almost as if to press it against his cheek in tenderness. He glanced around; no one was near. He could still hear Katy in the kitchen. They were unobserved.
He ran his tongue over the back of her hand.
Becky didn't even try to pull her hand away. She just looked down and started crying.
He whispered, very low, so Katy would not hear. "If no one was hurt, why do I taste blood on your hand?"
Faber was already looking concerned as he walked into the room, and Katy let go of Faber and came to Becky as soon as she saw Becky's appearance. She sat down on the couch on Becky's left and hugged her. Faber sat on his mother's right and held them both.
"Becky, you look terrible, what's wrong?" Katy squeezed Becky's arm. Becky was still wearing her white lab coat. One sensible-but-professional black pump was on her right foot. Its mate was across the room by the front door.
"Oh, you two sillies." Becky smiled at them. "Nothing's wrong. I just had a long night. Very promising advances in our work. I'll just catch a bit of rest and head back to the lab."
Katy shook off the worry that had come up the moment she saw Becky. She drew back a little bit, relieved. It must be have been something significant to keep her up the entire night. "It must be exciting to a scientist. What have you discovered?"
Becky paused a moment and turned away slightly. "Well, we transposed some genomes and found a transvectored matrix." She was almost mumbling. "I can describe it to you in detail if I can find some graph paper and a scientific calculator. Although maybe I'd be better off with some warm milk and a bit of rest first the description of our work is really quite involved."
"Let me make you some warm milk," Katy said with genuine kindness and not a little relief at the prospect of missing the mini-seminar that seemed to be looming.
Faber normally would have smiled at his mother's tactic. She had taught him many ways of evading questions, ending conversations, and making people go away. The multi-syllabic words, the request for a calculator and the promise of a detailed scientific explanation was overkill. Generally just one of those techniques could politely send anyone running. He'd never seen Katy use those techniques on Katy before, and never in such a sledge-hammer-like way. Clearly, there was nothing to smile about today.
Faber hugged his mother against his shoulder and rested his head on the top of hers. He waited until they could hear Katy's soft movements in the kitchen, the clinking of cups, the milk being poured into a saucepan.
"What's the matter, Mom? You seem afraid."
"Seem?" That was one of their code words. Unconciously, Becky looked down at her clothes and drew her collar against her neck, but there was not hiding it. Faber knew she was afraid.
He held her right hand in his two large hands. "Was someone hurt at work?"
Becky shook her head.
He lifted her hand to his face, almost as if to press it against his cheek in tenderness. He glanced around; no one was near. He could still hear Katy in the kitchen. They were unobserved.
He ran his tongue over the back of her hand.
Becky didn't even try to pull her hand away. She just looked down and started crying.
He whispered, very low, so Katy would not hear. "If no one was hurt, why do I taste blood on your hand?"
Monday, May 19, 2008
Chapter 1 continued
After the morning greetings, Bubbles sniffed his bowl. The usual routine. He pulled the ten pounds of meat out of bowl and lay it on the ground. Then he lay down next to the food and ate it, after the manner of all big cats. He had a leisurely meal with Faber watching him, and Katy, Faber’s assistant, watching Faber from outside the enclosure. For safety, only one trainer would be in the enclosure at a time, with the other standing by in case there was trouble. A sally port, or double-gate, led to where the cat was housed.
“Okay, Bubbles, are you ready for playtime?”
Bubbles had finally finished his breakfast. Faber walked over to a corner of the enclosure that, somewhat inexplicably, was equipped with a computer, monitor, keyboard and mouse. It almost looked as if the big cat spent his free time surfing the net, but in the reality the equipment were heavy-duty, cat-safe theatrical props. A computer company had commissioned a television ad compaign and the director wanted to film a jaguar staring at a computer screen and manipulating a mouse with his paw.
The big cat was still busy grooming himself, and Faber settled down to wait until he was done. Many things are needed to be an Hollywood animal trainer: knowledge, courage, self-discipline, money, land, marketing skills, and perseverence are just a few. But the most important of all is patience, and Faber had that in abundance. Faber thought time spent in a companionable silence with the cat was valuable. They didn't always have to be playing or training. Even on a movie set, Faber never tried to rush a cat. He knew there was no rushing a cat.
He called over to Katy, "Is my Mom home yet?"
"No, she spent all night at the lab. She called again around 8 am. 'Said she'd be home soon." Katy was looking around the enclosure absent-mindedly, mentally cleaning up droppings, hosing down and sanitizing the concrete areas, sort of thinking about all the things she'd be doing once Faber moved the cat to another area for her. Manure management was a huge part of her job; it was a huge part of everyone's job at the sanctuary. "I don't think she's ever stayed there overnight before."
