by Talis Jones
Meddler or not, I decide that I’m going to mention it.
“One one two zero two zero R,” Sofia murmurs to herself on a loop.
“What’s that?” I ask curiously.
“I’m the future,” she smiles. “He said so.”
“Who said so, Sofia?” Nerves send even the hairs on my head standing on end.
“Father.”
Five
Predictably, Marissa had been overwhelmed with her own work that included a chain of charity boutiques she’d founded. They were preparing for a fundraising event and she was on the phone when I’d dropped off Sofia but I’d demanded she hang up and listen to me. After relaying the daycare’s and my own concerns about Sofia she fell silent for a moment.
“I’m sure it’s just a phase,” she hoped. “She’s growing up, changing…that’s all.”
“Marissa,” I sighed. “Please don’t just blow this off. Please.” She had a bad habit of running away from daunting problems or anything that might disturb the waters of her organized life.
Marissa chewed her bottom lip then finally nodded. “I’ll try to pay more attention. Javi and I have been discussing my stepping down as Chairwoman or at the very least delegating more of the responsibilities so we don’t have to rely on the daycare center so much…”
“Thank you,” I breathed in relief.
“I’m sure there’s nothing wrong,” she insisted again though her eyes had wandered to where Sofia sat patiently at the dinner table, hands folded, napkin in her lap.
Even though Marissa had promised, I still found my feet heading towards Javi’s office with determination first thing this morning. With a polite knock I wait for Javi to wave me in from where he can easily see me through the glass walls.
“To what do I owe this visit?” Javi asks warmly from behind his desk.
I close the door and stand with my hands clasped tightly, my weight shifting from side to side. “I wanted to speak with you about Sofia,” I begin carefully. “I don’t know if Marissa mentioned anything or the daycare…”
Javi’s throat swallows and he looks distinctly uncomfortable. Gesturing for me to take a seat I do so but even the ergonomic chair can’t keep me from feeling on edge. I really don’t want to be a busybody, nosing into other people’s business. All night I’d wrestled with whether or not I was overreacting, making things up even. When Jez picked me up for work, I’d asked him to stop by the house under the false pretense of having left my watch there last night when I’d removed it to help wash the dishes, just to check on Sofia and reassure myself that I’d imagined it all.
The moment Marissa had opened the door and Jez had given Sofia his usual enthusiastic greeting, I knew I’d made nothing up at all. Instead of squealing and leaping into his arms she’d merely arched a brow then resumed eating her cereal.
“What’s wrong,” he asked her.
Sofia shrugged. “I have to stay focused for the test today.”
“You’re too young for tests!” he protested.
“I hate losing,” she told him. “I need to win.”
Jez had been more confused than hurt by Sofia’s lack of response to his visit, but I’d refused to talk about it on the way to work. I simply mentioned that Sofia was going through something and promised him that I would talk to Javi about it.
“Marissa mentioned you were concerned,” Javi admits. “She said Sofia had had some sort of incident at the daycare center and you were worried about her. She’s been showing remarkable focus in her homeschooling, but the daycare center provides a great environment for interaction that she needs.”
“I’m not criticizing her attending the daycare center while Marissa works in the afternoons,” I hurry to correct him. “I’m glad to hear her focus has improved, but I wonder if that’s related to my concerns…”
Javi regards me carefully. “Why don’t you explain to me what exactly your concerns are? I haven’t had a chance to speak with the daycare workers yet.”
“I…” Closing my eyes for a moment I try to assemble my thoughts. Maybe it’s best to simply dive in. “When I went to pick up Sofia yesterday, the lady at the desk had mentioned that she’s noticed her growing more temperamental and withdrawn. Sometimes she acts like the little kid she is, other times she seems like an adult in a child’s body. Whenever someone steps into whatever she deems her territory or tries to touch her possessions she reacts violently.”
I take a slow breath then continue. “There was blood just under her jaw and when I’d asked what it was she told me point blank with no feeling. Sofia said it was Tony’s, he’d tried to play with her dinosaur toy so she’d hit him. I tried to tell her that hitting wasn’t okay and if there was a problem she should find an adult, but she… I bring up ice-cream and she lights up like her old self. I bring up blood and she grows solemn and cold. I-I-I don’t know how to explain it, Javi, but it sent chills down my spine. It was just weird.”
“I…I know,” Javi sighs and it’s both a confession and a moan. “I’ve noticed it too. Marissa wants to stay at home full time, but I’d rather she stay distracted until I can figure something out except I don’t know what.” He looks helplessly at me, begging an answer to appear from me. “There’s nothing I can do to stop it. I don’t know how.”
“Javi…” I take another steadying breath then ask, “What does 112020R mean?”
His brow furrows. “I don’t know.”
“Sofia was reciting it under her breath over and over on the drive home. When I asked she told me she was the future and that father told her so.” I lock my gaze sharply on his, ready to catch any sign of truth or lie.
“Morgan, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tells me slowly and I see true panic breaking out across his face.
“What is going on, Javi?” I demand.
He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you. I can’t.”
