Biohack

by J D Lasica

  “Is that a problem?” Waterhouse asked.

  “It’s impossible for us to do weekly media updates for every surrogate here and abroad. We don’t have the staff. So I’ve worked with Number Six to create a Pseudo Surrogate Database. Most parents-to-be will receive photos and videos about how their surrogate is doing. But in three out of four cases, it won’t actually be their surrogate.”

  Lee grimaced. “This is unavoidable?” Waterhouse knew he was a Level One so he had access to any client’s bonafide file if he wanted.

  “It’s a question of resources.” Sullivan glanced at Waterhouse. “We’re telling a story that’s true in a broad sense if not in a literal sense. The parents-to-be just want to be reassured the pregnancy is going well.”

  “They want the fairytale, and that’s what we’re giving them,” Waterhouse said. “A womb is a womb.”

  Sullivan’s team-first attitude is impressive . Maybe it’s time to upgrade her security level to Level One and bring her into the fold. Let’s see how she performs during her big marketing presentation next week.

  Waterhouse wrapped up the costs discussion and turned to the inventory problem. “We’re trying to hold down surrogate costs by expanding our fertility center in China, but that’s going slowly. We’re about to be hit with a major inventory shortage.”

  By inventory, he meant wombs available to rent. This was no longer just a future worry but an immediate problem—demand was far outstripping supply. They couldn’t even keep up with the deliverables owed to Petrov! How would Birthrights Unlimited be able to scale once Sullivan unleashed her marketing wizardry upon the world? There was no shortage of skilled ob-gyn doctors and nurses they could bring on as needed. But there was an acute shortage of surrogates.

  “How do we keep up with the demand?” He turned to Henry Lee. “Henry, that’s your cue.”

  “Allow me to introduce you to the Incubot.”

  Lee led them to the first unit, one of twenty machines in the room arrayed in two identical rows. This one held a small pink object, about the size of a cashew, free-floating in blue liquid, with an umbilical cord running from its belly to a feeding machine behind the unit. In front was a medical monitor with a digital display showing metrics such as heart rate, oxygen level, temperature, and milestones.

  “You are looking at the Incubot, the patent pending Birthrights Unlimited artificial womb,” Lee said. “Other fertility clinics use artificial environments like this for preemies. We will be the first center to deploy an artificial womb for the entire lifecycle of the pregnancy, from fertilized egg to embryo to fetus, right up to delivery of the baby.”

  Sullivan took this in without expression. “I see. So women are no longer needed for procreation. Interesting.” She moved closer to inspect it. “What’s this liquid?”

  “Amniotic fluid,” Lee said. “Mostly water with the proper mix of nutrients, hormones, antibodies, salt, and eventually urine from the fetus. It simulates, as closely as possible, the experience of a baby inside the amniotic sac. Which is why the room lighting is so low. Most of the time this room is quite dark.”

  Sullivan kept staring at the cashew-size object. “Did you say incubot ? Why bot?”

  “Each self-contained unit has an Artificial Intelligence assigned to that single gestation. We want to monitor anomalies and ensure that development is normal and health indices are optimal. All the Incubots are networked with the main quantum computer, so Number Six will be acting as a head nurse, if you will, providing oversight as each Incubot continually monitors, feeds, and cares for each fetus.”

  Sullivan stepped around the unit and inspected it from the back side. “What do you mean the bot ‘cares for’ the fetus, Lee?”

  “On a regular basis the bot applies a swaying motion to simulate the movement of a pregnant mom around the house. Each bot also plays Mozart, Schubert, Bach, or Schumann for the developing fetus under its charge. We even include a recording of a mother’s heartbeat.” Lee turned to Waterhouse. “Should I get into the ectogenesis technology itself?”

  “That’s enough science for one day. But we should discuss the business and marketing implications. Let me kick things off.”

  Waterhouse began pacing down the row of Incubots, launching into a stream of consciousness as he walked.