"No, I don't she has since you've been here. When I was a kid, she'd be there all night all the time."
"Really? I didn't think your Mom was like that." Katy shook a bit of beige dessert dust out of her hair. That hadn't sounded right. Katy knew what a devoted mother Becky was. She'd been a single mom from the very beginning and her son was always her number one priority. "Who'd you stay with when your mom was at the lab overnight?"
He stared at her for a moment. She almost thought he was offended. She had never seen him take offense at anything before. But he was just taking a moment to process what she said. "Overnight? Oh, I see. No, she wouldn't leave me at home while she worked. She'd bring me along."
"Serious? What did you do at the lab?"
"I'd help her with her work, and she'd teach me stuff. We'd do all kinds of things."
"All night?"
"Actually, I had a little room there with a little bed."
"What kinds of things did she teach you there?"
"Oh, this and that. Some math stuff, sometimes. Boring." Faber looked back at the cat. He was using his big right paw to groom behind his ears now. Faber knew his routine. The last step of groom was to wash the ears, first the left, then the right. The cat would be done and ready to train within the next minute, and Faber would have a natural reason to cut short his conversation with Katy.
His mother had not taught him any "math stuff." She had taught him many, many things, few of them were ever boring. She'd even taught him the response he had just used, and they had practiced it using role-playing several times over the years. If a friend asks you to list information, say 'this and that' in a bored voice. Say it relates to math or science or something the listener finds intimidating. Then call it boring. He had learned methods for evading questions in all settings. If in doubt, respond to the question by saying 'why do you ask?' This will usually deflect the question, but at the very least it will buy you time and give you clues how best to answer. There were other methods for other settings. Instead of answering the question asked, think of the question you wish they'd asked and answer that. If pressed, wear the listener down with a very, very long response with long sentences and big words.
Over the years he had learned all the responses to any conversational gambit. He had practiced nearly every social situation that could be anticipated. He was never at a loss for words, although he'd been taught, and had rehearsed, the situations where he should appear to be. And always, always, he'd been taught never to discuss this training with anyone.
Katy seemed interested. Faber realized that he'd never discussed his upbringing with her at all. One of the qualities that made him so well-liked and sought after was the fact that, per his training, he rarely talked about himself. Instead he would draw other people out and let them talk about themselves. Ironically, this would leave the impression that he was fascinating because he made other people feel that they were fascinating.
Katy asked, "What did the other scientists think of you visiting there and having a room and stuff?"
"Oh, I dont' know." Of course he didn't know. In all his thirty years, he had never once met or been seen by anyone she worked with. He had a vague impression that they believed she'd given him up for adoption at birth. But it wasn't his habit to volunteer information. "They didn't mind, I guess."
Bubbles suddenly walked over to the edge of the enclosure closest to the house and curled up next to the fence. Katy and Faber gave each other a knowing glance. The cat had heard Faber's mother's car. She'd be home in few minutes.
"Should we go in?"
Faber gave Bubbles a quick neck rub and kissed him on the nape of the neck - his way of saying goodbye.
"Sure, we'll pick this up later. Bubbles will be in a better mood when he sees Mom."
Faber watched Bubbles as he worked the mechanism to open the first gate. and walked into the sally port Then he checked that it was securely closed. Always two checks, using two senses: A visual check that the door was locked, and a tactile check. He shook the gate strongly to make sure everything was tight and secure. He did the same thing after exiting the sally port on the outside.
He gave Katy a kissed and they walked into the house arm in arm.
“Okay, Bubbles, are you ready for playtime?”
Bubbles had finally finished his breakfast. Faber walked over to a corner of the enclosure that, somewhat inexplicably, was equipped with a computer, monitor, keyboard and mouse. It almost looked as if the big cat spent his free time surfing the net, but in the reality the equipment were heavy-duty, cat-safe theatrical props. A computer company had commissioned a television ad compaign and the director wanted to film a jaguar staring at a computer screen and manipulating a mouse with his paw.
The big cat was still busy grooming himself, and Faber settled down to wait until he was done. Many things are needed to be an Hollywood animal trainer: knowledge, courage, self-discipline, money, land, marketing skills, and perseverence are just a few. But the most important of all is patience, and Faber had that in abundance. Faber thought time spent in a companionable silence with the cat was valuable. They didn't always have to be playing or training. Even on a movie set, Faber never tried to rush a cat. He knew there was no rushing a cat.
