Sowing Season

by Brian Patrick Edwards

  “Is it not popular to have children that resemble their parents?” Isaac inquired, suddenly paying attention.

  “Well, the latest trend is the designer baby. It’s new among the second generation here at STORK and they’re really selling well.” She selected the package on the screen, flooding the wall with children of all sorts -- races and features that had never existed naturally. Isaac’s mouth hung open as the sight of a blue-haired toddler appeared on the wall. “But, if you two are more interested in our basic package, I can also simulate what they’ll look like as teens and even the appearance they may have by adulthood. Sometimes the parents, as beautiful as they are,” she flattered, “prefer not to pass down any sort of blemishes or less favorable traits. But, Susan, I’m absolutely positive the two of you would make gorgeous babies!”

  Jocelyn was an excellent saleswoman, always waging an unmentioned and unnoticeable war with her customers, guiding them into an inevitable direction, leading towards the more expensive options. Isaac could see the clever sales pitch, but his wife nearly bubbled over with excitement at all the wonderful possibilities. She soaked up every detail the consultant presented to them. Her vanity got the best of her, though. Thinking that none of these gene-modified children held a candle to her natural beauty, she asked for the true parental gene simulation.

  “Yes, of course.” Jocelyn grinned, instructing the couple, “If you two will simply place your fingertips on the pad there, a small pinprick will gather your genetic information and present the most probable outcome upon the wall behind me.”

  …

  After a few minutes of small talk, the vision fully initialized; although, the child showcased looked nothing like they expected. Isaac believed it must have been rigged, but didn’t say anything. Susan, shocked, withheld no emotions, revealing how truly disappointing she found the image. Her face twisted with horror. She let out a gasp and quickly covered her mouth, shielding her brilliantly white teeth with French manicured nails.

  “Oh no,” she nearly shouted, not caring any longer about what impression she might make, “I thought surely she would have been a strawberry blonde, at the very least.” Shaking her head at the image, she continued with an incredulous tone, “The eyes as well. They look much darker, neither green or blue.” She frowned, “Surely this isn’t too accurate?”

  “The simulations have been pretty spot-on in my experience. But, really, when you rely on your own DNA, you get infinite possibilities, many of them not so desirable. If you choose that route, you won’t know what the child will be blessed…or cursed...with until long after its creation in the lab.”

  “Well, could we simply just tweak a few things here and there?” She wiped her almost teary eyes with the edge of her handkerchief.

  “Absolutely, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Jocelyn bent forward on her desk, eyes opened widely with sincerity, reassuring her, “You are able to do whatever you’d like -- with the designer package.”

  “Isaac, we must choose the designer package!” Her hand gripped his forearm so tightly, he knew that when she pulled away, an imprint of her fingers would remain on his skin.

  “Whatever makes you happy, love,” he cooed, gently patting her hand until she relaxed.

  …

  Jocelyn quickly made note of their decision on her desktop. Afterwards, she walked them through the options to help customize the daughter of Susan’s dreams. A delightfully beautiful young woman she would grow to be; everything her mother was and more. The child will have eyes as green as leaves in a new spring. The irises and pupils will be lined with fine golden bands, capturing all of the sun’s essence. Her hair will be nearly twice as thick and naturally curly, something Susan greatly envied in other women. She thought about how she spends at least two hours, almost daily, to achieve the perfect ringlet curls with her curling iron. Now, her daughter won’t have to do that.

  Additionally, the girl will grow just as tall as Isaac, towering above most men. They chose upgrades to her skin and other organs and the consultant placed them within the package. With these changes, she’d be healthier, stronger, and less prone to cancer. Their daughter won’t have her mother’s large ears and webbed toes, or her father’s family history of heart disease and cancer. Susan did her best to ensure that their girl will be able to achieve anything and that nothing in her DNA will ever hold her back. Her baby would be perfect and flawless.

