Fictions

by Nancy Kress

  Cursing, Dee stood up, still bound at wrists and ankles. She managed to get her pjs down and everything accomplished, after which there was no choice except to kick at the door.

  “It’s less stuffy on deck,” Victor said cheerfully. Dee scowled at him.

  It was less stuffy on deck. Also painfully bright. Sunlight glared off a blue ocean. If there hadn’t been a breeze, the heat would have been unbearable. Dee said, “I can’t stay out here long. I assume that you have on sunblock.”

  “So do you. Put on before you woke up. Anyway, we’re almost there.”

  Where? Nothing but water in every direction. Dee folded her arms and said nothing. She wasn’t going to cooperate in his elaborate games. If he killed her, he killed her.

  She knew she wasn’t really indifferent to death.

  No one else appeared on this section of deck. Nor were the abundant plants that Perri had described anywhere in evidence. Maybe Victor thought that Dee, too, would steal one.

  The ship moved over the ocean, although without reference points Dee had no idea how fast it was traveling. After about twenty minutes, Victor, who’d been lounging at the railing, straightened. “There. Four o’clock.”

  At first Dee saw nothing. Then she did. The sea was changing color, from blue to a dense, oily black. She said, “An oil spill?”

  “I wish.”

  They drew closer. The blackness grew, until Dee could see it was actually a deep purple. It seemed to extend to the horizon. The ship moved a short way into the purple and stopped.

  Victor lowered a grapple-looking thing over the side. “We can’t go in any farther without risk to the screws. But aerial surveillance shows that the bloom already covers sixty thousand square miles. Do you have any idea how big that is, Dee? Half the size of New Mexico. Here, look.”

  He pulled up the grappler and held it toward her. It dripped what looked to Dee like seaweed; she was no marine expert.

  “It’s not ordinary seaweed,” Victor said. “It’s genemod. Made from altered bacteria. It replicates at ideal bacterial rate, which is to say it doubles every twenty minutes. It has no natural enemies. Nothing eats it. But it blocks sunlight almost totally, and so everything underneath it dies. Do you understand about the food chain, Dee? Do you know what happens if the oceans die?”

  “Who made it?”

  “Unknown. Best guess is that it was an accident, a mistake. It might have been designed to blanket Third World estuary breeding grounds of malaria-carrying mosquitoes. Or not. Anyway, it’s out.” Victor studied the dripping purple mass and Dee studied Victor. His expression was sad and thoughtful, not at all what she’d expected. How good an actor was he?

  She said, “Did you put a genemod plant in my apartment to kill me?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know who did?”

  “No. But I can guess.”

  “Who?”

  He laid the seaweed on the deck. “What would have happened if that genemod plant had succeeded in killing you, Dee?”

  She snapped, “Don’t play games with me. If it had killed me, I’d be dead.”

  “Right. Then what? Eventually somebody would have broken into your apartment, if only because your corpse would have begun to smell. A friend, your landlord, a neighbor . . . somebody. They’d have called the cops. The media monitor police reports, and genemod hysteria grows worse all the time. You’d have been a news sensation: “Ex-Cop Murdered In Bed By Killer Engineered Plant!’ Full re-creation sims on every channel.”

  “Mike din’t send that plant to kill you in your apartment,” Gum had said. “T’other side did. It was in all the newspapers. You was dead.”

  Victor pulled a vial from his pocket. “The publicity would have aided anti-genemod funding as well as antigenemod feeling. It could have been GMFA supporters, it could have been one of the more fanatic of those activist groups you’ve gotten so fond of, it could have been a corporation that gains from public hysteria by keeping genemod products illegal.”

  “The government wouldn’t—”

  “I don’t think so, either. Watch, Dee.” Victor unstoppered the vial and poured it over the purple seaweed on the deck.

  “I don’t see anything.” She was still shaken over Victor’s casual list of people who might have murdered her.

  “Wait a bit.”

  The purple seaweed began to dissolve. Only one corner of the mass, and then the reaction stopped.

  “It’s a genemod bacteria,” Victor said. “It eats the bloom. Unfortunately, the toxins emitted by the dying bloom cells kill the eaters. But it’s a start. Now that we have the right organism, we can go on tailoring it until it can successfully eliminate the entire bloom.”

