by Devi Mara
“Yes, Amber?”
“What, uh, is that…?”
The pure confusion in the younger woman’s tone, made Robin glance at her.
“An organism I found on a dig,” she answered simply.
“It looks…”
“Human, I know.”
“But it’s, like, not…right?”
“Correct.”
“Oh. Um, okay.”
Robin stood facing the tank for several minutes, before she turned away and returned to her desk along the back wall.
“It’s a boy organism,” Amber called from near the tank.
Robin paused in organizing her notes and looked up. Amber was still hovering near the left wall of the lab. She pressed her face as close to the glass tank as she could get without touching. Robin sighed, but could not hold back her smile. She turned back to her notes.
“I am aware of that.”
She caught movement from the corner of her eye.
“Do not tap on the tank, please,” she said calmly.
Robin saw Amber freeze with her hand raised and then slowly lower it.
“Sorry, Dr. Kay.”
“It’s alright. I want you to keep careful measurements of growth.”
“Do you think it’ll keep growing like this?”
Robin tapped her fingers on the desktop as she considered. If the organism grew at the same rate… Her thoughts trailed off as she did a few quick calculations. It aged thirty weeks in less than twelve hours. She grabbed a pen to jot down the exact time she placed the embryo in the artificial womb.
After a few quick calculations, she realized it had grown nearly three weeks an hour. At that rate, it would reach maturity in less than two weeks. Her gaze slowly rose to look first at her assistant and then the tank next to her.
“Hourly.”
“What about classes?”
Right. Amber was taking two classes this year. Robin frowned.
“Autoset.”
Amber smiled, flashing her braces.
“Good thinking, Dr. Kay!”
As Amber began organizing Robin’s data from the dig and humming to herself, Robin glanced toward the tank again. The organism was still, but the longer she watched the more certain she became. The time to turn back had passed.
Chapter Four
By the time classes started the next week, the organism had grown to the size of a seven year old. Robin stood beside the tank while Amber rattled off the growth numbers from the machine. She absorbed the information, but she did not need the data to tell her the growth rate was impossibly fast.
The organism had flown through the stages of childhood. The pudgy softness and baldness of infancy had quickly given way to the leaner frame and thick dark hair of a toddler. She had watched over the past five days as the organism had stretched out and slowly curled each finger and toe, as if testing its own body.
“Class is in twenty-three minutes, Dr. Kay.”
Amber’s voice drew her away from her study and she gave her a quick nod.
“I’ll be back after my Intro to Biotechnology course.”
“Have fun!”
Robin smirked and gave her a look, before she grabbed her bag and headed for the door. The class was seated and waiting when she arrived. The quiet murmurs of conversation slowly trickled to a stop, as the class noticed her arrival and watched her unpack her bag.
“What is the first law of cloning, Mr. Gant?”
She asked the question without looking up from organizing the papers she had taken from her desk. When the teenager in the third row did not answer after several seconds, she raised her head and pinned him with a piercing stare.
“You are in a class based around the biotechnical field of cloning and you do not know the first law?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
The dark-haired young man coughed awkwardly.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Please be more prepared.”
He stood, cheeks red, and left the classroom.
“Now,” Robin said, eyeing the eleven remaining students. “I expect you to read a little ahead in your books. I also expect you to be up to date on advances in the field.”
A hand shot up in the back.
“Yes?”
“How can we stay up to date—” a blond young man started to ask.
The grumble of another student cut him off.
“The internet? Geez, use your head.”
“Whatever, dude.”
Robin crossed her arms over her chest, watching the two glare at each other. They fell silent when the rest of the class motioned toward the front of the room. Robin waited until the two teens fell silent, before she casually leaned against her desk.
“Finished?”
They gulped and nodded hurriedly.
“Good.” She gave them a cool smile. “I will not tolerate disruptions in my classroom. If you want to antagonize each other, do it outside.”
She turned her gaze to the rest of the class.
“I expect you all to act like adults. I will treat you with respect and you will return the favor. Any questions?”
The rest of the class passed without any issues.
…
She smoothed her skirt twice before she rang the doorbell. As she waited, she considered the front garden. Her parents had moved on from their rose phase and graduated to the tulips more popular in their affluent neighborhood. The sound of the door lock drew her gaze back to the door in time to see her father’s stern face. His expression brightened into a smile upon seeing her.
“Birdy! We weren’t expecting you tonight. After that email from your assistant- What was her name? Amanda?”
“Amber,” Robin supplied, stepping into the house and letting her father take her light jacket.
“Should rain later,” her father told her, as he hung it up in the entryway closet.
“I heard that,” Robin murmured. “You had the living room redone?”
“Your mother’s idea.”
“Herman?”
The sound of her mother’s voice drew both of their gazes. She had pressed her natural curls into a dark waterfall that fell over her shoulders.