He called over to Katy, "Is my Mom home yet?"
"No, she spent all night at the lab. She called again around 8 am. 'Said she'd be home soon." Katy was looking around the enclosure absent-mindedly, mentally cleaning up droppings, hosing down and sanitizing the concrete areas, sort of thinking about all the things she'd be doing once Faber moved the cat to another area for her. Manure management was a huge part of her job; it was a huge part of everyone's job at the sanctuary. "I don't think she's ever stayed there overnight before."
"No, I don't she has since you've been here. When I was a kid, she'd be there all night all the time."
"Really? I didn't think your Mom was like that." Katy shook a bit of beige dessert dust out of her hair. That hadn't sounded right. Katy knew what a devoted mother Becky was. She'd been a single mom from the very beginning and her son was always her number one priority. "Who'd you stay with when your mom was at the lab overnight?"
He stared at her for a moment. She almost thought he was offended. She had never seen him take offense at anything before. But he was just taking a moment to process what she said. "Overnight? Oh, I see. No, she wouldn't leave me at home while she worked. She'd bring me along."
"Serious? What did you do at the lab?"
"I'd help her with her work, and she'd teach me stuff. We'd do all kinds of things."
"All night?"
"Actually, I had a little room there with a little bed."
"What kinds of things did she teach you there?"
"Oh, this and that. Some math stuff, sometimes. Boring." Faber looked back at the cat. He was using his big right paw to groom behind his ears now. Faber knew his routine. The last step of groom was to wash the ears, first the left, then the right. The cat would be done and ready to train within the next minute, and Faber would have a natural reason to cut short his conversation with Katy.
His mother had not taught him any "math stuff." She had taught him many, many things, few of them were ever boring. She'd even taught him the response he had just used, and they had practiced it using role-playing several times over the years. If a friend asks you to list information, say 'this and that' in a bored voice. Say it relates to math or science or something the listener finds intimidating. Then call it boring. He had learned methods for evading questions in all settings. If in doubt, respond to the question by saying 'why do you ask?' This will usually deflect the question, but at the very least it will buy you time and give you clues how best to answer. There were other methods for other settings. Instead of answering the question asked, think of the question you wish they'd asked and answer that. If pressed, wear the listener down with a very, very long response with long sentences and big words.
Over the years he had learned all the responses to any conversational gambit. He had practiced nearly every social situation that could be anticipated. He was never at a loss for words, although he'd been taught, and had rehearsed, the situations where he should appear to be. And always, always, he'd been taught never to discuss this training with anyone.
Katy seemed interested. Faber realized that he'd never discussed his upbringing with her at all. One of the qualities that made him so well-liked and sought after was the fact that, per his training, he rarely talked about himself. Instead he would draw other people out and let them talk about themselves. Ironically, this would leave the impression that he was fascinating because he made other people feel that they were fascinating.
Katy asked, "What did the other scientists think of you visiting there and having a room and stuff?"
"Oh, I dont' know." Of course he didn't know. In all his thirty years, he had never once met or been seen by anyone she worked with. He had a vague impression that they believed she'd given him up for adoption at birth. But it wasn't his habit to volunteer information. "They didn't mind, I guess."
Bubbles suddenly walked over to the edge of the enclosure closest to the house and curled up next to the fence. Katy and Faber gave each other a knowing glance. The cat had heard Faber's mother's car. She'd be home in few minutes.
"Should we go in?"
Faber gave Bubbles a quick neck rub and kissed him on the nape of the neck - his way of saying goodbye.
"Sure, we'll pick this up later. Bubbles will be in a better mood when he sees Mom."
Faber watched Bubbles as he worked the mechanism to open the first gate. and walked into the sally port Then he checked that it was securely closed. Always two checks, using two senses: A visual check that the door was locked, and a tactile check. He shook the gate strongly to make sure everything was tight and secure. He did the same thing after exiting the sally port on the outside.
He gave Katy a kissed and they walked into the house arm in arm.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Chapter 1
9:00 am and Faber was done earning money for the day. He made the usual notations in his daily work journal, switched off two computers and six monitors and left his home office to do his real work.
“Okay, Katy, time to feed the cat,” he said as he walked into the kitchen.
“I know that. I’m the one in charge of cat-feeding,” she laughed. She was standing at the counter wearing a a tank-top, her brown hair tousled, smiling and radiant. “You’re early today.”
“I have a set of rules I always follow. I’ve made enough for the day. I’m done.” He gave her a kiss. “I’m glad I got done in time for breakfast.”
