"Thank you."
"One thing confused me. The way it ended. It was somewhat abrupt, like it wasn't finished."
"As with any pioneering research, it's always ongoing. The paper you refer to was the original document before the Eugenisence Programme began. The research has since been completed."
"And can our behaviour really be determined by our genes?"
"The nature versus nurture debate is ages old. Does a child inherit their mother's love for mushrooms, or the seaside, or is it imitation? Studies have shown children, adopted at birth, grow up with identical character traits to their biological parents, without ever having known them. Likewise, twins, separated at birth, have ended up living almost identical lives. We like to believe in the nature argument, because we like to believe that we can change. But more of our behaviour is predetermined than we are comfortable to accept."
"But what about criminal behaviour in particular? Are all our moral decisions predetermined? Isn't this just a re-hash of anthropological criminology?"
Dr Conley smiled. "Not at all. Science has come a long way since then. We're not chasing werewolves, Mr Hicks."
Devon snorted.
"It's an unpleasant business, I'll admit," she continued. "It always is when you're dealing with children. For a decade we only tested babies after birth, laying an agonising choice upon the parents. They had to live with their decision, with the guilt, the constant wondering. The Eugenisence Programme works. It's hard for those it affects, but sometimes it's necessary to sacrifice the few to save the whole."
"No one denies that the Eugenisence Programme has almost completely eradicated crime—"
"It has eradicated crime," Devon said.
Kenton ignored him. "But what's the human cost?"
It's unfortunate that we have to terminate pregnancies, but if you had the choice—"
"But you aren't giving people the choice."
"Do you remember what this country had become before the programme? What was the human cost of that?"
"What about couples with fertility problems? Trying for years to get pregnant, only to have their one chance at becoming parents taken away from them."
"It's unfortunate—"
"What about women given rushed, bodged abortions, having to have hysterectomies, or dying on the operating table?"
"I really can't comment—"
"What about women's suffering after the abortion? They're given no counselling. Or women forced to complete an unwanted pregnancy because their baby is genetic negative? Even when it's a product of rape." Kenton stood. "You're not criminalising the gene, you're criminalising women."
Devon stepped forward.
"What about members of the abandoned generation who have never broken the law? Just how successful are you at isolating the correct gene? Will you admit that the Eugenisence Programme is flawed?"
"The Eugenisence Programme is perfect," said Devon, pulling Dr Conley to her feet. "We're done here."
"Do you have children Dr Conley?" Kenton shouted as Devon dragged her from the room.
12
Monday 16th December 2052: Hookend Psychiatric Detention Centre
Kenton watched Amie shuffle into the room. She wore an oversized jumper, and had her hands tucked inside the sleeves. She locked her eyes on the floor, her hair covering her face. She sat down, keeping her eyes averted.
"Is everything alright?" Kenton asked.
Amie nodded.
"I brought you something. They said it was ok to give to you." He pulled a copy of The Gene Pool from his pocket and pushed it across the table to her. "I thought you might find it interesting."
Amie looked at the cover. "Thank you." She flicked the magazine open to the table of contents.
"What's up?" Kenton asked.
"Just fed up of being in here."
"I know."
She flicked to the next page. It was an article about someone being attacked outside a police station. Kenton had read it. The police had come out to watch, some of them had cheered the attackers on.
As she read, she pushed her hair behind her ear, and revealed a dark bruise across her cheek.
"What happened to your face?"
She snapped her head up, flicking her hair loose to conceal it. "Nothing."
"Was that about me?"
She looked away. "Who knows? Maybe I took too long in the shower. It's nothing."
"That's not nothing."
Amie looked at him. "This is my life. Believe me, it's nothing." She stood up and picked up the magazine. "Thanks for this, but I'm just not up to this today. I'm sorry."
As she walked past him, she paused. "Come and see me again soon though."
13
Monday 23rd December 2052: The Turncoat Magazine Office
"I do allow my writers time off for Christmas," Drew said. He swiped through the choices on the coffee machine. "Even those who keep missing deadlines."
Kenton smiled and placed his empty mug on the worktop.
Drew glanced at it. "This machine dispenses cups too."
"I'll stick to my own mug, thanks."
"How's the book coming along?"
"Slowly. My pain in the ass boss keeps moaning to me about deadlines."
"I still have a magazine to run, and there aren't a lot of us left. The golden days of the free press are far behind us."
"Are the Press Commission still on your back?"
"Increasingly so. You realise it's all because of you, right?"
Kenton grinned. "Infamous already."
"You may joke, but they're going through every article very closely. Hence why I need your pieces done before Christmas."
"You'll get them."
"And nothing controversial. If we get hit with another fine for breaching guidelines, we'll be in real trouble. We can't risk our publishing licence."
Kenton frowned. "Is it really that serious?"
"Yes it is. And your book's not helping. Your interview with Dr Conley didn't go too well. They've already threatened to sue for libel, and they don't even know what you're going to write yet." Drew shook his head. "You sure know how to piss people off, Hicks."