  “Well,” Isaac interjected after seeing the massive price tag resulting from all Susan’s upgrades and additions. “Now that we’ve pretty much thought of everything, what’s next? Do we pay now or…” He was curious, but also trying to change the subject before Susan racked on any more package options. Two full hours had already passed while Susan designed their daughter. His wife cocked her head sideways, her eyes glowing with irritation at his interruption.

  “Well, what if I think of something else? What if we missed something crucial?” Susan asked, turning her head away from him.

  “You’ll have plenty of time to think and decide things over, Mrs. Lewis,” Jocelyn assured her, smiling. “It may take several months before the order is even submi-”

  “Several months?” Susan’s shrill voice made its way through the glass door and out among the cubicles.

  “Yes, I’m afraid that parenting, while certainly a wonderful opportunity, is a great privilege that requires approval from the state. The increased wait is due, mostly, to the baby being genetically modified. If you went the natural growth route it wouldn’t take so long, but this is a much greater investment...a greater reward.” Susan’s lips vanished as she held them shut tightly. Jocelyn carried on, “There will be background and credit checks, and also an auditing of your lifestyles and home life to ensure that the child is placed in the best of hands.”

  “But, why several months? Can’t this be done quicker? Neither of us are criminals or anything and we have plenty of money.”

  “Yes ma’am, trust me, I understand. It seems like a long time, but from my experience I can assure you, it’s worth every second of the wait. You also have to think of the million other requests submitted by other clients during the year. It’s a lot for us to process.” Susan fell silent, completely crestfallen over the bad news.

  “How long until the examination? What should my wife and I expect and is there anything we should make sure to have in place?” Isaac was engulfed with questions, fearful that Susan might lose her composure at any minute.

  “A case inspector will visit your home within the next two weeks. The inspector will take a look around the home to make sure there are no real dangers present, or skeletons in your closets.” Jocelyn laughed at her joke, realizing that it didn’t quite resonate with the couple. “They may also make any number of surprise visits afterwards over the next few months, so take care to keep the place clean, child proof everything, no potential weapons lying around, no dangling cables, store chemicals and what-not in a safe or locked place. Just be generally aware of everything.”

  “And what of the credit and background checks?”

  “Our AI will conduct and calculate those. It will watch all of your accounts and transactions, even after you’ve received the child.”

  “After we’ve received the child? What for? How long does that go on?” Isaac’s voice obviously agitated, his eyebrows raised. He could feel STORK’s hand already gripping him by the throat. We’ll be slaves, he thought, his anxiety building under the pressure.

  “Until the child is no longer under your parental control. Once the child is fully grown and capable of independence, STORK’s supervision ends. Unity gives STORK many responsibilities, one of them being parental surveillance. It’s the law and we must obey.”

  Isaac sat back in his chair, his gaze directed down at the wooden floors, not looking at anything in particular. Susan didn’t say a word. Her eyes stared out the window, studying the buildings below them. The obstacles put before them left her dumbfounded. Nothing of the sort crossed her mind that morning as
they climbed in the car for the ride to STORK. Everything had always been simple for her, but now she felt the claws of stress, scratching their way into her mind.

  “What are some of the things they watch for?” Susan’s voice cracked, as her barely audible words made their way out of her perfectly shaped, plump lips.

  “They monitor credit, ensuring that you spend responsibly. They keep an eye on the child’s education through your transactions, watching for the proper nutrition and school supplies. You’ll get a direct look at your activity as well, which is a wonderful bonus in my opinion. I’m always watching our family’s spending habits through the application they’ve developed. It helps my wife and me make better decisions, I think, and also lets us know if we’re not keeping up to our standard.” Jocelyn could see that these details overwhelmed her clients. Nothing out of the ordinary. She could see a soft glistening film of sweat starting to form at the sides of Isaac’s forehead. “It sounds a little complicated, but you’ll get really good at knowing what to look for. You can even take some online courses for it. They don’t cost anything at all, and we cover a range of topics.”

  “Well, what do you want to do, honey?”

