The Best of All Possible Worlds Read online

  VI

  “We are all just one very long set of codes.”

  Dr. Christine Dawkins

  April 1st 2015 Old Earth

  D was lying on his bed reading happily while Dr. Christine Dawkins stood shaking in the observation room. Colonel Bradford had just departed, after glowering at the boy through the one way mirror for nearly an hour. The Colonel barely said two words the entire time despite the fact that Christine tried to engage him, explaining a little about D’s development. The boy’s voice cracked for the first time this morning, much to his surprise and Christine’s delight. He was entering puberty and even with the extra hormones coursing through his system everything seemed to be progressing normally with no major complications. She was truly beginning to believe that D might just survive…that is if R89 could stop the accelerated aging process.

  She was optimistic at least until Bradford had turned to her. “I want you to introduce your gene and stop the acceleration,” the Colonel ordered.

  “What?” Christine asked, though she’d heard him clearly. The schedule was not to introduce R89, a gene she herself helped create, until D’s third birthday, almost a year from now.

  “You will introduce R89. Let’s see if you can stop the aging process,” Bradford had continued.

  “But…”

  “Introduce it Dr. Dawkins or be pulled off the case,” the Colonel demanded, eyes very hard. “This week!”

  “I’ll not jeopardize…” she sputtered.

  “You will,” Bradford interrupted and pushed forward so that he looked down on her. Despite herself, Christine took an involuntary step back. “We’re taking over control of your work,” Bradford continued, “you can either cooperate or be dismissed. It’s your call.”

  Christine just stared at the large man for a moment, completely shocked. ‘They couldn’t take this from her so easily!’

  “I know from your work that R89 begins to show signs of counteracting the aging process in less than 48 hours,” Bradford continued.

  “In chimps,” Christine offered coldly, “which is clearly not the same. Even you can recognize the difference…plus Crane will never…”

  “I’ve already spoken with Crane, begin the process right away…and Ms. Dawkins, if the gene works you’ll have all the funding you could ever desire,” the Colonel added as if dangling the money carrot could dilute the threat uttered only moments before.

  Christine didn’t answer and Bradford said nothing more, he just took one more long look at D and then left the room without closing the door. Christine was aware of Shirley staring at her from her desk, but it took several moments before she was able to marshal her thoughts.

  “Get Crane on the phone right away,” she told Shirley and then turned back to gaze at D through the window. She held up her right hand; it was shaking badly. She wasn’t sure how long she stood watching the boy but suddenly Shirley was by her side.

  “Crane’s not in,” she said softly and panic began to well up inside Christine.

  “Find Adam,” she told the kindly woman at her side, who nodded. Adam’s calm manner always had a positive effect on her. Sometimes his mere presence helped to settle her nerves so she could think properly.

  It was nearly a half an hour before Shirley returned with her brother and by that time Christine calmed a fair bit on her own, but she was still no closer to understanding the strange demand coming from the Colonel.

  Adam entered the room, quickly checked on D and then turned to Christine, clearly worried.

  “They want me to apply R89…now,” Christine explained and Adam frowned.

  “I’ll try Crane again,” Shirley said and moved back into the far room.

  Adam just stood by his sister’s side without speaking for a time, he knew from discussions with her that it was a year early for such a move. Actually, he knew a great deal about D and his sister’s work, for Christine talked of little else.

  “How will that affect the boy?” He asked.

  “I don’t know,” she replied watching as D finished one book and cycled through his reader for another. She glanced over at the computer monitor to see his selection, ‘Twilight of the Idols,’ by Friedrich Nietzche.

  “Interesting choice,” she commented and Adam came to look. He knew little of Nietzche.

  “Isn’t he the philosopher that claimed ‘God is dead’?” He asked and Christine nodded, smiling. “I’m sure Reverend Heyworth would approve,” he added sardonically.

  Christine laughed despite herself. “I’ve given D complete access to the library. It’s up to him what he reads…I’m worried for him Adam. He’s come so far.”

  Adam placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “You designed the gene…why the sudden worry?”

  “I didn’t want to introduce the gene until his was fully grown…safely out of puberty. His voice cracked today. His body is going through enough changes at the moment,” she told him softly.

  Adam grimaced. “Puberty’s no picnic,” he commented.

  “It’s harder on girls,” Christine replied.

  “Spoken by someone who never had to make it through math class with a tent in your pants,” he quipped back.

  “Spoken like someone who never had a pair of tents on your chest,” she quipped back. “And the tents on your chest never go down.”

  “When you’re his age, neither does the tent in your pants,” Adam retorted and grinned all the more.

  Christine laughed. “Nice,” she said then sobered. “What am I to do?”

  “You’re that worried?”

  “Not really for D, but because of all the changes we might not get a true reading on the effectiveness of the gene,” she replied, “plus if Bradford is going to dictate this move, what else will he demand in the future?”

  “Like I said, what options do you have?” He asked, knowing that defying the United States government was rarely a healthy option for either its enemies or its citizens.

