by R E Kearney
“And what about you?” Robert notices Shengwu is cringing, as she tells him her story.
“Ironically, Abaddon’s SS Deacons had already expelled me earlier. I had just graduated from UC Berkley and taken a job developing improved CRISPR-Cas9 gene editing methods for gene drives. I believe that if they had realized I am my father’s daughter, they would have used me to force him to work for them. Luckily, I was already in China and beyond their reach.”
Robert glances over his shoulder. The drone is still hovering behind him, closer than before. “Why are you telling me all of this now and here? This is dangerous.”
“To combat possible hackers, you require entry inside all my communications, algorithms and data. Essentially then, you will be reading my mind and studying my thoughts, because my work is my existence...my life.” Shengwu studies Robert’s face for several moments. “We’re partners now. So, I need to know that I can trust you, while you need to know what challenges may confront you and why those challenges exist. To understand that, you need to know who I am and why I ran.”
“But, now you’re back.” Robert is incredulous. “Why?”
“Yes…” Shengwu wags her finger. “…back with a vengeance, you may say. Negocio and I hope to create a Puerto Rico populated with genomic enhanced Puerto Ricans. By expanding on the research my father taught me, my therapeutic cloning through organogenesis is proving highly successful. My gene therapy work is also producing impressive results. Puerto Rico’s future superior beings are growing and flourishing right here in San Juan. I am very proud.”
“Pardon?” Robert puzzles.
Shengwu smiles proudly. “Imagine a world without Multiple Sclerosis or Cystic Fibrosis or Huntington’s Disease or Parkinson’s Disease. With genomics and gene drives, I can eliminate them. Right here. Right now. Using genomic engineering, I can create a human without birth defects, like mine, and without genetic diseases. I can genetically engineer a healthy, super intelligent, disease resistant human. The only type of human capable of surviving in the future.”
Robert’s face brightens. “That’s fantastic. You could benefit all of humanity. If you can end those problems, why, you’ll fulfill Hippocrates belief that wherever the art of medicine is loved, there is also a love of humanity.”
Robert’s praise encourages Shengwu. “It’s not love of humanity, but the saving of humanity that drives me. As my Chinese cousins would say, it’s my baoying. What I do in this life will have benefits in the next. So, I’m working to ensure there is a next or at least life on Earth after me. Do you realize that without human-directed evolution that the human race will probably not survive?”
After a few seconds of consideration, Robert attempts to laugh off Shengwu’s dire prediction. “Oh come on now. That sounds overly pessimistic to me. I’ve a lot of life left in me.”
Shunning his disbelief, Shengwu continues. “I believe future humans will require certain physical characteristics to flourish or maybe even survive on tomorrow’s Earth. My father calls it rEvolution which he spells with a small r and then capital E for Evolution. It’s a result of his ELF work.”
Pausing, Shengwu meticulously examines Robert from head to heel. “Actually, I’ve been observing you for some time and I’ve determined that you possess many of those necessary physical and mental attributes mankind needs to evolve. You could be the prototype for a new improved human being.”
“Prototype?” Robert asks apprehensively. “Do you mean clones? Like there would be a bunch of me?”
Silently, Shengwu smiles and nods in agreement.
“Oh, I don’t think the world deserves to suffer like that. One of me is enough. Besides, I doubt that you could possibly duplicate my unique style and savoir faire.” Robert jokes.
“Not clones as much as well…uh…new, improved, better humans that are a bit of you, Robert - the best parts of you - and the best parts of others. Genetic engineering of Biosystems using In vitro gametogenesis.”
Robert grimaces. “So, they may still bear the burden of my appearance?”
“Well, I certainly don’t want them to look like me.” Shengwu wiggles her deformed fingers at Robert. “Nobody should suffer scoliosis, amniotic band syndrome and a touch of osteoarthritis, if they don’t have to, and I am determined to see that future generations don’t have to.”
“Well true, but still, do you mean like in my image?” Robert places his right index finger on his chin.
