by Devin Hanson
As the Chows answered his questions, Min gradually built a picture of the home life of the missing girl. Diagnosed or not, it was clear that Nuon Chow suffered from a dissociative disorder. The loss of her ovaries had traumatized Nuon, and it affected her relationship with her daughter. Jasmine, likely feeling estranged in her own home, was a willfully disruptive child, often pulling other children into her misdeeds. Her parents, operating on some level of denial over the whole thing, were blissfully unaware of the true nature of the girl they were raising.
For her part, Jasmine more or less kept to herself while home. She had all the creature comforts a girl of fifteen could want, but lacked the loving parents that would help her develop into a functional adult. Min didn’t doubt that eventually Jasmine would make the same choice as her mother and have her ovaries removed in order to continue the extravagant lifestyle she had grown used to.
It wasn’t an uncommon trend. There were several thousand wujin living on Mars and they all had to get monthly treatments. Where there was a market, there would always be people willing to make money off that demand. And, of course, there were those who would kidnap and murder young girls and harvest their ovaries for the payoff.
It was the dark side of the wujin. Every time Min went in to get his treatment, he wondered if the egg cell that was extending his life had originated from a girl locked in a cage and harvested like an animal when her period started. A hundred years ago it had bothered him a lot more. Now he did what he could in the marshals and received his monthly treatment without dwelling on it.
Jasmine’s daily routine was typical of a child in school. She got up in the morning and went with one of her parents to the school two levels up. There were thirty or forty other students in her age group, none of which she had made friends with that her parents knew of. After school, one of her parents would meet her and walk her home. She would do her homework then use the entertainment console in her room until it was time for bed.
On the weekends, her parents would sometimes take her shopping. Once a year, they would take a holiday to different clusters and stay in a hotel. Her parents would gamble and drink, while Jasmine was given a guardian and allowed to find what entertainment she could on her own.
It was hard to read Nuon Chow’s feelings. Part of her, it seemed, was secretly glad her daughter was missing. The other part was horrified at her disinterest and compensated to cover it up. It was Nuon that had requested the marshals look into her missing daughter. Not consciously following the appropriate law enforcement channels, more just a blind stab at the most dramatically obvious effort to show that she did, in fact, care about Jasmine.
It was just as well she had. Captain Giovanni would have been loath to summon the marshals until it had become obvious Jasmine was no longer in Vastitas. Of course, by that time it would have been far too late. As things stood, Jasmine had been missing for a little over thirty-six hours.
“One last question, before I begin my investigation,” Min said. “You mentioned earlier that Jasmine had started getting her periods. When was her last menstruation cycle?”
“Eighteen days ago,” Nuon answered promptly.
“Do you know how long her normal cycle lasts?”
“Her last was twenty-nine days,” Nuon said. “When Jasmine went missing, it was the first thing I thought of.”
“Thank you.” Min stood to leave. “You’ve both been very helpful.”
“You’ll find our daughter?” Zhen asked.
“I can’t promise anything, but I will have the full support of the Colonial Marshals investigating with me. If your daughter can be found, we will find her. I will stay in contact with you. If you hear anything about Jasmine or think of any detail you haven’t told me yet, please, do not hesitate to call me.”
Min shook Zhen’s hand and made good his retreat. Jasmine had had her period eighteen days ago. He had to find her before her next menstrual cycle began and her eggs were ready to harvest.
He had ten days, starting now.
There were times, Min thought, when he hated his job.
“If you don’t mind, Mrs. Chan, start at the beginning.”
The spindly old crone glared at him through heavy spectacles that warped her irises into enormous, baleful pits. Min felt exhausted. He had spent almost a whole day tracking down and talking to various people that Jasmine had possibly interacted with on the day of her disappearance. So far, he hadn’t gotten any good information that could help him start tracking down the missing girl. The people he had talked to had been glowing in their memories of the poor missing girl, so patently saccharine that it made Min wonder just how awful a child Jasmine had been.
Mrs. Chan, the school’s part-time assistant teacher, had a sour attitude and a biting honesty that was like a breath of fresh air.
“Horrible little brat,” Mrs. Chan sniffed. “Always getting into trouble.”
“When was the last time you saw Jasmine?”
“She and that other girl, the Nueva de Vita child, must have run off when we were crossing the market. They certainly weren’t with us when we reached the vats.”
“Sorry, the other girl?”
“Angeline. Sweet girl, very smart. Wasn’t the best at picking her friends, but what child is?”
“Is Angeline missing too?”
“Oh, heavens yes. Didn’t they tell you?”
Min sighed. Whatever strings Nuon Chow had pulled to get the investigation started had been solely for her own daughter. Nobody had seen fit to tell him that a second girl had gone missing as well.
A single girl might have run off on a lark or gone to hide with a boyfriend. Two girls gone missing together cemented the case as a kidnapping.
“Could you tell me where the Nueva de Vita family lives?”
Twenty minutes later, Min was knocking on another door. The Nueva de Vita family lived in a communal dwelling that had more in common with a prison than an apartment. Tiny living spaces were packed as close together as possible, some without private bathrooms or kitchens.
