by Victor Koman
"Life is a continuum, stretching ever backward and forward through time. You can't take a certain arbitrary point and say, `Humanity begins here,' as if it hadn't been present before." Brunner pinched thumb and forefinger together. "To say, though, that a blastocyst smaller than the human eye can see is a human being with as many rights as an adult is like saying a one-year-old should be able to vote. Rights accrue in incre-ments over time, and the prevailing consensus is that the right to life begins at some point when most fetuses could generally be expected to survive outside the womb." He turned from the jurors to gaze directly at Fletcher with sympathy growing in his eyes. "Dr. Fletcher's concern for unviable fetuses is touching but not worth the risk to the adult women involved. It certainly merits no serious effort to re-search. If she values human life so, she should have worked exclusively in the fields of fertility and contraception-as I have-instead of trying to find loopholes and rationales for abortion. She was wrong even to pursue such a goal."
Evelyn felt the crush of his words as she did three decades ago. His hurt had not diminished. He had sublimated his pain into his work as she had buried her regrets in hers.
Salvage what you can, Johnson mused during the brief si-lence, then said, "You admit, though, that transoption did help Karen Chandler in this instance-a woman who was unable to become pregnant by any current means."
"She seemed to have exhausted all the legitimate methods. Was pregnancy so important to her, though, that she overlooked adoption agencies?"
"That is not at issue here."
"Isn't it?" Brunner looked around the courtroom. "There are tens of thousands of unwanted children languishing in orphan-ages and state facilities-"
"At least," Johnson said, "they are alive to languish. Or would it have been better for them to have died before birth?" Before Brunner could reply, he sharply said, "No further questions, Your Honor."
XVIII
The trial became an official media circus with the establish-ment of a reporters' outpost in a room at the Torrance court-house. Permanently staffed every day with gofers and assis-tants, well provided with food and every imaginable soft drink, it served as the central gathering point for newspaper, maga-zine, and TV reporters. It was also on the same floor of the building as the cafeteria.
"Your tax dollars at play," Fletcher muttered as she and the others pressed past the crowded doorway, surrounded by strobes, floodlights, microphone-wielding hands, and strained faces. They listened intently to Dr. Brunner's answer to a ques-tion.
Brunner gestured toward the rear doors. "Protesters on both sides aren't squabbling over human rights. They're arguing over questions of funding. Should the government fund abor-tions or not? A lot of your so-called pro-life people are more concerned with the fact that tax dollars are being used to fund large numbers of abortions than they are with the question of human rights per se. Conversely, many pro-choice people are more concerned with sustaining abortion subsidies than they are with the rights of women. If transoption were available, it wouldn't end the controversy. You'd see a very different landscape of debate if federal money were not involved, but it is. Abortion in and of itself does not affect enough people long enough to produce the social outcry that would lead to"-his hands made motions as if he were trying to fashion a planet in his palms-"to harnessing the financial resources necessary to research this properly."
"Doesn't public outcry lead to reforms?" asked one reporter in the rear. Brunner looked over the crowd at her. "It's a lot easier," he said, "to fire bomb a building or take a day off from your job to march in protest of this or that than it is to work for months or years to shake loose enough money to fund a solution. The former makes for flashier news coverage. The latter can actu-ally improve the human condition."
Terry held the floor among another clot of newshounds, his hair glistening under the lights.
"We're very confident," he said. "Dr. Brunner was an excel-lent expert witness, and I think his testimony can only help our case. And now we'd like to eat."
Members of the press were considerate enough to leave the cafeteria as a haven for the litigants. To ensure such consider-ation, a pair of sheriff's deputies stood at the doorway. The newshawk cluster disintegrated like a cell membrane to al-low its nucleus to push through the entrance. Karen and David shared a tray. Neither bought much. Just half sandwiches and half pints of milk. Evelyn picked up two cups of coffee, a bearclaw, an RC cola, and a turkey sandwich. Terry eyed her tray as he arrived with his. "Caffeine and sugar. That would completely unhinge my brain."
