by Eden Wolfe
"Stop, stop, stop. Fourteen thousand?"
"We had precedent."
"You had no such thing."
"We saw reports from Rainfields."
"The Rainfields official program never saw more than a few hundred, and they were experimental, closely monitored. And even so, several have found themselves in Cork Town. I have a neighbor who - "
"The Queen - I mean, Maeva - said there were records held in Royal archives, that you had experience you hadn't filed in Central Tower. She said it was feasible."
"Feasible. Oh, Maeva." Lucius let out a sigh. "The girl who came never mentioned fourteen thousand."
"That's over the last five years."
"You quadrupled the regular Willing Woman birth rate."
"That was the point."
"And you didn't pause to assess their viability, I see."
"We were moving at scale.
"Moving at scale. Moving at scale. Stop saying you were moving at scale! You were reckless. Careless. And worse, you were idiotic. You know better. Queen or not, you know how this is done. But your ambition got in the way. Was that when she offered you the title? I know Maeva. Look the other way in exchange for position. And you would have done it. What am I saying? You did it. You don't have to tell me. I know. You traded your integrity for an engraved brass plate." Lucius stood up from his wheelchair, leaning in front of Roman, his face and hot breath too close for Roman to focus. "And now look what you've done."
Sweat dripped down the side of Lucius' face. He turned back to the wheelchair and dropped himself in, the floor creaking around him.
Roman's voice was stuck in his throat. He managed a whisper.
"Lucius, I've made a terrible mistake, and I can't fix it. I need you."
Roman took in a deep breath, hoping this would give Lucius what he wanted. Maybe now they could start talking about the cases at hand. He watched Lucius' face go from bemusement to something like shock, and finally his eyes lit up, but not in the way Roman had hoped.
"You don't need me. You still don't get it." Lucius shook his head and hit the table. "Use your brain, Roman! There is no fix. The problem here is not scientific. You have traumatized these children. Fourteen thousand children with dissociative, disorganized attachment disorder. They needed warmth, they needed connection. They needed a bond, and you gave them a box. There is no treatment; this is social. And that's far beyond the ability of Central Tower to fix. I can't fix this, Roman. For what you've done, no science, no genetics, no medication short of tranquilizers will have any effect. And from what I know, tranquilizers do not help an army fight against an invading force. Your soldiers against the so-called invasions from Upper Earth are compromised."
Lucius sat back in his chair.
"Therefore I couldn't help you even if I wanted to."
I don't believe him.
Roman's gut was twisting, but he wouldn't give up. He had to make some progress. Lucius had to come around. He needed Lucius to at least try.
"Alright. I see what you're saying. I need to think about it, but I hear you, Lucius." He stood from the chair and moved around behind it, leaning forward. "Let me present you with a different challenge then."
Lucius blinked, his mouth agape, but Roman continued.
"Put the existing phases of incubates aside. I recognize now my failings in it. I'm not trying to smooth that over. But thinking about the future - "
"Don't tell me you want this to continue?"
"We have no choice, Lucius."
"You are completely brainwashed."
"Upper Earth is not so far away."
"Do you hear yourself?"
"We will continue our munitions programs, but we need soldiers."
"You need to leave."
Roman heard the pitch in his voice mount, but he couldn't do anything about it now. "We have to be prepared!"
"We don't even know that there ever will be such an invasion. And even if there were - do you know who's in Upper Earth, Roman? I know you do. You know it as well as I do. Men. You want us to fight against our own?"
"They'll kill us off."
"You don't know that."
"We'll lose everything we've built, everything Central Tower has accomplished, everything you have - "
"Don't bring me into this."
"The Queen - "
"The Queen is wrong."
"She intends to have an army to fight them off."
"The Queen is wrong!"
"She may be wrong, but she's Queen!" Roman lowered his voice. "What do you want me to do Lucius? Tell me, I'll do it. Nothing is as it was supposed to be. Just tell me, and I'll do."