  “I could take him and run,” Christine blurted and Adam got a quick glimpse of just how important D had become to her. “Perhaps Heyworth would help, after all he supplied the DNA, D is important to him as well.”

  “Christine,” Adam began, realizing that running would not have a very happy ending for anyone.

  “I know…I know, running’s not an option,” she said doing her best imitation of her brother, and gave Adam a look of quiet desperation.

  “Dr. Dawkins…I have Dr. Crane on the line,” Shirley shouted from the next room, “Line 2.”

  Christine marched to the desk and picked up the phone. “Ian…” she began but then remained quiet for several long seconds, then. “Shit!”

  †

  April 5th 2015 Old Earth

  “How are you feeling D?” Christine asked as she entered the room. It was early, still a good hour before sunrise. For the last week Christine refused to go home and slept on the couch in her office, but it wasn’t that big of a sacrifice. She worked twelve to fourteen hours a day in any case. She only went home to eat and sleep.

  “Not well,” D answered. She entered when his light suddenly clicked on, waking her. “I feel tired,” he added, “and strange.”

  “Strange, how so?”

  D shrugged. “I’m not sure…I feel slow,” he finally replied.

  Christine smiled, slightly amazed. “That could be a good thing,” she told him and began the process of drawing more blood from the boy. He took the needle stoically, very accustomed to such procedures.

  “Try to get some rest,” she told him as she left the room, heading for the small but well equipped private lab she kept across the hall. A half an hour later she was on the phone to Crane who answered the phone groggily.

  “What is it?” He snapped. No one should get a call at quarter to five in the morning.

  “Oh I’m sorry,” Christine stammered having just realized it was still very early in the morning.

  “Dawkins?” Crane asked propping himself up on his elbow and turning on t
he bed side lamp. His wife Rita groaned and turned over.

  “Yes sir,” she replied. “I’ve just run another blood sample…”

  “And?” Crane asked, instantly coming fully awake. If the artificial gene Dawkins developed was successful it meant a great deal of money for the lab and a revolution in human genetics.

  “R89 appears to be successful,” she answered excitedly, “but D’s feeling poorly. I think we should watch him for another 48 hours before releasing the information.”

  “But the accelerated growth has been halted?”

  “Yes, it appears so. His metabolism seems to have stabilized just above normal,” she answered.

  “Very good…very good!” Crane replied, sitting up on the edge of the bed equally excited. “But Christine there’s something I need to tell you.”

  Christine remained silent, her stomach growing slightly queasy from his tone.

  “D17 is scheduled to be put down,” Crane said in a rush. “We’ll pick up the work with more suitable DNA. It’s the DOE’s recommendation.”

  “Put down!” Christine answered, suddenly feeling very sick and shaky. “But why?”

  “We don’t know who or what D17 is,” Crane answered. “We need to continue the experiment with modern samples…selections we know to be prime DNA samples.”

  “Prime DNA,” Christine echoed. “And Heyworth knows of this?”

  “No,” he told her and paused for a long time. “I’ll tell him in the morning…at a more decent hour,” Crane added. “We’ll wait another forty-eight hours to confirm the results and to be sure there are no additional complications. Christine…I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah,” she answered and hung up the phone. ‘Termination,’ she thought and sat slowly down in the chair she wasn’t even aware was behind her.

  †

  “Put down he said!” Christine vented later that evening. She’d gone through a hell of a long day working with D and acting like everything was normal. She checked his blood several times, and although every test supported her earlier findings that the manmade R89 gene was indeed in place and functioning as it was designed to, the boy continued to act lethargic and complain about not feeling well. It was a concern but one that Christine felt would right itself once the boy grew accustomed to his new rate of development.

  “Put down!” She repeated. “Like he’s a dog or something. I don’t care…I’ll take him and run,” she repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time. Adam just picked at his food and worried about his sister for she seemed very serious in her resolve to save the boy.

  He was sitting at the breakfast bar tentatively eating a bowl of homemade chicken soup while she stood in the kitchen working her way through a bottle of merlot. Adam was sure Christine had little idea what it would take to run successfully from the federal government and he had little doubt how it would end…badly. But he could also tell she was deadly serious.

  “Christine…you can’t just run off with the boy,” he said gently, realizing she was on edge. He wanted to talk this out rationally without her getting too upset or angry, though he was resigned to the fact that reasoning with her might not be possible at this point.

  “Can’t I?” She said, her eyes hard, but still glistening with the tears she had yet to shed. She turned on the spot and walked into the other room only to return after a moment with her purse in hand. She dropped in on the counter reached in and pulled out a banking envelop, inside was thick stack of twenties and fifties.

  Adam whistled. “How much?”

  “Seventy-five hundred,” she said. “I stopped by three branches on my way home. I plan to drive to Albuquerque tomorrow and take out another five thousand. I’m taking D tomorrow evening.”

  Adam frowned. ‘She’s nuts,’ he thought but refrained from verbalizing it. “Where will you go?”

  “Mexico, I have my passport,” she said boldly.