  “We’ll agree to these terms, Jocelyn,” Susan answered, again over Isaac’s question, not concerned with his opinions. “Go ahead and sign us up. Also, will you save the package as is? I’d absolutely hate to lose everything we worked for today.”

  “Of course, it’s all good.” Jocelyn’s face brightened revealing her sparkling teeth through a wide smile. The image of the grand total painted its way through every crevice of her brain. “It’s all saved. nothing will happen to your darling angel and anytime you have an idea or think of something else, I’m only a phone call away. But, before you guys leave, we must discuss payment arrangements.”

  All of Susan’s energy and carefully guarded emotion drained away at the sound of the consultant’s last words. She and Isaac, although well off, could not afford to pay it out right. Isaac didn’t know what to do or say, looking to his wife, the one always truly in charge. His jaw flared as he gritted his teeth anxiously, holding his fingers to his lips and chin.

  “We’ve got numerous payment plans, of course.” Jocelyn changed the projection behind her to display several options.

  Each and every payment option on the wall was, in some way, worse than the one next to it. They’d either live out their days in debt or give up the idea of traveling to the west coast to see her parents again, let alone the European vacation they always dreamed of. Paying for this child will amount to a huge financial sacrifice, regardless. Ultimately, though, it would be well worth it. Susan took a moment to think about her friends and how their children will not hold a candle to the exquisite offspring she, Isaac, and their consultant designed. The thought of their bitter envy made her giddy.

  “We will select option two,” Susan answered after clearing her throat. Five percent down and a monthly payment roughly equivalent to their house payment, but would likely take twice as long to pay off. Isaac’s mind staggered at the sight of the numbers. An exhilarating decline of emotions and hope spiraled down into the pit of his churning stomach. On the verge of sickness, his face paled to an ashen color as two huge beads of sweat rolled down his brow. He quickly wiped it away and regained his outer composure.

  “Sign here, Mrs. and Mr. Lewis.” A blank line appeared on their side of her desktop, an X blinked next to it, waiting for the touch of their fingers.

  …

  The couple made their way out of the building soon after, hearts racing and the burden truly weighing down on them. Using her typical ironclad self-control, Susan didn’t allow her interior discomfort to rise up and defile her perfectly composed exterior. The stunningly beautiful woman looked just as fierce and elegant as she did when she first entered the tower.

  Once they were safely within the confines of the taxi, in complete privacy, Isaac held nothing back. He gasped for air, sighing deeply as if he had just washed ashore after a shipwreck at sea.

  “What in the hell are we going to do, Susan?” Isaac shouted into the ceiling, grabbing the sides of his head and pulling his carefully coiffed hair outwards. “What are we going to do? Couldn’t we just wait a while longer?” Susan looked at him with her signature soul piercing eyes. “I mean, my God, what are we thinking? Is it truly worth it? We’ll never know comfort again.”

  “Shut your mouth!” Her sharp words cut him off abruptly. “Nearly all of our friends have children now. I refuse to be the last and I will not wait until I’m a damned sixty-year-old before I begin to raise a child. We will have our Isabel now, Isaac, and she will literally eclipse the power, intelligence, and beauty of any before her.”

  “We can’t afford it. They’ll literally cancel the delivery; or, even worse, repossess her the second they realize we can’t follow through on payments. What are we thinking?”

  “Isaac, if you don’t pull yourself together, I will find my own taxi home and you can wallow in your misery somewhere else, far away from me.” She didn’t look his way even once as she spoke.

  Isaac calmed himself and sat without words for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He simply could not focus on one thing at a time. His mind roiled with a sea of what ifs and he struggled for air, for someone to pull him up above the waves. Susan, cold as ever, offered no aid for her drowning man. One thing at a time, Isaac, he coached himself, catching a brief stillness in his mind before deep fear overtook him once again.

  They exited the taxi and climbed the front steps to their Victorian home, shrubs lined the brick walkway.