Lucius looked at Roman for a long time. Roman could hardly bear to hold his gaze, but he did. Because he had to. Because he needed Lucius to understand. He needed Lucius to come back to the Tower.
Lucius brought his hands to his face. He rubbed his eyes and then rested his forehead in his palms.
"Go, Roman. Please just go. I'll think about what you’ve said. I’ll send word when I've had time to process all this. Please."
Roman waited, hoping Lucius would change his mind. Hoping he would say something, anything, that Roman could action.
But Lucius didn't say another word. He kept his face in his hands, his chest rising and falling over his gut.
Roman stood, giving Lucius one last look before clicking the door shut.
16
Lucius
Lucius knocked over a Petri dish and it smashed on the concrete floor of the lab.
Damn it, he's thrown me all off now.
Lucius worked in a frenzy. He hoped the familiar smells and challenges of the lab would wipe away the past hour he spent with Roman.
He knew what Roman was trying to do. He knew he was appealing to Lucius' sense of duty, his former failures, and the opportunity to redeem himself. And he knew it was a farce, a trick. He was being manipulated.
Or am I?
Roman doesn't know anything about what really happened at Rainfields. He doesn't know the depth of what I've done. I can't be held fully responsible for the chaos of Maeva's birth among the thousand other Queen infants, though it wouldn't have happened without me.
Lucius swept the glass shards into a corner. He couldn't bend over to sweep them up. There was a collection of dust and broken pieces of various equipment in the corner. It hadn't occurred to him to install a vacuum down there. The corner was an otherwise fine resting spot.
He sat on the oversized stool; that he had thought of in advance. He threw all his thinking into the chromosomal structure of 4957. He'd always hoped 4957 would be his redeemer. It was supposed to be Adam who would be his redeemer, but since Adam was now dead, 4957 was his only chance.
Sara thinks Adam was disappeared. Just as well. The truth would shake up their delicate balance.
He looked up from the structure, thinking of Sara.
I don't have the heart to tell her. She's better off this way. The girl loved him, even if we had done everything to scrub individualistic loyalty from the code.
He let out a long breath and felt something deep inside his body. Something different. Something unexpected. And he couldn't identify it.
What's that about now? I can't be further degrading already?
He thought back to his genetic modification cocktail, how long ago had it been that he'd administered the therapy? It prolonged life, but not indefinitely. Degradation would come for him eventually. Like Martin. Like every other man.
Stay focused on the structure, Lucius. No point in being distracted by the inevitable. If anything, I'd better speed this up.
He examined his newest modifications to 4957. He'd taken a different approach. Nothing like they originally envisaged. The original plan had come up empty, the child would die like the others when the organs grew into their full size, the acceleration too advanced to then be slowed down. He hadn't been able to crack it. A child with a vastly overgrown heart and impending liver failure was not going to be the coup
de grâce. It wasn't good enough.
He looked at the sequences for 4957-208.
Something in the fourteenth gene isn't looking quite right, it might interfere - but it's close.
He scanned the enzymes, the proteins, the chromosomes. He compared them against 4957-207, which had felt so close before falling apart entirely.
The conflict with the nucleotide sequence is solved; the structure must be corrected now.
Lucius looked up from the papers for a moment, his heart beating faster.
If I just adjust the eighth chromosome can that be right? Yes, it's in the eighth, I see it clearly now... and if we include a tunable cancer cell to ensure ongoing growth, that will counter any effect from the anomaly in the fourteenth gene, for the most part anyhow.
He felt the idea strike him like an anvil to his head.
If I blend it with the common code of men...
He almost couldn't let his mind take it any further, the excitement of it bubbled in him like champagne. His head became light.
With the common code of men...
He rested his elbows on the stainless steel table and let his head drop into them.
We just might be able to overcome the sequence of advanced degradation.
Keeping his head resting on his hands, he looked at the sequence on the table between his elbows.