  “We’ve already etched into our company DNA the idea that sex should be for fun and that a child should be more than just a jumble of random genes coming together. And now the artificial womb opens up even more possibilities for the New Epoch.

  “Think of it! Natural birth is filled with pitfalls and perils. It’s painful, laborious, all-consuming. It does terrible things to a woman’s body. Giving birth also entails some medical risks.” They were, of course, most concerned with the clients’ well being. Surrogates—glorified contractors looking for a big payday—were the ones taking on the medical risks, but Birthrights was shielded from liability should anything happen during childbirth.

  “We can exercise only so much control over independent contractors. So far our surrogates have balked at the live video stream we want to install in their homes. So, apart from monthly blood samples, we have to take the surrogate’s word that she’s not having that second or third glass of wine, she’s not smoking or taking drugs, she hasn’t caught a serious flu bug, she’s eating a proper diet and exercising properly and not jeopardizing the baby’s health.”

  Lee jumped in. “That’s where artificial wombs will prove their value, once we iron out the glitches. And there are glitches.” He shot Waterhouse a concerned look. “The long-term vision is for this to be a safer alternative for both mother and child. In this room our team will be able to catch and treat any disorders much earlier, in utero. We will be able to monitor every heartbeat, kick, or distress signal, right up to the baby’s first breath of air.

  “There’s a moral upside as well,” Lee continued. “Remember what happens so often in IVF. A couple wants one child and it turns out she becomes pregnant with twins or triplets. Then the couple has to go through the agonizing process of telling the doctor to go in and ‘reduce’ the pregnancy by one or two fetuses. That doesn’t happen here in the Intelligent Birth wing.”

  “The implications are staggering!” Waterhouse broke back in, doing his best to paint a positive picture. “Think of the potential target audiences. Working women with a need to succeed—why should women have to bear the entire brunt of childbirth? … Gay couples. Why should two men have to depend on a female to bear their children? … Infertile women: Why should a barren woman have to rely on a stranger to carry her child? … How about women planning abortions. Why go through that emotional pain when you can just have the fetus transferred to an artificial womb—and we’ll pay you for your trouble?”

  Sullivan took this all in. “I see.” But her crossed arms signaled she had reservations.

  “We haven’t even touched on the business benefits,” he forged on. “We zero out those six-figure surrogate payments! We could license our technology to other clinics and earn tens of millions. Health insurance companies will be all over this. I can see them incentivizing women to opt for the new, improved, low-cost, low-risk artificial birthing method.”

  There were other advantages to having an expanding inventory of artificial wombs, particularly the ability to conduct clinical trials with the dead legends’ DNA that he and Lee might be hesitant to try with a living, breathing surrogate. No need to tell Sullivan.

  This time Sullivan paced across the floor to the units on the other side and folded her arms across her magnificent bosom. How would Birthrights Unlimited’s Storyteller in Chief react? Would she be able to sell the story of the Incubot to the public?

  “I see what you’re saying, gentlemen. But in the short term, I can’t think of a single woman who would be comfortable choosing a machine over a real womb. Reproductive biotech has enough challenges being accepted by the lay public as it is. If I brought one of our client couples into this room and said, ‘We want to gro
w your baby inside one of these bots,’ I think they’d run for the hills. We’re many years away from the public being comfortable with this.”

  Waterhouse had suspected as much. Market resistance was part of the price for being on the cutting edge. At the outset, they would have to keep their pricey new medical advance under wraps and conduct their clinical trials in secret.

  “I suspect you’re right. But as we ramp up and find ourselves with a surrogate shortage, we may have to use the Incubots as stand-ins.” Waterhouse turned to see if he had Sullivan’s buy-in. “Are you on board with sending out surrogate videos and photos to the parents—even when it’s a machine and not a human surrogate?”

