The Breeding Tree

by J. Andersen

  Kater then presses the flat edge of the device against the child’s neck and depresses the trigger. It beeps and flashes. The baby whimpers, but settles almost immediately. This part of the procedure doesn’t cause pain, just a burst of warmth, we’re told. Kater pulls the tattoo machine away from the baby and reveals a black barcode imprinted on its skin. Moinihan works quickly, having already programmed the microchip with the ID number and placed it into the embedding syringe. She slides the needle under the skin right next to the tattoo and sets the chip into place. By the time the baby screams, she’s already removed the needle.

  “Nice work, Ms. Moinihan,” the professor says. “Looks like you’ve been practicing your technique.”

  She grins proudly at his affirmation.

  I can’t help it. My hand brushes over the tiny bump in my neck where my MIH sits. I press it, fingering the lump with my fingertips. The thought of something foreign embedded under my skin is kind of gross. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Micah looking at me. His hand rests on his own neck, and he gives me a sheepish smile before he looks again over the railing toward what’s happening below.

  They move the child to a small operating table where they place a mask over the child’s face. “This administers a gas that will subdue the infant for the egg removal procedure. It will not render her totally unconscious but will anesthetize her enough to do the procedure without pain,” Professor Donovan explains.

  From my vantage point, I can see the child relax under the drug. Her eyes close, but her breathing is still quick and even. Ms. Lindquist presses an ultrasound scope against the child’s abdomen, and Johnson, who holds a syringe much like the one used to implant the MIH, studies the screen until he sees the ovaries come into view. Since the image is projected onto a larger screen for us to view, we can see every detail as he plunges the needle into the baby’s stomach directly hitting the ovary. He moves it until he’s suctioned the eggs out of the sac. Working quickly, he repeats the process on the other ovary, rendering the infant barren. Like all women in our community. Johnson then places the eggs into a storage container for future use and labels them with the baby’s ID number.

  After bringing the child out of anesthesia, Dr. Donovan instructs the residents to bring the baby to the nursery before finishing any administrative work. That’s Micah’s cue to gather us together and head back to the classroom, and as we move into place behind him, he’s still rubbing the spot on his neck where his MIH chip is.

  EIGHT

  DATE WITH A POTENTIAL STALKER

  Code of Conduct and Ethics: The Institute—Sector 4, USA

  Section 5 Article 2.1: Interest in a person of the opposite gender must be reported to parents within two weeks.

  DAD ALWAYS TELLS ME to watch and observe. Glean information. Never confront anyone because you don’t know where the real power lies. So I have no idea what possesses me to confront Micah during our next lab.

  He’s set another lesson in observing. No procedures yet. Not until we’ve gone through all the proper observations. Boring, if you ask me. I’m more of a hands-on kind of girl, but I suppose it’s necessary. We wouldn’t be able to do a birthing procedure like what we saw yesterday without training, after all. We’re given assigned pairs and sent to a developmental station where we’re supposed to gain a baseline for observation. Our studies will progress from there.

  “Katherine Dennard, since there are an odd number of students in class, you’ll be paired with me.” There’s no emotion in Micah’s voice or face. The total opposite from yesterday in the observation deck when he seemed to be watching me every chance he got.

  Taryn elbows me. “Wanna trade?” She raises her eyebrows in a tease and licks her lips. “He’s so yummy. I don’t know why you’re so paranoid. I’d let him follow me anywhere.”

  Okay, so I told her. I probably should have kept my mouth shut, but I had to tell someone other than Gran about being followed. I figured if I told Taryn, she could tell me that I’m not a total raving lunatic. Unfortunately, she confirmed it instead, and she’s been hounding me ever since.

  “Think I can get him to follow me to my bedroom?” she asks through a grin.