“Me too. Bubbles will be glad to see you so early.” She handed the bowl to Faber and they walked through the yard together. The day was bright and the sun was just coming up over the hills to the east.
“Where’s my little kitty cat?” Faber called when he saw Bubbles. Bubbles gave him a disinterested look, cat fashion, and then gracefully got to his feet and paced around, anticipating breakfast. He was never allowed to go hungry, but he enjoyed the morning ritual all the same. 9:15 a.m. on the dot, every morning, 4:00 p.m. every afternoon, and if anyone who thought Bubbles couldn’t tell time was wrong, wrong, wrong. Usually it was Katy who came and talked to him and told him how beautiful he was, but if she was alone she’d never pet him, she’d just give him the food and that was that. If two humans came at breakfast, it meant there would be play time, and that was fun.
Faber walked through the second gate, put the bowl of food down and leaned against the fence to watch Bubbles eat. The big black cat naturally didn’t go directly the food dish. He walked around his enclosure pretending he didn’t notice the food or the man. Then he made a winding approach toward Faber and rubbed his flank against his leg, quickly marking him with his scent and proclaiming to all other cats that this big human was his. He purred as Faber reached down and scratched his neck. An unusual purr that only made a noise on the exhale. He rubbed his nose and whiskers against Faber’s hand in a more personal scent-marking gesture. Faber casually pulled his hand away as Bubbles started to lick it. Like all cats, Bubble’s tongue was designed to rasp flesh from bone. To be licked by a housecat is uncomfortable, but a friendly lick from a jaguar would cause instant road rash.
“Okay, Katy, time to feed the cat,” he said as he walked into the kitchen.
“I know that. I’m the one in charge of cat-feeding,” she laughed. She was standing at the counter wearing a a tank-top, her brown hair tousled, smiling and radiant. “You’re early today.”
“I have a set of rules I always follow. I’ve made enough for the day. I’m done.” He gave her a kiss. “I’m glad I got done in time for breakfast.”
“Me too. Bubbles will be glad to see you so early.” She handed the bowl to Faber and they walked through the yard together. The day was bright and the sun was just coming up over the hills to the east.
“Where’s my little kitty cat?” Faber called when he saw Bubbles. Bubbles gave him a disinterested look, cat fashion, and then gracefully got to his feet and paced around, anticipating breakfast. He was never allowed to go hungry, but he enjoyed the morning ritual all the same. 9:15 a.m. on the dot, every morning, 4:00 p.m. every afternoon, and if anyone who thought Bubbles couldn’t tell time was wrong, wrong, wrong. Usually it was Katy who came and talked to him and told him how beautiful he was, but if she was alone she’d never pet him, she’d just give him the food and that was that. If two humans came at breakfast, it meant there would be play time, and that was fun.
Faber walked through the second gate, put the bowl of food down and leaned against the fence to watch Bubbles eat. The big black cat naturally didn’t go directly the food dish. He walked around his enclosure pretending he didn’t notice the food or the man. Then he made a winding approach toward Faber and rubbed his flank against his leg, quickly marking him with his scent and proclaiming to all other cats that this big human was his. He purred as Faber reached down and scratched his neck. An unusual purr that only made a noise on the exhale. He rubbed his nose and whiskers against Faber’s hand in a more personal scent-marking gesture. Faber casually pulled his hand away as Bubbles started to lick it. Like all cats, Bubble’s tongue was designed to rasp flesh from bone. To be licked by a housecat is uncomfortable, but a friendly lick from a jaguar would cause instant road rash.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Prologue
Just teach me to despise.
Will time make men more wise?
Here within my lonely frame,
My eyes just hurt .....
“Shape of Things”
The Yardbirds, 1966
A laboratory in the Southern California Desert
United States Air Force Base
Undisclosed Location
1966
“No woman will ever agree to it.” Dr. White was almost shouting. He didn’t know why.
Dr. Jeffries sighed and ground out his cigarette. “We’ve been talking about this for months. I hope we don’t have any blue-collar middle-class moral scrupples popping up at this late date.”
“I’ve been a scientist a lot longer than you have.” Oh great, he thought, why did I say that? He was sixty-years-old. Jack Jeffries had been his graduate assistant, just as Geena Ganard was Jack’s assistant now. Funny thing, these young women going to college, even going to graduate school, and studying genetics, of all things. Geena was top-notch, but she’d inevitably find a nice husband and settle down and raise a family. It would be a shame to lose her. But White was distracted now. The point was, he had no reason to be arguing with that little snotnose Jack Jeffries as if they were third-graders. Maybe it was simply the newness of the experiment, the uniqueness. Maybe that’s why he felt upset. The genius of it. Of course it was uncomfortable to change the world, uncomfortable to be brilliant. They were going to change the world with this program. Change it for the better. He calmed down.
