The Best of All Possible Worlds Read online

  “It’s good you both are well trained and fit,” Vio added as they turned back toward the cabins. “I’ll be able to teach you so much more this way, without the need to get you in shape first. I trust you both are good at sparring as well?”

  Avigail rolled her eyes as Arnot laughed. “I can’t wait,” he said.

  “Well you’ll have to. There are many things you both must master before the sparring begins,” Vio answered and without a thought took both twins by the hand and led them to the largest cabin of the three.

  IV

  “If you want to know the true laws of God,

  ask a physicist not a priest.”

  Galen Dawkins

  December 12th, 2014 Old Earth

  “Good morning Christine,” the boy said happily as Dr. Dawkins entered the room. D17 was now a young man of about twelve, although his true age was just nineteen months. His development was still on schedule, and his speech was much improved, though he did have a tendency to talk in a mechanical sort of way that caused some to think he was being flippant at times. But he smiled brightly at her, dropped his eReader, and stood. He moved quickly across the room and gave her a hug, a very genuine hug, with obvious feeling behind it.

  “Good morning,” Christine answered and pulled the boy into her arms. She was now accustomed to the lad’s overly friendly manner. It was one of the things she was growing to love about him.

  “How are you today? Your drive was good?” He asked and the honest, open expression on his face revealed that D was absolutely sincere. This was another odd quirk of the boy’s; anyone who entered into his room not only received his full attention, but all of his concern. Christine knew it was a bit unnerving to some people, but she found it slightly enchanting.

  “My drive was fine; the snow’s not too bad,” Christine answered. Cryogen Laboratories was located on highway 60 about an hour south of Albuquerque, near the southern tip of the Cibola National forest. Overnight they received about an inch of snow but it had not accumulated on the major roads.

  “Would you like to go out and play in the snow?” Christine asked and D’s face lit up. He was rarely allowed to leave his private rooms, but D had yet to complain about his lack of freedom, after all his rooms were lavishly furnished, carpeted and very comfortable. For entertainment the boy had an enormous supply of logic driven video games, which he rarely touched, an electronic book reader with over a thousand approved titles, and a large television monitor for movies, most of which were of the Pixar or Disney variety.

  “I would love to go out in the snow,” the boy answered enthusiastically just as the door opened. Shirley entered holding a small coat and gloves in her arms.

  “I thought you might,” Christine replied with a smile and helped him put on the new coat and all the while he smiled happily at Shirley.

  “We won’t be long,” Christine told her aide and then led the boy out into the hallway and over to the nearest elevator. They passed through three check points, but Christine’s security level was only surpassed by Dr. Crane’s, so their trip through Cryogen’s halls was without incident. Moments later they were out on the side lawn, D standing in the chill of the morning air, gazing all about in wonder.

  “It is so beautiful,” he commented then breathed in deeply and exhaled, watching his breath. “I can see it,” he exclaimed, very surprised.

  “It’s the water vapor in your lungs,” Christine explained as the boy knelt down and stuck a glove into the snow. He frowned and quickly pulled his glove off and stuck his hand down into the white crystals. He immediately jerked his hand back.

  “Cold,” he said with another smile and tentatively stuck out his hand again and scooped up a small amount of snow and held it in the palm of his hand. He watched curiously as it slowly melted. “Water,” he added and carefully brought his hand to his mouth. He smiled again at Christine and she smiled back.

  “Could I have a word with the boy?” a voice asked from behind her and Christine turned to see the tall, stately figure of Reverend Heyworth. The man had a full head of silver gray hair and a dazzlingly white smile, but to Christine his obvious attractiveness seemed artificial and somehow false.

  She frowned. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” she replied but the Reverend seemed not to care about her opinion.

  “You’re growing fast young man,” Heyworth said to D and the boy smiled.

  “Reverend!” He said in greeting and moved forward to give the man a hug.

  Heyworth laughed and returned the boy’s embrace. “Come lad,” Heyworth said. “I’d like a word.”

  “Reverend!” Christine said loudly in protest, but again Heyworth waved her off.

  “Just a moment Doctor…just a moment,” he replied and led the boy off a few dozen yards, knelt and spoke to the boy quietly.

  Christine was well aware that Reverend Heyworth supplied a vast amount of the funding for her research. He also supplied the original core DNA samples, samples that were damaged and incomplete but even so they contained most of the information used to create the boy. She hardly felt she could protest a few words alone with D anymore. He was quickly getting older and probably needed some outside stimuli if he was going to continue to grow and develop “normally.”

  And though she kept her distance, Christine kept a close eye on the emotions playing across the boy’s face during the conversation. D smiled and laughed at first and their talk went on far longer than she would have liked, but as she started forward to end it, Heyworth stood up, eyes gleaming. He nodded to Christine and without a word to her made his way back into the building.

  “Hey D,” she said as she approached. “You okay?”

  “Yes I am well,” the boy answered and bent down to pick up another handful of snow. He looked up and smiled at her reassuringly.

  Christine frowned. “What did the Reverend say?”

