Terminal Event

by Robert Vaughan

  “I have no answer to that question,” Damien replied. “I’m having enough trouble with religious groups as it is.”

  “Am I to understand that these are viable embryos?” President Tobin asked.

  “They are.”

  “That means, doesn’t it, that under the proper circumstances, they could actually be born?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you plan to do that?”

  “We haven’t made the final decision yet, but I am certainly advocating that we do so.”

  President Tobin nodded seriously in agreement.

  “All right, continue to march. But please keep Dr. Wilson informed as to what is going on.”

  “Yes, sir, I will.”

  “And thank you for coming to brief me,” President Tobin stated, with kindness yet firmness in his voice.

  “Are you kidding? Who would refuse an invitation from the President? Oh, by the way, a friend of mine sends her greetings. Ava Glennon says to tell you hello.”

  Tobin laughed. “A friend of yours, is she? Well you tell her for me, that if she moderates a debate during my reelection campaign to please take some of the barbs out of her questions.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Damien promised. “Knowing her as I do, I don’t know that it will do any good, but I will tell her.”

  6

  Damien convened a meeting of everyone who was involved with the Antarctic Six project, and told them that he had decided that the embryos should be brought to term.

  “You would do so, despite the wide-spread moral objections to it?” McElwain asked.

  “Like survivors from the Titanic, someone went to the trouble of putting these embryos into a lifeboat to sail across the sea of time in hopes that some future generation would rescue them. We are that future generation, and if we were to turn our back on them now, that would be as uncharitable as to fail to throw out a lifeline to those in peril.

  “I honestly feel that to abandon them now would be a moral outrage that would be held against us for the next one hundred generations.”

  “I think you may be right,” McElwain said. “But how are we going to deal with God’s Legion?”

  “I hope this will take care of that,” Damien said as he showed McElwain a statement:

  We, the undersigned, believe that the six embryos found in a recent Antarctic expedition, are God’s children. We, the men and women of this time, owe an allegiance to protect and bring to the fullness of life, these innocent children who have been left in our trust.

  [Signed] Francis Cardinal Patterson, Roman Catholic Church; Bishop William Norton, Episcopal Church; Reverend E.D. Owen, Southern Baptist Convention; Rabbi Sol Steinberg American Council for Judiasm

  “No Muslim signature?” McElwain asked.

  “I’m sure there are Muslims who would support it,” Damien said. “I just haven’t been able to find any, yet.”

  “What do you plan to do with this? How do you plan to use it?”

  “I’ll release this document at the same time I put out the call for surrogate mothers.”

  “How broad will your call be?”

  “As broad as it needs to be, to get the volunteers. I do have one stipulation, though. I want two of the women to be white, two to be black, and two to be Asian. We have no idea what race the embryos are, and I don’t want to take the risk of DNA testing. We’ll just have to wait until they are born to find out, and in the meantime, by using surrogate mothers from all three races, we are including the entire world in the process.”

  “Yes,” McElwain said, nodding in approval. “Yes, I think that is a very good idea.”

  Within a matter of days, newspaper headlines the world over, put out the call for surrogate mothers in English, French, Vietnamese, German, Chinese, and half a dozen other languages.

  Surrogate Mothers Wanted to Give Birth to Antarctic Six

  Appel s’éteint pour les mères porteuses d’embryons de l’Antarctique

  Kháng cáo cho các bà mẹ đại diện để sinh ra phôi Nam Cực

  Leihmütter wollte Geburt den Südpol Embryonen geben

  Dài yùn mǔ qīn xiǎng yào shēng chū nán jí liù

  The idea that the “Antarctic Six,” as they were now being called, might actually be brought to term became the most reported and talked-about story in the world. Domestically, the increasing national division wrought by competing political parties took second place to stories about the idea that these mysterious babies might actually be born. For a while, even news of terrorist attacks, and nuclear blackmail between nations had competition from the embryo stories.

  One network had an advantage over all the others, because of the relationship between their on-air personality, Ava Glennon, and Damien Thornton, the person most identified with the Antarctic Six project. Two weeks after the initial call went out for surrogate mothers, Damien was Ava Glennon’s guest.

  “Professor Thornton, would you say something so we can get a check of your lavalier mike?” the director asked.

  “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time…”

  “That’s good, we don’t need the entire Macbeth soliloquy,” Pitman said with a slight chuckle. “All right, Ava, he’s all set up and ready to go. We’ll be coming to you in ten.”

  “Thanks for the exclusive, Damien,” she whispered, quickly, before the countdown ended.

  She flashed a wide smile as the red light came on, and Damien thought, sitting here beside her, that he had never seen a more beautiful woman, anywhere.

  “Good evening, this is Ava Glennon with America Tonight.

  “The eyes of, not just America, but of the entire world, are on a small, private college in St. Louis, as fascination with the Antarctic Six continues to grow.

