They Shall Inherit The Earth

by A. F. McKeating



  THEY SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH

  by

  A. F. McKeating

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  They Shall Inherit The Earth

  Copyright © 2011 by A. F. McKeating

  This free ebook may be copied, distributed, reposted, reprinted and shared, provided it appears in its entirety without alteration, and the reader is not charged to access it.

  Table of Contents

  They Shall Inherit the Earth

  About the Author

  Other Novels by A. F. McKeating

  THEY SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH

  "Are you sure about this, Cally?"

  Hagen peered nervously into the incubator. Increasingly agitated wails were rising from the squalling bundle of pink flesh which lay in there, disturbing the accustomed calm of the lab. Cally smiled sweetly as she elbowed him gently out of the way.

  "Everything will be fine," she said. "All his vital signs are perfectly normal and so far there’s no trace of any infection. Right now I’d give him a 98% chance of survival."

  "Great." He gestured vaguely towards the door that lead out into the corridor. "When word of this gets out, we might face some criticism in the press, you know, despite out best efforts to pave the way. There have been a few lobbyists on the case already."

  She pursed her lips. "I know, but we’ve followed the guidelines to the letter. And the mandate from the Ethics Committee was clear enough." She quoted from memory: "‘Permission to create life in this instance is granted on the understanding that the product is of demonstrable benefit to society’. When people will be crying out for them, you’ll see."

  He sighed. "Maybe. It’s just that we might have to do a bit of PR management. And when you’ve got a moment, we need to talk about-" He broke off, frowning. "Look, do you think you can do something to quieten it down?"

  "Leave it to me," she said and scooped up the baby with a knowledgeable air. "I’ve done my research. Speaking of which, you’d better get that paper finished if it’s going to be ready for the sustainability conference next week."

  "OK, well if you’re sure you know what you’re doing…"

  "Yes, thank you, Professor Hagen," she answered pertly. She held the baby against her shoulder while she warmed some synthetic milk substitute. "I may not be its biological mother, but I do know a thing or two about handling the young. It’s your turn to do the school run later, by the way."

  Hagen watched as the baby’s lips closed hungrily around the teat and he felt a passing sense of distaste. It was all so organic. Nonetheless, he was thankful for the peace which had fallen over the lab once more, broken only by the sound of the baby’s contented suckling. Cally smiled at him.

  "There," she said. "That wasn’t so difficult, was it?"

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. "OK, I take it back. You’re an expert." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "I’d better go."

  Cally gave him a brief kiss. "See you later." She carried the baby briskly into the office, calling over her shoulder, "Don’t forget the kids."

  "I won’t."

  For a moment, he continued to stare after her with a faint sense of foreboding. Here was the first human child in five hundred years. Its arrival was a scientific and moral turning point, and it was all their doing. Before they could even contemplate starting the project, they had had to spend months persuading the Ethics Committee to give them permission, not just because they had the technology to do it, but because they believed that through this work they would be contributing to the greater good. Providing a solution to a problem.

  After all that effort, he had expected that when this moment arrived, they would be celebrating. They had worked so hard to get to this point, passing hours in the lab and spending time with the kids in shifts in their desire not to lose the project’s momentum. It was reasonable to expect that there would be some sense of gratification, wasn’t it? Perhaps that would come later. Now, though, he felt no excitement, just a creeping sense of foreboding that he couldn’t quite grasp.

  He shook his head, trying to turn his thoughts to the paper that he was supposed to be producing. It wouldn’t write itself. Hagen stared at the computer screen in front of him, finding that the words just wouldn’t come. Instead, he realised, his mind was filling with doubts about the future. What would happen when their creation was eventually turned over to society, when it passed out of their hands? The history of science was littered with examples of the products of research being put to uses other than those intended by their creators. Was there any reason to think it would be different in this instance? Perhaps not.

  Restlessly, Hagen turned away from the computer and gazed out of the window at the first orange fingers of sunset that trailed across the sky. Tomorrow, they would announce to the world what they had created and perhaps set it on a new path, for good or ill. For now, he wondered quietly: what had they done?

  * * * * *

  Journal entry: March 21 2713

  The child is doing well and is developing normally. So far, I consider the project to be a success! Cally has persuaded me to set aside my misgivings. What’s done is done, and we might as well reap the benefits of our hard work. We’ve patented the basic procedure and have been able to assure our financial backers that they should see a decent return on their investment once this idea gets out to market. I’m mindful, though, of how far there is to go until we reach that point

  I have some concerns, too, about the effects of our long-term emotional involvement with the project, particularly for Cally. The evidence is that we need to cater for the child’s welfare on all levels, not just the physical. She took him out of his crib last night to comfort him; it seemed to be the only way to stop him crying, despite all our endeavours with neurological calming measures. I have no qualms about taking this kind of hands-on approach with my own offspring, but in this case I fear that we may be misguided to allow the bonds to grow too strong.

