by Jim Kroepfl
“You want us to work on correcting someone’s DNA?”
“It’s too late by then. I want to prevent the disease from ever occurring.”
“But we are still working on a way to reverse Alzheimer’s damage, correct? You know about Grandma Bee, and how important it is to me that we try to help her.”
Sophie shakes her head impatiently. “Once the synapses have deteriorated, memories are lost. Even if we can heal the damaged tissue, the person will never return to who they once were.”
My mouth goes dry. Sophie has never taken this stance before. “We can still work on stopping her dementia from getting worse. I’ve been researching how art and music therapy can stimulate the senses and help trigger memories. And there are promising supplements like coenzyme Q10, coral calcium, and huperzine A.”
“I need to fix the cause, not waste time trying to patch the symptoms.”
Being able to remember loved ones is not a waste of our time.
My grandmother was so proud when I was chosen to work on Alzheimer’s. She knew the chances of finding the cure in time to save her were questionable, but she pushed me to come here anyway, even though we may never see each other again. And if one day we do, she most likely won’t remember who I am. But I’ve always held on to my hope that Sophie and I would defy the odds and figure it out in time.
I am not giving up on my grandmother, or the millions of people like her who are suffering.
“Sophie, we can do both. Fix the cause and work on reversing it so we can help those who have it now.”
She grabs a file from the cabinet and slides the drawer shut. “The past is the past. I need to focus on building a better future.”
I clench my hands to stop myself from screaming in frustration. “The future? Sophie, you think you live in the eighties.”
She lifts her head and stares at me in a way that makes me believe she’s finally figured out what’s really happening. “You say the oddest things. We’re done debating. I’ve made my decision.”
The anger I’ve been holding back explodes like trinitrotoluene. “This isn’t only your decision. It’s mine, too!”
Sophie slaps down the file on the counter. “You’re forgetting your place. I’ve been beyond patient with you, but if you continue your insubordination, it may be time for you to take your leave. Permanently.”
The memory of the all-encompassing fear when Sophie disappeared wraps around me like steel bands. I can’t face that nightmare for the rest of my life.
“I don’t want to stop working together,” I say in a voice as calm as I can manage. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. It won’t happen again. But help me understand. You said we were making progress. What’s changed since yesterday?”
“Yesterday? We haven’t seen each other for a week.”
My stomach sinks.
“I don’t know why you wanted to spend your spring break in that dreadful Panama City when you could have come to the Côte d’Azur with me. I told you we had plenty of space.”
My memory has always been perfect in my dreams, so I know I’m not the confused one here. “You were in France with someone else?”
“My cousin, Francesca. It’s her apartment.”
She has to be remembering a trip from her first life.
“I love the timelessness of that part of the world,” Sophie adds, surprising me with her chattiness. “The art museums there are fabulous. I always end up seeing something that helps me look at a problem from a different perspective, like what happened on this trip.”
I pull up a stool and sit across from her. “Is that when you decided to change the direction of our research?” Once I help her understand it didn’t really happen, we can return to working on a way to reverse Alzheimer’s.
She examines her cigarette as if it contains the answer to the meaning of life.
It smells delicious. “Can I have one?”
“This is my last. Sorry.” She takes a deep drag, then lets it out.
I breathe in the secondhand smoke, yearning for more.
“I predict this story will become legend,” Sophie says, gazing at the ceiling as if seeing it play out in a movie. “I was in a hall lined with portraits of the royal families that spanned centuries. Every few paintings, a dwarf child would appear among their other normal-sized children. That’s how I came up with my breakthrough.”
What doesn’t compute is if she’d had this breakthrough before we merged, she wouldn’t have had us spending all that time on octopus enzymes. But how could her trip to France have happened the way she believes?
I realize she’s staring at me expectantly. “You want us to work on dwarfism?”
“Don’t be obtuse. My point is, people will continue to procreate even when they know there’s a genetically based disease in their family history. I want to make it impossible for them to pass on their defects to future generations.”
“I don’t understand where you’re going with this.” At least, I seriously hope I don’t.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to make sure everyone with disease markers is sterilized.”
Sophie looks like she’s in rapture, whereas every hair on my body is standing on end.
“No one will agree to that,” I counter.
“That’s why they won’t be told. Humans can’t be trusted to keep their defects out of the gene pool.”
“Sophie, it’s impossible to secretly sterilize billions of people.”
“We’ve been vaccinating people against diseases since 1796.” She looks at me knowingly, making my skin crawl.
She’s given this a lot of thought. When did this happen? It wasn’t in our dreamspace, or I wouldn’t be blindsided. “I can’t condone something like this.”
“I thought I made myself clear. You will either do what I require, or you will leave this internship. I hope you understand how monumental this is. My work will end diseases caused when irresponsible parents gamble with humanity’s future. Don’t make the mistake of walking away from a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to watch me change the world.”
Fear grips me so hard, I can barely catch my breath. Sophie is psychotic and living in my brain!
