by Nik Abnett
“It’s pragmatic,” said Dharma, “at least, that’s my guess.”
“You’re talking about genetic diversity?” asked Con.
“Think about who survived the Deluge.”
“Family groups, who had strong leaders, and were prepared to follow the quarantine rules,” said Con.
“What if the strongest of those leaders didn’t just influence their immediate family members, but also influenced members at a distance. So one effective leader might have been able to influence dozens of family members over several generations.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” said Con.
“That would constrict the gene pool dramatically, during an event like the Deluge.”
Blythe walked into the wipe, and stood for a moment. She looked at the canister in its bracket, most of the aluminium can visible.
The door to the bathroom slid open, but Blythe didn’t pass through it. She stood in the wipe, tilting her head so that she could read what was on the can.
She knew that alphanumeric. She knew it like she knew her own id number. She had keyed that number into invoice templates thousands of times in the past three years.
Blythe had seen plenty of wipe canisters before; she even kept a spare for her own bathroom wipe. Of the dozens of canisters she’d used at home, she’d never seen one with a number on it.
Anley Corp was in the wipe business, and Blythe had never known it. She wondered what Con knew.
Finally, Blythe walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. As she used the toilet, washed her hands, and splashed water on her face, she kept thinking about the canister. She was conflicted. She wanted to get to know Dharma, and she wanted to discuss her family. She wanted to give Dharma and Concord some time to talk, too; their blood tie was closer than hers to Dharma, but, somehow, she wasn’t as jealous as she had been when she thought they were just friends.
Con looked up as Blythe walked back into the living room.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s nothing. You’ve got more important things to talk about.”
“We were only talking data,” said Dharma, “and you’ve clearly got something on your mind. You look distracted.”
“It’s your bathroom wipe, that’s all,” said Blythe.
“You don’t like the scent?” asked Dharma.
“Con,” said Blythe. “Anley Corp is in the wipe business, isn’t it?”
“It is,” said Con. “How did you find out?”
“The alphanumeric on the canister in Dharma’s wipe… I’ve keyed in that code thousands of times.”
“What of it?” asked Dharma.
“Why would it be a secret?” asked Blythe. “Why isn’t Anley Corp transparent about what it does?”
Con took a deep breath, and then said, “It’s a front. You actually work for the government.”
“Then so do you,” said Blythe.
“Yes, I do,” said Con.
“And why didn’t you tell me? No, don’t answer that. It’s because you’re ninetieth percentile, isn’t it?”
“Those non-disclosure documents you signed,” said Con. “Mine were much more rigorous.”
“So you won’t tell me?” asked Blythe.
“I don’t know.”
“You should,” said Dharma. “I used confidential data to find my cousin, and you circumvented the travel restrictions to bring her here… We’ve also been speculating about the State.”
“So, you think we’ve passed a point of no return?” asked Con.
“You and I have,” said Dharma. “It doesn’t seem fair to keep Blythe in the dark. She’s one of us.”
“Blood,” said Con.
“That too,” said Dharma, “but there’s an intellectual connection, now. We shouldn’t have any secrets, blood or not.”
“There’s some stuff you probably don’t know, either, Dharma.”
“And there’s stuff that we’ve been speculating about, so the more data we share, the closer we can get to understanding our own lives.”
“Fair point,” said Con. “The wipes, we’re all told what they’re for.”
“To keep us safe,” said Blythe.
“And how do you suppose they do that?” asked Con.
“Fumigation,” said Dharma. “That’s what they were set up for. That much, I do know.”
“That is what they were set up for, but that was a long time ago.”
“There use has changed, over time?” asked Blythe.
“And that’s why they’re run by the State,” said Con.
“Whatever it is they’re used for now, are they universal?” asked Dharma. “The scent varies.”
“The scent is just an additive,” said Con, “although, different scents are used for different purposes. The flower scents, geranium, lavender, rose, are used to support relaxation, so that we don’t all go crazy living alone.”
“No generation before the Deluge ever lived alone,” said Dharma. “Everyone lived in family groups.”
“The scent is part of that, along with some low-level, mood altering drugs.”
“But we’re the least medicalised community of any since the birth of medicine,” said Dharma.
“We are the least medicalised for cures, and the most medicalised for prevention of illness,” said Con. “The wipe is a complex combination of chemicals. Some of those chemicals ensure mental wellbeing, some physical wellbeing.”
“For example?” asked Blythe.
“For example, all new or unknown pathogens are isolated, grown in large numbers, and introduced into selected wipes.”
“For people to get sick!” said Blythe.
“Immunisation trials,” said Con. “When the data’s collected, it’s analysed, and a global immunisation stratagem is worked out.”
“We’re exposed to things that could kill us? I thought we were being fumigated! I thought I was being kept safe.”
“You are,” said Con. “You’re immune from every current pathogen known to man.”
“So I’m actually healthier because of the diseases I’m exposed to?” asked Blythe.
“It’s a method that’s been used for hundreds of years,” said Dharma, “but I assumed that was all in the past.”
“The first smallpox vaccine was developed in 1798, by a man called Edward Jenner,” said Con. “In 1999, smallpox had been eradicated, globally.”
“That’s two hundred years!” said Blythe.
“We work a lot faster, now.”
“How do you know all this?” asked Dharma.
“I’m a theoretical immunologist,” said Con.
“What does that mean?” asked Blythe.
“It means that chemists and microbiologists give me scenarios, and I plot them and analyse the data,” said Con.
“On your own?” asked Dharma.