  Nonetheless, after much discussion we’ve agreed that there would be significant benefits in allowing him to experience a domestic environment, in the early stages at least. We’ve explained to the children that he won’t be a member of the family but that they should treat him kindly, even though he won’t be their equal in any sense.

  We haven’t specified how long we’ll keep him at home with us. Probably just the next six months while we get him through the first stages of development. Once we’re satisfied that he’s developing normally, we’ll take him back into the lab environment, perhaps with a dedicated carer who can manage his basic needs while we move on to the next phase. Despite my earlier pessimism, I believe we’re on the cusp of a truly revolutionary development which could take our civilization in a whole new direction.

  * * * * *

  A week later, they took the baby home with them in a makeshift carrier they had cobbled together in the lab. They had never needed to use such a thing with their own children, who were more robust. Cally sat beside the baby in the back seat of the car and Hagen found himself casting apprehensive glances at them both in the rear view mirror. He didn’t like the way she was looking at the baby or the way she was making those odd cooing noises. They were totally unnecessary, he thought with some irritation, although he knew her well enough not to pass comment.

  At the apartment, the children greeted them excitedly.

  "Wow! It’s so warm!"

  "But it smells!"

  "Aw, but look at its little fingers. Can I touch him?"

  Cally fended them off gently. "No, it’s nap time. And you two have homework to do, I believe."

  They slunk off
, protesting, while Cally got the baby settled and Hagen followed her instructions for preparing the next feed.

  "He’ll need it when he wakes," she said. "Are you sure you can manage while I’m out?"

  "How hard can it be?" he asked.

  When she returned two hours later, he could hardly wait to hand the baby over to her. It had cried the whole time she had been out, ignoring his attempts to divert it with music and the tele-wall. She laughed and he scowled at her.

  "Don’t be like that," she chided him. "A little hands-on research is doing you good."

  "Hmm. How come you can get it to stay quiet like that?"

  "Not ‘it’. ‘He’," she corrected him. "And we really should think about giving him a name."

  "A what?"

  She looked at him wryly. "A word or words by which someone is known, addressed or referred to."

  "Yes, I know what a name is," he said, annoyed. "But I thought we agreed not to get emotionally involved in this experiment."

  "We did," she conceded. "However, we need to provide the child with a name to which he can answer. Howe else can we communicate with him and help him to develop?"

  She was right, of course, but still the doubts lingered in his mind.

  "Cally, I’m really concerned about getting too close to this," he began, but she waved his words aside.

  "Nonsense. Scientific objectivity is one thing but you can’t expect to raise a child, albeit a human child, without some form of communication. Now, I’ve been doing some research and I thought that Ethan might suit him."

  * * * * *

  "Well, I have to say this is one of the more interesting meetings that I’ve had the honor to chair at the Ethics Committee." Doctor Cuthbert beamed round the table at the other twelve members of the group. "It’s been five years since the human embryo project achieved its first live birth and we’re now going to receive an update on developments so far. Whenever you’re ready, Dick."

  The Committee members waited in expectant silence as Hagen took his place at the head of the conference table and prepared to begin his presentation.

  "First of all, I’d like to say thank you for the generous support that the Greenfield Foundation has given us throughout our research on this particular, ah, project," he said. "Without it, we’d never have got this far, and-"

  "I’m still waiting for you to buy me that beer, though, Dick," a voice interjected from further down the table.

  There was a ripple of laughter. It was a figure of speech; a curious hangover from the time before. No-one drank beer now, of course. The speaker was CEO of the Greenfield Foundation and an old school friend of Hagen’s. It was good to be acknowledged in this familiar way; social links like these had assisted their work no end. Even so, the interruption had thrown him off his stride somewhat and he took a moment to find his place again.

  "As I was saying," he began, after acknowledging the comment with a good humoured smile, "we’ve been very grateful for the support that we’ve received. Not just the financial support – although that helps, of course – but also the backing of this Committee, which recognised that what we were setting out to do could have profound implications. Any scientific advance has the potential to give rise to change, good or evil, and I know that the Committee has always been keen to ensure that our work was given a fair chance.

  "Ultimately, what we set out to do was find a way to address the severe labor shortage in some areas. Now-"

  He was interrupted.

  "But isn’t there a danger that this will lead to more people being out of work? I mean, it’s all very well to talk abut labor shortages, but what if we get into a situation where humans are taking jobs away from people?"

  Hagen sighed. "I know it’s questionable whether we should be trying to recreate humans to address the labor shortage when there are plenty of able-bodied people out there. But unless the government goes down the route of forcing people to work in particular jobs, there will remain quite serious vacancies in many manual occupations, which will have a lasting impact. We’re already living with the consequences of last year’s court ruling about the working hours limit in deep sea mining operations. In view of all that, we felt that human labor was the answer."

  "What about machines?" someone asked and there were murmurs of agreement.

  "Aren’t they an option?" another voice asked.

