Orython Book 1: Room 18

By Everett Powers

“Our first priority is that our child never commits a crime, not even unintentionally. PureGene’s motto ‘Perfecting Orython One Child At A Time’ demonstrates the Stockard Party’s commitment to not only completely eradicating crime, but also to designing superior people.”Rafa and Pandaros Hatton have finally received permission from the Department of Propagation to requisition their first bio-child. Surrounded by family and guests, and using PureGene’s Infant Requisition App, they design their child, Addison, from dropdown menus.
Then, when Addison turns two, something happens that turns Rafa and Pandaros’s lives upside-down and threatens Addison’s life.
Room 18 is a novel set sometime in the future, in an unknown world. Orython’s citizens are fed by caterers who monitor their diet based on governmental regulations. The military also serves as the policing body and citizens receive their news, broadcasts they’re required to watch, through their LifeCenters. Outside the great Stockard Barricades that surround the country live the Yellow Eye Horde, whose mutations and indiscriminate breeding make them a threat to every Orythonian’s life. When will they breach a barricade and invade?
Orython perfected gene technology early in their history, shortly after the Great Devastation. All propagation is state-run and infants are grow in artificial pods. The country seems to be humming along, until......something goes wrong with their genes.
Room 18 is the first of three novels in the Orython trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Everett Powers
• Release date: Feb 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005123406

Everett Powers

Everett Powers is the author of THE MIGHTY T, DEATH OF A MATADOR, SUNSET HILL, and THE KING OF ROUND VALLEY, Grant Starr thrillers, and CANALS, a horror novel. He's currently working a new novel set in the future. He lives in Utah with his wife. The kids are close and the mountains are beautiful.

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Copyright © 2021 Everett Powers

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

Discover other titles by Everett Powers:

The King of Round Valley

Sunset Hill

Death of a Matador

The Mighty T

Canals

CHAPTER ONE

REQUISITION

OUR FIRST PRIORITY is that our child never commits a crime, not even unintentionally. PureGene’s motto ‘Perfecting Orython One Child At A Time’ demonstrates the Stockard Party’s commitment to not only completely eradicating crime, but also to designing superior people. Rafa Hatton turned and smiled at his wife, Pandaros.

Pandaros said, We’re honored we have been granted the privilege of requisitioning our first bio-child.

Their guests applauded, but with little enthusiasm.

Pandaros ran her hand down the gown she had custom-made for tonight’s event, taking comfort from the fabric’s silky feel. She’d gone to the salon that morning and had her hair, nails, face, and eyelashes done. Her eyelash extensions almost reached her eyebrows, leaving bare eyes the color of fresh chocolate.

Rafa’s eyes sought out his parents, sitting in front to his right. His mother, Julienne Hatton, gave him a reassuring smile. He returned it with one formed by quivering lips. He stood four inches taller than Pandaros, had eyes the color of early-spring mud, and dark curly hair that needed cutting every third month. Beads of sweat formed at his hairline.

The tablets they held softly chimed, cuing them to move to opposite sides of the LifeCenter screen covering the wall behind them.

PureGene’s logo appeared on the screen, eliciting another brief round of lackluster applause.

Pandaros read from her tablet: Rafa and I were warmly greeted when we toured PureGene’s Western Fulfillment Center last week.

The screen showed a flyover-view of the massive facility. After circling the complex and expansive grounds, the camera took them through the front door of the main building. It swept by young and attractive employees mouthing the word welcome and waving.

Rafa’s father, Rufus Hatton, whispered to his wife, Why do they make us suffer through these commercials with every requisition? I can’t stand it. As if we weren’t all familiar with PureGene. He punctuated the P, misting her face with garlicky spittle.

Julienne covered her nose and turned away.

The camera moved deeper into PureGene’s building. A smiling woman in a tailored uniform began typing on a keyboard. The large display on the woman’s desk sparkled to life with a 3D image of a helical DNA strand under construction. Amino acid pairs swirled up from the bottom of the screen to join the strand.

Pandaros stole a glance at her parents, Chiara and Maximillian Bristow, sitting in front to her left. Chiara made a face Pandaros chose to interpret as a smile. Maximillian shifted in his seat, noticed a crumb on his sleeve and brushed it off, watched it tumble to the floor with great satisfaction.

