The First Conception_Rise of Eris

by Nesly Clerge

  We were on our way.

  CHAPTER 82

  Through our resources of Connie’s security team and the techs, along with heavy vetting based on a specially designed questionnaire, we found eight members willing to volunteer to advance our cause. They were in their twenties or early thirties—no one over the age of thirty-five was approached. All were single, childless, still menstruating but had no desire to ever conceive, and were “ready and willing to stick it to men,” as one of the volunteers stated.

  We’d also included one specific qualifier—the women’s menstrual cycles had to be stable at every twenty-eight days, and their next cycle had to begin within the same one week we’d targeted. This prevented us from having to stagger initiating the test by too great a difference in timing. We told them it was a new, safer form of birth control.

  Each of them took the formula for ten days, starting on the tenth day of their cycle, when their ovaries were preparing to release an egg. Ultrasounds of their ovaries, as well as blood tests to measure hormone levels, were required. It took four months for some, five for others, for egg release to decrease significantly then cease.

  Sperm was required for the human tests, so I engaged Connie’s services yet again. We happened to be together when mention was made on the local news that someone had broken into a Los Angeles sperm bank and made a rather large withdrawal.

  Despite the success, a problem did crop up. I sat with the eight scientists as we discussed this.

  Gretchen drew her brow into a frown. “The formula to make irreversible is proving most difficult.”

  “Did you adjust the level of diclofenac?” I asked.

  “Ja.”

  “Reduce it another ten percent. Test it on mice then on one of the chimpanzees first.”

  “This I already did.”

  “I’ll work with it. I want all of you to continue with the other side of our project. Eventually, one male chimp will conceive. It must happen.”

  Everything depended on it.

  CHAPTER 83

  Lauren, who’d turned two, used her small legs to run everywhere rather than walk, which kept her security sitters more active than anticipated. They didn’t mind. They especially enjoyed having the word auntie before their first names.

  Our human test subjects were healthy in every respect, other than their bodies either failed to release an egg each month or, if an egg escaped and conception did happen, their uteruses refused to house and nurture the zygote. We still struggled to find a way to create conception in the male chimpanzees, our one failure.

  Then success, once we realized what had to be done. A healthy chimp uterus was transplanted into the chimp we’d named George. His team did everything to prepare his body, including widening the pelvic inlet to make space for the uterus to accommodate a chimp fetus, and gave him a steady infusion of anti-rejection drugs. Connecting the uterus to appropriate veins and arteries for adequate blood supply took delicate work and a number of hours. I was extraordinarily proud, as were they, of their accomplishment.

  One of our other successes caused us to celebrate with champagne for the others, apple juice for me. We refined the particulate aspect of the anti-conception formula and tested it as a spray, the same as one might use an air freshener, and were rewarded with the desired results.

  “I think it’s time we test our product outside the lab,” I told my scientific team. “I calculated that three years of consistent application is required for the full effect to be the one desired, especially to ensure its reach is global.”

  Gretchen scooted to the end of her chair. “How will you do this? We cannot use water supplies. Too many complications.”

  Faye said in her Texas drawl, “She’s right. There’s a whole lotta people that still have their own wells. And there’s underground springs that get bottled.”

  “There’s only one way,” I said. “Aerosol distribution. That’s why we created it the way we did.”

  “But how?” Gretchen asked.

  “I’ve already addressed this. Months ago. One of our members has a high-level position at the Environmental Protection Agency and is willing to assist.”

  “She knows what is what? She has no problem doing this?”

  “She confided her why to me. Her animosity toward men matches ours.”

  Gretchen nodded. “But how will she convince these people at EPA?”

  “She’s already done so.” They stared at me and waited for an explanation. “The general public, as well as many of those in office, have been conditioned to respond a certain way to a particular buzzword: Sustainability. She said that word means one thing to some, and quite another to those in the know. It required little effort on her part to introduce legislation to use of our formula.”

  Gretchen tilted her head and said, “Again, how? Surely, she did not tell them the truth?”

  “She told the EPA that this new organic compound could be included in the cocktail usually dispersed in the atmosphere via chemtrails. That it’s a non-toxic fertilizer that promotes and increases crop growth, and that the test results are irrefutable.” I laughed at the play on words. The others joined me.

  “Ja. Jets flying all around the world will routinely spray our formula over an unsuspecting public. I see now why you say it take three years.”

  “As soon as I knew the formula worked, I gave it to our other lab personnel, though I tweaked it to speed effectiveness. They’ll have significant quantities ready to go by the end of the month and will continue to fill orders.”

  “Is good idea,” Gretchen said. “Jets here fly everywhere. No need to get it to other countries.”

  “I agree. I don’t believe that’ll be necessary. However, time will tell. If need be, we’ll distribute it to members elsewhere who are in a position to get it into public consumption.”

  “You do understand, ja, what this might mean? We still have no way to reverse the effects.”

  “We will.”