  D frowned slightly. “He told me not to say,” the boy answered obviously a bit agitated.

  “Even to me?” Christine pressed but when D began to fidget rapidly she reached out and touched his arm.

  “It’s alright,” she told him. “You don’t have to say.”

  D smiled at her, relieved. “Thank you Christine,” he replied softly, clearly troubled. “I’m ready to go back inside now.”

  †

  “I think something must have gone wrong,” Reverend Heyworth said as he scooted into the booth opposite Dr. Crane. He stared for a moment at Crane’s thinning hair and felt a rush of satisfaction so great that he couldn’t help but run a hand through his own thick locks. Crane had the natural look of a man of science; he dressed simply with absolutely no sense of style; he was growing bald and a bit pudgy and he obviously considered daily hygiene a necessary evil. It was clear from his appearance that he spent only the minimum amount of time required to function normally in today’s society. Next to Crane, Heyworth felt like something of a god, with his athletic build, tan skin, his full head of hair and best of all, his dazzlingly white smile, that could charm even the most black-hearted sinner. Yes, Heyworth felt himself to be very blessed, truly a man of God.

  “Wrong with what?” Crane asked, slightly alarmed.

  Heyworth took a bite of his toasted ham sandwich which tasted far better than it looked. The Reverend held up a hand but did not hurry as he chewed. After he swallowed he leaned forward.

  “With the experiment,” he whispered, though the cafeteria was busy and very noisy and absolutely no one was paying the two men any special attention. “I think something’s gone wrong…Dawkins has made an error.”

  Crane ignored his soup and also leaned forward. He scanned the area carefully before speaking.

  “Why would you say that? What have you done?”

  Heyworth’s face turned slightly red. “I haven’t done anything. I just talked to the boy.”

  “When?” Crane asked and couldn’t keep the frustration out of his voice.

  “Just now…I think the boy’s missing a bit upstair
s,” Heyworth confided and took another bite of his sandwich. “He’s friendly enough, but doesn’t seem to know much.”

  Crane sighed. “Listen Reverend, you have to remember what the boy is,” he said checking the tables around them for possible eavesdroppers. No one appeared to be interested. “The boy’s only a year and a half old. His brain seems to be developing nicely, perfectly in sync with his physical development. Remember, it doesn’t matter that his body looks twelve; he’s truly only nineteen months old. How many children that age do you know that can walk or talk as well as D?”

  Heyworth considered this a moment, then had to concede the point and took another bite of his sandwich.

  Crane leaned closer, completely forgetting the food in front of him. “His brain is developing extremely fast…much faster than a normal child. His scans show enormous activity. It’s quite extraordinary really; his brain currently has twice the number of neural connections as a normal pre-adolescent. You just have to give him time,” the doctor said and finally sat back and took in a spoonful of soup.

  Heyworth was still not convinced. The truth was the Reverend had asked the boy if he knew who he was and when D couldn’t say Heyworth had become impatient.

  “You’re our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, risen again,” he’d whispered to the wide eyed child. “Don’t you remember? Can you remember?”

  D claimed he didn’t, fueling the Reverend’s frustration and though he tried not to show it, his feelings came through. Whatever his faults, D was very perceptive for his age.

  “Well I still think the boy is a bit off,” Heyworth continued to Crane, who was beginning to wonder if the whole project was a bad idea.

  “Give it time,” he repeated, knowing that Colonel Bradford might very well put a premature end to the experiment in any case.

  Heyworth took a few quick bites of his sandwich and a large swig of his diet coke and then he stared directly into Dr. Crane’s eyes and his expression became very serious. “Six months…I’ll give the boy six more months and if I’m not satisfied with the progress we start over.”

  Crane took a deep breath and was about to protest but then thought better of it, after all the boy’s development was phenomenal. Chances were very good that in six months the Reverend would be completely satisfied with D. Crane hoped so for Christine’s sake. In any event they would have little choice but to follow Heyworth’s wishes, Cryogen could not afford to lose the millions his church was pouring into the research.

  “Six months,” Crane agreed.

  †

  After lunch Crane made his way down to the east wing. He nodded to Shirley but entered the observation room without speaking. Dr. Dawkins was standing and looking through the one way mirror at the subject in the next room.

  “What’s he up to?” Crane asked, struck again by the woman’s mousy good looks. Christine was average in height for a woman, a bit overweight, but not excessively so. She had a button nose covered in freckles and the smallest ears Crane had ever encountered on an adult human. Overall her facial structure could be called angular, even with the extra pounds she was carrying and in the beginning Crane did not find her attractive in the least…extremely confident yes, attractive no. But over time she must have grown on him, oh she was still somewhat dour at times and very serious, but there was something about the way she moved that oozed femininity. Now Crane had to admit he found her very attractive even though her feathered hair was a bit out of date. She was a puzzle. She certainly did not attract the attention of the other men in the lab. She didn’t catch their eye as she walked past and they were not clamoring to sit with her in the cafeteria, but still Crane was drawn to her for some unknown reason. Christine just didn’t act like other females in a male dominated profession. She didn’t try to emulate the men around her. She was not overly aggressive or combative as some were want to be. She was a girl…all girl and wasn’t afraid to act and think like one at times. She brought unique insights to her work, insights that Crane was beginning to suspect no man could have come up with.

