“Subject G3FØØ is in her maturation chamber in Lab 1, absorbing the infiltration and assassination skills Mr. Sakai ordered. She should be out next week.” Maria had always found it amusing that Altra never referred to them by the names she had given them.
“I don’t suppose he communicated why he made the request, did he?” Maria asked. She knew the answer, but she liked teasing her assistant.
“Of course not, Doctor. Mister Sakai does not confide in me. I have concluded that he does not care for robots.”
Maria was surprised by Altra’s conclusion. “I suspect it is me he does not care for, Altra,” Maria said. “Don’t take it personally.”
Altra stared at Maria with the glowing, green sensor orbs that served for her eyes. “Noted, Doctor,” she said. “But I am incapable of taking anything personally, as I am not a person.”
“Sometimes I wonder,” Maria said under her breath, and then she sighed. She was concerned about what Sakai might have in mind for the prototype of the Gen3s. She was accustomed to him keeping secrets, but he’d never requested that one of her children be modified before. She shook her head and then stared down at the readouts on the console in front of her. She’d already checked half of the consoles dedicated to the maturation chambers. There was one console for each row of chambers, and they served two distinct purposes. The first was as a biometric data monitor as it sustained the subjects with a complex mixture of nutrients, growth hormones, and pharmaceuticals that allowed for hyper-accelerated development. The second was to perform the indoctrination process, which did much more than provide them with motor control. Combined with the basic mobility programming, the subjects would come out of the chambers with virtually any skill set PSG required.
Every Gen3 would receive a spectrum of hand-to-hand and weapons-based combat disciplines. They would also learn the operation of vehicles, from automobiles and grav-cars to interface craft and starships. Security, anti-terrorism, and assassination skill sets were also on PSG’s menu of available options.
PSG was preparing to corner the market on selling private armies of genetically modified soldiers, for Maria’s children were the most advanced and capable genies to have been bred. They were stronger, smarter, and faster than not only any human, but any genie bred outside the walls of PSG—as Marketing proudly stated.
A soft chime from the elevators at the far end of the lab drew her attention. The doors opened, and Maria was surprised to see Richard Cabrillo step out. He had the dark hair and slim features of the inhabitants of Montoya III, descendants of Colombian forbearers who had settled the capital world of the Republic of Escobar.
“Good morning, Richard,” Maria called across the lab, a bit confused. He was her immediate subordinate, and a man she found at least mildly distasteful. He did not normally come down to the labs, especially not before lunch. She had inherited him when she first took the job with PSG. He was a competent geneticist, but nowhere near Maria’s league. She’d always found him to be only mildly intelligent, but he made up for it by being well-suited to dealing with the sales department and all outward-facing interactions with clients and the military. She tolerated him, because he was a buffer between herself and the outside world. She had always suspected he resented her being given the job of Senior Researcher, but she’d never been entirely certain. “What can I do for you?” she asked as he walked up.
“I was hoping to get an update on where things are down here,” he said with an almost sincere smile.
“I was just doing a check on the Gen3s,” Maria said a bit impatiently. “Is this something that can wait until later?”
“Julio asked me about where we were at with the new batch, and you know how he gets,” Richard said. He almost sounded apologetic.
Maria sighed. “Altra, would you give him a status report?” she asked, glancing at her assistant. Without waiting for an answer from either of them, she moved to the next console in line.
“Of course, Doctor Fujimoto,” Altra said, its head turning around completely to face Richard as her body walked forward to maintain a consistent distance from Maria. “The Rhinocerotidae, Canis, and Panthera subjects of the Gen3s are in nominal condition. We will be initiating the educational procedures tomorrow. As you can see,” she added motioning with her slender arm toward the chambers, “Since inception, only nineteen percent were lost to still-births and genetic anomalies, a twenty percent improvement over the Gen2s now being trained by the military. As of this morning, the Gen3s are ready to begin the indoctrination process, and I have updated the consoles with the new training protocols devised by Doctor Fujimoto.”
“Very good,” Maria said. “Thank you, Altra.”
“Of course, Doctor Fujimoto,” it replied.
Maria glanced at Richard with an are you satisfied? look on her face and then returned to the console.
“You’ll be happy to know there hasn’t been any more fallout from the two escapees a couple weeks ago,” Richard said, obviously trying to make conversation. “And we finally got the report on what happened from that general.”
“Did you?” Maria asked. She didn’t look up from the console, but she did want to know the official story. “What did it say?”
“Well, basically, we’re treating it as a successful implementation of the Methionine Protocols, but that’s more spin than reality, if you ask me. Apparently, it was subjects G1C34 and G1F17 who escaped a small military installation on the other side of the city. They were shot multiple times during the escape and, apparently, fell into the Sagrado del Corazon river. The major involved said that he saw several of those big reptiles in the river where they went in and assumed both subjects were eaten. Neither of their bodies were discovered. We assured him that, even if they survived, the Methionine Protocol would have stopped their life functions within a matter of three to four days without the enzymatic injections, so we’re in the clear.” She felt Richard peering at her. “It’s a good thing we have the protocol in place with all three generations. They’re a safety net for both PSG and our clients. Wouldn’t you agree?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” Maria replied flatly, her eyes firmly focused on the screen. She was doing her best to show no emotion.