  Dee stared at the seaweed. “And you created that? Here?”

  “Yes. We did. Because we’re not allowed to create it onshore.”

  “Victor, that doesn’t make sense. Something like this, that could help clean up the ocean.”

  “And that will in turn replicate and, maybe, create its own crisis. Who knows the effect of releasing this unknown bacteria into the sea? That’s what the activists say, and they’re right. Only I happen to think that once the pomegranate seeds are eaten, the only cure is more genetically engineered pomegranate seeds.”

  “What? ‘Pomegranates’ ?”

  “Forget it. The point is, this is vital work that can’t go forward if I, and people like me, have to spend half our time evading tracking by people like you. And like the FBI, of course.”

  She shifted in her wheelchair. The deadly sunlight was growing hotter. Victor noticed and took the handles of her chair, pushing it along the deck. “But, Victor, even if the United States won’t or can’t let you do this genemod work, then surely other countries—the oceans affect everybody!”

  “True. And so does international trade. The Keller Pact forbids any trade with any country trafficking in genetically modified organisms . . . remember? A very popular piece of legislation in an election year. Even so, we get some surreptitious funding from a few foreign companies. Not much.”

  “But it isn’t going to stop you.”

  “I can’t let it stop me. Here you are.”

  They’d reached a section of deck with a remote boat winched up level with the railing. Victor dumped Dee into the tiny boat and pressed a button. The boat began to lower.

  “Wait!” Dee called, panicked. “I can’t take that much sunlight all the way back—the ultraviolet—”

  “Yes, you can,” Victor called down over the railing. “Your sunblock is genetically engineered. Good-bye, Demetria Stavros. Stop destroying the abundance that mankind creates in its new gardens and fields.”

  The boat detached itself from the winch, turned itself around, and took off. On this flat sea Dee wasn’t sick. She noted the position of the sun; with that and the time elapsed before landing, maybe she could estimate where the ship had been. Although by that time, it would have already moved.

  The involuntary boat ride was a long one. Dee had plenty of time to think.

  When she entered the Cotsworth visitors’ room, Eliot was already seated with Perri.

  Dee scowled; this was supposed to be her time with her sister, not that self-righteous prick Eliot’s. But then Dee looked again at Perri. Still thin, still sunken-eyed, but now Perri’s amazing blue-green eyes glowed. Something had happened.

  “Dee!” Perri said from her side of the table. “Eliot and I are engaged!”

  Dee froze.

  “Aren’t you going to congratulate us?” Eliot said. She recognized the battle call in his voice.

  “On what? Another screw-up for Perri, this time dragging you along with it? Or are you the one leading? You two can never make it work, Eliot, and you at least should have the experience and intelligence to know that.”

  “And why can’t we make it?” Eliot asked in his attorney voice. Calm. Seeking information. Deceptive. “You’re too different! God, you’re an upcoming defense lawyer and Perri is—”


  “A criminal?” Eliot said. “A screw-up? That’s what you just called her. Your own sister. What are you afraid of, Dee?”

  “ ‘Afraid’ my ass! Don’t try any lawyer rhetoric on me!”

  “You are afraid. You’re terrified. You think you’ll lose her, and then whose life will you periodically and heroically rescue from ruin to justify your own life?”

  “You don’t know anything about—”

  “I know you’ve done it to Perri all her life.”

  “You think you—”

  “Stop!” Perri shouted, loud enough that nearby inmates and their visitors stopped talking and turned to stare. The guard started toward them.

  “Stop, Perri repeated, more calmly. “Dee, this isn’t your decision. It’s mine. Eliot, be quiet. I can justify my own decisions to my sister.”

  The guard said, “Problem here, counselor?”

  “No,” Eliot said. “Thank you.”

  Perri said, “Dee, I wrote you something. Take it. And I’m going to marry Eliot.” She held out a small, tightly folded piece of paper toward Dee. On her left hand sparkled a diamond ring.

