by Melissa Faye
I smiled politely at Laurel and the other interns. “Just finishing this up!” I called. “I’ll be right over.”
I heard one of the interns snickering. “Don’t bother, Laurel,” he said in one of those fake whispers that everyone could hear. “Alexis doesn’t talk with other interns. She’s too busy saving humanity.”
I saw Laurel look at me for an extra moment, raising her eyebrows. I wished I could join their group, but it always felt more important to be working. I looked at my half-eaten salad and pushed it aside, no longer hungry. I turned off my TekCast, clipped it to my insignia, and headed back to the lab I was assigned to for the day.
A MONTH INTO OUR INTERNSHIP, Greta sat us down to talk about our progress. We met in a group first, sharing our thoughts on the various teams’ work and what successes and failures we had seen. We also discussed some of the white papers created over the last year. We were expected to be up-to-date on all of the latest work going on in the lab. Greta rapid-fired questions at us nonstop for what must have been a full hour. After our group meeting, Greta had half-hour sit downs scheduled with each intern.
I was Greta’s first meeting. We went to her office, which was located on the floor with most of the lab spaces. I sat down in a chair across from her desk while she consulted both her TekCast and a screen built into her desk. She made notes on the screen while she read to herself, leaving me to stare awkwardly around the room until she was finished.
I would have expected Greta to have more books in her office. Not many people owned more than a few, but with such a high-level position, I would have guessed she had an enormous collection. Even more strangely, the books she did have stacked neatly on the far wall were all about cloning, not fertility.
Greta finally finished taking notes, and as we spoke, I realized that the notes were about me. She had pulled my file containing the results of my lab tests, the write-ups I had done on published papers and the analyses I had completed about the work of other researchers. She questioned me about everything, drilling me with questions quickly without responding to my answers. With a few minutes left in our session, we talked about where I wanted to end up working within the different departments.
“I will be able to do my best work in the IVF lab,” I said, sitting up straight and keeping my chin held high. “I feel that work has the greatest potential to lead to the solution.”
Greta paused, and I tried to keep my poise as I waited for her response. She looked back at her TekCast, swiping back and forth through my data again.
“I see you’ve spent more time in that lab than the others,” Greta said. Her eyes sparkled and the corners of her mouth turned up as if to smile; then her face returned to its natural, disappointed state. “Interns are good at getting into the work they think has the most potential. Still, I think IVF will be a good fit for you. The researchers have reported that your work is strong, including planning, carrying out research, and data analysis. The lead IVF researcher was very positive about you.”
I couldn’t contain my own smile, though I tried to pull it back. Greta wasn’t someone who would like public displays of happiness. Or any emotions, probably.
“I’m glad you think IVF has the most potential for leading to a solution,” Greta continued, ignoring my smile. “It’s possible. Maybe it’s likely. If a solution is possible, of course.”
I looked quickly away from Greta to try to hide my frown. The Chief of Fertility doubted the possibility that we would find a solution?
“I don’t think you understand my meaning, Alexis,” she continued. “We are well on our way to solving infertility. But we haven’t made enough progress to guarantee results now or in the next hundred years. I am particularly motivated to find a solution in my own tenure here, but I’m also a realist. This may not be possible.”
I focused on keeping my face stoic, like Greta’s was even as she said such a crazy thing to me.
“Don’t worry about that,” she continued. “Keep doing good work. You’ll begin a six month rotation in the IVF lab starting next week. There’s no reason why you wouldn’t be the one to solve the crisis.”
Greta gestured to the door, thanking me for coming. I walked out quickly. I had never heard anyone mention the possibility that we wouldn’t find a solution. And Greta was the last person I’d expect to hear saying it. I pulled out my TekCast while I walked down the hall away from Greta’s door. I messaged Omer.
“Something strange in lab. Can we meet?”
Winter 2414-2415
By the time we had a few days off in mid-January, I was feeling as exhausted as Javi had been that day we met before my meeting with Greta. He apologized, and after a few days of letting him sweat it out, I forgave him. We suddenly had similar schedules: he was working and spying for the Underground. And now I was doing the same.
Omer agreed that Greta’s comments were strange enough to warrant investigation. She never said anything about that part of our conversation again, but I started noticing more clues. I remembered the cloning books in her office. Javi suspected she might be more interested in cloning as a career, since she thought fertility research was useless. I wasn’t sure. How could she have gotten to be Chief of the F-Lab if she wanted a career change?
But Greta also let her ideas slip if you knew how to listen to them. There were just little clues in the way she spoke to interns and researchers. She approved research ideas and funding with an almost sarcastic tone. It was like she was saying, “Sure, why not?” or, “It doesn’t matter much either way!” Once I saw her smirk while one of the interns presented a research paper he had completed. The research was a disaster, showing no correlation whatsoever between the data, but I couldn’t imagine Greta was mocking him. It was more like she knew things that he didn’t.
I met with the Underground to share what I was learning, but Omer wasn’t impressed.
