by Neil Clarke
“I had Sphinx add to this model all of the Homo sapiens and Homo erectus genomes that we could find, leading to the discovery of one of our ancestors that shared a blood relationship with their ancestors.
“This ancestor was not Eve’s human husband, but rather the hybrid child she had with a Homo sapiens. We used quantum algorithms on this child’s Homo sapiens genes to conduct a complicated ‘subtraction.’ Finally, we extracted the part of Eve’s genome that did not include any DNA from Homo sapiens.”
Along with Sphinx, every point of light dissipates, then gathers into a huge double helix, one portion of which is highlighted in bright white.
Edmund emphasizes every word as he concludes. “We are certain that this is a chimera—a cross-species chimera.”
I close my eyes. A photo my mother sent me appears in my mind’s eye. In the documents, that photo was perhaps the most nondescript one, bundled together with countless standard shots of the chimera pig in the research notes. It was a close-up shot of the pig’s eyes.
On the plane, I had glanced at it for maybe half a second, only to find that it had branded itself into my memories like a curse.
Those were my eyes. It had my eyes.
The hologram graphs disappear, leaving only Edmund on the stage.
“Humanity’s common ancestor is a chimera. The foundation of all the ethical attacks and criticisms levied against us over the years has disintegrated. We have the evidence to prove that humanity was born in a laboratory. We are the product of science, not nature.”
Edmund’s voice trembles with excitement. “We don’t yet have the technology to figure out what creatures were used to create humanity, and we can’t tell who our creator was. But the success of chimeras and regenerative medicine tells us that we are only one step away from our Creator!
“So what is there left to fear? Shall we boldly stride across this ethical barrier and let each person choose whether to join us, or shall we hesitate, timidly adhere to the fate of every other species on earth, and wait for the next bottleneck to return civilization to square one, or perhaps even to annihilation?
“Esteemed guests, I submit that we’re at a crossroads of science and history: we must make a choice—now is the time for full-scale human experimentation.”
The sound of scattered applause gradually swells to a thundering roar that fills the auditorium. Some in the crowd still wear expressions of doubt, but they’re also full of admiration. From the birth of that pig, this town has been the battlefront of human genetic transformation. It’s the holy site within the heart of every biologist and medical specialist. The announcement today has advanced the field again, perhaps even bringing humanity closer to a new world.
It’s too bad my mother isn’t here to see this.
Right at that moment, I receive a high-priority direct message. The sender’s name makes my heart skip a beat.
“I’d like to chat after the event.”
D. Cabin Zero
“Edmund?”
No answer.
In the hundred years he’d been together with his AI, nothing like this had ever happened before. Luo Ming looked around, then raised his voice: “Edmund!”
His assistant finally appeared. “I’m here.”
Full of concern, Luo Ming asked, “What did you find in the captain’s cabin?”
Before meeting the captain, Luo Ming suddenly thought of a trick—entering the captain’s cabin would give him the opportunity to have Edmund break into the ship’s core control systems, which were isolated from external networks. The AI would then be able steal all of the top-secret information there. The plan went smoothly until Luo Ming unexpectedly provoked the captain and was thrown out too soon.
“It’s true: the captain has never replaced an organ,” Edmund said. “She was using prolonged hibernation to delay the aging process. The ship can awaken her in fifteen seconds, so there’s no impact on the ship’s normal operations.”
“I don’t care about that,” Luo Ming said. “What else did you find?”
“I only had time to gather some population data. There are 29,000 people aboard who haven’t undergone organ replacement surgery. The vast majority are young people under the age of 30. Only 15 are over 50 years old; above 80, only the captain. But she couldn’t have been the criminal because she’d been in deep sleep for the past month, and wasn’t awakened until after the incident had occurred.”
“Then it seems we’ve reached a dead end here, too,” Luo Ming said, sighing.
“Do you still think that the criminal is a ‘person’?”
“You’re the only AI aboard this ship,” Luo Ming said. “If you did it, now would be a good time to confess.”
