Conception: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (Perfectible Animals Book 1)

by Thomas Norwood

  Masanori turned to look at me as he slowed his pace.

  “Michael-san.” He nodded at me.

  “What do you think’s going to happen?” I said. Today was the report-back on our cooperation research.

  “I think we’re going to be told that we’re idealistic fools for even imagining they might be able to find investors for something like this.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  I pushed the heavy wooden door of the Geneus boardroom open and we took our places and waited patiently for Klaus to finish a call he was on.

  I looked out the window at the early morning city filling with mist. Buildings rose out of it like trees in a forest, fighting for light in the ever-competitive real estate market. From here you could see over to the bay where old apartment buildings and skyscrapers stood in the water like dead trees in a lake. Some of them had been redesigned, with jetties and boats around them, enabling their residents to continue to live in them, but others had simply been abandoned or taken over by the ever-increasing population of homeless.

  “Okay, let’s get started,” Klaus said, silencing the room with his commanding voice. “Rachel, what have you got for us?”

  Rachel made a few adjustments on her com and statistics came up on everyone’s overlays. I looked at the survey questions, imprinted over the world around me. I darkened the background with a short subvocal command so as to read the results more clearly. As the faces of the board members faded out the survey questions faded in.

  Do you think humans should be made more cooperative?

  90% yes, 7% no, 3% undecided.

  Would you be interested in a genetic modification able to achieve this result?

  70% yes, 21% no, 9% undecided.

  If such technology were freely available, would you be interested in applying it to your own children?

  15% yes, 71% no, 14% undecided.

  Would you pay for such a modification?

  1.5% yes, 91% no, 7.5% undecided.

  Would you be prepared to accept a less selfish, more cooperative child as a side effect of a modification which substantially improved the immune system?

  21% yes, 46% no, 33% undecided.

  There were more questions and colored 3D graphs but the sad conclusion was obvious. I switched off the overlay and looked across the shiny expanse of polished wood to the rest of the directors in their tailored suits, with their well-trimmed hair and smoothed-out faces.

  “I think the results speak for themselves,” Rachel said, brushing her hair back to one side. “People want other people to be more cooperative, but they’re not interested in being more cooperative themselves or having their children be more cooperative.”

  Masanori glanced at me with an “I told you so” look.

  “Well, I guess that’s not surprising,” I said.

  “Not surprising at all,” Anthony agreed, crossing his arms. I watched as his flabby lips twisted into a snarl.

  “Society has made people believe they need to compete so much – now they believe it’s true.” Masanori lowered his head.

  “This is a ground-breaking change,” I said. “Of course people are going to be skeptical of it. When the computer was invented even the CEO of IBM estimated a world demand for it of less than five. Less than five! The telephone was said to have “too many shortcomings” by Western Union. When Pasteur came up with the idea that germs caused disease, Pachet and others said it was ridiculous. These were paradigm shifts. And that’s what this is. A paradigm shift.”

  “Paradigm shift or not,” Zhao said, laying his hands gently on the table in front of him, his face almost as inexpressive as Masanori’s. “I don’t think we have the time or the money to go changing people’s perspectives on life. And that’s not our job. Our job is to make money for ourselves and our shareholders. Or at the very least stop ourselves from going bankrupt.”

  At the end of the meeting Klaus said that if we didn’t find another investor within the next couple of weeks the immune-system project was finished.

  Just as everyone was standing up to go I said, “I would like to publish a paper on the interrelationship between the genes controlling the immune systems and the socio-sexual behavior of bonobos. Maybe it’ll help find an investor.”

  Normally Geneus didn’t like its scientists producing papers, despite the fact that science was traditionally based on the sharing of research. They considered it a waste of time and a giving away of potentially valuable information. But this time everyone agreed.

  After the meeting, I headed down to the somatic therapy lab. I hadn’t wanted to tell Justin that our funding might be cut, but I couldn’t hold off any longer.

  “Justin, can I speak to you for a minute?” I said to him.

  “Check this out.” He motioned me over.

  “What is it?”

  “The stats. They’re getting better.” He loaded them up on my public overlay. “Thirty nine percent success rate this time. These new bio-vectors are really working.” He clenched his fists like a football player who’d just scored a goal.

  “We have a problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They want to shut us down.”

  Justin stared at me. “What?”

  “One of our major investors has pulled out.”

  “We’re so close. The latest batch of macaque trials is showing some real promise. What will happen to everything we’ve done?”

  “Nothing. That’ll be it.”

  “Will we get to keep our jobs?”

  “I hope so. Don’t despair yet. Hopefully we’ll find a solution. We need to find another investor, but if it doesn’t work out I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

  Justin’s eyes gaped at me and his mouth opened involuntarily. His whole body fell forward as if strings holding him up had slackened.

  I took hold of his arm. “Let’s just keep doing what we can.”