“Hello, mother.”
“Have you spoken to Ken, yet? He has been asking about you.”
The familiar twinge of irritation was hidden behind the bright smile she gave her mother.
“No. Have you eaten dinner?”
Her mother let her change the topic, but not before Robin saw her gaze shift to her father briefly. It was going to be that kind of dinner.
“No, dear. Your timing is impeccable, as usual.”
Robin followed her mother down the hallway to the dining room, glancing into each room she passed.
“How many rooms are you redecorating?” she asked.
“Just a few,” her mother said mildly. “Have a seat. I’ll let Joyce know we’re ready.”
Once her mother left the room, she immediately turned on her father.
“How many times has Ken called?”
Her father settled into his seat at the head of the table and sighed. She watched him take off his glasses and rub the bridge of his nose.
“Four that I know of. They had lunch last week.”
“What?”
Her mind spun. Ken was the most infuriatingly, manipulative person she had ever met. Her mother was by far the most well-meaning saboteur. Before she could get any more information, her mother returned with Joyce. The older woman moved to the head of the table with the serving cart and began to serve the first course as her mother sat.
Robin sat back in her chair and pulled a linen napkin off the table, neatly laying it across her lap.
“So,” her mother said, “How was Asia?”
“Fruitful,” Robin answered simply.
“I understand there was a discovery of some kind,” her father said.
She glanced at him.
“Yes. A new type of organism.”
“That’s nice, dear,” her mother said.
“How do you like the soup?”
“It’s good. A new recipe?’
“Yes. A family recipe. Ken gave it to me last week.”
Robin inhaled her soup and coughed violently, her eyes watering.
“Are you alright?” her mother asked, clearly alarmed.
After a moment, she regained her composure and sent her smirking father a short glare.
“I’m fine, mother. The soup was a bit hot.”
“Oh. Alright, then,” her mother said, looking at her strangely.
“That was nice of him,” Robin murmured, pushing her half-finished first course away.
“I’m sorry?”
“The recipe,” Robin clarified. “It was nice of…Ken to give it to you.”
She hoped no one noticed the way she stumbled, his name leaving a bad taste in her mouth.
“I thought so. You know, dear. You really should consider calling him. The poor man is lost without you.”
I bet he is, Robin thought darkly. The man had stolen credit for her research and published a paper on her findings. And she still had to work with him.
“We had a difference of opinion,” Robin said softly.
Her mother was silent for several minutes while the first course was taken away and a fresh Caesar salad was placed in front of each of them. After Joyce had passed through the door to the kitchen, her mother daintily picked up her fork.
“I hardly see how you could let three years go because of a simple disagreement.”
Robin paused in her chewing and looked first at her father, clearly not involved in the discussion, and then her mother who was watching her with an expectant air.
“My relationship with Ken is now professional. I would like to keep it that way.”
The table fell into an awkward silence after that, and when her parents asked her to stay for dessert she politely declined. She sat in the formal living room, staring out the window with her back to the room. The taxi was late.
“Birdy?”
She jerked in surprise and glanced over shoulder to see her father leaning in the doorway. The light on the street outside glinted off his glasses.
“May I sit with you?”
“Of course,” she said, scooting over to make room on the bench beside her.
He sat and leaned back against the wall. As she took in his stern profile, she found herself smiling.
“How is genetics treating you these days?”
“Well.”
He turned his head to look her over.
“Why did you and Ken split?”
She looked away to frown at the empty street.
“We had a conflict of interests.”
“Birdy.”
Something about his tone made her look at him. She took in his expectant gaze and sighed.
“He stole my work,” she muttered.
Her father silently watched her as she traced the grain in the wood of the window ledge.
“He had a key to my apartment and when I was in Borneo last year, he took several files off of my home computer. And he published the work as his own.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” her father asked her softly.
“I did not want mother to waste her time suing him,” she said with a faint smile.
Her father chuckled.
“Hardly a waste, Birdy.”
She returned the smirk he gave her.
“I’ll see what I can do about getting your mother off your back about Ken.”
The taxi pulled up to the curb and honked. She stood and her father rose to hug her. He held her for a long moment and she felt him sigh against her hair.
“I love you, Birdy.”
She pulled back and nodded.
“I know. I love you, too. Tell mother…”
The taxi honked again.
“I will let her know,” her father said.
She walked out of the house and down the rain dampened sidewalk. As she sat in the backseat of the taxi, she pulled her sweater closer around her and glanced at the front of the house. Her father stood in the window. For a moment, the rain blurred her view and it was as if he was being erased. Even after the taxi pulled away and the elegant houses changed to apartment buildings, she could not get the image out of her mind.
Chapter Five
“Dr. Kay!”