It was as far from the spacious opulence of the Chow’s as it was possible to be in Vastitas Cluster.
The door swung open, and a haggard woman peeked out. “What do you want?”
Min held up his badge. “Marshal Yang. I would like a moment of your time, ma’am.”
Whatever stitched-together willpower that had been holding the woman together fell apart. She slid to her knees, silent tears running down her face. “She is taken, then? My little Angeline?”
“Do you mind if I come inside?”
Numbly, the woman swung the door open and made her way to her feet. Inside the Nueva de Vita home was a riot of color. The rooms looked lived in and one entire wall was covered in a collage of proudly displayed childish artwork in varying degrees of sophistication. In another area, partitioned off by a hanging sheet, a baby was crying.
“Hannah!” the woman called, “Get Emilio!”
A girl, fifteen or sixteen years of age, emerged from deeper within the apartment and vanished behind the sheet. After a moment the baby stopped crying.
With a visible effort, the woman composed herself. “Forgive my manners. Will you have a seat?” She gestured toward a cluttered table surrounded by well-worn chairs.
“Thank you.” Min chose a chair and perched on the edge of it. The Nueva de Vita family came from a long line of Martian colonists and were as tall as any Min had met. Their chairs were a little too tall for comfort. “Am I right in assuming you are Angeline Nueva de Vita’s mother?”
“Yes. Justine, please. Do you have news of Angeline?”
“I’m afraid not. In fact, I only just learned that she was missing. I came hoping for a picture of Angeline and to learn what I could of her.”
Justine stood to get a family portrait from the wall. “This is Angeline.”
Min took a picture with his tablet and cropped the image down to just the missing girl. Angeline had the same wavy, raven-dark hair as her mother, wit
h well-formed cheek bones and a slender nose. Her eyes were wide and bright. Despite the awkward posing for the family shot, Min could tell she was smiling genuinely.
“She’s a beautiful girl,” Min said.
“I don’t have much to offer, but would you like some water?”
Min nodded, and watched Justine as she busied herself. Angeline’s mother was younger than he had originally thought, despite having four children. Angeline’s disappearance had hit her hard, but she was coping as best she could.
Justine returned to the table, handing him a glass of water and a coaster for the table. “Thank you. Can you tell me about Angeline?”
“She wants to be a scientist,” Justine said. “Always asking questions and excited to learn new things.” There was a faraway look in her eyes as she spoke, and for a moment whatever memory she was thinking of lifted the cloud of worry from her face.
“She did well in school, then?”
“Yes. Angeline always got good grades. She worked hard on her homework.”
“There was another girl who went missing with her. Jasmine Chow. Do you know of her? Did Angeline ever mention her to you?”
Justine shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes again.
Hannah emerged from behind the curtain, bouncing a boy in diapers on her hip. “Are you looking for my sister?” she asked.
Min nodded.
“I know Jasmine Chow. She dropped a grade last year and had to repeat a year. She’s a little whore.”
“Hannah!” Justine cried. “That’s no way to speak–”
“I don’t care, ma! She pulled Angeline away from the school trip and now Angeline is gone!” Hannah shouted back. Bright tears shone in her eyes. “I hate her!” The baby started crying again and Hannah turned her back, hurrying to the back of the apartment cradling her brother and sobbing.
Justine buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking silently.
Min felt awkward. He didn’t know how to comfort the woman without touching her. The evident grief of the Nueva de Vita family compared to the carefully manufactured concern of the Chows twisted at something inside Min.
He cleared his throat, and busied himself looking at the artwork on the wall until Justine had gathered herself and dried her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Marshal. I apologize for Hannah’s behavior.”
Min shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Do you mind if I take a look at Angeline’s room?”
“She shares a room with Hannah. Down at the end of the hall.”
“Thank you. I won’t be long.”
Min walked down to the indicated door and knocked on it with a knuckle.
“Go away!”
“It’s the marshal,” he said.
The door snatched open immediately. Hannah’s face was red with embarrassment but as she looked down at him her gaze was defiant. “What do you want?”
“Your mother said I could take a look around Angeline’s room. If that’s okay with you.”
“Oh.” Hannah hugged herself and stepped aside, making space so Min could walk into the room. “What are you looking for?”
Min shrugged. “I don’t know.” A bunkbed was epoxied to the wall on one side of the room and a portable crib had been set up in the corner where Emilio was lying on his back, batting at a mobile hanging above him. The bunkbed hammocks were lined with pillows and the flotsam Min associated with children. They looked comfortable. “Who sleeps on top?” he asked, nodded at the bunks.
“I do,” Hannah said. “Do you think you’ll be able to find Angeline?”
The unanswered part of the question, “before she is murdered for her ovaries,” hung in the air.
“I hope so.”
“You’ll kill the bastards who kidnapped her?”
Min looked at Hannah and raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t look at me like that. Pa says men who kidnap and kill girls should be thrown out on the surface naked.”
“And what do you think?”
“Angeline is my sister. I think that’s too quick a death.”