  Sullivan considered this, paused, and then began heading toward the exit, her boot heels announcing themselves on the hard floor. She stopped at the doorway and turned to face the two men. “If the newborn is delivered safe and sound, that’s the bottom line, isn’t it?”

  Waterhouse smiled, pleased Sullivan had passed another test.

  They exited the Intelligent Birth wing and walked out of the Birthing Center building. Sullivan headed across Birthrights Plaza back to her office while Waterhouse and Lee paused on the walkway next to the water birth fountain.

  “When are the Incubots going to be ready for rollout?” Waterhouse asked. “We’re getting further and further behind on our deliverables.” And so far the Incubots were cost centers, not revenue drivers.

  “I was not about to say anything in front of Sullivan,” Lee said, “but the stats are in from our first month of testing. The results are not what we hoped for.”

  “What are the numbers?”

  “Forty-two percent of the embryos remain viable. My team is still making adjustments, but at early gestation, it’s just a lot more difficult.”

  “Six out of ten failure rate!”

  “These artificial wombs are just not ready for prime time.”

  Coming from Dr. Gloom, that was saying something. This was disastrous news! The deadline for Petrov’s final round of newborns was just around the corner, and he still had to find a way to stanch the bleeding. He felt a great weight begin to press down on him. A band of sweat began to seep through his summer-weight wool crepe suit.

  His smartphone rang and he saw the call was from Gregor Conrad. Lee wandered away a few steps, not wanting to hear any details.

  Waterhouse considered his options as he answered. He arrived at a decision and instructed Conrad to carry out two urgent directives. The first was to double the size of his security team so there would be no repeat of yesterday’s humiliation at the hands of Dmitri Petrov.

  And a second, even more urgent priority. “Conrad.” His voice carried an icy certainty. “Head over to my office. We need to discuss Plan B.”

  20

  Sebastian Inlet, Florida, August 20

  “ H ello, my little love, and welcome to episode one of the video diary that tells your story, right from the beginning!”

  Valerie Ramirez paddled out on her surfboard while looking into the HD action cam she hooked up to her board. The waves were really going off and she and Alex just scored three nice slots in a row along a fringe of super laid-back beach north of Miami. She thought it would be fun to record a message to her future son while doing one of the things she loved best.

  “You’re a special boy—” She laughed as a wave washed over her face in mid-sentence. “Even though you’re just a gleam in my eye, and I haven’t even picked out a name yet, soon you’ll be real. And we’ll be able to start our own adventures together.”

  She pulled up close to Alex right at Monster Hole, about a third of a mile off the beach on the south side of the inlet. It took a few minutes before they caught a perfect wave. They gave it a nice long ride almost all the way to shore.

  As she rode the wave, her thoughts drifted to Jordan 2.0. It was quite possible that he was already more than just a gleam in her eye.

  A few days ago Erica, her genetic counselor, had sent her photos and anonymized bios of candidates to be the surrogate mother. She wouldn’t get to meet the surrogate she chose—and that was all right, all that really mattered was that the surrogate was healthy, sound-minded, and willing—and so Valerie took a long time sorting through the candidates until she found one who seemed perfect: a twenty-six-year-old military wife who had two children of her own and volunteered at a local nonprofit.

  She gave the go-ahead and the IVF wizards at Birthrights had already started her on estrogen injections. The clinic had a seventy to ninety percent pregnancy success rate with surrogates in that age range.

  The wave crested and Valerie shot nearly all the way through the barrel before she wiped out near the end. This’ll be awesome footage, for sure.

  She regained her board and paddled back out side by side with Alex. They weren’t super-serious surfers—they headed out just four or five times a year—but she’d been riding the waves since she was a kid. And it made a great excuse for a weekend getaway. Who knows how many more romantic outings she’d have with Alex before the baby came?

  “That ride was sweet,” Alex said in his best surfer dude imitation.

  Valerie angled her action cam toward him. “Oh, and who’s this guy? He’s a super-cool guy named Alex, and I think you’re gonna get along great.”

