Drew stood up. "Get a grip." He bent down to Kenton. "I am so close to pulling the plug on this. What exactly are you expecting? You get her released and play happy families?"
Kenton looked at his shoes.
"Please don't make this personal," said Drew.
"It is personal."
"And it shouldn't be. I should never have let you do this. I should have known, with your mum and everything."
"People accepted Eugenisence because it was sold to them by someone in a white coat. Just like selling washing powder. Do you really think it was the solution we needed?"
"People accepted it because they were desperate. The day that scumbag decided to mug Neive I could have lost her. She feels safe on the street again. Eugenisence is exactly what we needed."
"But at what cost?" Kenton shook his head and sat back.
"I know you think you're helping, but please listen to me, as your boss, and your friend. Step back. Be objective. That's what good journalists do."
"I don't know if I can."
"If you can't, then we're done with this. I'm sorry, I can't back the book."
19
Monday 24th February 2053: The Turncoat Magazine Office
The knock on Kenton's door was gentle, apologetic maybe. He hoped it was.
"Come in, Drew," he said.
Drew entered, and gently closed the door behind him. "I was just about to lock up. You're working late far too often."
Kenton shrugged.
"Are we still doing this?" Drew asked.
"I'm hitting my deadlines, you've got nothing to complain about."
"Yeah, you've become the model employee. That's what worries me."
"Well I don't have anything to distract me anymore."
"Then what can I say? Keep up the good work." Drew waited for a moment, before opening the door and leaving.
It was easier to blame Drew.
The gentle knock came again.
"Yes?"
Drew came back in. "You have a visitor." He stepped aside to make room for Dr Conley.
"I need to speak to you," she said. "It's time for the truth."
Kenton stood up. "Come in."
He led Dr Conley to the sofa, where they sat at either end. Drew pulled over the desk chair and settled into it.
"I haven't been working on the programme for several years," she said. "I'm just the face. They pay me to say what they tell me to. Basically, my job is to lie for Eugenisence."
Kenton pulled his voice recorder from his pocket and placed it on the coffee table. Dr Conley covered it with her hand.
"I can only do this off the record, Mr Hicks."
"Please, call me Kenton."
She smiled. "Valerie."
"Look, I'm sorry about our first interview, I shouldn't have got angry."
"Don't apologise, you were right to get angry. We should all be angry. You saw that my research wasn't complete. It still isn't. We cannot accurately isolate that gene. Yes, we're eradicating crime, but we're eradicating a lot of other things too."
"Then how could you allow the Abortion Bill to be passed?"
"I was already off the project by then, holed up in a little lab where I can't do any harm. I heard about it on the news, just like you."
"So why keep you on?"
"Keeping up appearances. There'll be a lot of questions if they fire the lead scientist." She looked down at her hands. "They pay me an obscene amount of money for my silence."
Kenton leaned back, not even trying to conceal his look of disgust.
"I'm only human," she said. "I'm sure even your morals would be called into question if you were offered that many zeros. Besides, what if I told them they couldn't buy me? They wouldn't let that happen."
Kenton nodded slowly. "Top scientist dies in tragic accident. I get your point. But why speak up now, after so long?"
"Because of Indi Garrett. Because of you."
"The book?"
"It's not easy being the first one to stand up."
"What will happen to Indi if they find her?"
"They already have." Valerie looked away. "She tried to run, and they shot her. She's hidden in a hospital in France. She's brain dead, but their keeping her on life support to save her baby."
"An incubator."
"Far more girls test genetic positive than boys. That's something they don't tell the public. We're approaching a serious population crisis. They'll do anything to save a genetic negative baby."
"What do you know about Outscope Digital?"
Recognition flashed across Valerie's face before he finished speaking.
"You mean the Genetic Delivery Programme." She pointed at him. "You're very good, I'll give you that. They've worked hard to keep that one buried."
"What can you tell me about it?"
"It's simply the Eugenisence Programme under a new name. They're continuing the research, trying to increase the success rate."
"Why hide it behind the guise of an electronics company?"
"As far as the public know, the Eugenisence Programme is flawless. They've seen our country go from a criminal's paradise to a crime-free haven. They don't want anyone to know how far they are from perfecting the model. They're working on other things too. A real designer baby programme. The hope is, that for those who can afford it, you'll be able to choose everything. Down to eye colour, nose shape, foot size. One day, you'll be able to walk down the street and point out those whose parents could afford to create them, and those who did it the old-fashioned way."
"And I suppose there's more money in designer babies than eradicating criminality."
"Sure is. The original project isn't really a priority anymore. They've been creating human children for a few years now. Imagine if the public knew that."
"In artificial wombs?"
Valerie laughed, and Kenton felt his face grow hot. He made a mental note to deal with Gus Murphy.
"No, just very well paid surrogates. Why fix something that isn't broken? They find women who can put a price on their morality. Women like me, I guess."
"Is that where we're headed? Women used as breeding machines?"
"If we don't solve this population issue, then yes, I fear that may be the future for us."