Smiling smugly, Shengwu taps her forehead. “Why not? Mankind created its gods in its own image. Right? So, of course, since I am the creator…the Chuàngzuò zhě…who better to select and create mankind’s future image, or as I believe, future gods than me?”
COFFEE RUN
Surprised by Shengwu’s strange declaration, Robert retreats, just as Rita and Negocio arrive at his side.
“I’m certain that Robert is interested in learning more about your clinic.” Negocio informs Shengwu, “But, Rita needs him right now, so I hope you’ll excuse him. Besides, we all need to leave and return the plaza to the tourists until my announcement tonight.”
“Perhaps a tour of my facility tomorrow morning, then?” Shengwu asks, offering her hand to Robert for a brief departure shake. “I have much to show you and you have much to learn, partner.”
Shaking her hand, Robert nods in concurrence. “Tomorrow morning then. I look forward to it. Say, about nine?”
Beaming with delight, Shengwu nods in agreement. Attempting to break Shengwu’s grip of Robert’s hand, Rita begins pulling Robert away. “Let’s walk and talk, Robert. I have some new information. Let’s get some Puerto Rican coffee at the Cuartel de Ballaja coffee shop.”
Rita guides Robert through the tourists and Negocio admirers toward Calle del Cristo. Like a pestering fly, the aerodrone Robert attempted to chase away trails after him. Weaving in and out of the crowd, a man and woman dressed as tourists also begin shadowing them. His attention on the aerodrone, Robert takes no notice of his human trackers. Rita discerns they are being followed and slows her pace. Behind the male and female tourists another couple completes their parade.
“I think you’ll really like this coffee. It’s distinctive. Grown here on the island.”
“Coffee? I didn’t know that Puerto Rico grew coffee. Is it a SPEA plantation?” Robert asks as he dodges a delivery boy weaving through the crowd riding a hoverboard.
“Who? What is SPEA?”
“Oh, you must have heard of the state of SPEA? Society Preserving Endangered Agriculture? The seasteaded independent state of SPEA? SPEA grows most of the world’s commercial coffee, cacao and tea. It was on SPEA’s coffee plantation in Ethiopia where I was shot.” Robert touches his shoulder wound.
“No. No SPEA. Just three small plantations in our interior. Centuries old and family owned. They’re mostly for tourists. But, they do sell some coffee locally.” Rita forms an ok sign with her fingers. “Good, too. If you ask me.”
“Plantations with humans? No robots? No guard drones?”
“Of course not. Don’t be silly.”
Robert acts as if he is wiping his brow with relief. “Good. I still wear scars from wrestling with some SPEA directed overland guard system robots. They call them DOGs. I call them brutal.”
Rita stops and stares at Robert, inspecting his spindly body from head to heel. “Why would you pick a fight with a robot? I’ve seen you naked and I’m certain I can take you out myself, anytime I want.”
“If you don’t mind, I prefer to consider myself svelte. Maybe wiry. Certainly not spindly. Besides, what I miss in muscle I make up for with my mind.” Robert flexes his left arm struggling to produce a decent bulge in his bicep. “I am a massive Metropolitan generation male. Am I not?”
“Oh yes, you’re fearsome. You’re a true cheche de la película (guy who saves the day).” Rita teases as she leads him along Calle Norzagaray and across the Cuartel de Ballaja courtyard into a small coffee shop.
; Robert smiles. He knows Rita just jokingly called him a guy who saves the day in Puerto Rican slang, but he will keep his translating ability his secret. What she does not know may be a secret that helps him.
Finally, they are able to shed the aerodrone, which cannot follow them into the Cuartel. Like a dog waiting for its master to return, the aerodrone impatiently hovers and loiters outside, above the entrance.
Arriving inside, Robert discovers that Rita’s favorite coffee shop is more than a secluded, quiet, air-conditioned retreat from the San Juan crowds and heat. The small shop is both a coffee roastery and a museum. Lining the walls of the small caffeine café is a variety of antique and obsolete coffee grinders and roasters that immediately capture his attention.