  “Don’t tell me I can’t wear the ring in here without somebody stealing it,” Perri said. “I know that. Eliot will take it with him. But in another three months I’ll be out, if I keep my nose clean. I can last that long. I can do this, Dee.”

  But I can’t, Dee thought, and was suddenly afraid to know what she meant. She turned away. “I’m going, Perri. I’ll see you next time.”

  “All right,” Perri said softly. Not panicking at Dee’s anger, not pleading with her to stay. Not needing her.

  Dee passed through the tedious series of prison gates, checkpoints, locked areas. Outside, she walked toward the train. The air wasn’t too bad today, but it was very hot. She thought of Victor, out on the open sea, working to engineer an organism to stop the death of the oceans. To bring more changes, but different ones, known in purpose but not in consequence. How long would it take? A hunnert years, Gum had rambled. But even Dee, no scientist, knew that a hundred years would be far too long.

  She unfolded Perri’s note. To Dee’s surprise, it was a poem:

  Another love. I am weary of

  The starts of things. Too many springs,

  Too little winter make a bitter

  Everlasting yellow-green.

  Stop. Enough. Let harvest come.

  She hadn’t even known that Perri wrote poetry.

  Waiting for the train, Dee put her hands over her face. She didn’t know who was right. Victor, changing whole ecologies like some sort of god. Paula’s friends, preserving through destruction. The FBI, blindly enforcing a popular, vindictive law. Which one was bitter spring, which one healing winter? Dee couldn’t tell. No more than she could tell if Eliot’s terrible accusations about her were true. When was love actually destruction? Could he be so sure that his love for Perri was not?

  There was a raid tonight, a hit on a farm in Pennsylvania that engineered biomodified trees to increase photosynthesis capacity. Some of the trees, Dee’s group leader had said, incorporated human genes as well as plant genes. Dee didn’t know if that was true, either. She knew only one thing for sure.

  She wasn’t going on the raid. Not tonight, not ever.

  Let harvest come.

  2002

  PATENT INFRINGEMENT

  Nancy Kress frequently writes about genetic engineering. Her most recent book, however. Probability Sun, is the second in an aliens-and-space-war trilogy focusing on physics, not biotech. The third book, Probability Space, is due out this summer.

  Press Release

  Kegelman-Ballston Corporation is proud to announce the first public release of its new drug, Halitex, which cures Ulbarton’s Flu completely after one ten-pill course of treatment. Ulbarton’s Flu, as the public knows all too well, now afflicts upward of thirty million Americans, with the number growing daily as the highly contagious flu spreads. Halitex “fluproofs” the body by inserting genes tailored to confer immunity to this persistent and debilitating scourge, whose symptoms include coughing, muscle aches, and fatigue. Because the virus remains in the body even after symptoms disappear, Ulbarton’s Flu can recur in a given patient at any time. Halitex renders each recurrence ineffectual by “fluproofing” the body.

  The General Accounting Office estimates that Ulbarton’s Flu, the virus of which was first identified by Dr. Timothy Ulbarton, has cost four billion dollars already this calendar year in medical costs and lost work time. Halitex, two years in development by Kegelman-Ballston, is expected to be in high demand throughout the nation.

  New York Post

  KC ZAPS ULBARTON’S FLU

  NEW DRUG DOES U’S FLU 4 U

  Jonathan Meese

  538 Pleasant Lane

  Aspen Hill, MD 20906

  Dear Mr. Kegelman and Mr. Ballston,

  I read in the newspaper that your company, Kegelman-Ballston, has recently released a drug, Halitex, that provides immunity against Ulbarton’s Flu by gene therapy. I believe that the genes used in developing this drug are mine. Two years ago, on May 5, I visited my GP to explain that I had been exposed to Ulbarton’s Flu a lot (the entire accounting department of The Pet Supply Catalog Store, where I work, developed the flu. Also my wife, three children, and mother-in-law. Plus, I believe my dog had it, although the vet disputes this). However, despite all this exposure, I did not develop Ulbarton’s.

  My GP directed me to your research facility along I-270, saying he “thought he heard they were trying to develop a med.” I went there, and samples of my blood and bodily tissues were taken. The researcher said I would hear from you if the samples were ever used for anything, but I never did. Will you please check your records to verify my participation in this new medicine, and tell me what share of the profits are due me.