"Don't worry, I've got two incredibly dull articles almost finished for you. They'll barely raise an eyebrow, let alone anyone's blood pressure."
"Get them done, and then, please, take some time off. Are you going to your Dad's?"
"Yeah. But the later I leave it, the less awkward silences I have to sit through." Kenton picked at the handle of his mug. "Mum's absence becomes really noticeable at Christmas. Dad feels guilty because he can't look after her himself, I feel guilty because I can't bear to go and see her in that place. Yeah, it's going to be another joyful Hicks Christmas."
"How is your mum?"
"She's been diagnosed with dementia. It wasn't unexpected, but it's still a shock once it's official. I actually got the call the first day I went to Hookend."
"Just try not to muddle those emotions up with the book." Drew patted Kenton's shoulder. "Your dad will appreciate having you around for a few days."
Kenton shrugged. "I guess. I'm going to drop by and see Amie first though."
"I hope it's staying professional between you two."
"Of course."
"It better. That's a worry I really don't need."
14
Monday 23rd December 2052: Hookend Psychiatric Detention Centre
Kenton held his ID bracelet under the scanner and then stood back, waiting for the door to be opened.
As it did, the officer was sharing a joke with someone inside. Still laughing, he held up his hand to stop Kenton coming in.
"What's going on?" Kenton asked.
The officer made a show of inspecting Kenton's details on the scanner's output screen. He knew who he was.
"Ah, yeah, no entry for you today."
"Why's that?"
"Amie Fogo. She's in the segregation unit. No visitors." He couldn't hide the smile on his face.
"Wha
t did she do?"
He shrugged. "Can't say." His smile widened.
"So I can't see her?"
He shook his head.
"Can I leave a message for her."
He shook his head again. "Sorry. Against the rules."
"This is to do with me, isn't it? My book. You're blocking me from seeing her."
"I'm only following orders. No entry to you today." He closed the door halfway. "Have a nice Christmas, Mr Hicks."
15
Saturday 25th January 2053: Barley Room Café
Gus glared at Madeline. She'd been fidgeting and tugging at her clothes since they arrived. He clenched his fists under the table, wishing he'd chosen someone more competent. He always let his heart lead him into trouble. Or was that his dick? He wasn't exactly in love with the mousey girl.
She looked ridiculous. The glasses were too wide for her pointy face, the suit a size too big. No one would believe she was serious. She looked like a caricature.
"Would you stop fussing?" he snapped. "Kenton Hicks will be here any minute, and what's he going to think when he sees a fidgety, nervous little girl? Keep still."
He hated the doleful look she gave him, her eyes filling with tears.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "But you could have got me a suit that fitted."
"The children's department were out of suits."
"I'm not that small."
Gus winced at the emotional crack in her voice. It was too late to back out, he just had to hope she didn't ruin everything.
"Are you clear on what you have to say?" he asked her.
"Yes."
"If you screw this up, Maddy, that's it, it's all over. This is our only chance. We need Kenton on side, we need him to believe what we say. You better pull this off."
"I will." Madeline pushed her glasses back up her nose, and sniffed. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were beginning to get puffy.
"If you cry, that will be it."
"Well you don't have to be so bloody mean to me. I look ridiculous."
"You look like a nerd, that's all we need." Gus glanced up. He kicked Madeline under the table. "Sit up straight, here he comes."
16
Saturday 25th January 2053: Barley Room Café
"Hi Kenton," Gus grinned, raising his hand for a high five.
Kenton obliged and sat down. "Hi Gus."
"This is Madeline Tate." Gus gestured to the woman, who nodded in greeting, and almost lost her glasses in the motion. "She's one of the scientists that work with us, and, I thought, the perfect person to get inside Outscope Digital." He grabbed her arm and shook it. "See, who would even notice her?"
She flashed a look of pure venom at Gus. Kenton had received that kind of look from women himself: there had been something between them once.
Gus continued, seemingly unaware. "With her credentials, we got her right into the thick of it as a researcher's assistant."
"What have you found out?" Kenton dug in his pocket for his voice recorder, and placed it between them.
Gus leaned towards it. "Outscope Digital don't just have their finger in one extra pie. They're involved in just about everything you can imagine, and, I'm telling you, it's no surprise they're keeping this quiet."
Gus nudged Madeline, urging her to speak. She glanced at the recorder and up at Kenton. Kenton had met her type before; brilliant with formulae and equations, but seriously lacking in social skills.
She cleared her throat, speaking so quietly it prompted Kenton to push the recorder closer to her.
"Hello, um, yes, I'm Madeline Tate. I'm working under a man called Dr Lewis Holt. I'm responsible for all of his administration." She hesitated.
"Tell him what they're up to," said Gus.
"There are a number of different projects in the Genetic Delivery Programme, but what Dr Holt is working on is the production of a synthetic incubation system."
"They're making fake wombs," said Gus.
"Hang on," said Kenton. "So they can grow babies without needing a woman?"
