“But that’s…” a voice objected at the back.
“Impossible? Of course… So is interstellar travel. Yet here we are. But please identify yourself,” said Freja.
“Sarakit.”
“Alice’s IQ is around 170,” said Freja before Jules whispered something he had read on his tablet. “And Jules says your IQ is 135. Look, all of you have been selected because you have competencies in the gifted range. Selected because if you join the colony, your genome will ensure a healthy population. We now have the ability to boost people’s IQ by around ten points depending on a number of factors. Given your age Sarakit, you can expect to achieve somewhere around 145 to 150. We can also scan you for genetic predispositions and cure some of the nastier diseases. It is germ-line so the modifications will be passed onto your children.”
“It is important for you to know,” interrupted Lars. “That this is already being offered secretly to the very wealthy. That cat is already out of the bag.”
“All of us have had it done,” said Constance, bringing their attention back to Eden. “We had the same reactions and objections as you. But perhaps now might be a good time to take a break. We have given you a lot to digest. The good news is that because communication between Earth and Eden is instantaneous we will be in constant contact with you; so do not hesitate to ask us even the most basic questions in the days ahead. We want you to be as informed as possible. But if I can, can I say that you are being offered a rare opportunity to start an entirely new branch of humanity on a new world. Who amongst you has not dreamt of this as a child?”
Eva stood. “Can I suggest we reconvene in the bar for drinks and nibbles? It will give us an opportunity for you to get to know each other better. We also understand that some of you are on the edge of freaking out. So I urge that we all look after each other. The building of a new society begins right now, here.”
Some people clapped, others introduced themselves to their neighbour and others sat stunned.
Anaïs looked at Freja. “We’ve got a lot of reassuring to do.”
Freja smiled. “Yep, we’ve blown their tiny minds. We could lose some of them.”
Alice found Adey talking intently to Rafael about his work helping small communities build sustainable agricultural projects. “I’m sorry, can I steal Dr Ashenafi for a minute?”
“It’s Alice, am I right?” she asked, a tactic Alice knew was designed to unsettle her.
“Look, I wanted to apologise. It’s just that I see no point in dissembling. This involves a steep learning curve and we need people on board as quickly as possible.”
Adey looked carefully at Alice. She had met precocious children like her before and thought manners counted for a lot. “A little bit of sugar…”
Alice was baffled by her response.
“Helps the medicine go down. Bedside manners Alice.”
Alice scowled but decided to forge ahead. “Your profile mentions that you have some experience with juvenile pregnancies in Ethiopia?”
Adey nodded and Alice noticed for the first time that her hair formed naturally tight curls and that her facial features were quite delicate, which promised a unique haplotype.
“And some of the women were quite young?” asked Alice.
“Well, seeing as you don’t like dissembling, I assume your population plan involves getting women pregnant early.”
“Yes, when ova and sperm are the most healthy, myself included.”
“And these other girls, Freya and Anaïs?”
“Yes, they are attempting to get pregnant…”
“But this is preposterous. Many girls have complications…”
“Of which you have considerable experience?”
Adey nodded.
“And have you lost any young women under your care?”
“Some, there are added complications. Genital mutilation is widespread in North Africa.”
“So I understand and yourself?”
Adey was startled by such a frank question. “No, my parents were educated, but it is part of my tradition.”
“I’m sorry for being so blunt. Do you have any ethical concerns with a conscious population program…”
“Compulsory?”
“No, entirely voluntarily and fully conscious. Again, if you don’t mind me asking, at what age do girls marry in your tradition?”
Adey took a deep breath. These were uncomfortable questions. “I am Amhara and many girls are married before they are fifteen, many as children, this is not…”
“Within your own family?”
“My grandmother was married at twelve, she had her first, my mother, at thirteen, but…”
“Was your grandfather a good man?”
She nodded. “My grandmother was illiterate. It effects their education… They stop going to school, they are easily intimidated.”
“I understand and in those circumstances it is a tragedy. But what if the young woman is already highly educated, literate in several languages, has attained a high level of moral reasoning, is psychologically strong and independent and has a solid support network?”
“Why do I feel intellectually ambushed?”
Alice gave a wry smile. “But I am only ten, how could I ambush you?”
Adey frowned. “This is a lot to take in…”
“Dr Ashenafi, you should know that I personally vetted your admission. Of all the people on the list you had the most experience with juvenile pregnancy, both professionally and personally. If we are able to convince you that our population program is medically and ethically sound then that is a plus. Now, before I detail what it is we have planned, will you talk to Freja and Anaïs to assess their physical and psychological maturity, assuming I have not just frightened you away?” Alice stared directly at Adey as if to dare her to leave the mission.
Adey sighed. She was trapped. This little Asian girl was clever, very clever. If she had vetted her profile she would have known she was unlikely to pass up the opportunity to explore a new world. “Of course, but let me guess, I will be working with you on this?”
Alice nodded. “I have the requisite medical knowledge but lack the clinical experience and we may need it before nine months is up.”