Amber bounced across the room to meet her the moment the lab door slid open. Robin raised her eyebrows, but continued across the room to shed her jacket.
“How are things?” she asked.
Amber fairly vibrated with excitement.
“He opened his eyes!”
Robin froze, her eyes darting to the tank where the organism was floating silent and still.
“When?” she asked, already moving toward the computer that held the video files.
“Like, um, ten minutes ago. I was just drinking my coffee and playing Pong on my phone—”
At Robin’s short glare, she coughed awkwardly.
“Um, yeah. I was watching the lab, I mean.”
Robin waved her on, aware she would continue to mumble otherwise.
“Right. Well, I looked up from paying attention to lab stuff and he was staring at me.”
“How?”
Robin tapped the button to play the video file, even as she glanced at her assistant.
“Like normal?”
Robin sighed at the answer.
“Was the organism agitated?”
Amber shrugged.
“I don’t think so.”
Robin mentally shook her head and skipped through the footage to the video taken in the last half hour. She scrolled slowly until she saw Amber enter the lab with her cup of coffee.
“Sorry about the game, Dr. Kay,” Amber muttered from beside her.
Robin sent her a small smile and shook her head.
“I already knew about the game.”
Amber opened her mouth to question her, but Robin held up her hand to hush her and looked back at the screen. As she watched, Amber yawned and leaned against the table by the tank. A few seconds later, she yawned again. Odd. Amber was always a morning person.
“Are you feeling ill at all?” Robin asked, eyes not leaving the screen.
“No, just tired.”
Robin hummed.
The Amber on the screen stifled another yawn and pulled out her phone.
“Late night?”
“Not really. I had this thing-it took like five hours- but it’s done now, so…”
“How long have you been feeling tired?”
Before Amber could answer, their gazes fastened on the tank.
Like a large cat, the organism stretched inside the nutrient rich gel of the tank. Its mouth opened briefly and Robin was struck by the teeth. They were perfectly straight and white, but the canine and first premolar on each side were sharper than usual.
“An omnivore, then,” she muttered to herself.
Amber immediately whipped out her tablet and began entering data.
The organism slowly turned its head toward the room. The camera sensing movement, zoomed in on the face in time to capture the eyes slowly opening. Gray. A startlingly bright gray that edged on silver. Robin forced herself to look away from the color and focus on the expression on the organism’s face.
Its eyes were clearly focused on something, she assumed Amber, and the longer it watched the more obvious it became that it was studying her. Its eyes shifted slightly to the right and Robin looked away from the screen long enough to study the room. From where Amber had been standing… Her eyes landed on the door to the lab.
She looked back at the screen to see the organism’s eyes fall closed and its body relax. She watched for several more minutes, but there was no further movement. She closed out of the video log.
“Lock the tank,” Robin said softly.
“Huh?”
“Use the lab code to lock the lid of the tank.”
“Um, okay. Whatever you say, Dr. Kay,” Amber said.
&
nbsp; Robin watched the blonde cross the room to the tank and press the button to lower the lid on the tank. Once it was down, Amber locked it in place with her key card. The tank had held a fully grown Thylacine after the Renon Corporation had sponsored the return of the Tasmanian Tiger. It should be more than capable of holding the organism.
“The growth rate has increased,” Robin said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.
Her original calculations stated thirteen days to maturity, but with the change it would be far faster. A day. Maybe two.
“Has there been a change in the nutrient intake?”
Amber shook her head.
“Nope. I checked.”
“Hm.”
Robin sat down on the nearest stool.
“When did you say you started to feel tired?”
“Uh, maybe yesterday?”
Robin tapped her fingernails on the stainless steel tabletop.
“And when did the organism’s growth rate increase?”
“Yesterday…”
Amber blinked at her in confusion.
“Call maintenance and have them come check the ventilation in the lab.”
“The air’s bad,” Amber asked with wide eyes.
“Not necessarily.”
Robin glanced at the tank and the still creature within.
“The organism primarily breathes nitrogen. It’s possible the oxygen to nitrogen ratio in the air is altered from its usual state.”
“Am I going to die?”
Robin barely held back a snort.
“No, Amber. You are not going to die from that. We will have the issue fixed if it exists.”
“What if it’s not that?”
Robin considered the question. If not the air, then what? Her mind considered and discarded possibilities. Not an airborne pathogen. The ventilation system was triple filtration. Not DNA contamination. She had carefully destroyed all remaining genetic material after the organism had been placed in the tank. Perhaps, it could be contamination of the organism itself.
“Have you touched the tank or the nutrient gel?”
“Um…”
Amber frowned thoughtfully.
It was a possibility. Amber could have come into contact with a foreign bacteria or other microbe of some kind by touching the gel. The organism was an unknown species, it was impossible to know what kind of germs it could carry. Robin chewed on her bottom lip.