  "That’s one answer, but with natural resources getting as scarce as they are, we all know that we can’t afford to keep churning out more and more stuff." Hagen looked round at them earnestly. "Look, humans are cheap to produce, completely biodegradable and, on an aesthetic level, not unpleasant to have around. And they have the huge advantage that they’re perfectly adapted to live in, or rather around, our society."

  Noting a couple of anxious expressions around the table at this point, he added "I’m not suggesting they should be viewed as our equals, in case any of you are concerned about that."

  "Anyhow," he went on. "I’ve brought Ethan with me today so that you can see for yourselves how we’ve been getting on with this work." He spoke into the intercom device on his lapel and said, "Cally? You can bring him in now."

  All heads turned as the door at the far end of the meeting room opened slowly and Cally ushered in the five year old human. He was a sturdy looking boy, with blue eyes and light blonde hair. He was clutching a faded yellow rabbit toy and looked with interest at the assembled faces who were examining him curiously. Cally guided him towards Hagen.

  "Hi, Dad!"

  A ripple of astonishment, mingled with disapproval, broke out as the child broke into a run and threw himself at Hagen’s legs, hugging them tightly. Hagen tried, gently and self-consciously, to disentangle himself as he murmured something quietly to the boy. Ethan looked disappointed, but upon hearing the word "treat", allowed himself to be led away a few paces by Cally. Hagen took a moment to collect himself and then looked round the table again.

  "So, this is Ethan," he said. "As you can see, he’s developing well and, according to our data, is on track to reach basic physical maturity in some twelve years and three months. His cognitive abilities are good, although less advanced than we’re used to, of course, and there are signs that he has an aptitude for manual dexterity. As was our intention."

  He looked around the table.

  "You’ve all seen the background reports that were circulated. Does anyone have any questions so far?"

  A woman spoke up. "I’d like to congratulate you both on your achievement. It’s a privilege to be one of the first people to see the living product of your research."

  Hagen inclined his head in acknowledgement of the compliment and turned to smile at Cally. She was keeping a watchful eye on Ethan, who was now fiddling with some colored beakers which they had brought with them for the demonstration.

  The woman continued: "What’s the life expectancy?"

  A shadow passed across Cally’s face. "About eighty years, we believe," she said. "Although that projection may change as we take into account new data."

  "Such as?"

  "Susceptibility to microbes, for example. We’ve inoculated him against what were the most common expected illnesses for humans but inevitably there’s a limit to how much we can insulate him from the outside world, especially in view of his intended role. We were a little nervous in the early days, especially in view of the events at the beginning of the twenty second century."

  A thoughtful silence descended on the room for a moment.

  "But surely all traces of the plague have been eliminated by now?" someone asked then. "You don’t really think there’s a serious threat to this specimen from something like that, do you?"

  Cally shook her head. "No, you’re right. The plague is dead and gone, so to speak." She gave a faint smile which shaded into a grimace. "Why else would we all be here now? However, Mother Nature is not to be taken lightly. There will always be a chance of some new
microbe, some genetic mutation that could have adverse consequences for life – biological life - on this planet. We’ve seen it happen once. We may see it again. Realistically, there will always be unpredictable elements that affect the human lifespan."

  "And there’s always a risk of accidental damage, too, I suppose," said the woman.

  "Yes, accidents. We have to accept that, from a physical point of view, humans are more, er, fallible." Cally’s voice faltered a little and she turned to Hagen for support.

  He took up the narrative. "As Cally says, we have to accept that there are limits to what we can expect from the, er, specimen. However, I am hopeful that we can expect a reasonable level and span of service in a wide range of work areas."

  There a few murmurs and nods of approval.

  "What about when it’s outlived its usefulness?" Cuthbert asked.

  This time it was Hagen who faltered. "Well… We’ve considered a range of options-" he began but was interrupted by one of the other Committee members.

  "I would have thought that the only option was to terminate it," he said. "No point keeping things that don’t work any more."

  A couple of people nodded in agreement and Hagen felt Cally stiffen next to him.

  "Perhaps," he said carefully. "But as members of the Ethics Committee, you’ll appreciate the need to consider what is the most moral option, as opposed to taking a purely utilitarian view-"

  Again he was interrupted: "But the fact remains that unless you do accept termination as a valid option, someone will have to continue to pay for this piece of equipment when it’s no longer working. And it will still require resources – food – to keep it alive. That doesn’t make good business sense."

  Hagen looked amongst his audience for some evidence of sympathy with the point he was trying to make. Instead, he saw a mixture of interest, condescension and even plain pity. It seemed that no-one was prepared to go out on a limb and support him. He decided to try again.

  "This is a living organism, with mental and emotional needs just the same as you and me – to an extent," he said, speaking slowly and patiently. "We have brought it into the world and so it is reasonable to say that we have a responsibility for its, his physical and mental welfare at all stages of its life cycle, not just when he’s of practical use to our society. If we do not meet that responsibility, then I will consider this project to be a failure."