  Thank you for your consideration.

  Sincerely,

  Jon Meese

  Jonathan J. Meese

  From the Desk of Robert Ballston

  Kegelman-Ballston Corporation

  To: Martin Blake, Legal

  Re: attached letter

  Marty—

  Is he a nut? Is this a problem?

  Bob

  Internal Memo

  To: Robert Ballston

  From: Martin Blake

  Re: gene-line claimant Jonathan J. Meese

  Bob—

  I checked with Records in Research and yes, unfortunately this guy donated the tissue samples from which the gene line was developed that led to Halitex. Even more unfortunately, Meese’s visit occurred just before we instituted the comprehensive waiver for all donors. However, I don’t think Meese has any legal ground here. Court precedents have upheld corporate right to patent genes used in drug development. Also, the guy doesn’t sound very sophisticated (his dog?). He doesn’t even know Kegelman’s been dead for ten years. Apparently Meese has not yet employed a lawyer. I can make a small nuisance settlement if you like, but I’d rather avoid setting a corporate precedent for these people. I’d rather send him a stiff letter that will scare the bejesus out of the greedy little twerp.

  Please advise.

  Marty

  From the Desk of Robert Ballston

  Kegelman-Ballston Corporation

  To: Martin Blake, Legal

  Re: J. Meese

  Do it.

  Bob

  Martin Blake, Attorney at Law

  Chief Legal Counsel, Kegelman-Ballston Corporation

  Dear Mr. Meese:

  Your letter regarding the patented Kegelman-Ballston drug Halitex has been referred to me. Please be advised that you have no legal rights in Halitex; see attached list of case precedents. If you persist in any such claims, Kegelman-Ballston will consider it harassment and take appropriate steps, including possible prosecution.

  Sincerely,

  Martin Blake

  Martin Blake

  Jonathan Meese

  538 Pleasant Lane

  Aspen Hill, MD 20906


  Dear Mr. Blake,

  But they’re my genes!!! This can’t be right. I’m consulting a lawyer, and you can expect to hear from her shortly.

  Jon Meese

  Jonathan Meese

  Catherine Owen, Attorney at Law

  Dear Mr. Blake,

  I now represent Jonathan J. Meese in his concern that Kegelman-Ballston has developed a pharmaceutical, Halitex, based on gene-therapy that uses Mr. Meese’s genes as its basis. We feel it only reasonable that this drug, which will potentially earn Kegelman-Ballston millions if not billions of dollars, acknowledge financially Mr. Meese’s considerable contribution. We are therefore willing to consider a settlement and are available to discuss this with you at your earliest convenience.

  Sincerely,

  Catherine Owen

  Catherine Owen, Attorney

  From the Desk of Robert Ballston

  Kegelman-Ballston Corporation

  To: Martin Blake, Legal

  Re: J. Meese

  Marty—

  Damn it, if there’s one thing that really chews my balls it’s this sort of undercover sabotage by the second-rate. I played golf with Sam Fortescue on Saturday, and he opened my eyes (you remember Sam; he’s at the agency we’re using to benchmark our competition). Sam speculates that this Meese bastard is really being used by Irwin-Lacey to set us up. You know that bastard Carl Irwin has had his own Ulbarton’s drug in development, and he’s sore as hell because we beat him to market. Ten to one he’s paying off this Meese patsy.

  We can’t allow it. Don’t settle. Let him sue.

  Bob

  Internal Memo

  To: Robert Ballston

  From: Martin Blake

  Re: gene-line claimant Jonathan J. Meese

  Bob—

  I’ve got a better idea. We sue him, on the grounds he’s walking around with our patented genetic immunity to Ulbarton’s. No one except consumers of Halitex have this immunity, so Meese must have acquired it illegally, possibly on the black market. We gain several advantages with this suit: We eliminate Meese’s complaint, we send a clear message to other rivals who may be attempting patent infringement, and we gain a publicity circus to both publicize Halitex (not that it needs it) and, more important, make the public aware of the dangers of black market substitutes for Halitex, such as Meese obtained.