“Javi.” My voice comes out sharp and it surprises us both. “She’s my niece. I want to know. I want to help. Is she okay?”
Javi looks at me a moment longer before dropping his head into his hands, guilt upon his face. This is not the Javi I know and love. Javi is warm, genial, brilliant. This man is drowning.
“Marissa and I…we had trouble conceiving,” Javi whispers, unable to look at me.
“I know,” I remember. “Marissa wanted to be a mom so bad.”
Javi sends me one guilt-riddled glance before standing and staring out the window instead. “Our private affairs are our private affairs, but one night I stayed far later than usual and Dr. Xi found me. He asked if I was alright and I found myself confessing that I was struggling to face the disappointment in my wife’s face yet again.
“He scolded me for using work as a shield, and he was right, but then he made an offer and I was feeling so miserable I accepted.”
“What sort of offer?” I ask quietly.
“He’s a leader in the field of genetic healing,” he sighs. “He had an experimental drug to help situations like ours. It was tempting, of course, but our insurance would never cover something experimental and I knew we’d never be able to afford it. I told him all of this and he placed his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘What is the point of medicine if not to heal?’ And then he gave me twenty-four hours to decide.”
“I assume you took him up on his offer,” I guess.
Javi nods. “The only stipulation was that our child spend a few hours every work day in the company daycare. Dr. Xi wanted to observe her, his drug was still experimental after all. Marissa and I agreed, but now…”
Silence falls over the small office and I muse over his confession, dropped like a bomb in my lap.
“Marissa agreed to this?”
I remember all too clearly one of the worst arguments I got into with my sister when Javi and I were waxing on and on about our passion for genetic healing over Thanksgiving dinner and suddenly Marissa just snapped. She accused us of playing God, of trying to correct God’s mistakes though God made no
mistakes. We argued that we were simply using the gifts and tools God gave us to help others, save lives, improve quality of life. God may not make mistakes, but humans do and it was up to us to help curb the chaos. The thought of Marissa agreeing to “unnatural” aid for conception just seemed so against her character.
Javi gives me a smile that conveys he remembers the same explosive scene that I do. “She was desperate and depressed. She made me promise not to tell anyone, not that I felt I could what with the unofficial means we went about it. I think she was terrified you’d find out and call her a hypocrite. She cares an awful lot of what you think about her.”
“I would never judge her for that,” I reply adamantly. “We both made apologies for that fight and far be it from me to presume to know what one goes through in such a situation.”
“I know,” he smiles. “She knows that too.”
“But, what does this have to do with Sofia now,” I ask, bringing us back to the pressing matter. “Are you suggesting whatever Dr. Xi’s experimental treatment contained caused this? Why would it have such a delayed effect?”
“No,” Javi says quietly. “It’s what his experiments have continued doing.”
My ears ring with stunned silence.
“Excuse me?”
Javi just looks back out the window, a single tear rolling down his cheek.
“Are you saying that Dr. Xi has been experimenting on my niece, your daughter, and you’ve been letting him??” My voice rises in outrage. Disgust makes me want to get further away from the brother-in-law I thought I loved and respected deeply.
“We didn’t read the paperwork,” he cries softly. “He could sue for ownership if we tried to stop him.”
“What?” I can’t believe the words I am hearing. I can’t. It’s ridiculous.
“He didn’t make any demands other than for her to attend the daycare center, which seemed harmless enough. It wasn’t until about a year ago that he began his experiments. He won’t let me know a thing about it, but I’ve managed to figure out that it involves some sort of gas that she breathes in in small doses and that it’s supposedly all for the efforts of improving humans.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I demand. “How many other kids are subjected to this? Who else is involved?”
Javi turns his anguished face towards mine and murmurs, “I don’t know.” He returns to his desk, reaching for a tissue as he sinks into his plush seat. “The government is involved, I think. Soldiers guard Dr. Xi’s private labs. Obviously I don’t want this for my daughter, but I don’t know what to do! If I even arouse Xi’s suspicion that I’m against him, he’ll take Sofia away!”
I recall seeing Dr. Xi the evening I picked up Sofia from the daycare and shudder. “Does Sofia say anything? Surely she can’t be happy with being experimented on, whatever it may or may not entail.”
“She never seems to remember,” he says baffled. “Or if she does then she pretends otherwise. That number she recited… I wonder if it’s her subject designation number? If she’s starting to break through, to remember what goes on then maybe she could tell us.”
“Javi, I…I think it’s best if she doesn’t remember,” I confess reluctantly. “Either Dr. Xi will find out and react to keep her from compromising his work, or…well, she’ll remember. I don’t know what they do, but I’m not sure it’s something she’d like to remember.”
Tears stream down Javi’s face and I use all of my strength to hold back my own. “I don’t know what to do,” he cries softly.
Sitting back and doing nothing has never been my nature. I recall Fitz’s flattering words about my ability to problem solve and allow it to fill me with courage and resolve. “Javi, take a moment to compose yourself then resume your routine, okay? We’re going to figure this out.”
Despite his despair, he manages to smile. “So determined as always.”
