CHAPTER ELEVEN
“WELCOME ABOARD, Ms. Gill,” the Auspicious’s captain stated. He nodded, politely. “Mr. Gill is expecting you.” Within several moments, two stained-glass French doors opened, yielding an impressive forward lounge. Like the rest of the ocean-worthy vessel, few lightweight composites made it through to the ship’s final design, even fewer into the craftsman’s hands. Genuine granite and mahogany drew Rose further into the room’s grandeur. Her eyes followed the seamless, earth tone colour scheme, until she saw her brother stand and turn. He held his hands palms upward and to the side, “Sister,” he announced.
Rose said nothing, only continued into the expansive space. She looked to her left, to a sizable wet bar and couldn’t help noticing a striking woman sitting alone. Of East Indian origin herself, she embodied that of a protector more than a lover. Rose was struck by their sister-like resemblance. That’s a little unnerving, she thought. Then a blonde woman rose from behind her brother. She gazed past Praveen with the eyes of one knowing her place.
Again, Rose felt the appraiser’s eye. This time, though, they were competitive, more scrutinizing. But Rose was determined to hold her own. She stopped short of the well-appointed seating area. Her brother would have to come to her, not her to him. Though India was still very much a male dominated society, Prav wisely acquiesced, realizing it would be prudent to let the meeting begin on his sister’s terms. He stepped forward and offered a ‘Namaste,’ by placing both hands together and bowing. Rose bowed slightly, but kept a vigilant eye. “Brother,” she replied, in turn.
“Roshnie,” Prav said, clasping his hands. “Thank you for coming. It has been too long, has it not?” He glanced past his sister and gave a nod to the captain, who accepted the visual cue by responding in kind.
Rose seemed almost reluctant to speak. “It’s been a while,” she said, glancing over her brother’s shoulder. Prav understood the nuance, his sister’s desire to speak in private.
“At the risk of appearing presumptuous,” Prav stated. “May I ask if you have eaten? My chef makes an exquisite Ras Malai. Is it still your favourite? I thought we could enjoy some champagne with dessert, maybe pretend we are reliving simpler times.”
Suddenly, Rose felt the ship move. She was left with the distinct feeling that they were casting off.
Prav recognized the look on her face. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, gesturing for her to accompany him elsewhere. “I thought we might enjoy a short evening cruise. Perhaps we could partake of a little refreshment while taking in the city skyline.” Prav took one more step toward the door. “A table on the observation deck awaits us.”
Rose agreed by walking slowly with her brother. She allowed him to open the French doors. Prav smiled while passing through. Rose, however, remained guarded.
After descending to the mid-deck observation lounge, another set of doors opened. Silently, two pocket doors disappeared automatically into their adjoining walls. “It’s a lovely way to spend a calm summer evening, wouldn’t you agree?” Prav asked.
Rose stepped into another striking room and instantly felt her hair buffeted by a light river breeze. Prav gave his sister a moment to take in the setting before joining her. Rose was first struck by a table off to one side. Its two place settings appeared as impeccable as the bottle on ice, chilling beside. Her eyes were then drawn to the left and then the right. The ship’s thirty-foot beam was further supplemented by two push-outs; large sections of floor on the port and starboard sides, which extended outward beyond the hull. Their glass railings allowed those observing from either side to feel as though they were suspended out over the water. The space was, indeed, as striking as the view.
Prav watched as his sister was drawn toward the unfolding New York skyline. “Can I pour you a glass of champagne?” he asked.
“Champagne would be nice,” she responded. Rose allowed the moment to permeate her resolve. She exhaled a deep, troubled breath.
The yacht rounded Ellis Island, and the Statue of Liberty was coming into view. What a compelling perspective, Rose thought. Lady Liberty appeared bathed in a ghostly light. In a few more steps Rose was at the portside glass railing. In the time it took for Prav to open and pour two glasses, she let loose her firm grip. She returned to the table and sat down.
“When was the last …” Rose paused long enough for their male server to place two desserts in front of them.
“That’ll be all, Raj, thank you,” Prav stated, without acknowledging the nod from his staff.
Rose resumed her line of thought, in a lower voice. “When was the last time you spoke with Father?” she asked, matter-of-factly.
Prav smirked, wondering how long he would be able to put up with his sister’s impertinence. He set a champagne glass in front of her. “You know how long it has been,” he answered, sitting down across from Rose.
“You should visit him before ...”
“I intend to,” he interjected, under his sister’s glare. “I will, Roshnie, I promise.”
“When, Prav?”
“As I’ve said before, when Indi-Pharm has been restored to …”
Rose seemed unconvinced. “Restored to what?”
“To its former stature, of course.”
“But with the Gen Tech acquisition, you’ve exceeded every expectation. I’m sure Father would be more than proud of …”
“It’s more than that, Rose. There’s more at stake than,” he said, pausing, “than restoring our family name.” Prav got up from his chair. He looked out over the Hudson and took a slow sip of champagne. They were rounding the island on which America’s most recognizable monument stood. The illuminated Brooklyn Bridge lay in the distance, beyond the Statue of Liberty.
“What I want, Roshnie, is for our country to resume its proper place in the world. India’s brightest minds are no longer leaving to study abroad, particularly at American universities. The disheartening trend has been reversed, Sister. Many are also returning home to a burgeoning field of science and technology. We are poised, Roshnie, to emerge as a world leader. A growing number believe India’s time has come.”
Rose was not fully aware of how intensely her brother’s consortium of like-minded countrymen had lobbied the American government to reduce the number of so called, ‘Genius Visas.’ For decades the United States drew the world’s most intelligent students to achieve their otherwise untapped potential. And while foreign-born students sometimes accounted for more than half of the enrollment to the country’s top universities, many remained after graduating. They often went on to establish their own high-tech start-ups. The benefits of the program were obvious to most.
The brainpower loss to a student’s source country was made all the more poignant, though, when the intelligence gene was found to be sixty percent heritable. Those in the U.S. smart enough to realize the policy for what it was, a brilliant strategy to bolster the nation’s gene pool, often fell victim to the lesser of humanity’s attributes. With a steady rise in domestic job losses, and a troubling unemployment rate to match, many U.S. Senators were easily swayed by a vocal, yet predictable
protectionist sentiment. Fear is the prey, which many hunt, Prav believed. Though few are capable of slaying it; fewer still labour to preserve, even nurture it. Other, less respectable incentives, which Rose was all too familiar with, were frequently deployed by Prav’s consortium to reduce, if not kill the H1-B Visa.
“With our nation’s vast resources, Rose,” Prav added, “it’s only a matter of time. Our investments … they are already paying off. It is our generation, Rose, not the next that will lead our nation, moreover, the world into the most prosperous era mankind has ever known.”
“That may be so, Prav, but …” Rose paused, almost out of frustration. “Look, if you’re trying to forge some kind of legacy for yourself ...”
“You know this will all be yours when I’m gone.” Prav let the statement linger.
Rose leveraged the pause to her own end. “How have you bee
n
feeling lately?” she asked, cleverly changing the subject. “Honestly … you look like you haven’t slept in …”
Prav turned away from his sister’s inquiring eyes, but his sister would not relent. “I thought you said you were through with all that … age-related gene therapy.”
“I need you, Roshnie.” Prav stated, turning, resuming eye contact. “This goal can only be accomplished if we pursue it together. I will never ask anything of you again, if …”
“Enough, Prav, enough,” Rose said, in disgust.
Her brother took another step closer. “Then you’ll …”
Rose looked up at Prav, as if in awe of his arrogance. “So please explain to me again, Brother, why I would I ever want to help you?”
SOPHIA - Age of Intelligence Page 11