  Perhaps it was her independent mind that attracted him, or perhaps it was the notion that she was a virgin; an impression which had taken up residency in his brain these last few weeks that intrigued him so. Crane thought she might be a true virgin, unlike all those frumpy, almost virgins, who occupied Cryogen, the type whose only experience with sex was a lone dalliance in the early years of college with some sweet talking frat boy, and then nothing since. No, something about Christine made Crane believe that she’d rejected all those false male promises that came with youth and preserved her innocence. Yes, perhaps that was it. Christine, despite the fact that she was several years past thirty, embodied innocence. She was open and fresh, completely without guile…at least in a sexual way and Crane found that very attractive, not that he would ever act on it. He was married after all, and the founder of the company, but that didn’t stop him from dreaming.

  “He’s reading…again,” Dawkins said. “I can’t believe how quickly he’s progressing.”

  “What’s he reading?”

  ‘The Education of Little Tree.’

  Crane raised his eyebrows, truly shocked. “Forrest Carter, but just a month ago he was on primers.”

  “I know…I know,” Christine said and flashed a large smile. “And look at this,” she added and led Crane over to a camera monitor. It took her a moment but eventually she was able to zoom in on the eBook.

  Crane was looking over her shoulder but spotted nothing out of the ordinary. “What?” He asked.

  “He’s on page 134,” Christine said. “He started this book just over an hour ago.”

  “An hour…” Crane repeated, astonished.

  “This is already his third book of the day,” she told him. “If we hadn’t gone outside to experience the snow he’d probably be done with it already. All he does is read…no movies…no video games…nothing but reading.”

  “But how’s his comprehension?” Crane asked.

  “That’s another thing I want to show you. Come on,” she said excitedly and took Crane by the hand. His heart did a little flip at her touch but he ignored it. He was married…and too old for such foolishness.

  They entered the room and D looked up and smiled.

  “Christine! Ian!” The boy rose and went to them, clearly very happy. He gave them each a hug then watched as Christine bent over and picked up his book. She took it over to Crane and held it in such a way that the boy could not possibly see what was on the screen.

  “D let’s play again,” Christine said and D smiled happily and nodded.

  Dawkins then glanced at the reader and flipped the pages back. She held it at an angle so Dr. Crane could see where she was in the book, and then glanced quickly at D, who was now sitting on the edge of his bed looking up at her expectantly.

  After a moment Christine began to read. ‘Granpa laughed low. ‘Owl stays in the hollow, hawk stays on the ridges. Sometimes ol’ hawk figures there’s easy pickins down by the water and ol’ owl don’t like it.’

  Christine stopped and glanced up at D, who immediately began to recite; his eyes vague and out of focus. ‘A fish flopped a splash in the creek. I was beginning to get worried. ‘Reckin,’ I whispered to Granpa, ‘that them hounds is lost?’

  Crane’s mouth popped open. D’s memory was perfect…word for word and with a very remarkable accent.

  Christine toggled through a few pages and read. D repeated his performance.

  “That’s great D,” Christine said with a big smile. The boy smiled back. She returned the eBook to the correct page and handed it back to D.

  “I’ll be back in a while,” she said and then led Crane back into the sound proof observation room.

  “Photographic memory?” Crane asked…astounded. “We’ve found no genes that directly influence memory…or have we?”

  Christine shrugged. “We’re studying the possibility, but whatever we did, it was not intentional. Ian this could be another breakthrough. I
t’s no secret that memory’s tied to aging, so it’s possible…”

  Crane shook his head in amazement. “You think it was something in the gene therapy that triggered the ability?”

  “There’s no way of knowing for sure until we study the phenomenon further,” Christine answered, “but I’d bet when we altered his growth development we also altered his ability to remember. The entire aspect is remarkable and it should actually aid in his accelerated development.”

  Crane shuffled his feet slightly and dropped his eyes. “Yes, you’re right it should, but Christine…I want you to remember that D17 is an experiment. It wouldn’t do to get too close to him…in case something should go south on us.”

  Christine frowned. “Like what? He seems to be moving along just fine?”

  “Well,” Crane said quickly, “for one, if you can’t successfully turn off the rapid aging gene, he’ll be dead within ten years…or less. And with all the unexpected side effects there’s no telling when one will crop up that’s less than ideal…deadly even.”

  Christine frowned. It was a worry she shared but had pushed to the side for now. “I know there are still obstacles, but I’m sure the R89 gene will do the trick; it’s worked very well in the chimps.”

  “I realize that but D17 is not a chimp,” Crane added then took another look at the boy, who was reading once more. “Just don’t get too close, there’s still plenty that could go wrong.”

  V

  “The quest for knowledge and understanding is the quest for God.”

  Galen Dawkins

  October 2nd 3217 Noble Island