“Is that it, Alexis?” he said in front of a crowded meeting. “Your Chief is acting rude. It’s not enough. If there’s something else going on, you need to find it.”
I felt my face flush as people stared at me. Omer’s disappointment hurt. Javi looked at me with empathy. He hadn’t been having much luck in his work either.
“You expect it to happen so soon!” I said, my face still hot. “I don’t know what to do to find out what else is going on.”
One of the other Underground members, Gianna, put her arm around me.
“I get it, honey,” she said. “But we can’t tell you how to do it. If you haven’t noticed, you and Javi are the only Golds in this room.” I looked around. There was an older Gold who used to come a year ago, but after he left his job in cloning, he stopped coming. Javi and I were the only Golds left.
“We don’t know how your lab works,” Omer said. “What we need is to find some explanation for why the Chief thinks fertility research isn’t going to lead to a solution. How can she know that? Has she found evidence herself?”
“I’m having trouble, too, Lexi,” said Javi. “But I think we’re going to have to start taking more risks. I’m trying to get a pass to get into one of the higher security Records rooms as if I’m getting information for the councilman I’m assisting. If he finds out, I’ll get in trouble. But at least it’s a step, right?”
“Try something else out,” Omer said. “Look around. Talk to more people. You never mention anyone besides Greta. Who else is at the lab? What are they doing? What do they have in their offices? Tell us what you find when we meet again in two weeks.”
I still felt a blush on my cheeks as I left the meeting. Omer was right. I needed to do better. I would do better.
I SPENT THE NEXT FEW weeks trying to get more information. Each lab section had a leader, all of whom reported to Greta. There were six in total. I made myself talk to each one over the course of two weeks. I would make a comment about the viability of our research. It was awkward at first, but I got better at it. My last conversation was with the head of my own lab, Forrest.
“If
you don’t think this is going to work, you might as well work in another lab, Alexis,” Forrest said. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms. The female interns gossiped about him on their breaks, though I never saw the appeal. Forrest was too condescending. He didn’t like having interns in his lab. The only ones assigned to IVF were myself and Laurel and even that was too much for him. He couldn’t dislike Laurel, though, so most of his irritation was focused on me.
“I didn’t mean that, sir,” I said. He was walking around the lab with his TekCast open, taking notes on everyone’s progress. I followed behind. I had to walk quickly to keep up with his longer legs. “I just always wonder, what’s keeping us from success? What are we missing?”
Forrest turned on me. “What we’re missing is interns focusing on their work and not asking inane questions.” My jaw dropped and I turned away quickly. I heard Forrest walking away behind me. He was the last department head I spoke with, and nothing had turned up.
“He’s so mean to you.” I turned to my right and saw Laurel standing nearby. “It’s not a dumb question. I think about that sometimes too.”
Laurel? Questioning the work of the F-Lab? I didn’t know what to say.
“I know, I suppose I hide it well.” Laurel smiled sheepishly when I stared. “But it’s been a hundred years! What’s going on?”
“Yeah, I’m starting to feel that way too,” I said. “It’s like there’s a solution we’re missing just because we don’t have one right chemical, or just the right technique. And is that going to change? Or there just isn’t a solution because of the way our bodies have evolved over time.”
Laurel and I sat down on nearby lab chairs. I pretended to be looking closely at some samples on the microscreen in front of us.
“Between you and me, I thought I was going to be the one to solve this,” Laurel said quietly. “I was very optimistic about myself a few months ago. I was kind of full of it, I think.”
I grinned. I knew that feeling. “Me too,” I said. “I thought I was going to have this figured out in a matter of weeks.”
“Have you noticed something strange in some of the data reports that are being published?” Laurel asked. “Sometimes the data doesn’t add up. One time I worked with a researcher on a new procedure, and the machine’s results didn’t make any sense. It looked like the machine itself was making up numbers. Then when we published it, I couldn’t read the finished piece. It was nonsense.”
So Laurel wasn’t as innocent as I thought. I should have known she would be a good conspirator. She was just as smart – well, smarter than me.
“I noticed that too,” I said. “I got stuck on one white paper for a week because the analysis was rubbish. The procedure should have resulted in a very different result. I don’t know much about this stuff, but after doing another week of reading additional resources, I still couldn’t make sense of it.”
“I think I saw that one!” Laurel said with her eyes wide. “What do you think is going on?”
I hesitated to share much more. I didn’t know how to recruit people for the Underground, and didn’t want to push her too hard. She was very smart, but sometimes the smartest people made the worst Underground members. Plus, I had to be careful about introducing another Gold into the group. They liked having access to our resources, but there was always an underlying resentment when our colors were discussed.
“No idea,” I said. I switched off the microscreen, which we weren’t using anyway. “Maybe it’s not worth thinking about too hard. It’s not like we’re going to find answers by looking at anyone else’s mistakes, right?”
It was a dumb reply, but I couldn’t think of any others. I was still new to this spying stuff.