“Don’t you see?” she says, as if the problem is me being dense. “Not only will people no longer suffer from preventable diseases, it will also rein in our population explosion. In the past, a new plague would appear and wipe out a good portion of those living in densely populated areas. The strongest survived, creating more viable future generations. There was also the added bonus of providing a reprieve to our natural resources. But because of advances in science, we’ve curtailed this natural cleansing process.”
When positioned like that, it almost doesn’t seem maniacal—unless one has a conscience. “Sophie, having children is part of the human experience.”
“Those people will now have the time and money to pursue other meaningful endeavors. Look at me. I chose not to have children, and I’ve never regretted it.”
“But it was your decision. Taking away someone’s choice is immoral.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic. I’m not proposing we end the life of the gene carriers. They’ll go on with their selfish lives until their diseased bodies fail. But I’ll remove their ability to make future generations suffer. And, once they die, their genetic defect will become extinct.”
What she doesn’t realize is she won’t be forever known as the Josef Mengele of my generation. That honor will fall to me—the only one of us who will face the repercussions.
In this form of life, Sophie’s and Angus Doyle’s behavior is unchecked. When there is no societal judgement or enforceable laws or the fear of hell, is this what happens to someone? Or, would a lack of consequences only corrupt the type of person who is willing to do anything to live a second time?
Did the Darwinians not consider something like this could occur?
“It’s a lot to take in,” I say.
�
�I’m confident once you’ve had time to think about it, you’ll realize it’s the most effective way to end Alzheimer’s, and all of the other diseases lurking in our genes.”
This is far bigger than my trying to protect our unusual relationship. It’s time to tell the Darwinians the truth about Sophie. They need to know that Angus Doyle isn’t the only Mentor who has become a super id.
“Do you mind if I leave early today?” I ask.
“Go on. I’m going to stay here and keep working.”
Again, how will she do that without me?
I glance at the clock, then notice the moonlight shining through my window. It’s not eleven in the morning. It’s eleven o’clock at night. The longest dream session yet. No wonder I’m starving.
I reach for my journal. What were we working on tonight/today? Deborah tries not to act disappointed when I don’t have much to report, but clinical research is a slow and methodical process, and it’s the exception when something momentous occurs. I remember Sophie and I discussing our cephalopods. I’ve become a big fan of octopuses. Not only are they affectionate, they contain DNA that no other creature on this planet possesses. Sophie considers them an evolutionary anomaly. But there are a surprising number of scientists who believe the Cambrian Explosion from half a billion years ago—when most of the planet’s species came into existence—originated with viruses from outer space.
But what about the octopuses? Of course! I want to ask Deborah if I can have one as a pet. It’s not technically allowed, but they don’t make noise or a mess on the carpet. Was there anything else? Nothing comes to me. I pull out the drawer in my nightstand and shuffle through the contents. What did I do with my cigarettes?
Lake
Since they’re being so persnickety about it not being legal for a sixteen-year-old to smoke, I’m chewing gum—and I’m starting to detest gum. I look down at what I’m wearing and frown. My wardrobe has become so drab. I couldn’t find any of my scarves, leg warmers, or bright-colored blazers to add some panache. It’s time for a shopping trip in the City.
“ … and if Marty’s procedure is a success,” Stryker continues, “they’ll consider allowing anyone with life-threatening complications to unmerge.”
They plan to insert Angus into a machine. What kind of life is that? And it’s a prototype that has never been tested. I’d never consider it. Alex, on the other hand, is acting like someone handed him a present tied with a big gold bow.
“I’m doing it,” he tells us.
“You’re so passionate about renewable energy,” the Asian girl with platinum-colored hair says. “How can you give that up?”
I can’t seem to remember her name.
“You’re allowed to ask me that question the day you black out because you can’t get enough oxygen,” he says. “And they’re still insisting nothing is physically wrong with me.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” she says.
I’ve been half-following the conversation while running my bare feet along the stream’s sandy bottom. Why didn’t I know about this place? It’s a hidden oasis. “Do you have asthma?” I ask Alex.
Stryker’s midnight-black eyes land on me. “It’s a little more complicated than that, Lake.”
He’s gorgeous. Why haven’t I hooked up with him? With those lush lips, he must be a phenomenal kisser.
“Alex, you need to understand the risks,” Stryker says.
“I could die or end up with brain damage,” Alex says. “No worse than what I originally agreed to.”
Kids these days blow everything out of proportion. I catch a reflection of myself in the water and smile. This place must be agreeing with me because I look so young. But my hair is too flat, and I could use more make-up. I’ll pick some up when I go clothes shopping.
“What will you do if Marty doesn’t make it?” Orfyn asks him.
“Please don’t say things like that,” the girl with the rings in her eyebrow says.
“Sorry, but Bat wants to make sure he’s thought it through.”
“If something happens to Marty, then I’ll be the first one who succeeds,” Alex answers confidently.
“There’s one other thing you need to consider,” Stryker says. “After they remove your Mentor, the Darwinians will ensure you’ll lose all memory of what happened here.”