“The PSG board approved my idea to provide the military with a canine and feline replacement from the Gen3 pool at no additional cost, once they were ready, of course.”
“I’m sure they were very happy with the free upgrade,” Maria replied. She made an adjustment to the console and moved to the next one. And then she stopped, stood up straight, and looked at him like she would an anomalous piece of data.
“Do you ever struggle with the moral implications of what we’re doing?” she asked. “That we’re creating slaves?”
Richard got a hurt expression on his face and tsked. “Slave is such an ugly word. I’m surprised to hear it coming from you,” he added, “considering you created them.”
“A means to an end,” Maria said, trying to look bored, but his answer troubled her deeply. She let out a heavy sigh and turned from him, heading toward her office. Altra followed, while Richard kept pace not far behind. Maria entered her office, crossed the gulf between the door and her massive, maple wood desk, and sat down in a large, leather office chair. Two large monitors occupied the left-hand side, and a wafer-thin keyboard lay directly in front of the chair.
Her office was a complex contrast to the stark, dimly lit lab outside. Bright, warm lighting filled the space as well as a flawless sense of Feng Shui. Three low-backed chairs sat across the desk from hers. There was a low couch and divan in one corner, several tall potted trees in another, and the wall across from the desk held a five-hundred-gallon salt-water tank full of indigenous corals and sea life. A wide, wall-mounted waterfall filled the room with a subtle gurgling noise reminiscent of the maturation chambers.
Richard took up a position directly in front of her and did not sit down.
Maria raised an eyebrow. Was he playing with her? What was he in the la
b for? And his answer was eating at her.
“I just don’t see how you can be so dispassionate,” Maria said, and she couldn’t keep the slight edge of accusation out of her voice. “Yes, I did create them, but they’re still sentient. It has to make you stop and consider the implications at least once in a while.”
“Does it?” he replied dryly.
“I would certainly hope so,” she said.
“You know me, Maria.” He gave her a Cheshire grin. “I’m all about the bottom line. As long as nobody goes to jail for what we’re doing, I’ll leave moral philosophy to the eggheads at the university.” His eyes shifted from her to the gray stone waterfall behind her. Like a large piece of art, it was textured with vertical lines across its entire surface. “I was wondering, does that thing come off easily, or is it built into the wall?”
Maria was startled by the change of subject. She turned and looked at the waterfall. What was he up to?
“It’s anchored, but it can be removed,” she replied, turning back to him. “Why?”
“Oh, no reason. I was just curious.” He looked at his watch and gave her an almost expectant look. “So, the plan is to fire up the indoctrination processes tomorrow?”
She frowned. “Yes,” she replied slowly. “I’ll be coming in early to initiate the protocols myself.”
“Will you?” he asked. The smile remained. “And you don’t expect any issues with the new batch of educational programs?”
“No,” she replied. He was definitely up to something. He rarely took such direct interest in what happened in the lab.
Maria’s comm implant buzzed in her ear, and the internal display projected onto her retina indicated it was a call from Julio Sakai, the CEO of PSG. She reached up and pressed the actuator behind her ear.
“This is Doctor Fujimoto,” she said.
“Good morning, Doctor,” Sakai said. His tone was stony, almost curt. “I need you to come up to my office, if you please.”
Maria’s insides churned. Julio rarely called her up, and their interactions were usually limited to her formal presentations or updates on the project to the executive team.
“Of course, Julio,” she said. “I’ll be right up.”
Julio ended the call without another word, and Richard wore a knowing smile that he tried and failed to hide.
She was suddenly fearful that, somehow, they had discovered one of the seeds she’d planted.
She rose out of her chair, keeping her face impassive, and said, “Would you excuse me, Richard?”
“Of course,” he replied easily. “I wonder what Julio wants…that’s a bit out of the ordinary, him calling you up.”
“It is.” She tried to remain calm. “I’m sure he just wants an update on the Gen3s.”
“That must be it,” Richard said.
Maria walked past him, expecting him to follow her, but he just stood there watching her walk out.
When she reached the door, his voice called out from behind her.
“You know, Maria,” he said slowly. “I’ve always liked your office.”
Maria paused, and her mouth went dry. Without turning back, she quickly walked out into the lab and to the elevator.
* * *
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Julio shouted.
Maria stood in his cavernous office. It had two full walls of floor-to-ceiling glass looking out on the city on one side and the rolling mountains on the another. The wide Sagrado del Corazon river ran along one side of the city, flowing from the high country. Julio’s office was the epitome of opulence. It looked almost like a penthouse suite at a five-star hotel, with the most expensive furniture and fixtures to be had in La Republica del Escobar, a multi-world “republic” owned outright by Presidenté-for-life, Pablo Ramirez Vasquez.
Maria stood there, stunned. She’d merely walked in, said good morning, and then got broad-sided by the question. Her mind raced. Did he know? If so, how much? There were no police present, so it was unlikely he knew everything, and the two PSG rhino guards had remained outside when the door closed. Julio had requested them as a permanent fixture several weeks earlier after rioting had cropped up across Montoya III and the other three worlds of the Republic.