“Well, it’s not Second Cup, but it’ll do.” Robert jokes.
“What? What is Second Cup?”
“Sorry, it’s not important.” Robert dismissively waves his hand. “Second Cup Coffee is just a Canadian specialty coffee retailer that I frequent when I’m home in Toronto. Not as good as Tim Horton’s some say…maybe…but one of the best.”
Her Puerto Rican pride offended, Rita snaps back. “Well, I doubt that your Second Cup serves iced lattes as good as the ones here. Don’t slight them before you try them.”
“Sorry Rita. No offense meant.” Robert’s culture-rooted politeness surfaces.
“Oh, I love Canadians!” Rita giggles. ‘You guys are so polite. You say sorry all the time.”
“Yes, we do seem to be profoundly polite. Definitely sorry about that.” He stammers, embarrassed.
Shaking her head in bemused resignation at Robert’s apology for apologizing, Rita steps to the counter. Robert catches a glimpse of Rita slipping a small packet to the barista. They both smile and nod in agreement. Without a word, the barista returns to business.
After ordering two iced lattes, Rita and Robert pass a man occupied with his wrist personal communication device. They seat themselves at the table farthest from the entrance. Rita sits with her back against the wall intently watching the door, while Robert casually studies the shop’s antique coffee bean grinders and roasters.
The differences between these old roasters and the robotic, coffee production equipment he saw operating SPEA’s Ethiopian coffee plantation astonishes Robert. The simplicity of it stumps him. He is so accustomed to computer-directed, robot-operated equipment that it is challenging for him to determine how the antique, manual roasters function. The metal gears and screw drives confuse him. After examining the obsolete machinery for several minutes, he realizes that his father was correct when he often described him as being a technology genius and either a digital dunce or a machinery moron. Unfortunately, his father was too often correct.
Soon after their iced lattes arrive, so do their stalkers. They spot Rita and Robert and then turn their attention to reading the menu. While the couple studies the selections, the barista serving them nods toward Rita. She returns her signal.
Robert slow blinks to activate his visual recording contact lens, as he silently observes their communications. He does not recognize the couple or understand Rita’s intentions. But, he does know that in this type of situation, it is best if he stays out of the way and allows things to complete their course. He sits, sips his latte, watches and records.
Awaiting their drinks, Robert’s shadowers take seats at a table near the doorway. The female sits facing Rita and Robert. She acts as if she is chatting with her male companion, but she is a bad actress. It is obvious that she is recording Robert recording her.
Covering his mouth with his left hand while idly fingering his cup with his right hand, Robert questions Rita. “So what is this news that you’re going to tell me?”
“Can’t really discuss it here and now. Not yet,” Rita whispers toward her cup without acknowledging Robert.
With a large smile and a flourish, the barista delivers the couple their iced lattes. She waits and watches them taste and sip their drinks. Then she asks them if their lattes are what they expected. After they say their drinks taste good, she urges them to suck them down, so she can give them a free refill. The couple slurps their drinks, to keep the barista happy.
Blocking their view of Robert and Rita, the barista briefly chats with them. While urging them to enjoy their drinks, she asks them if they are enjoying San Juan and offers free tourism advice. Robert watches the woman twist and stretch struggling to see him around the barista’s body barrier. She makes no effort to hide her true intentions. After showering the couple with several minutes of her attention, the barista approaches Robert and Rita.
“Would you like a refill?” The barista asks leaning close to Rita. Then with her back to the others, she whispers, “Wait about two minutes. They should be done by then.”
“Yes, I think I’ll have a refill,” Rita answers, smiling and nodding. “What about you, Robert?”
“Oh, I think I’m good.” He worries that the barista may have added more to his latte than espresso, milk and ice.
With a nod, the barista leaves to fill Rita’s order. As she passes, the couple at the front table, she asks them if they want refills as well. The woman starts to respond then covers her mouth with her hand and closes her eyes. Her partner presses his hand against his stomach and begins sweating.