"The protein and tryptophan in the turkey make up for it," she said deadpan. "Besides"-she scanned his tray-"I don't think I'd last long on tomato soup and crackers." He smiled, setting the tray down next to hers. "Force of habit from law school. I was one of three who worked our way through without scholarships or loans."
"It must have been hard work," Karen said.
Johnson shrugged. "It wasn't that prestigious a school." He unconsciously added some catsup to the tomato soup, then crumbled in the crackers. "I was able to graduate before mal-nutrition set in." After a few sips, he pointed his spoon at Fletcher.
"You. When Czernek's through with his side, I'm-"
The sharp, insistent sound of Fletcher's Metagram receiver chirped through the cafeteria. Her hand jammed into her jacket pocket to silence it, withdrawing it in the same motion. She had it clipped to her pack of cigarettes. The LCD display on the pager held a message from Dr. DuQuette. Still no stem cell activity.
She pressed the advance button to display the next line.
Nearing absolute neutropenia.
Evelyn took in the news without emotion. It meant that Renata was nearing the total loss of any ability whatsoever to fight off infection. Anything could attack her now-even the sort of usually benign bacteria that floated around on dust motes and lurked on nearly every common surface. Were it not for the isolation chamber she lived in continuously, even the most ordinary and unlikely minor infection could invade and overrun her, bringing death within hours or minutes. She depressed the key one more time. Call me ASAP. Lon.
"Would you excuse me?" she asked the group. "I've got to return this call."
"How is she?" David asked.
"Dr. DuQuette just has some questions," Fletcher replied in a casual tone. She pushed the chair out to rise. "Be right back."
She found a booth and called DuQuette's office. His tenor voice-normally cheerful, currently tight with concern-an-swered. "DuQuette."
"Evelyn," she said. "What's her white?" DuQuette read her the figures on her white blood cell count. It was close enough to zero to be inconsequential. "All right," she said in a clipped tone. "Give her a few more hours with a count every hour. If you see any activity at all, call me. If you don't, call me."
"Either way-right." He rang off hurriedly.
She returned the receiver to its cradle. Walking back to the table, she announced that she was stepping out for a smoke.
"How's Renata?" This time Karen asked. Her eyes held a fa-tal concern.
"She's steady. Babies have a will to survive." Fletcher laid a gentle hand on Karen's shoulder. "It's only grownups that can choose to give up. Hang in there." She clasped David's shoul-der for good measure. Her gaze met Johnson's. She signaled him to follow and turned away. Johnson finished his soup in a few easy spoons and stood. "I want to review some testimony with Dr. Fletcher. You two take it easy."
The courtyard was blissfully free of reporters. A cool sea breeze wafted through the building while patches of high clouds scudded overhead. He saw Fletcher lighting up and joined her.
"How is she really?" he asked.
"In trouble." She took a short, nervous drag. "I should be there."
"DuQuette's good, you said."
She threw the cigarette to the ground half-smoked. Her shoe rammed down to crush out its flame.
"Sure. But if she dies, I'll never know if I'd have been able to save her. I might have known one extra protocol, seen one
additional symptom, rec-ognized some obscure infection." Her eyes turned toward the clouds.
Johnson's watch chimed. He reached over to silence it. "Time to head back." She put an arm across his shoulders with weary friendli-ness. "When Czernek rests his case, what have you got in store for Karen?"
"I've decided not to put Karen on. I got the most I could out of her during my cross-exam. I want you to go up."
Her arm dropped. "What?"
Johnson grinned.
XIX
Judge Lyang entered the courtroom and took her place be-hind the bench. She rapped the gavel lightly once.
"Court will come to order. I have been notified by counsel for the plaintiff that they have rested their case." She looked at Czernek and Dalton as if in confirmation. She nodded to them with a slight turn of her head, then shifted her attention to Johnson, Fletcher, and the Chandlers.
"The defense may now present its case. Mr. Johnson?"
Johnson rose. "The defense has only one witness," he said. "Dr. Evelyn Fletcher." The Chandlers turned toward each other in shock and sur-prise, then stared back at Johnson. Cameras swiveled about for reactions. The spectators murmured among themselves or into pocket recorders.