Play it cool, she thought.
“I’m sorry?” she said, sounding confused. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Julio took a deep breath and let it out as almost a hiss. He narrowed his eyes and glared at her.
“I said,” he started in a low and menacing tone, “are you out of your god damn mind….? Those things can process methionine on their own.”
“What are you talking about?” Maria asked. She knew exactly what he meant, but she needed to play dumb for as long as she could. Everything rested on him not finding out the whole truth, or she would go to jail and her children would be lost.
“Don’t try to deny it,” he growled. “The Gen3s do not have the Methionine Protocol in their DNA.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, sounding hurt and confused. “I showed you the markers months ago. I can show them to you right now,” she added defensively.
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Maria,” Julio said, holding up his hand. “Richard ran a full battery of tests on the Gen3s over the weekend. He glared at her. “Every single one came up negative, save for a ghost gene that mimicked the Protocol. He reported his findings to me this morning.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Right now, only the three of us know, but if you keep denying it, I’ll call for a formal inquiry, the executive board will hire an outside agency to audit the entire program, and you will go to jail.”
Maria backed down. She couldn’t go to prison. Not yet.
Julio leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in front of him.
“Why did we initiate the Methionine Protocol?” he asked suddenly.
“Control,” she said, giving the obvious answer. It was the one truth that had haunted her from the very first time PSG asked her to design the Protocol. Maria had been forced to modify a gene that would make all PSG genies dependent upon an injected enzyme so they could produce methionine. Without the daily injection, they died.
“And you helped write that protocol?” he asked, knowing the answer.
“Yes, I did,” she said. A pang of shame ran through her like a shot. “But if you recall, I wanted to make the protocol a punishment, not hardwire it into their genes from birth.”
“I do. I also recall that your suggestion was rejected by the board because of the undue risk to PSG, our clientele, and the populace at large.” He covered his mouth with his fingers, his elbow resting on the arm of his chair, and stared at her, a pained expression on his face. “I thought we’d settled this long ago,” he added, half under his breath. He took a deep breath and sat up straight. “How did you do it? I know they were created with the Methionine Protocol.”
She had to be very careful now. She needed to give him just enough to be plausible without inviting further scrutiny of her methods…or her motives.
Her shoulders slumped in guilt, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Finally, she said, “Before the second trimester, I inserted a retro-virus into them that rewrote the gene.”
He looked surprised. “You can rewrite the genetic code after inception? I thought that was impossible.”
What will he believe?
“Only if it’s early enough in their development,” she said. “Anything introduced after that leads to system failure or genetic mutation that then leads to death or worse.” She kept her face calm. He had to believe that part.
He shook his head. “This company is not prepared to run the risk of having rogue…animals out there killing people. The lawsuits alone would wipe us out, never mind the bad press. Those two that escaped are precisely why the Protocol was initiated, and you know it.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a choice here. For allowing genies to be created without the Methionine Protocol, you are hereby terminated, effective immediately. I must
remind you that you signed both a Non-Disclosure Agreement and a Non-Compete. If I discover you have taken up genetic research anywhere in the Republic, or otherwise exposed trade secrets that would be necessary in such a pursuit, I will make certain you are crucified with a lawsuit that will have you so far in debt you’ll spend the rest of your life as an indentured miner in the asteroid belt.”
“You can’t be serious!” Maria shouted. “Genetic research is my life!” she cried.
“I’m sorry, Maria. You’ve done wonders for this company, but I don’t have a choice. I’m doing you a favor here and covering my own ass. If the board finds out that you’d deliberately sabotaged the Protocol, they’d want you thrown in jail for reckless endangerment and I would be terminated for gross negligence. As it is, I’ll have to sell them a line of bullshit that it was all an accident, resulting in your termination. Don’t push me,” he warned, “or it will get much worse for you. And remember that Richard knows about this too. Your freedom rests in his hands as well as mine.”
Maria stood there, a defeated look upon her face.
“Alright,” she said, finally. “I’ll go quietly.” She met his eyes, a worried expression on her face. “What about my children?”
Julio sighed wearily. “The entire lot of Gen3s will have to be euthanized because of you,” he said flatly.
“What!” she screamed, horrified. “You can’t just kill them!” She felt tears welling in her eyes.
“Maria,” he said quietly. “You know the board will demand it.” He placed his hands on the desk. “It’s out of my hands.” He moved his left hand under his desk as his eyes shifted to the door. The door opened and both rhino guards came marching in. She knew them by name as well as designation but said nothing. They were massive, nearly seven feet tall and weighing over six hundred pounds, with gray skin and mostly humanoid features. Their skulls were elongated, with deep, black eyes, wide nostrils, and a snubbed version of a horn protruding a few inches from the tips of their snouts. Their shoulders were impossibly wide. They had thick limbs, and their hands ended in three nearly human fingers with wide nails. “Please escort Doctor Fujimoto out of the building. She is not to be allowed back in under any circumstances.”
We Dare Page 10