  At lunchtime, I headed down to the cafeteria: a tall, glassed-in sunroom, palms and creepers thriving between the tables. As I was sitting down to a cheese roll and a chocolate donut, a concession to my unmodified sugar-and-fat-loving taste buds, Sophie’s name flashed in the top-right corner of my visual overlay with a call sign next to it.

  “Sophie,” I answered.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I was waiting to hear back from Rowen.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He’s overseas at the moment. They’re setting up a New Church in San Francisco. He’ll be back late next week and he can’t consider it until then.”

  “That could be too late.”

  “That’s the best I can do. Shall I set up a meeting?”

  “Okay.”

  “He usually only takes meetings at the gatherings. Will that be alright?”

  “That’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “No reason. I’ll let you know.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  MY CAR HEADLIGHTS forged a tunnel in the night, illuminating tight knit cypress on either side of the driveway. A song that Sophie had put on my stereo was playing at full volume. The whining melancholy of the music, the dark clouds passing across the full moon behind the trees, and not knowing exactly what Sophie was getting me into made my heart accelerate and my mind alert as if I had just taken a mixture of amphetamines and hallucinogens and was waiting to find out what the effect would be: heaven or hell.

  I had heard a lot about Rowen Boone and about the New Church “gatherings” but I had never expected to go to one. Rowen was one of the country’s wealthiest men, and his cult was one of the country’s most popular spiritual organizations. As science and technology failed them, people were turning again to religion for answers. Not that the New Church appeared to have too many religious doctrines – unless polyamorous, communal living could be called a religion. Dylan liked to call it a practical religion.

  At the end of the driveway we came to a white gravel turning circle leading up to a heavily illuminated Italianat
e mansion. We stepped out of the car while a robot attendant transferred auto-park data to the car’s computer.

  “Are you ready?” Sophie took my arm.

  “I hope so.”

  Sophie and I walked across to the house together. Others were arriving at the same time, and we joined the throngs going up the stone stairs to the main entrance where a wooden door stood wide.

  Inside, pillars in the foyer led up to a double-story cupola. A stone fountain contained a bowl held high by a sculpture of a naked couple.

  “That’s mine.” Sophie pointed towards the sculpture.

  “It’s beautiful.” I admired the ring of intertwined bodies at its base, all finely detailed.

  Underwater lamps threw rippling light across the walls. Jazz music floated into the room like a flock of butterflies, notes dipping, seemingly randomly, this way then that, almost colliding, stalling, holding, continuing on again in new displays of virtuosity.

  An archway on one side led to a corridor which ended in a hall full of people dancing to some throbbing electronic music. Sophie guided me around the edge of the spinning, rising, falling masses to where a terrace overlooked a lake behind the house, nodding at two security guards as we walked between them.

  Upon a four-poster day bed draped in brightly colored tapestries sat a tall, thin, handsome man of about sixty, with bloodshot eyes and a well-trimmed beard. Next to him were two young women wrapped in dresses accentuating their voluptuous figures. They looked up at me out of two sets of dark-brown eyes and smiled.

  Sophie slipped her shoes off and knelt on the bed and leaned across to kiss the man on the cheek.

  “Rowen. Lovely to see you.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine,” Rowen replied. They embraced briefly and Sophie kissed the two women.

  “Rowen, Suni and Sam. Let me introduce to you my friend, Michael.”

  Rowen held out his hand for me to shake and I was forced to lean forward onto the bed in order to reach him. Rowen’s hand was large but I felt a weakness and fragility in his grip. “It’s a pleasure,” he said.

  “Thank you for meeting with me.”

  He nodded.

  The two women held out their hands for me to shake as well; their cool fingers slipping through mine.

  “Please, make yourselves comfortable.” Rowen signalled to the space on the bed.

  I felt strange crawling onto his bed like this – even if it was a day-bed – but I slipped my shoes off on the flagstones and tried to adopt as comfortable a position as my tight suit pants and stiff back would allow.

  “Would you like a pillow?” Suni noticed my awkwardness and extended one to me.

  “Thank you.” I took it from her.

  Sophie lolled backwards, one hand drifting lazily onto Sam’s knee.

  “I like your suit,” Rowen said.

  “Thanks.” The suit was part of an Armani summer collection I’d picked up a few months ago on sale and that I was particularly fond of. I was surprised Rowen liked it, given his own attire: white linens and colored beads. “I like your house.” I looked up at the floodlit sandstone walls. “Did you design it?”

  “Yes. My wife and I.” My gaze glanced questioningly onto Suni and Sam but Rowen chuckled and said: “No, my wife died about ten years ago. God rest her soul.”

  I nodded, thinking about Annie and wondering if I would ever be able to find love, or even lovers, after her death. I doubted it. Life without Annie would be intolerable. I imagined her right now, at home alone, and wanted to message her to see if she was alright.

  “Would you two like something to eat or drink?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, please,” Sophie said, and I nodded agreement.

  Suni reached in amongst the pillows. A moment later, a young Asian boy appeared behind the bed.

  “May I take your order?” he said.