Min nodded. “I happen to agree, but my first priority is finding your sister. If the kidnappers get in my way though…” He touched the worn holster at his belt, felt the textured polycarbonate of the grip. Hannah’s eyes followed the movement and her mouth tightened.
“I hope they do,” she said firmly. “I hope you kill them all.”
Min left the Nueva de Vita’s dwelling, but it wasn’t empty-handed. He didn’t have much to work on, but it was more than he had had. He had a photo of Angeline and scans of her fingerprints. And he knew the girls had been kidnapped. Any hope that this was a case of teenage angst was gone. Jasmine he could see running away to spite her parents, but Angeline came from a loving family.
Knowing it was a kidnapping changed everything. The girls had been missing for two days now. So many kidnappings of this sort happened that the marshals couldn’t hope to chase them all down. Normally, a case this old would be investigated briefly and then forgotten. That the Chows had placed a bounty on finding their daughter made it worth Min’s while to follow the investigation to its conclusion.
It was mercenary, but it was a fact of the real world. Min’s marshal salary could never cover his Womack treatments. He stayed alive by taking on cases with bounties attached. Normally, his cases were like Sarah Esperalda, murderers on the lam from the law, too dangerous for local police to deal with or outside the safety of the clusters.
A sad fact of life in the clusters was that the usual kidnapping victim didn’t have a family wealthy enough to put a bounty on her return. Angeline fell squarely into the category of “investigate briefly then forget about it.” By a twist of luck, Angeline’s fate was tied to Jasmine Chow’s.
For better or for worse.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Excerpt from the medical journal of James Womack, detailing his lab results and discoveries leading up to the codification of the Womack Process:
I’ve found the answer. Achromasia, or more colloquially, albinism. Albinism is the key. The discovery was made almost by accident. One of the test subjects in control group 65b was an albino chimpanzee. All the other test subjects suffered complete systemic organ failure in a matter of days except for the chimp I’ve named Ognan.
What was it about the albino chimp that made my process succeed? I have a blood sample from Ognan before the treatment. I’ll run it through the gene sequencer just to make sure the albinism allele isn’t a coincidence, but something in my gut tells me what the answer will be.
If albinism is the missing link to the success of the treatment, part of the therapy will be tweaking the recipient’s DNA gradually to manifest that trait.
Is that what the future looks like? Mankind, living eternally, but albino? Only time will tell.
Angeline was awake, staring into the blackness. She was tired to her bones, but nightmares made sleeping difficult. And once she had wakened, Eva Lupe’s snoring had made it impossible to get back to sleep. It wasn’t the snoring that kept her awake, though that didn’t help.
Eva had confided to them that she had started her period in the late afternoon.
The snores grated on her. How could Eva sleep at all? Angeline closed her eyes and folded her arms over her ears. It was uncomfortable; there was no way she could fall asleep like that, but at least it blocked out the snores.
Angeline didn’t fully understand what was going to happen to them. She had heard stories. Who hadn’t? But the whispers traded in the schoolroom were vague. She hadn’t seen many movies, and her family’s limited entertainment deck hadn’t offered any real information.
The Womack Process was an inescapable part of life on Mars. Everyone knew the key to immortality had been found, and there were people walking around that had lived for more than two hundred years. Vastitas Cluster didn’t have a large population of wujin, but Angeline had seen them. That the Womack Process required a monthly treatment, somehow involvin
g a human egg cell was equally well known.
The gap in Angeline’s knowledge was why young women were kidnapped and went missing. She knew what the menstrual cycle was. She shared a room with her older sister, after all, and the hygiene supplies involved in dealing with the monthly flow couldn’t be avoided. She released an egg once a month, her uterus swelled with blood in anticipation of the egg getting fertilized, and then the uterus lining broke down and was flushed out.
She had a momentary image of thousands of young women chained in rows along a wall with machines inserted between their legs, greedily sucking out their eggs.
Angeline shuddered and tried to forget the image. That couldn’t possibly be true. Why, there would have to be a whole cluster dedicated to it! Surely someone would have noticed.
The lights buzzed then flickered on. The sudden brightness stabbed at Angeline’s eyes and she squinted around the room. Jasmine was sleeping, peacefully ignorant of the light. Eva started awake and stared around, disoriented. Adora was sitting on the edge of her cot, blanket around her shoulders, her eyes red from crying silently in the night.
Angeline watched as Eva remembered where she was and horror washed over the older girl. Eva rolled herself in her tattered blanket and faced the wall. Adora leaned over and started whispering to Eva. Angeline was too far away to hear, but the words had a comforting cadence to them.
The door to the room swung open and the jailer walked in, rolling a cart in front of him. Angeline knew the routine and brought her waste pail to the gate without having to be asked, taking care not to slosh the contents. The jailer opened the hatch at the bottom of the gate and traded her full pail for an empty one containing the day’s food and water.
The next cage over was Jasmine’s and the jailer rattled the mesh with his stunrod. “Oy, missy, wake up and pass your piss or I’ll leave it in there with you for the day.”
Jasmine woke with a start. After an alarmed glance at the jailer she hastened to comply, moving stiffly from the beating she had received two days ago. By the time the jailer moved on to the next cage, Adora had her pail waiting.