  “Honey,” he started in a cool voice, desperation still slightly apparent in his tone, “damn it, can’t you tell me what our plan is?” Susan stood at the front door, staring at the knob and marveling that he hadn’t yet opened for her, making a sarcastically puzzled face. Isaac swiftly threw his hand on the knob and swung it open for her to enter, before continuing to pursue her with questions that she refused to answer.

  Her shoes tapped on the newly tiled floors as she made her way into their kitchen, the sound echoed off of the spotless marble countertops. She opened one of their many refrigerated cabinets, finding a wedge of Brie cheese, then searching the pantry for a croissant. She ignored Isaac’s presence the entire time. After her snack, she used a linen napkin to wipe the crumbs from her lips. Bright red lipstick left its mark on the white cloth. For the first time, since arriving home, she made eye contact with her husband.

  “Hon-,”

  “You will go to work tomorrow and you will work long hours, harder than you’ve ever worked.” She spoke quickly, an unbroken stream of words flowed from her, “And then you will receive the raise you’ve promised me for over a year. I’ll do the same. We will start paying more principal on the house. You’ll abandon your hobbies, and nights out with the boys, and even sleep at the department if you must.” She swept the floor of crumbs, continuing, “And, before I hear any of your excuses, just know, if I have to, I can find someone else who can make this dream of mine a reality much easier than you can. You’d best listen to me.” Despair ravaged Isaac’s heart, leaving him unable to respond coherently. He nodded his head in agreement. His face turned red and his eyelids grew heavy with tears as Susan turned her back and walked away from him.

  …

  He listened to her footsteps as she walked up the stairs to their bedroom and, finally, the master bathroom. He heard the rushing sound of shower water and knew he could finally weep in private over the kitchen sink. Seething hot tears burned his eyes as they tumbled into the sink. He thought of all the things that could destroy the life he had worked so hard to make -- if he weren’t careful.

  She always found a way and a reason to treat him with wicked disregard and verbal cruelty; always feeling less of a man with each new day than the day before. Yet another part of him crumbled, broke, and fell away from him that day. He stared out of the kitchen window as he dried his eyes. Everyone seemed so happy -- hanging ou
t in their backyards and front porches in the waning light of golden sunsets. Isaac just couldn’t understand why everything seemed to go so easily for them. They made it look effortless. Even though he meticulously followed every direction and mandate from Unity, this ease -- this peace eluded him.

  He recalled the days in which she made him feel so strong, so comforted. When his father was passing, she was there. She was the only one there. His mother had taken off, grieving on her own and offered him little to no alleviation of his pain. Susan was the foundation, the grounding. She alone was there for him to wrap his arms around as he cried and suffered the loss. Her family helped with the costs and for that he was forever grateful. The salvation she offered was still there, he knew. Surely life had become more stressful over the years, but she still must be the same Susan. She was a strong, good woman with all of her I’s dotted and the T's crossed. Susan made him the man he is. Without her, he wouldn’t have strived for this job, he wouldn’t have this house, he wouldn’t have grown. He owed everything to her, and her insults, her strikes against him were temporary pains, which he knew would pass in time.

  It’s only temporary. It’s all a storm -- a storm I’ll get through. I’ll make her proud. I owe it to her. I truly owe her everything.

  He slowly made his way to the couch, heartbroken and weary, and passed out immediately after hitting the soft cushions and pulling the blanket over himself. In sleep he found peace as darkness engulfed him, worries and regrets fell away. At last, bliss.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The couch Stone slept on was torn at the seams. The owner’s cat likes to use it as a scratching post and had pulled fabric strands and cotton stuffing from its soda-stained cushions. Stone slept on it when the days were brightest, usually managing to sleep through them entirely. He left the night of Michael’s outburst and kept very busy during all hours of the night ever since. Rage had erupted from his heart that night; forgiveness impossible to contemplate. His bruised and scabbed-over face served as a constant reminder of the night his cousin had raised his fists, betraying him during dinner, in front of the priest, the sounds of crashing and punching echoing to the rest of the family, destroying their peace.