  “In Iran, Imam Medi Jahmshidi weighed in on the subject.” The picture on the screen changed from the beautiful blond anchor, to a man with a full gray beard and bushy gray brows over narrow penetrating eyes. Though his voice was barely audible in the background, the words that the English-speaking viewers heard were those of a translator.

  “It is claimed that these embryos were found buried deep under the ice. As they are not a part of any woman, they are not part of the life-cycle and are an abomination to Allah. I call upon any Muslim who would serve Allah to take whatever action is necessary to see that these spawns of Satan not be born. Should they not be eliminated, I have no doubt but that the Great Satan America will find some way of using them to spread even more of their evil around the world.”

  The scene returned to Ava Glennon at the newsroom of Digital News Network in St. Louis.

  “Judah Garon, the well-known historian on Nazi Germany and the Holocaust, has weighed in with a different perspective on the subject,” Ava said. “Dale McNeely is in Jerusalem. Dale, what exactly is this new perspective of Dr. Garon’s?”

  On camera was a young, earnest looking man, holding a microphone labeled with the letters, DNN.

  “A new perspective indeed, Ava, and the question I have for our viewers is this: Do you think it is possible that the Antarctic Six might be a part of some grand, Nazi plot, planned more than three-quarters of a century ago? Judah Garon suggests that might be the case, and I spoke with him about this very thing, earlier this afternoon.”

  Once more the scene changed to an office setting, and McNeely was talking to a man with white, curly hair, and a full moustache. At first glance, he looked a little like Einstein, though he didn’t have the detached look that was so much a part of Einstein’s persona.

  “Dr. Garon,” McNeely said. “Is it true that you think there may be some Nazi plot connected with the Antarctic embryos?”

  “Yes, I do believe it might be possible,” Garon said. “And before you say that what I am about to posit is a suspension of belief, I ask you this ...how much more incredible could it be, than what has already occurred? Does it not seem incredible to have found six viable embryos, burie
d deep in the Antarctic ice?”

  “Nobody disputes the astonishing fact of the find, Doctor. But what Nazi plot would that be?”

  “One thing you can say about Nazi Germany is that it was a fertile ground for scientific and medical advancement. Their physicists and physicians were geniuses. Sick, evil genius to be sure, but genius never the less.

  “I believe that it is entirely possible that the Antarctic Six are not the result of the normal reproductive process. I think, rather, they are the result of somatic cell nuclear transfer, brought to embryotic stage in a laboratory. In other words, it is my belief that what we have found in that golden canister, are clones.”

  “Suppose that is true,” McNeely asked. “The question then is, why? Why would the Nazis do such a thing?”

  Garon smiled, and held up his hand. “You didn’t ask the right question, dear boy. You should have asked who was cloned?”

  McNeely hesitated for a moment before he responded. “My guess would be that you think it might be Hitler and his closest lieutenants.”

  “Not Hitler and his closest lieutenants. Just Hitler. I believe Hitler did this in some bid for immortality, and he didn’t want to take the chance of being born at some future time, and having to face competition for leadership in the new world. He didn’t mind killing himself, because he was certain that he would be reborn again in some distant future. The only thing is, because of the depth at which the canister was found, I’m sure he thought that he would not be discovered for at least a thousand or more years from now, long after all those who might still have a visceral reaction to his evil would be gone.”

  “So, if it were your call as to whether or not these embryos should be brought to term, you would say no?” McNeely asked.

  “Ah, Mr. McNeely, now here is where I may surprise you. As a scientist, historian, and curious human being, I would say no, do not destroy them, let them develop so that we may study them closely, the better to learn how to avoid ever encountering such a monster again. If they are, indeed, new Hitlers, and if we are forewarned, we can keep them under control.”

  Immediately after McNeely’s wrap-up of his report, the network broke for a commercial.

  “Ava, after the three network thirties, we’ll be downline two more thirties for local commercials, then back to you and Thornton,” Pitman said.

  “Are you ready, Damien?” Ava asked.

  “I’m ready.”

  Damien kept his eye on the studio monitor until, once again, he saw Ava on screen.

  “With me in the studio tonight is the man who is the center of the attention of the entire world, right now. I’m talking, of course, about Damien Thornton. Professor Thornton, thank you for agreeing to be a guest on America Tonight.”

  “Thank you very much for having me as your guest.”

  “Before we get into any of the other questions I have for you, Dr. Garon has posed a new one. Do you believe it is possible that the embryos, currently in your laboratory, could actually be clones? And if they are, do you think that Garon might be right, that they could be clones of Hitler?”

  “To be honest, I cannot say with absolute assurance that they are not clones, because at this point, almost anything is possible. Remember, we found them in a canister that was buried under twenty-five hundred feet of ice. That is a half-mile deep.”

  “When you say anything is possible, are you suggesting that it is possible they are clones of Hitler?”