  Alex flashed a pinky and index finger sign and said, “Hey, just so you know, your mom rocks. She’s almost as good as me on the boards.”

  Valerie splashed him good for that one and turned the camera back to her as they continued to paddle out to Monster Hole.

  Back to her video—she’d have to edit this sucker down. “ Why am I doing this crazy diary? I thought you deserved to know your backstory. How you came to be. Why I went down this path. And why I couldn’t wait a minute longer before bringing you into the world.”

  She paddled harder to catch up with Alex, then went on: “Let me answer a question that might come up one day. Yes, I had another son before you, but he had a different first and last name, and you’ll be a completely different person, with your own laugh and your own favorite foods and games and toys, and we’ll share secrets together that nobody else will know!”

  She would make it her mission to ensure that her new son knew he was his own person and not simply a replacement to fill a hole in her soul. She was determined not to project her memories but to build new ones. She vowed to follow his cues and likes and dislikes and even dress him differently. You’ll be your own little man.

  They paddled for a long time and finally reached Monster Hole. This time it took a good ten minutes for the right wave to break, and they rode it in all the way to shore. They grabbed their surfboards and headed to their blanket.

  They passed an older couple. The woman called out, “Nice form out there.”

  “Thanks.” She was in a giddy mood and saw that the woman had two kids roughhousing in the surf, so she added, “I’m gonna be a mom!”

  “You don’t look it, honey!”

  Aha! The woman made the same assumption Valerie had made on Nesper Island with that young British couple. But she decided not to mention surrogacy and just said, “Thanks, yeah, not yet.”

  They reached their beach blanket and wrapped their towels around their shoulders. The action cam was still recording, so she peered into the little orb. “We’re going to be sooooo happy together. You wanna learn to surf? ”

  She forced a wistful smile and hit the stop button. She had more she wanted to say to her not-yet-speck-of-a-son. But that could wait for another day. She was nervous about how all the energy she was lavishing on Jordan 2.0 might affect her romantic weekend with Alex.

  She crashed on the blanket next to Alex, wrapped her arms around him, and tasted his salty lips. His ruddy skin smelled like a perfect blend of sand, sun, and sea, and she wanted to do things to his body, maybe tie him up back at the beach house and play out those schoolgirl summer urges that once stirred in her with a deep, aching, impossible longing. They kissed for a long time befor
e they rolled onto their backs and stared up at the endless blue sky.

  “What now?” Alex said.

  21

  Brooklyn, New York, August 20

  K aden and Nico flew back to New York the next morning as planned. They decided it would give them leverage if they gathered more information about Blackburn and his activities before confronting him.

  On the flight home sitting next to Nico, Kaden spent some time thinking about her isolated, combative childhood and tendency to keep others at a distance. She’d had romantic flings before, but when things got too intimate with boys she liked, she always pulled away.

  She wondered, Is this who I am? The lone wolf on the prowl, kept away from the warmth of the campfire, confined to the perimeter, banished from the circle of light?

  She sidled up to Nico and rested her head on his comforting shoulder.

  When they landed, they gathered their go bags at baggage claim and took a ride share to see their friends and workmates at B Collective. It was eight at night by the time they walked in together. Sayeed was giving voice commands in his Eyewear and Annika and Colin were at their screens. They all stopped, eager to find out why she and Nico had dropped out of sight for two days.

  “Guys, we should fill you in.” Kaden stepped to the middle of the room.

  Everyone turned to face her. She decided to hold back some things: the freelance operations she and Nico had conducted and the wire transfers to her crypto account from an offshore account. But she sensed she would need their help, and she trusted them to do the right thing.

  So she shared what she’d discovered in recent days, trying not to get too emotional. She told them about finding out she had a biological mother who maybe died long ago and that the parents who raised her were on someone’s payroll. She told them about flying to LA to case the mansion of a billionaire who may be connected to all of this.