  Not long after that conversation, George’s uterus nourished a fetus and did so for an exciting month. But the fetus died, as did George, during the surgery to remove its lifeless form. His two minders applied themselves to figuring out what had gone wrong and how to prevent it from happening again. They determined a fine-tuned hormone adjustment was required.

  We’d have to start over.

  CHAPTER 84

  By the time Lauren turned three the following May, a distinct decrease in conception had occurred worldwide, though initially more so in the more heavily populated areas here and abroad. Fertility clinics soon found themselves visited by a stream of affluent clients eager to create the next generation for themselves or their adult children, all to no effect.

  Pundits spent an increasing number of minutes during nightly news segments exclaiming how this decrease in birthrate, if not reversed, would lead to the eventual end of humankind.

  Certain conspiracy theorists speculated the decrease in conception was some type of alien intervention. They were correct, of course, but not in the way they imagined.

  Young men believed this to be a tremendous opportunity to have all the carefree sex they desired. However, women’s desire went the same way as their ability to conceive. To alleviate men’s enthusiasm, we started work on a formula that would calm them down, emotionally and sexually, also for aerosol distribution.

  By the next year, human conception around the world was zero. The public not only was in a state of panic, they were despondent. It appeared to them that the effects of whatever had caused this catastrophe were permanent.

  We were concerned as well. I’d thought that by this time, we would have successfully created a way to reverse this.

  The bright spot in all of this was Michael. Our chimp had a healthy embryo growing in his transplanted uterus and all looked well. This had its own complications. Waste removal from the fetus had to be set up surgically, cautiously, and taken care of by machine. Michael was not happy with us, which required administration every four h
ours of a measured dose of tranquilizer, one we deemed safe for the embryo we prayed would become a fully formed fetus.

  Along with the boost in hormones, I’d created a drug designed to keep the uterus healthy full-term. I named it PH-244. PH—Patricia Hill.

  We watched our host chimp like a child watches an egg expected to hatch. At the end of 240 days from implantation of the zygote, we did a C-section and removed a perfectly formed, healthy male chimpanzee. Michael, only slightly worse for wear, was fed his favorite foods once his appetite returned.

  “I thought of a name for our first conceived chimp,” I said. “Mada. It’s a feminine Irish name, but because of what it represents, I say we go with it.”

  Faye popped the cork from a bottle of champagne. “What’s it represent?”

  “It’s Adam in reverse.” I laughed and they joined in.

  Seven glasses filled with champagne, and one filled with apple juice raised in celebration.

  Faye said, “To Katherine, a true genius.”

  “I didn’t do it alone.”

  “Maybe not, but somehow I think you could have.”

  “I’d still be at step three without each of you.” We clinked our glasses and sipped. “There’s a way to go before we announce our success. I want several certain successes before we go public. In the interim, we work on the next part of our plan.”

  We had to continue to succeed, and so well that this process of conception could be transferred to men.

  They were paying for their misdeeds in some ways, but not in the way I intended.

  We tested the initial calming formula on the male chimps. The results fell short. It was back to the drawing board.

  But at least we had Mada.

  CHAPTER 85

  My team and I spent a private New Year’s Eve in the regular labs with the others. Connie and Agatha joined us. Brenda had a prior engagement.

  Connie, like me, stuck with sparkling apple cider. She raised her glass. “Here’s hoping 2013 is everything we want it to be. May it be a fruitful year in the ways we desire.” She winked at me.

  I grinned, held up my glass and said, “Everyone say it with me.”

  All present raised their glasses, and as one chorus shouted, “Friggin’ A.”

  Of course, fruitful was a relative term. Humans hadn’t conceived during the last two years. Correction—a few had managed to conceive but were unable to go past the first trimester.

  I recalled that Thomas Huxley said, “The chessboard is the world, the pieces are the phenomena of the universe, and the rules of the game are what we call the laws of Nature.”

  That reminder should have dissuaded me from my ultimate goal, but it didn’t. Far too many men demonstrated no hesitation about breaking the law, especially regarding women.

  I had to succeed in punishing them. Especially now. Now that women’s interest in sex had waned dramatically or disappeared altogether, certain segments of the disgruntled male population decided that, willing or not, women would fulfill their physical needs. Sexually transmitted diseases erupted, mostly because condom manufacturers were unable to keep up with demand from the multitude of impatient males. Pharma companies were months behind in production of antibiotics, most of which proved ineffectual as viruses mutated beyond scientists’ capabilities.

  Never in my imagination had an escalation in disease and crime, particularly against women, been considered a possible outcome.

  We scrambled in the lab to produce a formula to diminish the male chimpanzees’ sexual desire, what you might call a prophylactic measure. Yes, there was a drug on the market that accomplished this, but the challenge was to get men across the globe to get it into their systems voluntarily, which we knew would never happen. Another aerosol was needed.

  That’s when I began to panic.

  That’s when I began to wonder if my hatred of men would lead to the ultimate destruction of humanity. Men were paying for their crimes, but not to the degree women were.

  ***

  I returned to my living quarters. Irish Too bounded toward the door to get his share of affection before Lauren could reach me.