EVERY TIME I SAW GRETA’S sneer or heard the snippy comments that barely hid her lack of confidence in the F-Lab, I felt more bitter. I couldn’t stand being in the same room as her. Laurel and I were getting closer, which helped a lot. She didn’t like Greta either, though she wasn’t sure why.
“Maybe because she’s so short with everyone?” she posited. “Or that she always looks unhappy.”
We grabbed snacks in the break room before returning to the lab. Now that the interns were assigned our rotations, we had different schedules. I rarely saw anyone besides Laurel.
“I don’t know if she’s unhappy,” I said. “She’s just disappointed in all of us all of the time.”
Laurel laughed and took a bite of her protein pack. “Probably,” she said. “Or she’s just biding her time until she can give up on fertility.”
I gasped. “What do you mean?” I had no idea Laurel had picked up on this too. Laurel gave me a mischievous look when she saw my face. She snickered to herself.
“Don’t you notice?” she said. “She seems bored with all of it. Like, why bother? Only she’s not a lowly intern. She’s in charge of all of it. What does it mean if the person in charge of the whole thing thinks it’s a waste?” I didn’t answer, so she continued. “Did you see the books in her office? They’re all on cloning.”
“I did see that,” I said. “It’s strange. I don’t know what to make of any of it.” I mulled it over. I still couldn’t decide if I should recruit Laurel for the Underground.
“We should find out more!” Laurel suddenly whispered. “I’ve worked hard for four years to get to this job, and now the big boss doesn’t even believe in it. I want answers.”
“What do we do?” I asked.
“I wish we could get into her TekCast,” Laurel said. She leaned her head forward, resting her chin on her hand. “I don’t know how to do that, do you?” I shook my head.
“Actually,” I said, bracing myself, “I know some people who might.” Laurel gaped at me. Technology interns were Silver, and we only saw them when we needed a new or adjusted modeling program. “I mean, not anyone I went to school with. I’m part of...a group.”
“You have to tell me!” Laurel said. “Do they know about this?” She was excited now, and had forgotten about her protein pack. I looked at her then looked at the door. Forrest had just entered.
“Better finish up,” he told us. “We need you back in the lab to do some material draws. Your work with those has been sloppy, Alexis. Laurel, why don’t you show her how you handle them?” We sat in silence while he went to the vending cylinder and got an apple. I held my breath until he walked out the door.
“Ok, don’t tell me,” Laurel said. She picked up her TekCast and gestured towards the door. “I’ll work with you, but Forrest is wrong. You’re great at material draws. And then instead of telling me more about this group, you can take me to meet them!”
THE NEXT UNDERGROUND meeting wasn’t until the following Monday, and it was hard to stay focused when Laurel kept sending me secret grins and wiggled her eyebrows across the lab. I felt a swell of energy when I reread the message Omer had sent. One of the Underground members, Cheyenne, was in Technology and told Omer he could help. Probably. It was going to be risky, but the knowledge gained had enormous potential.
I was getting more interested in the work we were doing in the Underground. I had never seen us make any progress besides recruitment. Now, between Javi and myself, wheels were turning. I couldn’t contain my views when I met with my mentee, Yami. I couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad idea to get her riled up about social issues. She was still in middle class, but she caught my passion sometimes like an airborne illness. I wanted to bring her into the Underground, but Omer wanted me to until she was at least in high class.
Laurel was ecstatic as we walked together to the Underground meeting. It used to change locations, but we had started just meeting in Omer’s small house in the Bronze neighborhood. Laurel looked all around us while we walked, making comments about the run down streets, flickering street lights, and Bronze insignias on everyone’s chest. I shushed her repeatedly. Being Gold in a Bronze neighborhood was embarrassing and I didn’t want to draw attention.
Laurel loved the meeting, and everyon
e there loved her. She told us about the work she did and what she had observed in the lab. It was similar to what I had reported, though I thought I could detect more excitement when the message came from Laurel.
Omer introduced us to Bradley, who worked in Technology. He had been a year ahead of us in high class, so I knew who he was but had never spoken with him.
“I think I can set you up with a way to get into the Chief’s TekCast,” he told us. We sat at a table and pulled out our TekCasts for Bradley to demonstrate.
“I wrote a small program that should be able to go through the data detector in Greta’s desk.” They weren’t called data detectors, but I knew what Bradley meant. They probably had different names in different sectors. Greta’s desk had a terminal port on her desk where she could plug in her TekCast and access lab results from around the building. It would automatically upload and sort the latest research reports and pull files about all the researchers and interns. Other researchers had similar terminals at their desks, but with fewer capabilities.
“What do we do?” Laurel asked, leaning over the pink holoscreen projected from Bradley’s TekCast.
“Here’s the program,” he said. “I’ll send it to both of you now.” I felt the familiar vibration of a media message arriving in my TekCast. “All you do is go into Greta’s office, plug your own TekCast into the data detector, and the program will export the messages she sent or received in the last six months.”
