Children of the Miracle

by Daniel Weisbeck

  ‘Do you think it would be possible for me to visit the Belt?’ Mercy’s voice hopeful, not wanting to create another awkward situation.

  ‘I’m sure we can arrange that,’ affirmed the Ambassador.

  The heart of the city was a hive of flying vehicles zipping orderly in a patchwork of invisible arteries between the condensed buildings. Private Theo joined a central, heavily used lane. The conveyer belt of vehicles was heading inward to the heart of Sanctuary City. Arriving outside the White Tower, they hovered in front of an open docking bay while a bright blue light rolled through the ship. A voice over the holodeck confirmed their approval to land.

  Ambassador Joan stood, facing Mercy. ‘The Prime will greet us in the docking bay. She has asked for a private meeting with you immediately after we port. Once you’ve finished, I’ll return and escort you to the Hall of Science inside the White Tower. There you will meet Doctor Chase, who heads the government Population Research and Development Department. He has received the summary report you sent through and is looking forward to meeting you.’

  The ship floated to a gentle stop inside the building. The docking bay, housing five other ships of the same size as the Ambassador’s, had a military air. Metal-constructed walls and floors with rubberised walkways were illuminated by green arrows directing traffic. Guards in perfectly cut blue bodysuits, with laser guns strapped around their waists, moved about the bay and adjoining ships busy in work.

  Standing at the doorway into the White Tower, under a metal sign reading MILITARY PERSONNEL ONLY, and flanked by two guards, was the Prime. Thin in frame and upright, she had one hand tucked halfway into a flat front coat pocket, and the other hung at her side. Her full lips curled slightly upwards on the ends in a guarded smile. Dark ebony skin hid her age, but the coarse silver hair tied back tight behind her head, gave away her maturity. Pinned on her chest, was a symbol of sun and flag: a circular broach, coloured in red, white and blue metal. She stared directly at Mercy with stern but trustworthy eyes.

  ‘Welcome, Doctor Perching.’ The Prime’s grin widened into a well-rehearsed smile. ‘I’m Prime Orla of the Sanctuary of Americas.’ Her once pocketed hand outstretched.

  Mercy unconsciously straightened her back; an effort to appear more official than her weak knees might give away. She accepted the Prime’s hand, noting the usual and expected bare flesh.

  ‘Madame Prime. On behalf of the Sanctuary of Europe, we’d like to thank you for extending the invitation. While the circumstances that have brought us back together are unfortunate, we hope this is a broader opportunity to build new bridges between our nations,’ recited Mercy, precisely as she had rehearsed in the mirror back home.

  The Prime narrowed her eyes but continued to smile. ‘Perhaps, yes, a future together. For now, though, we have a mutual goal. Let us start there.’

  Mercy understood the underlying message: wait and see. Their future would depend on the outcome of the mission.

  ‘Please, join me in my briefing room,’ the Prime invited.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The briefing room was on the top floor of the White Tower. Transparent ceiling to floor walls offered lighthouse views of the otherworldly city landscape below.

  The open heights caught at Mercy, making her dizzy. After a few minutes, she summoned the courage to look down. The high-altitude vantage point revealed Sanctuary City to be a series of connected inner circles, each a separate sub-city of alloy skyscrapers. Layers of flying vehicles filled the air, speeding along invisible expressways, occasionally rising or dropping down lanes to change their direction. Below the busy skyways, where metal met the urban decay of stone structures, a criss-cross of glass tubed travellators ushered crowds of citizens from one building to the next.

  The Prime spoke privately to Joan, who nodded and left with the two guards, leaving only Mercy in the room.

  ‘Please have a seat, Doctor Perching,’ invited the Prime, pointing to the only furniture in the room.

  Four sectional sofas faced each other, forming a ring around a low table which was also a holographic generator. Small tables at the ends of each sectional hosted dishes overflowing with large and vibrantly coloured fruits – a stark contrast to the pale micro fruit grown in bio-farms underneath the Earth’s surface in Mercy’s world. She hoped they would be on offer.

