A Second Chance at Eden

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Our house was near the southern edge of Eden’s town, with a long back lawn which ran down to the parkland. A stream marked where the lawn ended and the meadowland began. The whole street was some tree-festooned middle-class suburb from a bygone age. The house itself was made from aluminium and silicon sandwich panels, a four-bedroom L-shape bungalow ranch with broad patio doors in each room. Back in the Delph arcology we had a four-room flat on the fifty-second floor which overlooked the central tiered well, and we could only afford that thanks to the subsidized rent which came with my job.

  I could hear voices as soon as I reached the fence which ran along the front lawn, Nicolette and Jocelyn arguing. And yes, it was a picket fence, even if it was made from spongesteel.

  The front door was ajar. Not that it had a lock. Eden’s residents really did have absolute confidence in the habitat personality’s observation. I walked in, and almost tripped on a hockey stick.

  The five white composite cargo pods from the Ithilien had been delivered, containing the Parfitt family’s entire worldly goods. Some had been opened, I guessed by the twins, boxes were strewn along the length of the hall.

  ‘It’s stupid, Mother!’ Nicolette’s heated voice yelled out of an open door.

  ‘And you’re not to raise your voice to me,’ Jocelyn shouted back.

  I went into the room. It was the one Nicolette had claimed. Cases were heaped on the floor, clothes draped all over the bed. The patio door was open, a servitor chimp stood placidly outside.

  Jocelyn and Nicolette both turned to me.

  ‘Harvey, will you kindly explain to your daughter that while she lives in our house she will do as she’s told.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll bloody well move out now, then,’ Nicolette squealed. ‘I never wanted to come here anyway.’

  Great, caught in the crossfire, as always. I held up my hands. ‘One at a time, please. What’s the problem?’

  ‘Nicolette is refusing to put her stuff away properly.’

  ‘I will!’ she wailed. ‘I just don’t see why I have to do it. That’s what it’s here for.’ She flung out an arm to point at the servitor.

  I fought against a groan. I should have realized this was coming.

  ‘It’ll pack all my clothes away, and it’ll keep the room neat the whole time. You don’t even need bloody affinity. The habitat will hear any orders and get the chimps to do as you say. They told us that in the orientation lecture.’

  ‘That thing is not coming in my house,’ Jocelyn said flatly. She glared at me, waiting for back-up.

  ‘Daddy!’

  The headache I wasn’t supposed to be having was a hot ache five centimetres behind my eyes. ‘Jocelyn, this is her room. Why don’t we just leave her alone in here?’

  The glare turned icy. ‘I might have known you’d be in favour of having those creatures in the house.’ She turned on a heel and pushed past me into the hall.

  I let out a long exhausted breath. ‘Christ.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Daddy,’ Nicolette said in a small voice.

  ‘Not your fault, darling.’ I went out into the hall. Jocelyn was pulling clothes from an open pod, snatching them out so sharply I thought they might tear. ‘Look, Jocelyn, you’ve got to accept that using these servitor creatures is a way of life up here. You knew about the chimps before we came.’

  ‘But they’re everywhere,’ she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut. ‘Everywhere, Harvey. This whole place must be ringing with affinity.’

  ‘There is nothing wrong with affinity, nothing evil. Even the Church agrees with that. It’s only splicing the gene into children they object to.’

  She turned to face me, clasping a shirt to her chest, her expression suddenly pleading. ‘Oh, Harvey, can’t you see how corrupt this place is? Everything is made so easy, so luxurious. It’s insidious. It’s a wicked lie. They’re making people dependent on affinity, bringing it into everyday life. Soon nobody will be free. They’ll give the gene to their children without ever questioning what they’re doing. You see if they don’t. They’ll create a whole generation of the damned.’

  I couldn’t answer, couldn’t tell her. Christ, my own wife, and I was too stricken to say a word.

  ‘Please, Harvey, let’s leave. There’s another ship due in ten days. We can go back to Earth on it.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I said quietly. ‘You know I can’t. And it’s unfair to ask. In any case, Delph would fire me. I’m nearly fifty, Jocelyn. What the hell would I do? I can’t make a career switch at my age.’

