Athena's Choice
Page 22
Her eyes sought out one bench in particular: the southern-most one in the row, set slightly apart from the rest. She sat herself upon it. For a minute or two, she stared out across the water, past the boats speeding back to port, past the heli-cars whizzing by, past the hydroponics towers gleaming white, and all the way to the distant, eastern horizon.
Clutched to her chest was The Iliad. She laid the thick book on her lap and opened it. From out of its secret compartment, she pulled the blue-lapis pendant and intertwined it with her own. Immediately, a video file appeared on her display. It read: The Better Angels of Our Nature.
With an air-click, Athena opened the file. Instantaneously, a projection of Grace appeared before her, standing in what looked like a vineyard, with a warm sun shining on her face.
Recorded April 23, 2080
The Better Angels of Our Nature
Athena,
If you’re watching this, then I've died, and you know the truth — the whole truth. What can I say, other than that I'm sorry. I hid my connection to you because I wanted to protect you from the burden of my crimes. I wanted you to have a carefree, ordinary, simple life. However, if you are watching this, it means that I have failed.
There is no forgiveness for the things that I have done, but you mustn’t feel any responsibility for it. You are not a killer. You are my brother’s daughter, not mine, and within him there was only good. Within you there is only good.
At the very least, though, I owe you an explanation. So here it is.
When I was a young girl, people loved to talk about feminism. Everyone said it was ‘important’ and ‘progressive.’ Back then, for many people, it tended to mean a movie where the female lead wore tight leather pants and killed all the bad guys herself. That's a kind of feminism, I suppose. Maybe it has a place. But at its heart, the idea is backwards. True feminism should not be about the ability of women to emulate men. Can a woman be as violent, and brutal, and heartless, and cruel as a man? Of course she can. So what?
True feminism, as I see it, should be about the recognition of our feminine abilities as the greater strength. When wise men talk about the best versions of themselves — when they celebrate their ability to forgive and demonstrate compassion — they are talking about their own feminine tendencies passed down by their mothers through generations. We women are the true source for the better angels of humanity’s nature.
For years, I hoped society would come to this conclusion on its own. I hoped that women would be placed in charge of all that was important. But sadly, it became clear that day would never come. So I intervened. For the trillions of unborn children spared lives marred by unnecessary war-torn tragedy, I intervened. For the countless families released from lifetime sentences spent in the prisons of debilitating hunger and poverty, I intervened. In the name of the Mother, the Daughter, and the Human Spirt, I intervened.
And I’d do it again.
As I record this, you have, just yesterday, been born. You arrived in the evening, perfect in every way. Ms. Vosh even agreed to the name which I told Eve to suggest for you. I know my Christian mother, your grandmother, would never have approved of naming you after a pagan goddess, but unfortunately for her, it's the polytheistic religions that have all the best female role-models. May you always be blessed with the insight and wisdom for which your namesake was known.
My darling niece, even though I won't be around to see it firsthand, I know that Charlotte will be a magnificent mother to you. I envy the childhood that you will have. As you age, whatever you do, whatever you become, I know my brother would be so proud of you. And so will I.
June 14, 2099
49
As the recording finished, Athena leaned back, placing her full weight against the bench. The memories of the last week raced across her mind. She pictured that final image of Valerie, lying dead on her bed. She contemplated the Core’s advice and warnings. As best she could, she tried to imagine the many billions of men and women who had lived before and the many trillions more who might one day be born. She thought about the sources of happiness in their lives. Most of all, she remembered Nomi.
When the visions had passed, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. In her mind, the chaos of remembrance had been replaced by a singular image: that of a woman with delicate features and gray eyes observing an egg but painting a man. The question, she realized, was not one of science, but of art. Simultaneously, the past, present, and future revealed themselves to her: all that men had been, all that they were, and most importantly, all that they might yet become.
From out of the gray sky towering overhead, a single drop of cold water fell onto her nose. The scheduled thunderstorm was about to begin.
Author’s Epilogue
In the months since this book was first released, readers have often asked me, “What happened! What did Athena decide to do at the end? Did she bring back men or not?” In response, I have always asked those readers, “What do you think she decided to do? Is it what you would have done?”
These are important questions.
Although technically a work of science-fiction, “Athena’s Choice” contains no impossible elements. We humans really are on the brink of having digital devices implanted throughout our bodies. We really can create artificial intelligences of staggering power and complexity.
Most importantly, we really will soon be able to alter our genetic code in ways that could change forever the kinds of things that make us happy. The fundamental question at the heart of “Athena’s Choice” — the fundamental question which I hope all readers will take with them — is to ask if maybe we should? Maybe humanity would be better for it, if we altered our genomes to make people enjoy acts of altruism more and acts of selfishness less.
After all, in the end, it’s not really Athena’s choice at all. She will not be born for decades. Until then, the burden of knowledge which cannot be unlearned rests with us — the living. It’s not her choice what happens next but ours.