  I can’t help but laugh. Maybe it’s her teasing that lightens my mood, but within the last thirty minutes, I’ve decided to refuse to be wary of Micah the lab guy anymore. I can’t try to interpret his every scowl or smirk. If I did, it’d take up most of my day. An easy, I don’t suspect anything approach will work much better in my opinion. A little trust can go a long way. Hopefully, he won’t know that I’ve suspected anything, and I can show him the normal, sane me … sort of.

  The pairs of my classmates go off to their stations while I wait for Micah to gather his things and join me at the batch of embryos we’re supposed to study.

  “Looks like you’re stuck with me,” he says, crossing his arms over his compact, which he holds against his chest. He looks almost shy standing like this, but I’ve seen his confidence in these lab procedures. He’s not fooling anyone. Note to self: Stop interpreting his every look!

  “Could be worse.”

  His head cocks in question.

  “I could be stuck with Stewart.” I thumb over my shoulder where, without even looking, I know Stewart stands. I can tell by the nasally voice, which is sure to annoy his female partner.

  “Tonya, look at this!” Stewart says.

  I swear I hear him snort when he sniffs.

  A half snicker escapes Micah’s lips before his stone face returns. He removes a piece of tissue from the pack on the counter and wipes the microscope clean before he presses his forehead against the scope and looks through the lenses. “Give yourself a few moments to watch before you note anything.”

  Right. We’re supposed to be studying. This is a lab for my Developmental Biology class. Somehow standing next to Micah with my heart speeding and my palms sweating makes that fact hard to remember.

  Placing my eyes against the scope, I inhale his clean scent still hanging in the air. Not looking at him gives me courage to say what’s on my mind. Perhaps it’s a moment of bold idiocy caused by his presence, but it comes out before I can think too much about it. “So, I’ve seen quite a lot of you lately. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were following me.” He isn’t. I know he isn’t. I hope he isn’t. But all the talk from Taryn has it stuck in my subconscious, and it slips into my speech before I can tie my tongue.

  I hold steady but can see his hand leaning easily on the countertop, clench into a fist.

  Oh crap! No way! Maybe he was.

  However, his voice is steady as he says, “Following you? I didn’t realize I was.” He changes position and leans against the table, fiddling with the lens paper.

  I keep my eyes on the embryos under the microscope. “Sure, you know. That night last week when I ran into you near the park. Then the other day at the library when you spied on me through the bookshelves in the old section. And now this lab partner deal you have going on. Slick. I mean, if you wanted a date, it would’ve been easier just to ask, don’t you think?” Wait. Listen. Don’t look at him yet. Oh, my goodness, my mother would kill me if she heard me say this.

  I pull my gaze away from the lenses and look at the tiny smirk on his lips. Like his front teeth, it’s slightly crooked. Sure, he’s a little different from the rest of us, but in a way, it’s endearing. He’s cute in a not-like-the-others kind of way, but it’s more than that. Rugged, perhaps. A little rougher around the edges than most guys I know. And the stubble that constantly rests on his chin lends to that wild, sexy thing he has going on. I wonder if he knows it.

  He relaxes and twists and folds the tissue as he speaks. “I can’t help it that we happen to be in the same places occasionally, Kate. We live in the same town. Study at the same facilities. It’s bound to happen.” His serious face returns, and I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Even so, my heartbeat quickens when he says my name. It’s like he’s rolling it around in his mouth for
a moment.

  Now it’s my turn to cock my head. I’ll give him credit. He didn’t deny it. And his answer settles my mind and entices me at the same time. It’s true. It could be a total coincidence to have ended up in the same places, but Gran always tells me there’s no such thing as coincidence. And it doesn’t explain away why he didn’t just round the bookshelf at the library and say hi or how he seemed to disappear into thin air when I went to look for him.

  He interrupts my thoughts. “As for the lab partner bit, it’s a perk of being the lab assistant to be able to pick the smartest girl as a partner.”

  I feel myself grow hot, and I know my cheeks are crimson. So I turn back to the microscope to hide. “Hmm.”

  “But as long as you’re asking. I’d love a date.”