  ‘I don’t care! I want to leave. I wish to God I’d never let you talk me into coming here.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right; it’s all my fault. My fault the children are going to live in a tropical paradise, with clean air and fresh food. My fault they’re here in a world where they don’t have to take a stunpulse with them every time they step outside the house in case they’re raped or worse. My fault they’re going to have an education we could never afford to give them on Earth. My fault they’re going to have a chance at life. And you want to take it away because of your stupid blind prejudice. Well, count me out of your proud poverty of existence, Jocelyn. You go running back to that ball of disease you call a world. I’m staying here, and the children are staying with me. Because I’m going to do the best job of being a parent I can, and that means giving them the opportunities which only exist here.’

  Her eyes narrowed, staring hard at me.

  ‘Now what?’ I snapped.

  ‘What’s that on the back of your neck?’

  My anger voided into some black chasm. ‘A dermal patch,’ I said calmly. ‘It’s there because I had an affinity symbiont implant this afternoon.’

  ‘How could you?’ She simply stared at me, completely expressionless. ‘How could you, Harvey? After all the Church has done for us.’

  ‘I did it because I have to, it’s my job.’

  ‘We mean so little to you, don’t we?’

  ‘You mean everything.’

  Jocelyn shook her head. ‘No. I won’t have any more of your lies.’ She put the clothes down gently on one of the pods. ‘If you want to talk, I shall be in the church. Praying for all of us.’

  I didn’t even know there was a church in Eden. It seemed a little strange given the current state of relations between the Vatican and the habitat. But then there’s always that more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner piousness to consider.

  I really ought to make an effort not to be so bitter.

  Nicolette had slumped down onto the bed when I went back to her.

  ‘You had a row,’ she said without looking up.

  I sat on the mattress beside her. She’s a lovely girl; perhaps not cable starlet beautiful, but she’s tall, and slim, and she’s got a heart-shaped face with shoulder-length auburn hair. Very popular with the boys back in the arcology. I’m so proud of what she is, the way she’s growing up. I wasn’t going to let Earth stunt her, not with Eden able to offer so much more. ‘Yes, we had a row.’ Again.

  ‘I didn’t know she was going to be so upset over the chimps.’

  ‘Hey, what happens between me and your mother isn’t your fault. I don’t want to hear you blaming yourself again.’

  She sniffed heavily, then smiled. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  ‘Use the chimps in here all you want, but for God’s sake don’t let them into the house.’

  ‘OK. Dad, did you really have a symbiont implant?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can I have one? The orientation officer said you can’t really expect to live here without one.’

  ‘I expect so. But not this week, all right?’

  ‘Sure, Dad. I think I want to fit in here. Eden looks gorgeous.’

  I put my arm round her shoulders and kissed her cheek. ‘Do you know where your brother is?’

  ‘No, he went off with some boys after the orientation lecture.’

  ‘Well, when he comes in, warn him not to allow the chimps into the house.’

  I left her to h
erself and went into the lounge. The bubble cube Zimmels had given me was in my jacket pocket. I settled down in the big settee, and slotted it into my PNC wafer. The menu with the file names appeared; there were over a hundred and fifty of them. I checked down them quickly, but there was no entry for Corrine Arburry.

  Content I had at least one sympathetic ally, I started to review the masters of the revolution.

  *

  My second day started with Penny Maowkavitz’s funeral. Rolf and I attended, representing the police, both of us in our black dress uniforms.

  The church was a simple A-frame of polished aluminium girders with tinted glass for walls. I estimated nearly two hundred people turned up for the service, with about eighty more milling outside. I sat in the front pew along with the Governor and other senior Eden staff from the UN and JSKP. Father Cooke conducted the service, with Antony Harwood reading a lesson from the Bible: Genesis, naturally. I knew him from Zimmels’s files, another of Boston’s premier activists.