Edmund’s voice lowered. “That’s a terrible joke. I have no way to clear my own name.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Luo Ming said, backpedaling. “It was . . . a terrible joke.”
“I know; I’ve already forgiven you,” Edmund said. “But I have indeed run into a bit of trouble.”
“What happened?” Luo Ming turned and saw First Officer Qin Wei walking toward him with a couple of police droids.
“I’m afraid that when I broke into the ship’s control system, the captain discovered me,” Edmund said apologetically.
“Dammit!” Luo Ming furrowed his brow. “How can I turn you off?”
“It’s too late. A part of my data was left behind in the captain’s cabin. By now, she probably knows everything about you.” Edmund hesitated. “For example, your other name.”
For the first time, Luo Ming wished that Edmund had a physical form, so that he could give him the evil eye—both his “artificial” nature and his “intelligence” could learn to take secrecy more seriously.
But he didn’t have time to scold the AI; Qin Wei was already standing before him. “Mr. Luo, I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us.”
“What for?” Luo Ming asked, his face impassive.
“There have been additional incidents involving Adam,” Qin Wei said, his rapid speech revealing his unease. “I need your help.”
Luo Ming let out a held breath. “I would be happy to assist you, Mr. First Officer. But I recall that information concerning Adam is beyond my clearance level.”
Qin Wei snapped his fingers: an enormous file suddenly filled Luo Ming’s inbox. Coldly, Qin Wei said, “You’re cleared now.” He turned and walked away.
Luo Ming rushed to catch up. Summoning every ounce of sincerity, he said, “Please tell me what happened.”
Qin Wei’s expression softened. “I’ll be brief: the other organ cultivation cabins all followed Cabin 35’s example. Our orders have been canceled en masse, and the hospital is paralyzed. The captain has declared a state of emergency.”
As he spoke, he sent more files to Luo Ming. The documents included a three-dimensional cultivation cabin model that even Edmund hadn’t been able to find. According to these documents, the oval Deck Seven was the site for hundreds of linked cultivation cabins, which formed an inward spiral like a whirlpool.
Luo Ming recalled what Edmund had said earlier. “Do these cultivation cabins communicate with each other?”
“They share the same feeding ducts, so, theoretically, they’re not isolated from one another.” Qin Wei was now fully cooperating.
Luo Ming mulled over Qin Wei’s response. Five minutes later, they arrived at the security line before Deck Seven. The white-haired captain stood amidst a crowd of police droids. She saw Luo Ming and made an unhappy face as she asked Qin Wei, “Why did you bring him here?”
“Luo Ming is the officer in charge of this investigation, Your Excellency,” Qin Wei replied simply.
The captain scrutinized Luo Ming. Luo Ming avoided her gaze and examined the scene instead. “Edmund,” Luo Ming said softly, “wasn’t there something within the documents you sent that said one of the cultivation cabins is dedicated to the nervous system?”
No response. Edmund had disappeared completely. Luo Ming had no
choice but to ask Qin Wei the same question.
Qin Wei’s answer was quick: “Cabin Zero. Though it’s not a cultivation cabin; rather, it’s a conservation cabin that preserves a few exceptional brains.”
“I thought brains were on the list of organs that can’t be replaced.”
“Right.” Qin Wei gave him an odd look. “The brains grown in Adams have no memories. Replacing the brain would turn a patient into a mindless fool . . . who would do that?”
A terrible chill ran up his spine. Luo Ming felt himself getting close to the answer. “Then the ones in Cabin Zero are—”
Qin Wei hesitated, but still replied. “On their deathbeds, some important individuals chose to deposit their brains here. We adjusted the genetic expression modules of the Adams inside Cabin Zero so that they would age extremely slowly.”
“So you’re telling me that though the bodies of these people have died, their minds live on.”
“Their minds are in deep sleep.” Qin Wei was growing impatient. “Why are you asking this?”
“I’d like to take a look at Cabin Zero.”