  “Some punch and tapas for me,” Sophie said. “And the same for my friend here.”

  “Coming right up.” The boy let out a broad grin.

  “Make it snappy,” Suni called after him, laughing. The boy looked back and smiled at her suggestively. Rowen noticed but only smiled, his gaze drifting out towards the moonlight reflecting off the lake and the silhouettes of hills in the distance.

  “So, tell me a little bit about yourself, Michael.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Tell me a little about your history. I’ve had my people do some research on your company, Geneus. They seem like a fairly successful company. They cured diabetes by providing the insulin gene to pancreas cells, is that right?”

  “Yes, that’s right. They also developed a somatic treatment for Systemic Lupus Erythematosus, an auto-immune disease, and another for Hereditary Spherocytosis. That was before I started working for them. I used to own a small company, PureGen, which came up with a human artificial chromosome designed specifically for genetic modifications.”

  “Hmm,” Rowen said, but didn’t ask any more, his mind seeming to wander.

  “How about you?” I said. “What were you doing before the New Church?”

  “Prostitution and gambling mainly.” Rowen turned back to me.

  “Oh.” I was not sure how to respond to this and my expression must have shown confusion as Rowen let out an unexpected laugh.

  “Casinos, brothels, strip clubs, porn. You name it. My daughter runs it all now. Does a much better job than I ever did. I am here trying to make up for my sins.” He smiled.

  “Sounds interesting.” I wasn’t really sure what else to say. I was starting to wonder what kind of a crackpot this guy was and if he had any real interest in investing in my project at all. Surely Sophie wouldn’t have brought me all the way out here for nothing? I glanced at her, but she was splayed out on the bed playing gently with Suni’s fingers.

  “Not really,” Rowen said. “Just like any other business. Marketing, product and service development, human resource management, cash flow management, you know how it goes?”

  “All too well.”

  The Asian boy returned with a tray of olives, cheese, crackers and two tall mugs of mulled wine. He placed it on the bed between Sophie and me, bowed, and left.

  As we ate and drank, Rowen told me about the mission of his organization. He believed society was on the verge of total collapse and that one day the residents of his havens might have to be the ones to re-populate the planet. In the meantime, he was trying to store as much knowledge as possible on servers on his islands so that it wouldn’t be lost.

  It all sounded very interesting, but I couldn’t help wondering if this was more of a pitch for me to join his own organization, rather than an investment meeting for him to consider investing in mine. I started to feel more and more uncomfortable. My suit and shirt seams were digging into my skin, not having been designed for cross-legged sitting, and the whole place was starting to make me anxious. All I wanted to do was get home to Annie. I considered sending Sophie a message and asking her if we could leave.

  Just then, Sophie, Sam and Suni decided to go and join the party, and I watched as they walked away from us and merged with the crowd of people near the back door.

  “Beautiful, aren’t they? All three of them,” Rowen said.

  “Yes,” I said, not sure of what else to say.

  Rowen turned to me then and focussed his eyes on me, as if for the first time that night.

  “So, tell me more about this project of yours, Michael. What is it you’re trying to do exactly, and what is it you need from me?”

  My heart accelerated. I took a deep breath and tried to keep calm. I told him everything, including my research into cooperation and how I believed it could be used to improve humanity.

  “Very interesting,” Rowen said when I had finished, then lapsed back into silence, staring over at the lake again.

  A couple of minutes passed, and Rowen still said nothing. I wanted to move around, get comfortable, but it seemed inappropriate. Then Rowen turned back to me, as if coming out of de
ep thought.

  “Well,” he said, “with medical specialists being reduced to a minimum during the turmoil that’s now facing us, a modification like yours might be just what we need to help our communities survive.”

  “We’ll probably need at least another six months to get it all working, and another hundred million in funding. I can have some exact figures sent over to you if you like.”

  Just then, Sophie and Sam came outside again and I watched as they joined a group on the terrace. I heard Sophie’s cackling laugh.

  “What is going on with you, Michael?” Rowen said. “You seem sad. Confused.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean inside. What’s going on inside.”

  I wondered again if this was Rowen’s way of recruiting members for the New Church; if he’d left prostitution for the more lucrative industry of religion.

  “Nothing.”

  “Everyone’s got something going on inside. What is it? Are you thinking how hot Sophie is? Or are you thinking about the wife you’ve left at home? Or are you wondering what sort of a nut I think I am?”

  I let out a nervous laugh. “Something like that.”

  “There you go. So something is going on inside.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. I’m just not that accustomed to sharing it with strangers, that’s all.”

  “Maybe you could consider me a friend, then.”

  “Okay.” I nodded my head, wondering where this was leading. “I guess I could do that.”

  “Good. So, what is it?”

  I hadn’t wanted to tell Rowen about Annie’s illness for the same reason I hadn’t told anyone at Geneus, but if I wanted his help I realized I was going to have to be honest. I got the feeling this wasn’t going to be a standard business transaction anyway.

  “My wife has HIV-4. She got it a few years ago.”