  Afterwards we all trooped out of the church and down a track into a wide glade several hundred metres from the town. Fasholé Nocord led the procession, carrying the urn containing Penny’s ashes. Anyone who dies in Eden is cremated; they don’t want bodies decomposing in the earth, apparently they take too long, and as Eden hasn’t quite finished growing there’s always the chance they’ll come to the surface again as the soil layer is gradually redistributed.

  A small shallow hole had been dug at the centre of the glade. Pieter Zernov stepped up to it and put a large jet-black seed in the bottom; it looked like a wrinkled conker to me.

  ‘It was Penny’s wish that she should finish up here,’ he said loudly. ‘I don’t know what the seed is, except it was one of her designs. She told me that for once she had forgone function, and settled for something that just looks damn pretty. I’m sure it does, Penny.’

  As Pieter stood back an old Oriental man in a wheelchair came forwards. It was a very old-fashioned chair, made from wood, with big wheels that had chrome wire spokes, there was no motor. A young woman was pushing him over the thick grass. I couldn’t see much of her; she had a broad black beret perched on her head, a long white-blonde ponytail swung across her back, and her head was bowed. But the old man . . . I frowned as he scooped up a handful of ash from the urn Fasholé Nocord held out.

  ‘I know him, I think,’ I whispered to Rolf.

  That earned me another of those looks I was becoming all too familiar with. ‘Yes, sir; that’s Wing-Tsit Chong.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  Wing-Tsit Chong let Penny’s ashes fall from his hand, a small plume of dry dust splattering into the hole. A geneticist who was at least Penny Maowkavitz’s equal, the inventor of affinity.

  *

  Father Leon Cooke cornered me on the way back to town. Both genial and serious in that way only priests know how. He was in his late sixties, wearing the black and turquoise vestments of the Unified Christian Church.

  ‘Penny’s death was a terrible tragedy,’ he said. ‘Especially in a closed community like this one. I hope you apprehend the culprit soon.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, Father. It’s been a hectic two days so far.’

  ‘I’m sure it has.’

  ‘Did you know Penny?’

  ‘I knew of her. I’m afraid that relations between the Church and most of the biotechnology people have become a little strained of late. Penny was no exception; but she came to a few services. When confronted with their approaching death, people do tend to show a degree of curiosity in the possibility of the divine. I didn’t hold it against her. Everyone must come to faith in their own way.’

  ‘Did you hear her confession?’

  ‘Now, my son, you know I can never answer that. Even more than doctors, we priests hold the secrets of our flock close to our hearts.’

  ‘I was just wondering if she ever mentioned suicide?’

  He stopped beside a tree with small purple-green serrated leaves, tufty orange flowers bloomed at the end of every branch. Dark grey eyes regarded me with a humorous compassion. ‘I expect you have been told Penny Maowkavitz was a thorny character. Well, with that came a quite monstrous arrogance; Penny did not run away from anything life threw at her, not even her terrible illness. She would not commit suicide. I don’t think anybody up here would.’

  ‘That’s a very sweeping statement.’

  The tail end of the mourners filed past us; we were earning quite a few curious glances. I saw Rolf standing fifteen metres down the track, waiting patiently.

  ‘I’ll be happy to discuss it with you, perhaps at a more appropriate time.’

  ‘Of course, Father.’

  A guilty smile flickered over Leon Cooke’s face. ‘I talked to your wife, yesterday.’

  I tried to maintain an impassive expression. But he was a priest . . . I doubt he was fooled. ‘I don’t expect she painted a very complimentary picture of me. We’d just had a row.’

  ‘I know. Don’t worry, my son, it was a very modest row compared to some of the couples I’ve had to deal with.’

  ‘Deal with?’

  He ignored the irony. ‘You know she doesn’t belong in this habitat, don’t you?’

  I shifted round uncomfortably under his gaze. ‘Can you think of a better place for our children to grow up?’

  ‘Don’t dodge the issue, my son.’

  ‘All right, Father, I’ll tell you exactly why she doesn’t care for Eden. It’s because of the Pope’s ludicrous proclamation on the affinity gene. The Church turned her against this habitat and what it represents. And I have to tell you, in my opinion the Church has made its biggest mistake since it persecuted Galileo. This is my second day here, and I’ve already started to think how I can make my posting permanent. If you want to help, you might try and convince her that affinity isn’t some satanic magic.’