“Never mind.” Rita calls to the barista. “I think we’ll be going now.”
As Robert and Rita walk past the increasingly queasy couple, Rita wishes them well, or unwell. Robert is not certain which.
“I hope you enjoy your visit here in our independent nation of Puerto Rico,” she says with a slight smirk on her face, as she pays the barista.
“Oh well thank you.” The woman responds with her hand spread across her mouth. “We’ve been enjoying our visit, so…”
“Excuse me.” Standing, the man extends his right hand toward Robert while he presses his left hand against his gurgling gut. “I don’t want to be too forward, but my wife and I noticed you in the plaza. You’re Robert Goodfellow, aren’t you?”
Robert briefly shakes the man’s warm, wet hand. “Well yes, I am. Do I know you?”
“Oh no, we’ve never met. My wife and I are just big fans of your work. Watched a hologram of you speaking at the Black Hat conference not too long ago. Impressive...”
Rita tugs lightly on Robert’s arm. “We really need to go now, mister superstar. A juyir, Crispín.”
“Oh, ok then.” Robert smiles at the man and his wife, as Rita pulls him toward the doorway. “It’s good to meet you. Perhaps we’ll run into each other again Mister uh...”
“Voleur. Lew and Lee Voleur. I certainly hope so, Mister Goodfellow. I certainly hope so.”
Rita waves her hand while ushering Robert away.
“Well now, aren’t you sorry about the way you doubted them?” Robert challenges Rita. “They’re simply innocent tourists who recognized me and wanted to meet me. You forget that I’m a star. It was Joseph Joubert who said that innocence is always unsuspicious.”
“Hah! It’s you who are the innocent Robert, for I choose to believe Ernest Hemmingway who wrote that all things truly wicked start from innocence, and I believe your new friends Lew and Lee Voleur are truly wicked.”
The second male and female couple from the plaza are awaiting them as Robert and Rita exit the coffee café and enter the Cuartel courtyard.
Rita quietly directs the two, as she points toward the Cuartel’s public bathrooms. “They’ll be coming out soon and I imagine they’ll be running to those toilets. Stick with them and help them leave. They’ll be very sick and possibly a little dizzy. Offer to accompany them to their rooms. In about an hour, they may pass out. Use it to our advantage.”
Just as she predicted, the Voleurs stagger out of the coffee shop. Holding their stomachs with one hand and covering their mouths with their other hand, they stumble-run toward the bathrooms. Rita motions for her cohort couple to follow them.
“The fish
took the Bait. Our job is done here. Step along Robert, we have much more trolling to do.”
PINA COLADAS
Rita leads Robert through a side exit away from the aerodrone spy waiting and hovering above the main doorway. Hurriedly, she strides through a small garden park and into the crowd of tourists traveling Calle Beneficencia. Once hidden among the crowd, she and Robert slow to a casual walk into the bowels of Old San Juan.
Six blocks from the Cuartel, Rita stops and peers at a shaded shop window employing it as a mirror to see if they are being followed. Robert joins her. Both detect nobody suspicious. They continue to scrutinize the walkers behind them. Only a boy on a hover scooter stopping to enter the shop approaches them. Nobody else gives them any notice.
Assured that they are not being followed, Robert switches his attention to the merchandise inside the store. Filling the shop window from top to bottom are colored ceramic statues and painted wood carvings of the biblical three kings. Some of the figures are riding horses. Others are standing and holding gifts.
Intrigued and sweating hot, Robert begins entering the shop. “Rita, I’m going in here to investigate all of these three king sculptures and grab some cool air. I’ve never seen anything like this in Canada or the US.”
“Of course not, you’re in Puerto Rico now, not America. It’s just another way we’re different from America and why we didn’t belong together.” Lecturing, Rita follows him into the shop. “Here, we believe the Three Kings are a more spiritual and faithful representation of the birth of Jesus than some obscure, imaginary saint the Coca-Cola Company squeezed into a red suit and named Santa Claus.”