“If I can’t remember unmerging, then I won’t ever regret it.”
This is precisely why these decisions need to be taken out of the hands of those who can’t see the bigger picture. My stomach clenches and sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. I don’t believe that, do I?
“Alex, do you regret becoming a Nobel?” that girl asks.
“When I was deciding if I wanted to come here, I was reading a book by John Green. There’s this great line: ‘What’s the point of being alive if you don’t at least try to do something remarkable?’ I didn’t let fear stop me from coming here. I’m proud of that.”
“And once you get over your cat … I mean cold, you get back up on that horse.” I don’t remember ever using that idiom before. I must have heard it from Grandma Bee.
“Lake, what about you?” eyebrow girl asks.
“What about me?” I say, feeling my defenses rise.
“You’re thinking about unmerging, right?”
“This is why no one likes you,” I tell the little witch. “You’re constantly going out of your way to be unpleasant.” I catch a look between Stryker and Orfyn. I hate when people judge me. “She’s the one who’s trying to make me feel bad about myself.”
Orfyn places a hand on my shoulder and whispers, “Lake, let’s take a walk.” The image of kissing him flashes in my mind, and my heart beats faster at the thought of spending more alone time with him. It almost prevents me from realizing he’s trying to steer me away from her. I do not appreciate being manipulated, and I will not let that girl ruin my lovely time here. I shrug off his hand. “I prefer to stay.”
Orfyn looks at me as if he doesn’t know me. I am who I am, and if he doesn’t like that I have a mind of my own, that’s his problem. I’ve long gotten over trying to please everyone. I paddle my feet in the water. Why would I have chosen purple toenail polish?
The girl who will one day regret her piercings rises, avoiding my eyes. “I have to go.”
I smile in satisfaction.
“Me, too,” Alex says, as Stryker helps him with his oxygen tank.
“I hope they’ll figure out how to slow the destruction caused by your emphysema,” I tell Alex.
“I don’t have emphysema.”
If he won’t admit to what’s wrong with him, it’s not up to me to make him accept the inevitable.
Orfyn moves closer until our shoulders touch. “Lake, I don’t know what’s happened since yesterday, but I think your memory has gotten worse.”
“I know I’ve been forgetful, but I’m burned out. That’s why I went to Panama City.”
He frowns. “When did you go there?”
“Last week. For spring break.”
“Lake, listen to me. You did not go to Panama City.”
“Yes, I did. Sophie asked me to come with her to France, but I chose …” My confidence ebbs when I can’t conjure any memories of being in Florida. As I look down at my pale skin, my certainty slips a few more notches. “But Sophie went to France, right?”
He gently taps my head. “Sophie only lives in here now.”
I start to tremble. “This is how Grandma Bee acts when—”
“Lake, you need to unmerge and save yourself.”
I start kissing him to put an end to his ridiculous suggestion. He gives into it, like I knew he would. Men are so predictable. For a few moments, I get lost in his lips—until my thoughts fill with plans for the new direction of my research. For the future.
I change into slacks and a nice top. I don’t feel comfortable walking around in pajamas, like that blond girl with the Buddy Holly glasses
does. I haven’t seen her in a while. She must be putting in long hours. She’s someone I could work with. Next time I run into her, I’ll ask if she wants to join my research team.
I’m only going out for breakfast, but I grab my journal, merely out of habit. I step into the hall and hesitate until I recall that the dining hall is to the right. The door opens to the room next to mine, and two men in white lab coats wheel out a stretcher with a body on it. A sheet entirely covers whoever is lying there.
“Go back into your room,” the bald one directs.
My eyes take in the painting of a city skyline with Houston written below. That boy with emphysema lives here. “Is he—”
“We’re taking him for observation,” the Asian one answers.
“Then why is his face curtain … cowboy … covered?”
“Precaution against the dust.” The Asian’s eyes land on my hand. I clutch my journal tighter.
“Go back to your room,” the bald one says.
I observe the body under the sheet. His chest cavity isn’t contracting and expanding, and if he were exhaling, the sheet would flutter. What is his name? How can I not remember? We’ve been neighbors for years.
“Let’s get going,” the bald one says. They wheel the motionless boy down the hall. “Please give his parents my condolences,” I yell at their backs.
I slide down the wall until I’m on the floor. Poor boy. Once a person gets that disease, they won’t recover, which only reinforces my decision.
Which decision?
Tears spring into my eyes. I’ve been thinking things that come out of nowhere, and I’m saying things I’d normally never dare. I discussed it with Deborah yesterday—or was it the day before? She assured me the results of my neurological exam and imaging test are normal. But something isn’t right.
You’re perfectly fine.
I no longer think so.
Don’t let others put worries in your head. Nothing is wrong with you. Trust me.
I look up at the door and I recall his name. Alex. And he was planning to unmerge. Time was not on his side. The tears I’ve been holding back stream down my face. He was too young to die.