Kenton whistled. He looked at Drew, whose face was furrowed with worry.
"Women already carry all the blame," Valerie said. "It's like living in Tudor England. All the women working for Eugenisence have compulsory testing. It's in our contracts: if we're positive, we're sterilised. But only the women. That day, I tested positive."
"What do you mean?"
"It is so far from perfect. Look." She pulled a test kit from her bag. It looked like a large pen. She snapped open a clean needle, and pushed it into the end. "Give me your hand."
Kenton offered his hand, and Valerie pressed the tester against his forefinger. He felt the pinch as it drew blood. It clicked and lit up red.
"Congratulations," she said. "You're genetic positive."
Kenton stared at the bead of blood on his skin. "I was only born three years before the programme started."
"Give me your other hand." Valerie pulled the needle out, replacing it with a new one. The tester clicked again, but this time it lit up green. "Looks like your left arm has the good blood."
She kept hold of Kenton's hand.
"You have to write this book, for the sake of the future. Well, to ensure we even have a future."
20
Tuesday 25th February 2053: The Gene Pool Office
The official head office for The Gene Pool turned out to be a basement flat. Or, judging by the boarded up windows, more of a squat. A square of cardboard was tacked to the front door with 'TGP' written on it with marker pen. Gus probably thought he was being suitably cryptic.
Kenton tried the handle, and found the door unlocked. As he slipped inside he saw why: the lock was broken, presumably never replaced since Gus first broke in.
The bare bulb in the hallway wasn't li
t, and the narrow space was crammed with boxes. Kenton squeezed between them. The kitchen on the right was piled high with take-out wrappers. The living room opposite boasted four sofas, one of which had been stripped of its foam and stood on one end in the corner. A Che Guevara flag hung from the chimney breast. Gus really was the epitome of his own cliché.
Kenton could hear voices coming from the back room and recognised Gus's. He was arguing with a woman, maybe his bogus scientist.
The door was ajar, and a shard of light cut across the carpet. He suddenly felt nervous. He'd imagined himself kicking the door in and stepping in with guns blazing. But all he had was his voice recorder and his naked woman pen.
"Don't be such a baby," Gus said. "Like this isn't the easiest money you've ever made."
"That's wrong too," the woman said. "All that money you took off him, for what?"
"It will help to fund the cause. It's not like I'm going to spend it on cigars and brandy. He made a nice donation, think of it like that. What a generous man."
Kenton counted to three, and pushed the door open. Gus and Madeline stared at him, their mouths open. Kenton realised he should say something. He pointed at Gus, swinging his finger back and forth between them.
"I don't know why you're lying to me, but I know you are. She's not even a scientist, is she?"
He kept his voice loud, hoping the volume would disguise how foolish he felt.
Madeline hung her head. "I work in a shop."
Kenton jabbed his finger at Gus. "I trusted you."
Gus stood up slowly and annoyingly calmly. He placed his hand over Kenton's, and pushed his loaded finger down.
"I did it for the good of the cause."
"This would have ended my career, not to mention branding the book as nothing more than lies. It would have put 'the cause' back 20 years. What the hell were you thinking?"
"Aren't you journalists always after something sensational? Headlines designed to incite anger, because no one bothers to read the full story. Once they got into the swing of revolution, no one would care about the truth."
Kenton clenched his fists. "You really think that's how it works?"
"People will believe anything they see in print."
Kenton spotted a pile of Gene Pool copies on the desk and grabbed one, shaking it at Gus. "Is that what your little newspaper is? Lies put in print?"
"No. That's real journalism. The newspaper is the only voice we have."
"Well, it's a real tragedy for the abandoned generation that the only voice they have comes out of your arse."
"At least it's a free voice. Not in a choke hold by the Press Commission. And what the hell do you care anyway? You're not one of us."
Kenton turned his back on Gus and looked at Madeline. "Were your lies for 'the good of the cause' too?"
"I..." She gestured helplessly at Gus. "I don't know. It was stupid."
Kenton turned back to Gus. "You stay away from me, and stay away from my book."
He threw his copy of The Gene Pool at Gus, and watched it rebound off his forehead. He turned and walked out, a flood of adrenaline pulsing through him.
He pulled the front door shut with a shaking hand, and grabbed for the banister as his legs collapsed. He eased himself down onto the steps and tried to steady his breathing. He wasn't built for this. Now he just needed to get home without passing out.
21
Wednesday 12th March 2053: Hookend Psychiatric Detention Centre
"You don't visit me for months, and now this?"
Kenton screwed his hands together under the table. "I tried to see you. They wouldn't let me."
Amie slammed her hands down on the table. "This is bullshit! What? You've got what you needed, so that's it?"
"Not at all. But the next couple of months are going to be crazy."
"So you don't have time for me."
"It's not like that, Amie."
"What if I tell you something else? I've got more stories."
Kenton shook his head. "We'll save them for the next book."
Amie threw herself back in her chair, and folded her arms. "Forget it. I'm used to being abandoned by people."
"Please don't do this."
"Don't you do this."