  ‘I will help the two of you any way I can, my son. But I can hardly contradict a papal decree.’

  ‘Right. It’s funny, most couples like us would have divorced years ago.’

  ‘Why didn’t you? Though I’m glad to see you haven’t, that’s an encouraging sign.’

  I smiled wryly. ‘Depends how you read it. We both have our reasons. Me; I keep remembering what Jocelyn used to be like. My Jocelyn, she’s still in there. I know she is, if I could just find a way of reaching her.’

  ‘And Jocelyn, what’s her reason?’

  ‘That’s a simple one. We made our vows before God. Richer or poorer, better or worse. Even if we were legally separated, in God’s eyes we remain husband and wife. Jocelyn’s family were Catholics before the Christian reunification, that level of devotion is pretty hard to shake off.’

  ‘I get the impression you blame the Church for a lot of your situation.’

  ‘Did Jocelyn tell you why she places so much weight on what the Church says?’

  ‘No.’

  I sighed, hating to bring up those memories again. ‘She had two miscarriages, our third and fourth children. It was pretty traumatic; the medical staff at the arcology hospital were convinced they could save them. God, it looked like she was being swallowed by machinery. It was all useless, of course. Doctors don’t have half as much knowledge about the human body as they lay claim to.

  ‘After the second time she . . . lost faith in herself. She became very withdrawn, listless, she wasn’t even interested in the twins. A classic depression case. Everything the hospital did was orientated on the physical, you see. That’s their totem, I suppose. But we were lucky in a way. Our arcology had a good priest. Quite a bit like you, actually. He gave us a lot of his time; if he’d been a psychiatrist I’d call it counselling. He made Jocelyn believe in herself again, and at the same time believe in the Church. I’m very grateful for that.’

  ‘Only in word, I suspect,’ Leon Cooke said softly.

  ‘Yeah. You’re a very insular institution, very conservative. Did you know that, Father? This fuss over affinity is a good example. Jocelyn used to have
a very open mind.’

  ‘I see.’ He looked pained. ‘I shall have to think about what you’ve told me. It saddens me to see the Church forming such a wedge between two loving people. I think you’ve both drifted too far from each other. But don’t give up hope, my son, there’s no gulf which can’t be bridged in the end. Never give up hope.’

  ‘Thank you, Father. I’ll do my best.’

  *

  There appeared to be a fair amount of honest toil going on in the incident room when Rolf and I walked in. Most of the CID staff were at their desks; a chimp was walking round carrying a tray of drinks. I claimed a large spongesteel desk at the front of the room, and slung my dress uniform jacket over the chair. ‘OK, what progress have we made?’

  Shannon was already walking towards me, a PNC wafer in her hand, and a cheerful expression on her face. ‘I retrieved a copy of Maowkavitz’s will from the court computer.’ She dropped the wafer on the desk in front of me, its display surface was covered with close-packed lines of orange script.

  ‘Give me the highlights,’ I said. ‘Any possible suspects? A motive?’

  ‘The whole thing is a highlight, boss. It’s a very simple will; Maowkavitz’s entire estate, including Pacific Nugene, gets turned into a trust. Initial estimates put the total value at around eight hundred million wattdollars. She left no guidelines on how it was to be used. Monies are to be distributed in whatever way the trustees see fit, providing it is a majority decision. That’s it.’

  Rolf and I exchanged a nonplussed glance. ‘Is that legal?’ I asked. ‘I mean, can’t the relatives challenge it?’

  ‘Not really. I consulted the Eden attorney’s office. The will’s very simplicity makes it virtually unchallengeable. Maowkavitz recorded a video testimony with a full polygraph track to back it up; and the witnesses are real heavyweights, including – would you believe – the ex-Vice-President of America, and the current Chairwoman of the UN Bank. And Maowkavitz’s only relatives are some very distant cousins, none of whom she’s never had any contact with.’