Adey arched her eyebrows. “Hmm, let me guess, Li Li. She has conceived on Eden?”
“Yes, and you will be the person to assist the first birth of a human on another world. You understand that we, the women of this mission, are placing our trust in you? Question is, will you trust us?”
“If you earn it.”
Alice gave an arrogant smile. “We will.”
“I’m not sure I grasp why they’ve chosen a forestry person,” said Sarakit, unable to shake the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“They’ll need primary resources,” said Solomon.
“What, rape another planet?” Rafael protested.
Lars overhead the complaint and invited himself into the conversation. Rafael regarded him with suspicion. “Which is why we chose you,” said Lars returning the look.
“What do you mean?” asked Sarakit. She went red. It was a stupid question. When she got nervous she began to doubt herself.
“Solomon is right. We will need primary resources. I have been studying the probe scans for promising geological formations.”
“You?” asked Solomon.
“Yes, I have an interest in geology. I’ve already completed several university units in geological mapping and surveying. It looks very promising. You can look at the data tomorrow.”
“I’m not interested if this is just an excuse for a corporation like Shunyata to get rich from mining,” Rafael protested.
Lars laughed. “It’s hardly like that. Why would they have invited you if that was the case?”
“Token environmentalist. All the mining corporations do it. I even bet Solomon here has been approached in the past.”
“I think your brain has been fried from the shock man,” Solomon laughed. “I worked for Greenpeace,
organising amongst the locals to oppose a damaging mining project.”
“And I’m an anti-logging activist in Thailand, which is why this doesn’t make sense,” said Sarakit. “Unless…”
“What? Are you suggesting a mega-corporation like Shunyata is eco-friendly? I don’t trust corporate arseholes.”
“Neither do I,” said Lars. “I belong to a group of gene hackers; we’ve been stealing genetic data from the corporations for years. Truth is, I’m an anarcho-transhumanist. So is my sister Freja, and Anaïs and Jules.”
“Anarchists?” scoffed Rafael. “You don’t want to be telling a Spaniard about anarchism. I had a grandfather…”
“Who fought in the civil war?” said Lars, cutting him off.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Let me guess, he was a syndicalist? Look, it follows. You’re Spanish so of course you had a relative who fought in the civil war. We know you come from a radical background. It’s why you are here, all of you. To design sustainable mining, forestry and agricultural practices, to help construct a new society.”
“A utopia?” Rafael asked with suspicion.
“Well hopefully a realistic utopia: one that has learned from the naïve idealism of past experiments. We don’t have to do anything the way it has been done on Earth. Solomon, we may not need to produce steel. Modern ceramics can be just as strong. We need to think about new materials, new processes. Sarakit, you have studied sustainable forestry practices so maybe we don’t need to clear fell or use plantation timber. Rafael, you’ve had great success with Permaculture. Well, what if Eden was a planetary experiment in best practice sustainable agriculture? Use your imaginations. Wipe the slate clean. That’s what Akash is asking.”
“And this genetic thing?” asked Rafael. “I’ve campaigned against GM food, why would I accept GM humans?”
Lars looked at him and a slow smile grew on his face. “Isn’t the problem with GM food that it is designed by corporations to maximise profit? But what if modification was in the hands of the people? Talk to Po. Modification can strengthen and improve the genetic base. Get to know us, see if we are freaks, then decide.”
Sarakit found she was staring at Lars. He was certainly charismatic and charming. A pretty boy. Fleetingly she wondered what he would be like as a father. They had said something about children. Would she give birth to a genetically enhanced child as beautiful as Lars? She blushed. She shouldn’t be thinking of these things.
Put Put walked up to Anaïs and Freja with Grace following closely behind. Put Put smiled awkwardly, not knowing how to start the conversation.
Anaïs broke the ice. “I’ve seen a documentary on Bali before Indonesian independence. I was surprised to see that it was quite common for women to go about topless.”
Put Put was surprised by the topic but understood it was meant as a simple conversation starter. “Oh, yes, of course, my grandmother used to tell us tales of how it used to be. Truth is many families still practice it within the privacy of their compounds and in the remote villages, away from the prurient gaze of Western tourists.”
Grace entered the circle. “It used to be very common throughout SE Asia: Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, Philippines, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Burma, Sri Lanka. Until the elites thought they had to be all modern and Western so they started to wear inappropriate European clothing.”
“You said you went to school topless?” asked Freja, fascinated.
Grace smiled. “Yes, my uniform was just a sarong. The tradition is proudly maintained amongst my people, but then, Yap is remote. Hardly anyone knows we are there.”
“But what of you?” asked Put Put of Anaïs.
“We have no concerns,” she replied.
“No, sorry, I mean your fair skin. I am naturally brown. You will have to be careful in the sun.”
“Ah, I see. It is easy to fix with gene therapy. A tweak of the genes that govern melanin production, which will be strengthened by careful breeding,” said Anaïs. “I tan very well.”
Put Put smiled and gazed directly into Anaïs’s eyes. “And just how much have you been altered?” she asked as she reached for her hand.