I've got it. I've got it. For the sake of every man on Lower Earth, I think I've got it.
Lucius lifted his head. The breakthrough breathing new life into his veins, his brain snapping into action, swirling and speeding faster than he could consciously follow, he computed probabilities and scenarios. All of them were possible.
He had to try.
He thought his heart might burst at the finding, a discovery that had the potential to change the face of Lower Earth. He stood from his stool and grabbed his lab coat. There was no one to tell, no soul with which to share his elation. He put his face in his coat and screamed with joy, muffling the sound as best he could, this was not the moment to have his lab found out.
He let the coat drop to the floor, his heart beating in his head and his breathing quick.
Do I contact Sara? No, too risky at this point. I cannot seek her out; she has to come back to me. I'll prepare the serum. I can do most of it without Central Tower.
He couldn't have known he was this close to breaking the code, to finding 4957-209. Had he known he would have used Sara for more, had her do the next stage of recruitment. But there was no telling when she would be back.
This couldn't wait. Lucius couldn't wait.
I have to find a woman to carry it.
He closed his eyes. There was only one way.
Trudith would help him.
What he would have done to have Rose with him now. How he missed her. How she could have helped him. He spoke quietly into the air.
"My little fairy, wherever you are, you be safe. You come back to me. I have news you won't believe. Or maybe you will. You always had more confidence in me than I deserved."
Lucius changed his clothes. Washed his face. Tried to do something with his hair. It had been so long since he'd had to face the good people of Cork Town. He hadn't left his apartment in nearly three years.
He stepped into the dwindling light of day. The timekeeper's bells would ring soon.
Perhaps that's just as well, I can move through the crowds less noticed.
But the concept of a crowd made Lucius' throat close.
I'll get through it. They're just people. Only in a larger dose than that with which I've become accustomed. That's not their fault. Focus on the objective, Lucius. Just get to the pub and figure out the rest as you go.
He stepped out onto the gravel of the Twenty-Ninth Alleyway off the Fourteenth Road. He'd always been so pleased to have found a spot, near-invisible, in the far end of Cork Town. But now he had to walk into the heart of the commune with his cane, and he cursed the distance. He took a step. And another.
Don't think beyond the next corner. You'll get there when you get there.
He had reached the far end of Cork Row when the timekeeper's bells clanged. He caught glimpse of the woman with her bells, walking up and down the roads and alleys of the commune, taking the exact same route every day, for fairness. It seemed like that was the only thing in Cork Town for which the principle of fairness was applied, and the people were insistent on it. Days when the timekeeper walked at a slower pace, or heaven forbid a replacement covered a day, the people were up in arms. He could hear it even from the Twenty-Ninth Alleyway. Voices of protest in the street walking by saying things like, "She went down Sixth Road first, can you believe that?"
He moved further along Cork Row, women emerging from the different buildings around him. The few small factories, several small shops, a processing plant for Geb's sewage in the distance. Women filled Cork Row.
He saw the Guard ahead of him. He'd expected it, what with the various crackdowns that had taken place.
Two guards looked in his direction, but he couldn't tell if they were looking at him or the crowd more generally. They looked to each other and then began walking towards him.
They're coming for me. Not a surprise, I rather stand out. Just have to play cool.
"Lucius."
"Ah, you know me. That makes this easier." He tried to give a little smile.
"It's been a long time we haven't seen you on Cork Row."
"It's been a long time since I came."
"Why today?"
He gestured towards his legs, "Degradation coming. I have to move while I can. Soon I'll be completely confined to that wheelchair."
"So you go for a stroll during the control hour?"
"Control hour?" Something tinged in Lucius's stomach.
The guards looked again at each other.
"Your papers, Lucius."
"Papers?"
"You can't expect us to believe you're roaming at this hour without your papers."
"I thought papers were for visitors."
"Have you been living under a rock?"
"Figuratively."