“I specialise in genetic resilience in particular communities.”
“I don’t know if I can get my head around this,” said Blythe.
“I’m working to keep us safe, and well,” said Con.
“It’s the Deluge effect again, isn’t it?” said Dharma. “The medical costs of treating people who were going to die.”
“The medical costs of keeping anyone alive, with any condition. Genetic compatibility and wipe immunisation has made prevention both better, and cheaper than any cure.”
“So we’re healthy,” said Dharma, “and, excepting accidents, we live long lives.”
“That’s about the size of it,” said Con. “Which brings us back to our earlier conversation.”
“I don’t know if I understand this conversation, completely,” said Blythe. “I mean I get the gist, but… Wow!”
“It’s a long walk home,” said Con, smiling. “We’ll talk about it some more, then.”
“Okay. So what was the other conversation you were having?”
“We were saying that none of the coincidences we’ve talked about today are actual coincidences,” said Dharma. “We�
��re talking about how the gene pool was decimated by the Deluge. We were speculating that a relatively small number of family groups make up the biggest percentage of survivors.”
“Hence the need for population control,” said Con.
“I don’t get it,” said Blythe.
“Selecting genetic matches for procreation ensures that the gene pool grows and is more healthy. People with similar genetic backgrounds show greater incidence of inherited disease through the generations.”
“But nobody moves,” said Blythe.
“That’s the point. After the Deluge, it was proven that the movement of people was a massive contributor to the demise of the planet. Genetically, it was important that people move out of their communities to find diverse matches for procreation.”
“Those two things contradict each other,” said Blythe.
“Which is why we no longer live in family groups,” said Dharma.
“It’s why women are offered donor matches if they want to raise a child,” said Con.
“I’ve worked on genetic matching for a sperm bank,” said Dharma. “Markers are checked so that there is, in effect, no match. When we find that the mother and the donor have genetic markers in common, those matches are discarded.”
“Which is why I look like me, and you look like you, but we’re related,” said Blythe.
“It’s the healthiest way to have a relatively small population.”
“And it’s why my mother rejected me,” said Con, “and why ‘racist’ was a word that you couldn’t bear to say.”
“That doesn’t explain you and Con, though, does it?” asked Blythe.
“Actually, it does. Nobody moves and, although we live in different districts, we live relatively close to each other. Donors don’t move either, and their donations don’t travel far.”
“It hadn’t crossed my mind before,” said Con, “but we probably all see people we’re related to, all of the time; we just don’t know it.”
“The State doesn’t want us to know,” said Dharma. “People who form large groups have more power to question, to protest and to lobby.”
“I don’t understand ‘protest’ or ‘lobby’,” said Blythe.
“Old concepts,” said Dharma, “but I’m willing to bet that if we all knew all of our blood connections, we’d start to form the sort of large groups that affected governments in previous centuries.”
“What do we do about all this?” asked Blythe.
“Nothing,” said Con and Dharma together.
“Nothing? You spent all that time and energy looking for me, and you and Con plotted, and Con made me walk here… And, we all have each other, now… And you think we should do nothing?”
“We all have each other now,” said Dharma. “What more could we possibly want?”
“I don’t know,” said Blythe.
“And neither do I,” said Dharma.
“Nor me.”
“You’re in the ninetieth percentile, both of you, and you don’t think there’s more?” asked Blythe.
“We know there’s no healthier way to live,” said Dharma. “We know that everyone is housed, that everyone has what they need, and that everyone is happy.”
“We’ve improved immunity, and mental health, and eradicated dozens of infectious and contagious diseases.”
“And we have no families,” said Blythe.
“We have each other,” said Dharma.
“Yes, we do,” said Blythe. “But, what about everybody else, what do they have?”
About the Author
Nik Abnett is a writer of short stories and novels, and has consulted on writing for games. Her first independent novel Savant was published in 2016, and was well-received. She lives and works at home with her husband, the writer Dan Abnett. She likes to knit blankets and throw pots on the wheel, and she’s a good shot with a 2.2 rifle.
The Wipe was begun on 12th March 2020, the first day of her Covid lockdown. She remains in lockdown to this day, 1st January 2021.
NP NOVELLAS
An exciting new series of high calibre fiction in concentrated narratives from some of the most accomplished writers around.
#1: Universal Language – Tim Major (April 2021)
An intriguing murder mystery that pays homage to Asimov’s seminal robot stories and also to the classic detective tale.
Investigator Abbey Oma is dispatched to a remote and failing Martian colony tasked with solving the murder of scientist Jerem Ferrer. The killing took place in an airlock-sealed lab, and the only possible culprit is a robot incapable of harming humans...
#2: Worldshifter – Paul Di Filippo (April 2021)
A high-octane tale reminiscent of Jack Vance at his best in its sweep and imagination, but wholly Di Filippo in its execution. When lowly shipbreaker Klom stumbles upon an active organic stasis pod deep within the bowels of a derelict ship, little does he imagine the deadly danger it represents. Klom is forced into a desperate chase across the stars as the most powerful beings in the galaxy determine to claim the secrets he has unwittingly discovered.
#3: May Day – Emma Coleman (May 2021)
Abruptly orphaned during wartime, May is forced to move to the country to live with her strict church-going aunt, who never approved of May’s mum nor her heathen ways. Despite Aunt Celia’s disapproval, May continues to practice the superstitions her mum drummed into her, until the one time she doesn’t, at which point something dark arises and proceeds to invade her life...
www.newconpress.co.uk