"Yes." Madeline nodded, and had to rescue her glasses again. "They harvest the eggs and fertilise them in the lab, and then use a synthetic incubator to feed the embryo, to supply its blood, everything it needs. They're not actually creating humans yet, but they have had success with mice."
"It's insane, isn't it?" Gus said.
Madeline shot Gus a nervous look. It wasn't surprising she was scared. With a leak like this, it wasn't just her job that was in danger.
"The implications are huge," Kenton said. "Women won't be needed for anything other than their eggs. Just raw materials. They're nothing but breeding machines to this country already."
"And they're working on synthetic eggs too. From stem cells," Gus said. He laid a hand on Madeline's shoulder, but she shrugged him off.
"And the government know what they're doing?"
Madeline nodded. "I prepare and send Dr Holt's weekly reports myself. Straight to the Prime Minister."
Kenton shook his head. "Is Dr Conley involved?"
"I've never seen her there."
"Tell him about the other projects," urged Gus.
"All the dirty-work Eugenisence can't risk doing themselves. Cloning, isolating genes for illness and disability, growing body parts, anti-ageing cures. Basically, they're looking for immortality itself."
Gus leaned back and folded his arms. "Clearly, eradicating criminals wasn't enough for them. But where does it end? Wiping out disabled people? People predisposed to obesity? To learning difficulties? To being ugly? To being anything less than their idea of perfect? Is any of this starting to sound familiar?"
"Scarily so," said Kenton.
"We have to stop Eugenisence. Before this goes too far."
Kenton waved his hands at Gus, grabbed his recorder, and switched it off. He glanced around the café, which suddenly seemed tiny.
"You're talking about bringing down the government," he whispered.
"I'm talking about a revolution."
"You'll be starting a war."
"And when the public hears the truth, we'll have a lot of willing soldiers."
Kenton shook his head. "I don't even know what to do with this. It's explosive." He pulled an envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table. "Anyway, here's your fee as agreed. I'll be in touch." He stood and walked away.
As Kenton reached the door, he glanced back. Gus and Madeline had their heads close, jabbing accusatory fingers at each other. Kenton shrugged; this lover's tiff was nothing to do with him.
17
Saturday 25th January 2053: Barley Room Café
Gus watched Kenton walk away. They seemed to have pulled it off. He turned back to Madeline and her whining voice.
"I can't believe you dragged me into this. We're in way too deep here."
"Just shut up, we need this."
"No. This time you've gone way too far." She tore the glasses from her face. "I don't want to do this anymore."
She stood up, but Gus grabbed her wrist and dragged her back into her seat.
"You're not walking out on me. You're my scientist."
"I work in a shop. I don't know what made you think—"
"You're in this up to your neck already. You can't simply walk away. If I go down, Madeline—"
"I don't know why I let you talk me into this. He's a journalist, you don't think he'll double-check this stuff? When he finds out we made it all up, it's over anyway."
Gus shrugged. "They're probably doing things like we said."
"Fake wombs? You really think that? Besides, if, by some miracle, Kenton just takes our word for it, when the book comes out it'll be ridiculed as a load of rubbish. Then where's your revolution?"
"Come on, people won't just believe the government denying it. By the time they get organised with a public enquiry, let alone actually carry it out, their heads will already be on spikes. No one will wait to find out the truth."
Madeline stood up. "Whatever they did to yo
u in that place, it didn't work, because you're still crazy."
Gus grinned up at her. "It has been said."
18
Wednesday 29th January 2053: The Turncoat Magazine Office
Kenton slammed his door shut, tossed his bag towards his desk, and dropped onto the sofa. He lay down, draping an arm over his forehead like a melodrama heroine. He turned over and buried his face into the upholstery.
"What the hell are you doing?" Drew asked, throwing the door open.
"Go away," Kenton said, without lifting his head.
"You storm in here, slamming doors like a petulant teenager, and you're not going to give me an explanation? You're a grown man."
Kenton rolled onto his back. "It's over. It's all over."
Drew sighed and sat in Kenton's desk chair. "What is?"
"The book. My career. My life."
"Is this another creative meltdown? What will it take this time? All night drinking? A strip joint? Star Wars movie marathon?"
Kenton sat up, giving Drew the most fed-up look he could muster.
"I'm serious this time. They're stopping me from seeing Amie. The last three times, she's been in segregation or in healthcare. But I know they're lying, just to keep us apart."
"Hicks. You assured me it was just business between you two."
"It is."
"Really? Because I have a phone message for you. Bridget Meyers. You know, that lawyer you gave Amie's case notes to."
"Oh."
Drew folded his arms. "Yes, oh."
"It's nothing."
"Never get emotionally involved. Never. You know better than this."
"She doesn't deserve to be locked up her whole life."
"Why not? Because she's pretty, or sweet? Because you two have a connection? It's not your call. She's a criminal, and she's exactly where she belongs."
"According to who?"
"Well, I imagine the family of that poor little girl think she is."
"That was an accident," Kenton muttered.
Cutting the Bloodline Page 4