"I'm a journalist. I'm meant to stay objective. The way you're reacting—" He stared at the edge of the table, taking a deep breath. "And how much this hurts, just proves that we've got too close."
"Does it hurt, does it?"
Kenton looked up at her. "I think you know."
Amie leaned forward over the table. Kenton could see the mark of an old cut on her lip.
"Good," she said. "Go back to your old life. Leave me here to rot." She pushed herself upright and looked at him coldly.
Kenton stood up. "I'll come and see you again. After the book's released."
"Don't bother."
Kenton nodded and left the room, his chest tight.
22
Monday 17th March 2053: The Turncoat Magazine Office
Kenton didn't bother lifting his head from the arm of his sofa when he heard the door open. Nor when he smelt the coffee placed by him, or heard the creak of his desk chair as someone sat in it.
After a long silence, Drew finally spoke. "You know it was for the best."
"You didn't see her. She was broken hearted."
"All the more reason to stay away." Drew sighed. "Have some coffee, you look like shit."
Kenton grunted. "Thanks." He sat up and picked up the drink, breathing in its aroma.
"We've all been there. A pretty girl with a sad story can be seductive. You convince yourself you're just trying to help. At first it's a coffee, a hot meal. Then it's money, and then a sofa for her to sleep on. Suddenly you're brawling with her crack-head boyfriend and wondering if you're the one who got her pregnant. I learnt the hard way. I don't want to see you go through it."
Kenton nodded. "I stepped over the line, I know. But I need to fix it."
"What you need to do is leave things alone. Go home. Sleep in your own bed. Have a shower and a damn shave. You'll be amazed how much better you feel."
The door opened and Gus walked in as if it were his own office.
"What the hell do you want?" Kenton put down his coffee and rose to his feet.
"Who's this?" asked Drew.
"Gus Murphy," said Kenton.
Drew stood.
Gus grinned. "Kenton, have you been talking about me?"
"What do you want, Mr Murphy?" Drew positioned himself between Gus and Kenton. It was a nice gesture, but Drew would be useless in a fight. He bruised like a peach.
Gus addressed his answer to Kenton. "I want you to write what I tell you to."
"What? Stories about shop girls pretending to be scientists?"
"I want my revolution. Do this, and maybe you'll get to play happy families with Miss Fogo someday."
Kenton stepped forward. "Don't you go near her."
Gus smirked. "There was one thing I didn't lie to you about. I am good at getting people on the inside. It would be terrible if something happened to her. Or someone else close to you? Hookend isn't the only institution I have friends in. I think I might know someone in social care too. I know all the wrong kind of people, Kenton Hicks."
Kenton stared at the floor, shuffling his thoughts quickly. He looked back at Gus. "What do you want?" He ignored the stare Drew gave him.
"Editorial control."
"There's no way—" started Drew, but Kenton cut him off.
"Fine."
Gus moved forward, offering his hand for shaking. "As always, it's been a pleasure."
"Get out," Kenton said.
Gus retracted his hand and gave Kenton a thumbs up instead. He walked to the door, turned, and directed his forefinger at Kenton.
"I own you." And then he was gone.
Drew spun round. "What the hell was that?"
Kenton dropped back onto the sofa. He didn't have the energy for another fight.
"It's
my book," he mumbled.
"Not anymore. And for what? Some girl you fancy?"
"It's not just Amie."
Drew shook his head. "That's it. This is over. My reputation's on the line too. This magazine. I'm done with you." He walked to the door. "Pack up your shit and get the hell out. I'll forward your P45."
He slammed the door behind him.
23
Tuesday 18th March 2053: The Lake House
Kenton marched through the wet grass, stepped up onto the veranda, and accepted the embrace his father gave him. They held each other tightly before Peter pulled back.
"I've just been to see Mum," Kenton said.
"Did they tell you what happened?"
"Yeah. Some orderly mixed up her medication. They say it's not too serious. She'll be fine."
"Did you see her?"
Kenton nodded. "But she was sleeping. I didn't wake her." His eyes swelled with tears. "She looked so small, so delicate."
"I know. Not the woman who used to run around the garden with you as a kid." Peter walked to the railing, his movements a little stiff.
"Are you ok, Dad?"
"Just the cold getting into my bones. It's nothing." He looked out over the water. "This is killing her. Very, very slowly killing her. Ever since we got that genetic positive result. Ever since..."
Kenton moved forward and placed his hand on Peter's arm. "I know."
They stood in silence for a moment.
"I had an argument with Drew."
"About what?"
"The book."
"Artistic differences? You'll work it out."
"It's more than that. I've really screwed up."
Peter looked at him. "Come on, tell your old dad, we'll work this out."
Kenton appreciated his effort, but this wasn't a fight between boys in a playground.
"It's a huge mess. My main interviewee, Amie—"
"The girl in the mental hospital?"
"Dad."
"That's what it is."
Kenton shook his head. "That's not what they call it these days."
Peter waved his hand dismissively. "I'm too old for your psycho-babble, namby-pamby, political correctness nonsense."
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