“Cabin Zero is perfectly fine.” Qin Wei eyed him suspiciously. “The captain herself confirmed that.”
Luo Ming persisted: “Last time, you and the captain also thought everything was perfectly fine.” He noted Qin Wei’s expression, then added, “I’m concerned that things are deteriorating faster than we imagined.”
As things really did seem to be getting out of hand, Qin Wei finally agreed to Luo Ming’s request. Cabin Zero was on the lower part of Deck Seven, at the center of the whirlpool of cultivation cabins. When the cabin doors opened, Luo Ming was met with an unbelievable sight.
Sacks made of translucent membrane dangled from the ceiling, each holding a spinal cord or a cerebrum. Between the Adam pouches, additional membranes had already enveloped all the interconnecting passageways, creating an actual web—a three-dimensional network made of neurons, spinal cords, and lumps of cerebral tissue. Two “people” were laid out neatly on the ground: the first a complete body—clean, naked, cold; the second a bulging sack of human skin, whose open abdomen revealed a heap of organs arranged in neat order: large intestines, stomach, liver . . .
It wasn’t a human at all, but a pile of human parts.
“My God, what in the world—” Qin Wei murmured.
Luo Ming put on a pair of gloves and carefully peeled back the skin covering the loose organs. Where the thoracic cavity should have been, there was only a ghastly segment of gleaming white bone.
“That’s his rib—Adam’s rib,” Luo Ming blurted. “He’s trying to create an Eve.”
5. Argus
And [Hera] set a watcher upon [Io], great and strong Argus, who with four eyes looks every way. And the goddess stirred in him unwearying strength: sleep never fell upon his eyes; but he kept sure watch always.
—Hesiod, Aegimius (as translated by Hugh G. Evelyn-White)
It is said, too, that Echidna, daughter of Tartarus and Earth, who used to carry off passers-by, was caught asleep and slain by Argus.
—Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, 2.1.2 (as translated by Sir James George Frazer)
When I see her again, I begin to understand why my father was so madly in love with her.
She can’t be controlled, can’t be known, can’t be predicted. But when she’s standing before me, she’s thoughtful and warm. This contradiction allows her to exude allure like a demon. She’s sitting on a black Barcelona chair now, her face pale and wan like a girl’s. Her gaze falls upon me and she laughs weakly. “Tony, I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier—did I worry you?”
Neither “yes” nor “no” would do—both would reveal me as a hypocrite. So I say, “I helped out with the rescue effort. I’m overjoyed to see you’re alive and well.”
“When I was at Gardermoen Airport, I realized something was wrong with my body, so I borrowed a friend’s plane to get back to the laboratory more quickly.” Her speech is deliberate, slow. “Then I discovered that nothing could be done about my problem, and so I just let the world think I was in the crash.”
Anxious, I ask, “What do you mean?”
“I’m going to die soon.” She looks at me, unperturbed. “For ten years, I’ve been exploring the potential of genetic modification. I thought I had resolved the entire genetic network, but I was wrong.”
I don’t know what to say.
Warmly, she tells me, “See, this is science. Most of the time, we aren’t so lucky.”
“Mom—”
“My failure has led me to make some adjustments to my future plans. We have to face the risks inherent in large-scale experimentation. I got in touch with a friend who’s investing in an interstellar colonization program.” She makes a call, and a hologram of a person appears before us. “Chen Ying, this is Tony. I believe you’ve already met.”
The woman is the one who had come to meet me at the airport on the day of Sphinx’s announcement.
Chen Ying ignores me completely. “How do you feel?”
“Terrible,” says my mother. Then she looks at me again. “Tony, Chen Ying is one of the wealthiest people on Earth, but most people know nothing about her. I’m trying to convince her to lend me two of her five colonization ships for a few hundred years to use as research vessels.”
“I’ve already agreed.” Chen Ying furrows her brow as she looks at her.