  Wrenching back in surprise, I bang my head on the cabinet. “I didn’t ask—”

  “It’s okay,” he snickers, lips curling into a mischievous grin. “I’d be afraid to ask me out, too.” He leans close, and I catch another whiff of his skin. “Being your lab leader and all. It must be awkward for you.” His smile widens when he sees my mouth agape at his explanation. He thumbs over his shoulder. “I think your friend, Taryn, might be jealous, though.”

  Over to my right, Taryn eyes us. Her brows are furrowed, but when she sees me watching, she smiles and winks. I know she’ll catch me after class and quiz me about everything Micah said. She’ll want all the juicy details, which means I’ll have to tell her that Micah and I apparently have a date.

  “And where and when would this particular meeting of the minds be?” I ask.

  “Ah, and she gives in.” He shakes his head and clucks his tongue. “I thought you’d be one to put up more of a fight. It must be my charming personality. Impossible to say no.”

  “Unless you weren’t interested. In which case, I could easily find something else of value to do, instead of wasting my time wandering through the park or catching a flick with my lab partner. Or is your idea of a date more of a study session?”

  “Coffee at the café and a walk by the river,” he says without hesitation. “Friday at six. I’ll pick you up.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I smile at him.

  “So you don’t forget.” He presses something into the palm of my hand then calls the rest of the class together. “Let’s hear what you’ve observed so far. Finish up in the next few minutes and meet me back in the classroom.”

  When he’s no longer in sight, I open my palm. In it is a tiny folded butterfly. I tuck it into my back pocket and turn back to my lab notes, wondering how I went from suspecting him of stalking me to setting up a date.

  NINE

  DATE NIGHT

  Code of Conduct and Ethics: The Institute—Sector 4, USA

  Section 5 Article 2.2: Relationships between two persons under twenty years of age shall be strictly monitored by the parents of both individuals. Curfews must be honored. Failure to adhere to curfews will result in demerits. Three demerits results in loss of privileges.

  RUSHING TO THE BATHROOM, I cling to the toilet and dry heave. I’m dizzy when I stand up. I’ve never been this nervous for a date in my life, not that I’ve been on a ton. What have I gotten myself into? And why am I such a nervous wreck?

  “Katherine, you okay?” My mom is putting the finishing touches on a well-cooked meal by peeling back the sealant and warming it up in the microwave. Mom claims to be a master chef, but we all know if this were true, she would’ve been selected for the food service careers. Since she turns up her nose at that type of job, I’m thinking she couldn’t even boil water if she had to.

  “Yeah, Mom. Just getting ready for my date.” I pull my hair back off my neck and wrap an elastic band around it. A wet washcloth dabs the sweat off my neck and face, and I pat dry with a hand towel. Better. The nausea has subsided, and with a pinch of my cheeks, I’ll look normal again. I hope.

  Once a little color has returned to my face, I give myself a once over in the full-length mirror behind the door. I turn my back and look over my shoulder, running my hands over my hips. These jeans make my butt look fantastic. For a while, I contemplated something a little nicer, but I figured with a walk near the river, comfort and convenience was essential.

  With my hair pulled up, I can see my ID tattoo. Normally, my hair hides it, but pulling it back reveals the barcode pressed into the base of my skull. 1-2-0-5-9-0-1. My number. Complete with a tiny bump under the skin, the microchip programmed to make me as perfect as possible … Staring at mine now, I fight the urge for my stomach to heave again. There’s something about it that indicates my body isn’t fully mine. And I guess, if I think about it, it isn’t. Once I do actually die at exactly one hundred and twenty years from my date and time of birth, my body will be returned to The Institute for study, just like everyone else’s.

  It’s this sort of thing that makes me jealous of Gran. At least there’s a little mystery for her. When she’ll die, how she’ll go. Not so for me, unless I meet with some terribly unfortunate accident. I’ll know the time and day, and I’ll even be able to plan the place. It’s too nice and neat for me. A perfect little life-sized box. This thing in my neck is a constant reminder of the spontaneity I’ll never have.