  Lauren’s security team, aka sitters, had fed and bathed her. After they left, we had our cuddle time then a snack. As I tidied the kitchen area, I watched and listened to my daughter.

  She propped her baby doll in the toy highchair. “My baby is hungry.”

  She fed invisible food to the doll with a plastic spoon. “My baby is full.” She looked at me and frowned. “And she doesn’t like peas either.”

  I bit back my smile. “Noted.”

  She undressed her doll and placed her into a plastic tub. “My baby needs a bath.” After the pretend washing, with her singing and talking to her doll, she dressed the doll in pajamas.

  I watched her every move, mesmerized by her attention to the doll in her care, as she cooed, petted, and showered her baby with affection. Like a loving mother.

  Lauren’s mouth stretched open with a yawn. Doll clutched to her, she took my hand and pulled me to the rocking chair, climbed into my lap and said, “My baby’s sleepy, Mommy. We’ll rock my baby and tuck her in.”

  Irish Too went to his cushioned bed, turned in circles until something about it was just right, and lowered himself. He rested his head on the raised rim and watched us with half-closed lids. He snuffled once then drifted to sleep.

  I wrapped my arms around Lauren, rested my cheek atop her soft curls, and began the gentle back and forth of the chair as my daughter sang to her doll.

  She yawned mid-lyric and said, “My baby is so sweet. I love my baby, and my baby loves you, Mommy.” Another yawn followed.

  Moments later, she said, “Mommy, you wet my hair.”

  After a few hard swallows, I said, “Sorry, Lauren.” I tilted my head back so my tears ran down my neck instead.

  CHAPTER 86

  I sat at my workstation, eyes focused on the latest failed chemical formula displayed on the computer monitor. My thoughts strayed to Lauren and how she lavished attention on her doll. The signs presented as though she’d make a good mother, and that she’d want to be one, just as I had.

  The previous night, I’d stared at shadows on the ceiling created by a rotating night light with cutouts in the cylinder that surrounded the bulb, and mulled over my conflicted feelings.

  Such thoughts were resolved by a particular one: Motherhood was not restricted to giving birth. Lauren was a perfect example of this truth. Nor did giving birth necessarily result in the best of maternal instincts rising to the surface. Mothering came from a deep desire to nurture. It’s why a hen will warm kittens tucked beneath her feathers, or a female dog will nurse kittens.

  I told myself not to worry. That by the time Lauren was old enough to choose motherhood, everything would be resolved.

  It had to be.

  I was stuck in this musing when Faye approached me.

  At near-whisper volume she said, “Katherine, we have a problem, possibly a big one.”

  “I know. I’m working on it.”

  “I’m not referring to our work. Leastways, not exactly.”

  I faced her. “What then?”

  “I suggest we speak elsewhere. Can you go now?”

  “From the expression on your face, I think I’d better. Let’s go to my office.”

  I wasn’t in the habit of explaining my actions, so left without a word, and with Faye trailing me. As far as I could tell, no one paid attention. On the trek up, Faye watched the numbers, her breaths rapid, her hands shoved into her lab coat pockets, though I could see her hands clenching and releasing beneath the fabric.

  Once in my office, I had her sit on the sofa while I made cups of chamomile tea. I settled at the opposite end of the sofa. “What’s the problem?”

  “Chloe. I think she’s losing it.”

  I set my cup into the saucer. “Explain.”

  “She thinks you don’t know what you’re doing. We disagreed vehemently with her. Our dialogue quickly becam
e arguments. She ended by saying she believes your plans are evil.”

  “Did she say why she feels this way?”

  Faye avoided looking at me and took a sip followed by another.

  “You’re delaying,” I said.

  She nodded. “Chloe believes it has to be a form of madness possessing you to reverse what God designed. That men are not meant to conceive and hold that place in the maternal world. That God gave women more effective mammary glands for a specific reason. Her words, almost verbatim.”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  Faye trained her eyes on me. “She believes it’s your intention to end the world.”

  How had someone with such strong spiritual beliefs made it past the vetting process? Only one way—she had to have lied. Unless some epiphany had struck her while working on our projects.

  “Katherine?”

  “Sorry. Has she paid any attention at all to the news?” I got to my feet and began to pace. “Is she aware of how these developments led men to even more vile behavior?”

  “She blames you.”

  “How remarkable. And how like a man it is for her to blame women for the actions of men.”

  “She doesn’t blame all women, just one. I’m sorry to say this, but I’m afraid she may be willing to betray us, specifically you. She’s showing the earmarks of someone contemplating going to the authorities.”

  I stared at my tea, as though an answer or suggestion about to proceed might float to the surface.

  Faye leaned forward. “What’re you gonna do?”

  I went to the window and fixed my gaze on Caitlin’s tree. “Only one thing to do.”

  CHAPTER 87

  I sent Faye back to the lab then called Connie and asked her to come to my office ASAP. More pacing went on as I waited the few minutes it took for her to arrive.

  We sat on the sofa as I explained what I’d just learned.