Before she could comment, Johnson faced the judge to say, "Your Honor, I could present the Chandlers to argue that theirs would be the preferred home for Renata." He turned toward the jurors.
"They are already paying for her medical care and are in all other ways serving as her parents. I think, though"-he approached the jury box slowly, somberly-"that the ques-tion of custody in this case does not rest so much with the fitness of the parents as it does with the nature of the opera-tion and the explicit agreements involved. Dr. Fletcher, as a co-defendant in this case, is as much an interested party as the parents. And it is my contention that transoption is implic-itly on trial here today via the question of the status of Exhibit A-the contract Valerie Dalton signed. If the contract is found to be fraudulently induced, then Renata is rightfully the daugh-ter of Valerie Dalton and Ron Czernek." He leaned on the bar separating him from the six jurors. "If, however, the contract is determined to be legitimate, then transoption will be recog-nized as a moral, life-saving alternative to abortion, and Karen and David Chandler would be the rightful parents of Baby Renata."
He turned to look up at Lyang. She raised one eyebrow as if to say it was his case and he could blow it however he wanted. "Counsel is free to proceed," she said, sitting back in her black vinyl chair. Dr. Fletcher ascended to the witness stand and was sworn in. Valerie Dalton stared impassively into the woman's eyes as they chanced to gaze down at her. She saw no anger, even though her actions had cost Dr. Fletcher her career. Valerie lowered her gaze to the papers on her part of the table. Her fingers twined in a tight, anxious double fist.
"Dr. Fletcher," Johnson asked after she had been sworn in, "what are your qualifications to be an expert witness in medi-cal ethics?"
The spectators watched in silent amazement.
Czernek jumped to his feet. "While we stipulate that she is qualified, we object to her testimony as utterly biased!"
Johnson turned toward the judge. "Your Honor, Dr. Fletcher's testimony as an expert in medical ethics is crucial to deter-mining her intent."
"On that point you may question," Lyang said in a caution-ing tone. "Proceed."
"Thank you, Your Honor." Johnson focused his attention on Fletcher, who sat in the witness box as straight and unwaver-ing as a statue. "Dr. Fletcher, this court has heard a lot about transoption but very little about how it actually works. Could you explain to the jury just what this medical procedure is?" Fletcher turned to the jurors. Her voice was even, her deliv-ery flat and pedagogical. "The first half of a transoption is simi-lar to a suction abortion. The abortion would be accomplished by dilating the cervix of the pregnant woman, inserting a tube into the uterus, and suctioning the fetus out. The big difference in transoption is that I used a fiberoptic scope to locate the fetus and a tube large enough to capture the entire fetus without damage to the chorionic membrane."
"What happens to the fetus in a normal suction abortion?" Johnson asked.
"Generally, the chorionic membrane is ruptured; delicate parts such as arms and legs sometimes tear away. In the rare cases where the fetus is suctioned out intact, it doesn't survive long in the holding tank."
"What happens in the holding tank of your transoption ma-chine?"
"The low power suction delivers the fetus to a holding tank consisting of Ham's F-10 and buminate in a solution of...."
Valerie listened to Fletcher's description of the operation. Vivid memories of that evening churned within her. She re-membered the eerie glow from the machine, the cryptic dia-logue between Fletcher and her nurse, the spot on the ceiling that held her attention.
Most of all, though, she remembered the searing pain. The cramps for days afterward. The bright red blood on the tube, the gloves, the sheets. Blood everywhere, her baby gone. For months she fought to suppress the feeling that what she did was wrong. She eventually succeeded. Then to discover that her baby still lived-that brought a pain greater than any physi-cal agony imaginable. She reached out to touch Ron's hand. She almost recoiled at the feverish heat. It held down a pad while his other hand wrote out extensive notes. She wondered if he was remem-bering that night or if his mind was racing over possible tac-tics and scenarios.