“With prejudice,” I growl then exit his office in haste. I try to clear my face of worry and feign my usual self. Shoving my hands into my coat’s pockets to hide my clenched fists, I find something inside. Pulling it out I discover the business card Connors O’Malley had tossed onto my work station. The card I’d meant to toss out. He might relish hearing me eat crow, but I’d do it a thousand times over if it meant it could help my family. Though first I’d have to actually find some evidence…
Six
“Break time!” Jez cheers before leaping off his stool for the door.
Fitz and I take our time arranging our station before following his mad dash. As soon as we step inside the bright, colorful room I yelp as a pudding cup is lobbed at my head. Clumsily catching it last second I level a glare at Jez.
“Heads up!” he calls belatedly, rocking his chair back to balance on two legs.
Sighing I grab a spoon from one of the kitchenette drawers and settle into the chair beside him while Fitz pulls out a bag of pita chips from a cupboard with his name written in bold on a sticky note taped to its front.
“So, what do you guys think of our new assignment so far?” I open conversationally.
Jez lets his head flop back. “Morgan, this is our break. Why are you bringing up work?”
With a sharp nudge I send him wobbling and he jolts upright trying to restore his balance. The chair slams down on all fours instead of tipping him onto the ground like I’d hoped. “If you break another chair from messing around like that, it’s coming out of your paycheck,” I warn.
“Juveniles,” Fitz sighs beleaguered. Turning to face me, he wipes his hands on a napkin and I notice the eagerness in his eyes. “I find it fascinating. Finally I’m actually being asked to work on something of importance.”
“Importance?” Jez snorts. “We don’t even really know what we’re working on.”
I frown. “Strides towards efficient and effective methods of genetic healing.”
“Yeah, that’s the big picture,” Jez agrees. “But the specific tasks we do? What are those for? We could be acting as mindless drones developing weapons of mass destruction!”
Even Jez can’t keep a straight face at that theory.
“We’re new to the team,” I suggest. “It’s not unusual for the others to be reticent around us newbies, especially since we were interns a minute ago. Actually, we still technically are. I’m sure if you wanted to spend hours demanding a thousand why’s instead of following our team leader’s directions then Dr. Ramsey might humor you.”
“It’s like we’re in the military,” grumbles Jez. “No questions, just do.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” Fitz tosses a chip at Jez’s face.
“It is interesting exploring different methods of inoculation,” I resume enthusiastically. “Aerosols, injections, patches… The popularity of nasal sprays has really opened up doors for research in less invasive administration methods. Cheaper, quicker to both administer and take effect, less aversive to people, and instead of needing fresh needles, vials, doses, swabs, etcetera for each patient, now medics can easily travel with refillable bottles that can hold a hundred doses at least! Before it was necessary to hunt for a vein but with the latest nanite technology, a simple inhale can do the job just as well and it’s far less barbaric.”
“Barbaric?” Jez arches an eyebrow and gives me that look that says he thinks I’m getting carried away.
“Oh come on,” I insist. “You’ve worked blood drives before. You’ve seen what butchery some of those donors leave with. Passing out, horribly bruised arms, the torture of being stabbed multiple times while an incompetent nurse wiggles the needle around in their skin trying to pierce a vein…”
Jez and Fitz both shudder. “Passing out is not uncommon for blood donors and it’s not like using needles for that is being replaced any time soon,” he points out.
“Okay yes but my point was that needles suck and I hate them.”
“Needles suck,” Jez chuckles. “That they do in both meanings.”
“Though needles have never particularly bothered me,” F
itz cuts in, “I have to agree that the exploration of new methods and possibilities is fascinating. Sticking with a tried and true method is fine, but one should never stop striving for improvement. The whole idea of genetic alteration was once seen as impossible and a waste of time, but now we’re moving beyond research into minor cosmetic alterations such as eye color and into genuine treatments for everything from genetic limb loss to cancer to the common cold! To be able to not only develop treatments to the untreatable, but to be able to bolster the human body to avoid needing treatment at all is just…it’s…”
“A miracle,” I finish with the same amount of weighted awe.
Fitz nods and our eyes meet, sharing the same dedicated fervor to our work.
I hear Jez huff and suddenly a smack of something cold and wet hits my cheek and I jump. Turning I see Jez holding his spoon like a tiny catapult. “JEZ!” I cry outraged.
“No food fights!” someone shouts. “Not again, Knight!”
“Here.”
I turn and see Fitz holding out a fresh napkin. “Thank you,” I mumble. Wiping the pudding off of my face leaves me in a sour mood.
“You had better put that spoon down, Jez,” Fitz warns darkly, “and be grateful that you hit Morgan who will forgive you instead of me who would not.”
Crumpling the soiled napkin, I shove it into my empty pudding cup. “What’s up?” I ask him worriedly. Fitz wasn’t always of the best humor, but lately he seemed even more uptight than usual.
At first I don’t think he’ll respond then with a heavy sigh he sums up his troubles with one word. “Father.”
“He was…intense,” Jez responds, recalling the dinner neither of us had particularly enjoyed. Besides the food. The food was excellent.
Fitz laughs and it is not a happy sound. “Intense…yes, that does describe him.”