  ‘First, let me thank you for agreeing to come alone and without much details. I can imagine you are feeling tremendous pressure for both yourself and your Sanctuary, as well as some confusion. I’ll be honest. I’m also feeling the pressure. My decision to breach the ancient agreement between our cities didn’t go down well with my government. The mutation has proven to be a humbling reversal of fortune for us.’

  Mercy interrupted: ‘I’m sorry. Reversal of fortune?’

  ‘We pride ourselves on our technology. We invented the Shade to protect the city from the sun. Then we learned how to harness the sun’s power and to use it in safe doses to rebuild healthy ecosystems. The Shade and the Belt are probably the greatest achievements of humankind. So, the idea that we needed help – well, that was difficult for my government to swallow.’

  ‘You mean you need help from us. A nation not quite so advanced,’ answered Mercy, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘Please don’t take it as an insult. I’m happy you’re here and will admit that we need help.’

  ‘Madame Prime, one thing I don’t understand. Why just me? I could have brought my entire lab team to help with your research.’

  ‘Of course.’ She paused, contemplating the right words. ‘What I’m going to share with you may be difficult to understand. It may even have you question your decision to help us.’

  Mercy’s eyes widen with nervous anticipation. ‘Please, continue.’

  ‘Shortly after we broke off communication between the Sanctuaries, we approved a path of scientific exploration that was vehemently disapproved of by the other two Sanctuaries. Knowing that mammals had a natural resistance to the virus, we tried introducing animal DNA into living humans. But we continued to encounter insertional mutagenesis, making gene modification in living humans improbable.’

  Mercy’s stomach twisted on hearing her theory deflated before she had had the chance to start.

  The Prime went on: ‘So, we took a different route. We began modification at the cellular level. We developed a functioning hybrid foetus, part-human and part-animal, that would be immune to the virus. The new species, which in theory would be closer to human DNA, could offer a compatible gene sequence for the human genome.

  ‘Positive results came quickly, and we continued to push all boundaries on genetic modification of interspecies fertilisation. We bent, if not outright removed, any shared ethical codes we might have had with your Sanctuary long ago.’

  The Prime paused and took a declarative breath, drawing out a dramatic silence for impact. ‘You’ll need to prepare yourself, Doctor Perching. What you’re about to experience is nothing short of a miracle. Our scientists have developed an entirely new species. We call them the Chimera.’

  The hair on Mercy’s neck stiffened and tiny bumps trickled up her arm. Suddenly it became clear why she had been chosen for this mission. If the Prime knew her research, she could assume Mercy would be predisposed to human genome manipulation. But the Prime’s directive, breeding an entirely new species, went much further than even she had dared to imagine.

  The Prime’s hunch was right. Mercy was intrigued.

  ‘Would I be able to review your research on the Chimera species while I’m here?’ Mercy asked in a voice nearly pleading.

  With a slight nod and a grin, the Prime continued: ‘That you will, Doctor. In fact, it would be hard not to. Chimeras have moved well beyond a research project. The species are sentient, in their fourth generation, and fully integrated into our society. The first generation is now reaching thirty years of age. In total, Chimeras make up twe
nty percent of our population growth.’

  Mercy leaned back; confusion clouded her eyes, ‘Madame Prime, you’re saying the Chimeras live…with humans…as equals?’

  The Prime lifted one eyebrow and grinned. ‘That is precisely what I’m saying. You’ve already met two.’

  ‘The Ambassador?’ Mercy’s voice trailed off as she put the pieces of the puzzle together. The white fur on Joan’s hand.

  ‘Yes, and soon you will meet many more. But for now, we have to discuss the matter that has brought you to our city. Two months ago, my Chief Medical Officer announced the discovery of a new mutation of FossilFlu by our infectious disease team working on a vaccination. The new strain of the disease appears to be a mutation caused by exposure to Chimera biology.