“Middle-class morals.” He snorted. “We are scientists. It’s just that no-“ He almost said ‘no decent woman,’ but he stopped himself. He really needed a drink. “I simply find it unlikely that an intelligent, healthy young woman –the kind of genetic stock we need–would agree to it.”
Geena cleared her throat and the two doctors grew silent for a moment, vaguely embarrassed that they’d been arguing as if she weren’t there.
“I’ll do it,” Geena said.
A smug expression started on Dr. Jeffries’ face while Dr. White suddenly realized he wasn’t quite as sophisticated as he thought.
“You’ll do it? You’ll host it?” He almost wanted to shake the girl.
“Host it? As if it’s an ‘it.’ As if it’s a parasite? No. I’ll be it’s mother.” She paused for a moment. “I’ll be the child’s mother.”
White looked down at Becky. She was old enough to be his daughter. His granddaughter. She was so lovely; her soft brown eyes, her delicate, young features. So intelligent. And so idealistic. If only he could take her aside, talk with her. Together they’d realize that they didn’t need to be so selective about the mother. They could find someone else.
The AM radio made a tinny sound. The Yardbirds were singing. When time and tide have been. Fall into your passing hands. Jack and Geena were staring at him. The silence had become uncomfortable. Please don’t destroy….
If he wanted a mother of good genetic stock, there was none better. All his arguments had been met. There was nothing else to do.
“Alright. I’ll make arrangements for the artificial insemination.”
They were still staring at him.
“You will be doing this by artificial insemination, won’t you?”
Will time make men more wise?
Here within my lonely frame,
My eyes just hurt .....
“Shape of Things”
The Yardbirds, 1966
A laboratory in the Southern California Desert
United States Air Force Base
Undisclosed Location
1966
“No woman will ever agree to it.” Dr. White was almost shouting. He didn’t know why.
Dr. Jeffries sighed and ground out his cigarette. “We’ve been talking about this for months. I hope we don’t have any blue-collar middle-class moral scrupples popping up at this late date.”
“I’ve been a scientist a lot longer than you have.” Oh great, he thought, why did I say that? He was sixty-years-old. Jack Jeffries had been his graduate assistant, just as Geena Ganard was Jack’s assistant now. Funny thing, these young women going to college, even going to graduate school, and studying genetics, of all things. Geena was top-notch, but she’d inevitably find a nice husband and settle down and raise a family. It would be a shame to lose her. But White was distracted now. The point was, he had no reason to be arguing with that little snotnose Jack Jeffries as if they were third-graders. Maybe it was simply the newness of the experiment, the uniqueness. Maybe that’s why he felt upset. The genius of it. Of course it was uncomfortable to change the world, uncomfortable to be brilliant. They were going to change the world with this program. Change it for the better. He calmed down.
“Middle-class morals.” He snorted. “We are scientists. It’s just that no-“ He almost said ‘no decent woman,’ but he stopped himself. He really needed a drink. “I simply find it unlikely that an intelligent, healthy young woman –the kind of genetic stock we need–would agree to it.”
Geena cleared her throat and the two doctors grew silent for a moment, vaguely embarrassed that they’d been arguing as if she weren’t there.
“I’ll do it,” Geena said.
A smug expression started on Dr. Jeffries’ face while Dr. White suddenly realized he wasn’t quite as sophisticated as he thought.
“You’ll do it? You’ll host it?” He almost wanted to shake the girl.
“Host it? As if it’s an ‘it.’ As if it’s a parasite? No. I’ll be it’s mother.” She paused for a moment. “I’ll be the child’s mother.”
White looked down at Becky. She was old enough to be his daughter. His granddaughter. She was so lovely; her soft brown eyes, her delicate, young features. So intelligent. And so idealistic. If only he could take her aside, talk with her. Together they’d realize that they didn’t need to be so selective about the mother. They could find someone else.
The AM radio made a tinny sound. The Yardbirds were singing. When time and tide have been. Fall into your passing hands. Jack and Geena were staring at him. The silence had become uncomfortable. Please don’t destroy….
If he wanted a mother of good genetic stock, there was none better. All his arguments had been met. There was nothing else to do.
“Alright. I’ll make arrangements for the artificial insemination.”
They were still staring at him.
“You will be doing this by artificial insemination, won’t you?”
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