“Right, but you haven’t heard the actual plan yet. I’d like to put them on the same orbit as a short-period comet—”
“That’s not important,” Chen Ying says, interrupting her. “Send these details to the technicians; you need your rest now.”
My mother makes a face. “Alright.” Then, she ends the call.
The brief conversation leaves me with an impression of intimacy. Maybe it wasn’t so much the topic of the conversation as it was Chen Ying’s expressions. My mother senses my questions, but she doesn’t answer them. “I’m going to move the next-generation chimera lab onto the spaceships. That way, I don’t have to worry about the catastrophic consequences in the event of an accident in a terrestrial genetic lab. Eden is my first ship, which will conduct more conservative research. The chimeras she carries come from the first generation of stem cells—that is, part of them comes from you.”
I remember the pig’s eyes.
She continues: “We’ve been cultivating these cells for many years. Strangely, although we’ve tried to use other human cells and cells from other animals, this combination has always been the most stable. I guess we stumbled on a miracle with my first trial. Tony, you and I are both very lucky.” She realizes my mind is wandering and changes the topic. “Speaking of which, what did you think of the big announcement?”
I think over the commentary from the last few days. “From what I’ve heard, this hypothesis still has some holes . . . ”
“I left them on purpose.” She gives me a cunning grin. “I just wanted to get everyone arguing, even start a war within science—only then can there be a revolution.”
“But you seem to be losing.”
“You still don’t understand people.” She touches a finger to her chin. “Only through conflict can people have choices; only then can we rouse people’s emotions, even whip them into a frenzy. As the flames of war expand, the news will spread farther. More and more will join the battle, creating more soldiers for me. Only then will I stand forth to protect my believers, dealing a deadly blow to the opposition.”
“You’re already holding the weapon for dealing that blow, aren’t you?”
“Not only that, Tony,” she says gently. “All of this is a trap I’ve set to distract them from the real question.”
“The real question?”
“What we announced at the event has nothing to do with the research I want to conduct. The interesting question has never been whether we can use humans as test subjects. I’ve long trodden in that forbidden territory, starting from when you were six. The far more interesting quest
ion is: What have we created through these experiments?”
“Chimeras.”
“Chimeras, sure.” She nods. “But what exactly are chimeras—people or beasts? Do chimeras have thoughts? Can they reproduce with other chimeras? Are chimeras the path forward for human evolution or humanity’s downfall?
“These are my fatal weaknesses because I don’t know the answers. From the very beginning, I didn’t understand why the chimera experiments were successful. I was like a child playing with clay, rolling various colors together until they turned into something new.
“But I won’t tell people that I don’t know the answers. I’ll let them stare at an irrelevant chimera ancestor, a point of controversy where I hold in my hands all evidence, where the theory is both simple yet evocative. Look, they’ll use this issue to attack me, thinking that this is the foundation of regenerative medicine. But they’re wrong: once the arguments start and the flames of academic war erupt, I will be the only one who benefits. My opponents will fail and be thoroughly discredited; my soldiers will become a dedicated but foolish hivemind. Tony, this is what makes the game fun.”
Seeing her eyes sparkle with excitement, I finally understand why my father would so often murmur the word “monster” whenever she came up in conversation. She’s far more terrifying than any AI I’ve encountered. I surmise her tactics: “Do you plan on continuing to let Edmund lead the charge for you?”
“Edmund?” She’s startled for a moment, then laughs uproariously. “Oh my goodness, you really didn’t notice?”
“Notice what?”
“The Edmund at the press event was a hologram—the real Edmund passed away five years ago.”
Once again I feel helpless, like an insect that’s been caught in a spider’s web. “I really didn’t notice—”
“Okay, then that’s our little secret.” She giggles and taps her head. “There was no Edmund on stage at the announcement. The one standing there speaking through the hologram was me.”
“But you . . . Why did you keep his death a secret?”
“Using him and your father as the mouthpieces of the research group and the charitable foundation saved me a lot of trouble. Plus, he agreed to let me use his likeness,” she explains patiently.