"When was the last time you came out, Lucius."
He inhaled and looked up, "Approximately eight hundred and forty days ago."
The guards just looked at him.
"I didn't know anything about papers."
"Don't you listen to the screen?"
"I live on Twenty-Ninth Alley. I can't hear it from there."
"Someone must have told you."
"No one visits me, at least no one who says anything about any control hours."
One guard looked to the other. "I believe him."
"We can't make exceptions."
The first guard looked back at Lucius. "Do you have papers?"
"Of course, stuffed in the back of a drawer. But I can find them."
The second guard lifted her chin. "Head home, Lucius. Go for your stroll tomorrow. With your papers."
"Be more mindful of conditions in Cork Town, or you might find yourself in real trouble," the first guard added.
"Yes, of course. I'll take the back roads home so as not to make a scene. I wouldn't want to put you in an uncomfortable situation in front of others. Good day." He nodded deeply, knowing they were staring at him.
He turned left, down Sixth Road. From there, if they hadn't changed the layout, which was always possible, he could cut behind and get to the pub. Assuming they didn't follow him. Assuming he didn't come across any others. Lucius' heart beat harder and faster than he knew possible.
He walked, weight heavy on the cane now, turning the last corner before the pub's alleyway. He saw it, so close, and he let out a breath that he felt he'd been holding since meeting the guards.
He pushed through the swinging door that was almost unremarkable on the street. His eyes had to adjust to the darkness inside the pub. It appeared to be a black hole in front of him, though he knew he was inside, knew the layout. He had been there many times before, but that had been before all of th
is. Before, when he was the Great Geneticist. Before Cork Town was enclosed and when Rose went there daily. Before Cork Town became a ghetto.
He blinked and began to be able to make out some shapes. Ten or so women sitting around a table.
And they were all staring straight at him.
"Good evening, ladies. Please, don't let me interrupt."
"Lucius?" A woman behind the bar stepped out and walked over to him, wiping her hands on a rag.
Lucius smiled. "How've you been, Trude?"
17
Trudith
Trudith leaned against the bar and rubbed her arm where they had taken the blood in the mandatory rounds. The place in the fold of her elbow was already bruising. She listened to the women speak. For ages, they had been coming into the pub after the timekeeper's bells and after the controls. How many years had they complained, conspired, and made grandiose plans?
But that had all changed since the woman from Central Tower had come. Sara, her name was, with a story that seemed part possible, part fantasy. A story of secrets underway in Cork Town and possibilities for preserving humanity. She'd made it sound so large, so important. Trudith could hardly believe she'd come to the pub to seek out support.
Now they've become more selective, less sensational. She gave them something, some kind of hope, that they could be a part of something bigger. This is dangerous. It's very, very dangerous.
But Trudith understood why they wanted it. Even she was not immune to the treatment in the streets, the hardening rules, the growing barriers in front of them. Sometimes Cork Town felt like a noose that was tightening.
Things had been easier when Rose had been around. It wasn't that Trudith needed help with the work, she didn't. The clientele had reduced over the past years, everyone afraid of doing something that might cross a line. Even just a visit to the pub. Trudith could handle management and operation of the pub on her own. But Rose had more presence than Trudith realized. It seemed as though she hid in a corner on most days, at the time Trudith felt like she rarely saw her at all even though they were in the same room. But Trudith realized now that it wasn't the case. Rose had been a constant, ever-present, dare she say, friend? Trudith knew so little about Rose; she felt ashamed now for not taking a greater interest. She had made many assumptions because of Rose's condition, her disfigurement. More than she should have. Rose had been there when things had first gotten noticeably hard in Cork Town. The market raid. Trudith shuddered at the memory. The sight of blood and the taste of fear in her mouth. Metallic. She'd been in the market when it happened, looking for barley, as it had been a bad season with the viruses. A bad season that had turned into a bad period and now a seemingly permanent condition of modern life.