  ‘I’ve not shared this information with the public. While Chimeras live among us, some believe we have crossed a moral line and openly oppose all modification to the human genome and the Chimeras’ existence. If news of a possible mutation to FossilFlu caused by exposure to Chimeras gets out, it will ignite a war here in my Sanctuary. This is the reason I have risked everything to bring you here. Our scientists are in a race against time to find a cure before the mutation happens on its own. I have some of the greatest minds working on the problem, but answers are not coming fast enough. I hope that your research and ideas will bring a fresh perspective to our own.’

  Mercy’s cheeks turned red, ‘I’m honoured you think so highly of my work. Honestly, looking at all you have achieved, I’m not sure what I can bring to the table. But I will try to help. I owe that to my people. If this mutation spreads, your internal political battles will be the least of our problems.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor.’ The Prime stood. ‘One last request. Only a handful of Senators know about the Sanctuary of Europe and your visit. Revealing your Sanctuary’s existence beyond the select few who know would cause equally devastating instability. Do you understand?’

  ‘Of course,’ Mercy replied genuinely, having heard the same from the Leaders.

  ‘To help avoid questions, we’ve given you a cover. Citizens of the Americas only use given names, so as of now, Doctor, you’re just Mercy, no more Perching. We’ve constructed an entire history and identity for you in our systems should anyone want to look you up. Ambassador Joan will walk you through the details in your private quarters after we finish here. If you keep your real identity in confidence, in return, you will be allowed to move about in public as a resident, without restriction.’

  Mercy placed a hand over the thin metal bracelet around her wrist. Without restriction but not without eyes on her at all times, she thought. She steadied her shoulders and extended a hand, accepting the agreement. ‘Madame Prime. I appreciate the trust, and I look forward to learning more about your city and all of its citizens while I’m here.’

  The Prime accepted her hand. ‘Good.’ Before they broke away, the Prime slightly tightened her grip, locked eyes with Mercy and said, ‘Doctor, I want to be clear on one point. I’m not asking for you or your government’s approval about our hybrids. The Chimeras are equals among us. I will protect them at all costs, as I would protect any citizen of the Sanctuary.’

  ‘Of course,’ Mercy answered, allowing the tight grip, and slightly shaken by the maternal intensity of her defence.

  The Prime called for Ambassador Joan before excusing herself, ‘I’m sorry I don’t have more time right now. I am sure you have a million questions. We can talk more tonight. There is a state dinner to introduce you to the Senate leaders of the Health and Security Council, who know of your visit along with Doctor Chase, our head of Infectious Disease Research.’

  ‘I look forward to it,’ Mercy lied, large-scale diplomacy sounded awful to her.

  Ambassador Joan entered the room. Mercy tried hard not to stare invasively at the hybrid. A new species, all along, right under her nose. Unbelievable!

  If the Ambassador noticed her conspicuous behaviour, she gave no concern. Perhaps, Mercy thought, because I’m the real curiosity in this place.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The lift opened on floor two hundred and forty-four. Joan led the way down a windowless hallway bathed in luminescent blue light.

  ‘We’ll be stopping at the Population Research and Development Centre ahead. This is where we’ve prepared your office next to Doctor Chase, whom you will briefly meet,’ Joan announced. ‘I believe his role is similar to the one you hold in your government’s Reclamation Department.’

  ‘Yes, it does sound similar,’ Mercy replied distantly, distracted by the strange fluorescent light that appeared to be coming from the walls themselves. She reached out to touch the surface.

  Joan smiled. ‘It’s bio-phosphorescent bacteria that feed off the solar radiation on the Shade.’

  ‘What a clever idea – using binary fission to create a source of internal light. It’s so simple,’ Mercy pondered more to herself than her host.

  Ambassador Joan stopped before a large door. To the right, a plaque read POPULATION RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT CENTRE. Below the sign, a digital security access panel just large enough to place a hand.

  ‘Before we go any further, Doctor Mercy, I understand the Prime has told you about my species.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Mercy, desperate to ask a thousand questions, but polite enough not to.

  ‘Then I should let you know that Doctor Chase is a C10 hybrid.’

  ‘Sorry, what’s a C10?’