  The thought disgusts me, and as I give the elastic a tug, my hair falls over my back, covering the black carved lines. I’ll deal with the heat.

  Mom stands at the door, leaning on the frame, a cup of coffee in her hands. “So, who’s this boy you’re seeing? You did record this date into the database, right?” She’s trying to be serious and concerned, but I recognize the way the corners of her lips pull up the tiniest bit. Secretly, she loves the fact that I have a date, as long as she approves of the guy.

  “My lab partner, Micah Pennington. And yes, it’s recorded.”

  “Micah Pennington?” my father asks. “Isn’t he one of the assistants in the Creation Unit? How would he be your lab partner?”

  “There were an odd number of students, so I got stuck as his partner.”

  “An assistant to the assistant. Impressive,” Dad says as the look on my mother’s face brightens. “Way to work yourself up the ladder. It’s all about who you know.” Dad’s anxious for me to have an in with the higher-ups. He feels the more people like us who secretly resist The Institute and its power, the better. My dad, the undercover rebel.

  “That’s not what this is, Dad,” I urge, knowing what he’s thinking. “It’s a date. It’s personal.”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  Okay, so I suppose dating the guy in charge doesn’t hurt my chances of being placed at the top of the group that’s vying for the few openings as Creation Specialists. But I’m not interested in filtering information for some underground rebellion I don’t even know exists.

  It doesn’t matter how much she tries to hold back, my mother can’t hide her excitement over the prospect of my date with someone higher up in the Creation Department. Her smile is practically reaching the back of her head.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, escaping their stares by heading to my room to grab a jacket. “He’ll be here any minute. Can you two please behave yourselves?”

  When I return, Micah is standing inside the front door. I attempt to make introductions, but he stops me. “We’ve already become acquainted while you were upstairs.”

  I sigh and roll my eyes at my mother to which she replies, “We behaved. Just made polite introductions.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Dennard.” Micah holds the door open for me.

  “Bye, Mother, Dad,” I say, closing the door behind me.

  “Bye, Katie-Did,” they reply in unison.

  “Katie-Did?” Micah asks when we step onto the front porch.

  “It’s a nickname. Like the bug.”

  A light smile plays across his lips, but he says nothing.

  The driveway is empty of a foreign vehicle. “Didn’t you drive?” I ask, z
ipping up my jacket in a fight against the cool of the air.

  “I figured we were going to walk by the river anyways, so there’d be no need to drive.”

  I plunge my hands deep into my pockets. “To the café then for something warm?” It’s a good thing we have to walk a bit. At the very least, it’ll warm up my extremities. Despite the sunlight, the late summer air carries a chill.

  At Meg’s Café, I order my usual: pumpkin scone and coffee with cream. I skipped it this morning in anticipation of this date. Otherwise, I’d receive a notice that I’ve exceeded my limit of innutritious foods for the week. The rigmarole and paperwork associated with that is a pain in the neck, so I’d like to avoid it at all costs if possible. Micah gets a cranberry orange scone, a choice that surprises me at first, and when I give him a questioning look, he says, “What? Can’t a guy like cranberries?”

  “I guess so. I just expected you to be more of a bagel with cream cheese or jelly doughnut type of guy.”

  “Well,” he says, holding the door wide for me. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Kate.”

  “Like your ability to create animals from tiny pieces of paper?” I expect a subtle smile when I look at him, but his face is the stone mask I’m used to seeing in class.

  O-kay. Maybe this dating-the-lab-dude wasn’t such a great idea, after all.

  “Let’s keep that between the two of us, okay?” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Um, yeah. Sure. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. It’s something I do to keep my hands busy, but if anyone knew I have a paper folding hobby, I’d never hear the end of it.”

  Instantly, his demeanor lightens, and he’s chatting about work and the Creation Lab. With mention of the Utero Lab, he relaxes.