Anaïs blushed at Put Put’s unexpected tenderness. “It’s on file. A boost in intelligence, strengthening the immune system, cardio-vascular fitness, strength, fixing the risk of breast cancer and kidney disease…”
“Interesting,” said Put Put as she opened and gently stroked Anaïs’s palm.
“You have a very calming effect.”
Put Put bowed her head slightly to acknowledge the compliment.
“She is reading you,” said Grace.
Put Put turned her head slightly to consider Grace and she raised an eyebrow in a way that suggested surprise and curiosity that Grace had understood what she was doing.
“Reading? How?” asked Freja.
“Balinese traditional medicine: a mixture of ancient tribal wisdom and Ayurveda. My mother was a traditional healer on Yap. If I am correct she is reading your skin’s temperature and it’s moistness, and also reading your pulse. I realised when she looked at your eyes. She was reading the iris.”
“She is correct. I am sorry to intrude,” Put Put apologised.
“You didn’t include this on your application,” Freja said to Grace.
Grace laughed. “Now why would I say that my mother and grandmother are witch doctors? It is all too easily misunderstood.”
“She is right,” said Put Put. “Much of this knowledge is secret, only handed down by word of mouth.”
“And what did you see?” asked Anaïs.
“Forgive me. I have never encountered a genetically enhanced person before. I needed to see you close up for myself.”
“And?”
“You are very healthy. You are also trying to have a child.”
Anaïs automatically pulled her hand away. “How do you know?”
Grace laughed again. “She didn’t, but of course it is true. So is Freja. We can tell by your reactions. The look in your eyes, the jump in your pulse, the way you retracted your hand. It is not mumbo-jumbo. The body often disobeys the mind.”
“Of course,” Freja exclaimed. “Traditional healers must be expert at reading micro-expressions.”
“Yes, amongst many things. But I must tell you that you are not ready to conceive. Perhaps a few more months. You are still young,” said Put Put in a soothing voice.
“You are not shocked by our age?” asked Freja.
“Why should we be shocked?” said Grace. “You are of the right age, at least in our cultures.”
“And me?” asked Freja amazed by this turn of events.
Put Put reached for Freja’s hand and stroked it gently. “You already know the answer, otherwise why ask the question?”
“I’m sorry, that doesn’t make sense.”
“You are concerned, otherwise you would not have asked the question in the way that you did,” said Grace.
“The energy is not settled between you. There is stress. It is his issue. It has affected his virility. You are very fertile. I will need to see him.”
“I’m not sure that is possible,” said Freja nervously.
“I see, an important man, Akash perhaps?” said Put Put with a cheeky smile.
“No, it’s not Akash…”
“Ha, so it is Akash,” laughed Grace. “You will never fool us.”
“But…” Freja protested.
“Another guess confirmed by your reaction. It’s not magic. It’s logical deduction based on body signals. The wisdom of women. We will teach you,” said Put Put.
“This is unexpected…” Freja began to say.
Put Put smiled and looked into Freja’s eyes. “This whole thing is unexpected. I’m afraid I allow myself some belief in karma, in fate. Why am I here? I am sure you used more scientific methods to choose us, but perhaps there is a greater wisdom at work. My father is a jyotish, an astrologer. He always said I had been chosen for something special.”
&
nbsp; Anaïs looked at Freja, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Your father, tell me, does Balinese Hinduism have a tantric tradition?” Freja asked.
It was Put Put’s turn to look surprised. Grace simply looked perplexed. “This is very secret, direct transmission only, but yes, you have guessed correctly.”
Freja smiled. “Then you must meet Akash’s wife, Tshering.”
Put Put nodded. “A very interesting turn of events indeed.”
“Am I hearing what I think I’m hearing?” asked Grace. “I have heard of these things in California, but you are suggesting the real deal?”
“Yes, the real thing, after all, this is Bhutan.”
Grace shook her head. “This just gets weirder and weirder.”
Anaïs smiled at Put Put and gave her a traditional kiss on the cheek. “And more and more interesting.”
96
Akash
He wished he could be mixing with the new team, just for the stimulation of new faces and new ideas. He had to admit that Anaïs and Freja had done a good job in refining the selection process. They had taken risks, but as they had correctly argued, the most creative minds were also the most unconventional.
He sighed, paused and considered returning to the gathering. He forced himself to check the latest message from Aviva, if it was not urgent he decided he would join them. Unfortunately it was not to be. Aviva had sent a simple message: Highest Urgency.
He slumped in his chair. This was not going to be good news. She answered his call immediately.
“Yes,” he said, his voice betraying exhaustion.
“It’s not good Akash. This one is internal.”
“Who?” he had no time for small talk.
“The very top, Jing and Tatiana.”
He sank further into his chair. He knew that business was ruthless, especially at the senior management level. Once large sums were involved personal loyalty meant nothing.
“I’m afraid I dropped the ball on this one,” Aviva apologised.
“There are a lot of balls…”
“Still… I was persuaded by the apparent normality.”
Paradise Reclaimed Page 70