  “Christine,” Adam began gently, “if you run it won’t be for a day or a week or even a year. It would be forever. Can you just walk away from your work?”

  “Adam! He’s…he’s…he’s a human being!” She spat, very intense. “They are going to just kill him like he was….he was….”

  “A lab animal? A test?” Adam finished for her. “Like the dozens that came before him?”

  Christine scowled at him. “Most of those never made it beyond the fetus stage…and it’s not the same. He can read. He can talk and reason. He’s self aware Adam. Christ you’ve met him. Could you just stand by and watch him be put to sleep?”

  Adam was quiet for several moments…considering. Over the years he’d experienced his share of death, including some friends in Afghanistan and his wife and only child. It was never easy.

  “You’ve fallen for him haven’t you?” Adam asked. Christine was single and childless and with little hope for any in the near future.

  Christine stood silent, just staring at her brother, eyes welling up to almost the spilling point.

  “Adam, he’s a human being,” she repeated.

  “Nearly,” Adam whispered back. “You’ve made changes,” he added and then repressed a shudder. He didn’t exactly understand the work his kid sister was involved with but what he did know terrified him. It was far too much like playing God, and if history taught one thing, it was when Man tried to play at God; people died…usually a lot of people.

  “He shares 99.91% of the same genes as you,” she spat, now growing angry. Adam sighed.

  “Adam, he’s mine!” She said once again very forcefully. “And I’ll not stand by and watch him die!”

  Adam stopped eating, his spoon hovering full of broth above the counter.

  “What do you mean yours?” He asked, now very serious, very concerned. He hoped to hell she meant that D was just her experiment, her intellectual property, but a deep fear was now brewing within his psyche.

  Christine remained silent for a long time then downed her glass of merlot.

  “He’s mine Adam,” she finally admitted, speaking very quickly. “The DNA sample Heyworth supplied was degraded and incomplete. I tried to repair it but there was just too much information missing. Most of the previous samples failed because the strain was corrupted beyond my ability to correct,” she finished rapidly.

  Adam frowned. His sister only spoke quickly when she was very nervous…usually around boys, but not exclusively. “Christine, what do you mean yours?” He asked again, very calmly.

  Christine sighed and poured another glass of wine. Adam saw that her hands were shaking noticeably. “He’s mine Adam. I used parts of my own DNA to repair the damaged strands. He’s mine…he’s my son.”

  “Your son!” Adam said very loudly. “Your son! Just because you’ve plugged in some of your DNA doesn’t make him your son. Christ Christine!”

  Christine jerked, stunned and hurt, but then shook her head and her eyes grew cold. “He’s my son Adam, even more so than if he was a biological child. D shares about fifty-five percent of my DNA.”

  “Fifty-five percent?”

  Christine nodded grimly. “More than if I’d just conceived with Heyworth’s donor. He’s my son…mine, and they’re not going to put him down!”

  Adam sighed and slowly lowered his spoon back into his bowl. For some reason he was no longer hungry. “When do they plan to do it?”

  “Forty-eight hours,” she answered, head down, tears finally running down her cheeks and falling on the counter, “after R89 is proven successful.”

  “Then we have some time,” he said softly.

  “You’ll help me?”

  “You’ve always helped me,” Adam replied and reached out and took her hand. He loved his sister and would do anything for her. Since the abrupt death of his wife and son, his life had been a sham in any case. He was just an empty shell going through the motions; perhaps a little adventure would pump some of the apathy from his veins…and if he were to die…well there were far worse things than death.

  “I’ll call in sick and g
et what we need together,” he told her. “And if you still want to we’ll take him late tomorrow night,” he added as plans to break the boy out of Cryogen began to churn through his head.

  Christine squeezed his hand, and for the first time that evening smiled. He didn’t smile back.

  “It’s going to be rough,” he finally added. Security at Cryogen was good, though not out of the ordinary for a growing research facility. Adam was confident he could find a way to remove the boy from the premises undetected.

  Christine nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed but was more determined than ever to see it through.

  †

  Shirley was already at her desk when Christine arrived the following morning.

  “D’s feeling much better this morning,” the half lab assistant, half receptionist said as Dr. Dawkins entered. Christine smiled happily and tried to act as if everything was normal. She didn’t have the heart to tell Shirley of Crane’s decision and now that she’d decided to run with D she would not…it would be better if her assistant and friend knew nothing about her plans.

  “That’s great,” Christine said with false excitement. “He must be getting used to the changes R89 is putting him through. I’ll take another blood sample right away.” She stated and walked past Shirley and into the next room. She paused a moment in the observation room and strived to compose herself completely. D was just a young boy, but he’d shown incredible empathy for those around him.

  Christine put on a smile and entered. D looked up from his reader immediately and broke into a wide smile. “Good morning Christine!” he greeted happily and quickly got to his feet and gave her a nice long hug, which she returned gratefully.

  “Shirley tells me you’re feeling better,” Christine commented as they broke apart. D looked to the ground and nodded.