  Suddenly realising the Prime hadn’t fully briefed Mercy, the Ambassador explained: ‘The goal of hybrid breeding is variation. We aim to fracture the human evolutionary path in as many different directions as we can to ensure survival. However, there are rules – guidelines for acceptable hybrid breeds so that we can live together in a productive society. There are ten hybrid classifications measured by physical attributes. A C1 is the closest line to original human DNA. A C10 is the furthest evolution from the human genome allowed. All hybrids must exhibit a human capacity for reasoning and problem solving, the ability to show empathy and to control instinct, be capable of vocal communication, be bipedal, and display compatible reproductive organs to female and male humans.’

  A god’s list, Mercy thought; the deconstruction of what makes humankind. Who made these choices? She wondered, and how many mistakes did it take to get it right?

  Joan continued, ‘Variances beyond those basic genetic requirements determine your classification. I’m a level C2. My DNA is human and seal’s mix.’ She shared this matter of factly as if describing her eye or hair colour. ‘As you can see, I display primarily human characteristics. A C10 would display the most animal-like – or if you will, the least human. Any foetus classified with features above level ten is terminated.’

  Mercy’s shoulders shivered. As a scientist herself, she understood the need for objectivity in research. However, something of the removed nature in the way Joan talked about the culling of her own species left her cold.

  Joan continued, ‘The development of C1 to C8 levels is prefered, but a few C9s and C10s are allowed if they exhibit unique DNA sequencing that could help us develop better hybrids in the future. However, C9s and C10s are sterilised at birth. The risk of their offspring regressing and presenting with unsanctioned features is too high.

  ‘Doctor Chase is a C10 from canine DNA. He will not present like any species you have ever seen before. But rest assured, he is human enough, and one of our brightest genealogists.’

  Joan placed her hand on the security panel. A viridescent light beamed on, and her PVA bracelet agreed, glowing with the same green light.

  ‘Oh, one other note,’ Joan interrupted, leaning back towards Mercy with a slight smile, ‘Doctor Chase can be a bit grumpy when he thinks you’re staring at him. Best try not to draw attention to his appearance.’

  A voice from the panel spoke: ‘Access granted, Ambassador Joan.’

  S
woosh. The metal door slid open.

  Fluorescent halos of digital displays hung in clouds over rows and rows of grey cubicles lining the floor of the department of population research. Quietly, employees dressed in identical beige uniforms, sat with their faces hidden behind partitions – the low murmurs of their soft voices talking privately to their PVAs commanded silence from visitors.

  At the far end of the laboratory, a tall and broad-shouldered man stood in half-shadows, his back to Mercy and Joan. He wore the same ashen uniform as the array of zealous scientists circling him, hanging on to his words like children at storytime. His thick and wavy hair stopped at his shoulders. Particular attention had been paid to brushing the coarse locks into place, holding back an otherwise unyielding dense mane of hair.

  The adoring gaze of this audience slowly shifted away from him and towards Joan and Mercy. Doctor Chase turned his head. Mercy fought back a gasp. Her stomach clenched as her mind desperately tried to make sense of the creature looking directly at her. More canine than man, his appearance was neither immediately attractive nor hideous, merely impossible, familiar features in a very unfamiliar form. His profile gave the distinct impression of a hound somehow framed within a human-shaped skull. The backwards-sloping forehead ended with a soft, almost non-existent brow, allowing his round ice-blue eyes, separated slightly farther than a human’s by a recessed nose bridge, to dominate the upper third of his face. His elongated jaw ended with two large front-facing nostrils made of porous black cartilage and separated by a bony septum. Skin flaps hung underneath his nose, forming an upper lip.

  The creature’s erect pointed ears suddenly moved in two different directions. Mercy’s heart beat wildly. Her mouth hung open, gaping. The dog-man’s flat eyebrows furrowed and his nostrils flared. Mercy’s palms went wet. He smelled the air. She stared at him with horrified eyes. His quizzical expression shifted, darkened, took the form of a very recognisable human expression: anger. The doctor stormed determinedly towards the two visitors.