"And why," she heard Johnson ask, "did you choose that moment in time and these two women to attempt such an op-eration?"
Fletcher sighed. "I'd been arguing for the opportunity for years. To me, the ethical separation between donor and re-cipient was clear. The donor was not having the pregnancy terminated simply to provide the fetus; she wanted an abor-tion. It was certainly not my intention to deprive Ms. Dalton of her child. She made that choice. And the precedent of using aborted fetuses in experiments was already established." Her speech quickened as the anger and frustration of years sur-faced. She looked around the room, her gaze slowly fixing on Dr. Brunner. "Sure, researchers could find ways to use the parts of a fetus-pancreas, liver, brain tissue, and probably a lot more I haven't read about-but to try to save the fetus, try to give it another chance at survival, I-" She stopped to look at Johnson. "What did you ask?" Her eyes glistened, wet.
"Why did you pick Ms. Dalton and Mrs. Chandler for-"
Fletcher nodded. "Because there was Karen, unable to con-ceive in any normal way, blowing thousands of dollars with each try and her body going crazy with hormones to match cycles, and in walked Valerie, who wanted to destroy a per-fectly healthy baby and-"
She paused, realizing that an anger had arisen. She took a calming breath, then looked at the jurors. The men stared at her with poorly disguised curiosity. The women watched her with an understanding that may or may not have been sympa-thetic.
Johnson stepped over to her. "Let me ask you this," he said gently. "Why didn't you announce this attempt to the hospital administration?"
"Because by then I had realized that every step forward in human rights is always opposed by those who gain privileges from the status quo."
Czernek shot to his feet. "Objection! This case is not a civil rights battle, it is a custody dispute and such pronouncements from Dr. Fletcher are irrelevant to the issues raised here." Johnson approached the bench. "Your Honor, this is clearly a case of rights. Both Ms. Dalton and Mrs. Chandler are claim-ing a right to be Renata's mother. Dr. Fletcher is defending her right to perform transoptions. I suggest that human rights are quite germane to the question of custody rights." Judge Lyang mulled over the problem. "Overruled," she said quietly, leaning back in her chair to listen.
Johnson smiled at her, then turned to Fletcher. "Please elabo-rate on your remark."
"I mean that just as the abolition of slavery was opposed by slave owners and the rights of women were opposed by men in power, so the rights of unborn children are opposed-even by those who claim to defend them. And their opposition-which seems so logical to them right n
ow-will be viewed by history as the outrageous ravings of vested interests."
She sat up straighter in the wooden chair, looking from the jurors to Jane Burke, seated in the second row of the spectator area. "I suggest, for instance, that Jane Burke overcome her hostility toward sex in order to examine history a bit more carefully. Contraception-invented, as she said, by men for their beasts of burden-was used secretly by women in defi-ance of their male oppressors. It was woman's first major vic-tory in reproductive rights."
Burke shook her head pitifully, smiling the sort of disap-pointed smile that told everyone watching that the poor doc-tor was obviously gravely in error. She looked at her notepad to jot down another idea for an article.
"Adoption," Fletcher continued, "also began as a sexist male tool. It allowed a nobleman to acquire a male heir to inherit his land and fortune. It permitted a man to pretend that he had a son when in fact the boy bore no genetic relation to him. Girls weren't adopted. Infanticide was acceptable for elimi-nating them and still is in parts of the world. Yet because of the sexist invention of adoption, a few young boys were spared from early death or lives of poverty. Over the years, the origins of adoption were forgotten by most, until today people adopt children of both sexes and all races for reasons of love, not primogeniture. And because of that, infanticide is now con-sidered a foul crime in societies that revere human life and human rights. The invention of adoption did nothing to erode women's rights; it extended the concept of human rights to children. I am extending it to embryos." A few seats down from Burke, Avery Decker and James Rosen sat together. Decker watched the feminist out of the corner of his eye, a half-victorious smirk curling at his lips. Rosen, though, focused all his attention on Fletcher. The younger man had never heard such an argument before. He concentrated on her words to the point of waving away a poke in the ribs from Decker.