  Damien smiled. “I said, ‘almost’ anything is possible. But the markings on the canister are not consistent with any known language of today, and there is no eagle clutching a wreathed swastika in its claws. Also the depth at which this canister was found suggests that it was there long before Hitler.”

  “Is it possible that these embryos are alien beings?”

  “If you mean alien, as if, is it possible they were left here by interplanetary travelers, I cannot rule that possibility out. However, I can say with absolute certainty that the embryos are human.”

  “Then that brings me back to my original question, which of course is the question the entire world is asking. Where did they come from?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I feel that it is absolutely imperative that we bring them to term. Let them be born, and grow into adulthood so we can study them.”

  “That can’t possibly be a very good existence for them then, could it? I mean, to spend their entire lives being observed in a petri dish?”

  “I believe they were put here for that very purpose,” Damien said.

  “But even if the embryos are born and grow up, we still won’t have our questions answered, will we? I mean, how would they be different from any other child born of, say, a surrogate mother?”

  “At this point I have no answer. But it may be that a civilization that was advanced enough to leave the embryos, may have also given them some sort of inherent memory that can at least open the door to the possibility of learning who they are, and where they came from.”

  “You were recently President Tobin’s guest, I believe,” Ava said.

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Can you share with our viewers, what you and the president talked about?”

  “I just did.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Everything we have just spoken about, the origin of the embryos, how long they may have been under ice, and the prospect of bringing them to term so that they may be born ...that is exactly what the president and I talked about.”

  “How does he feel about the embryos actually being born?”

  “He isn’t opposed to it. I think he is as curious about it as everyone else.”

  “Speaking of giving birth to them, you have put out a call for surrogate mothers for them, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “How goes the search?”

  Damien said, “It is going better than my wildest dreams. I need six mothers, two from each of the three races, and so far we have almost five thousand applicants.”

  “How are you making the selections?”

  “They will have to come here to live in St. Louis so we can keep them under constant monitoring throughout their pregnancy. That will mean a nine month commitment, so that requirement, alone, will eliminate a significant number of them.”

  “That will require a degree of economic independence on the part of the mothers, won’t it?”

  “I’m reasonably certain that we will be able to secure a special government grant to cover those costs,” Damien said.

  7

  In countries all over the world there were protests against the potential birth of the Antarctic Six embryos, but the most strident protests erupted in St. Louis at the very center of the project. Near Jefferson University, Page Boulevard and Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Drive were completely blocked off by protesters between Union and Goodfellow Boulevards.

  In addition to those who had the streets blocked off, there were also several hundred who were gathered on the campus.

  It was one of the most unusual protests in American history in that it brought together participants from the extreme right and the extreme left. People who, on any other political or civic question who would be abject, almost hostile adversaries were united, and though they were approaching the issue from totally different perspectives, they were allied against a common enemy. The signs being held aloft mirrored the different approaches to the same goal.

  STOP SATAN’S SPAWN

  NO ANCIENT PLAGUE IN A MODERN WORLD

  LIFE BEGINS IN THE WOMB NOT IN A GOLDEN CALF

  DON’T RAISE BABIES TO BE ZOO INMATES

  When Damien stepped out of his Volvo in the faculty parking lot, he was met by two policemen.

  “Sir, you had better let us escort you to your office,” one of the officers said. “There are some real insane people out there now.”

  Damien let one of the policemen stay on either side of him as he walked from the car to his office.

 
“Hey! It’s Dr. Frankenstein!” one of the protesters shouted. “It’s the man who’s going to bring those monsters to life!”

  “No birth! No birth! No birth!” the protestors began shouting.

  One man charged toward Damien, holding his sign up as if ready to bring it down on Damien’s head. Two of the campus security police grabbed the man and threw him to the ground.

  After shouts, pushes, and shoves, Damien was able to make it to the door of his building, then thanking the officers who escorted him, he slipped inside. He was met there by Professors Lewis and Calhoun.

  “Frankenstein, huh?” Calhoun said. He laughed. “What’s next? Villagers charging us with flaming torches?”

  “Are you saying those aren’t villagers?” Damien joked.

  Damien followed the other two into the conference room where they were going through the applications from prospective surrogate mothers.

  “Oh, by the way, we got a notification from North Star today,” Calhoun said. “It seems that Marcus Worley has taken a personal interest in this project, and will pay all the expenses of the surrogate mothers.”

  “Good. That’ll save us from having to apply for a government grant. Or, does he want something from it?”

  “The offer didn’t appear to have any strings attached,” Calhoun said.

  Damien looked at the pile of applications, then let out an audible breath.

  “All right, let’s find our mothers,” he said.

  That evening Damien and Ava had dinner at the Trattoria Marcella on Watson Road. Damien had shared with her the unrest on the campus.

  “I’m glad it’s summer and there are so few students on campus now, I honestly don’t know how they would get to their classes,” Damien said.

  “Are you still going through all the applications for surrogate mothers?” Ava asked.

  “Yes. We have them separated by race now, which is making it easier to process.”