Behind her, the transmission ran on, condensing nine months of gestation into ten minutes of commercial. It ended with a smiling couple holding a pink infant swaddled in a PureGene blanket.

And now, Rafa swept his hand stiffly toward the LifeCenter, the moment Pandaros and I have looked forward to since being given permission to requisition a bio-child… Rafa and Pandaros turned toward the LifeCenter screen. It read:

DOWNLOADING PUREGENE’S INFANT REQUISITION APP

Rafa and Pandaros took their seats in front of the LifeCenter. The lights dimmed and blinds lowered to cover the windows.

Flanked by their parents, directly behind them sat Advocate Charles Whately and his wife, Anita. Advocates rarely attended requisitions of non-relatives, but Whately had come at the invitation of Rufus Hatton, whose father had gone to university with the advocate. The rest of the group consisted of neighbors, a couple of relatives, and business contacts from the Middle Order, which the Hattons belonged to.

The advocate’s eyelids hung at half-mast and his head bobbed. His wife took his drink out of his hand, despite his mumbled protest. She gave it a quick sniff before gulping it down and resting the glass on her lap.

The app finished downloading and sprang to life.

President Randolph Stockard XII appeared, dressed in a dark grey suit over a white shirt and a dark red tie. He kept his salt-and-pepper hair on the long side and parted it down the middle, as his predecessors had.

He fixed eyes the color of the wild lupine that grew in the hills above his estate on the camera and began the speech everyone in the room had heard at least twenty times, the advocate and his wife more than one hundred times.

The speech persisted through the advocate’s snores for five minutes and ended with …do all in your power to raise a productive and law-abiding citizen, one who will bring honor to your name, wealth to your house, and help maintain Orython’s peace and tranquility. Goodbye for now. His image faded out.

Everyone stood—the advocate had to be roused from his nap—raised their right hands, and repeated together while reading from the screen, I pledge allegiance to the Stockard Party and to President Randolph Stockard, my Deliverer and Defender; I pledge to always remember how he saved us from the Yellow Eye Horde after the Great Devastation; I pledge to obey his laws and report those who don’t; and I pledge my life to defend and protect Orython.

People whooshed back into their seats.

A picture of Rafa and Pandaros appeared, along with a voice-over from PureGene’s Director, Elliot Falco. His authoritative yet buoyant voice said, Congratulations, Mr. and Ms. Hatton! Today is your big day, the day you requisition your first bio-child.

Falco’s image replaced Rafa and Pandaros’s. He wore a dark blue suit, white shirt, and gold tie. His white hair lay in short curls about his head, on top as well as the sides, long enough to cover half of his slightly oversized ears. Fine wrinkles lined his eyes and rimmed the corners of his mouth. Manicured eyebrows perched above eyes the color of a Blue Morpho Butterfly.

I had a nice speech prepared, but I think I’ll skip it. I’m not too old to remember my first requisition. He winked. I’m sure you’re anxious to get started, so why don’t we get right down to it?

A male infant dressed in PureGene’s blue and gold appeared beside a female infant dressed in pink, with trimmings of blue and gold.

Rafa tapped his tablet and the image of the male infant moved front and center, its face an amalgamate of Rafa’s and Pandaros’s. It smiled, waved its arms and kicked its legs. Although this was expected—every couple in Orython requisitioned a male for their first bio-child—everyone applauded anyway.

The advocate yelled, Bravo!

Both sets of soon-to-be grandparents nodded their approval.

Rafa swiped his tablet. The male infant’s image moved to the left of the screen and an entry box labeled WHAT WILL THE BOY’S NAME BE? appeared. Rafa nodded once to Pandaros, who typed ADDISON into the box.

Leaving the wriggling infant visible on the left, the app continued to the next decision Rafa and Pandaros needed to make.

Males in Rafa’s genetic history average five-feet-ten inches, Falco’s voice said. A duplicate image of the male infant appeared and digitally aged until it reached adulthood. "Males in Pandaros’s genetic history average a little more, five-feet-eleven inches. The tallest male on either side was a great great uncle of Pandaros’s who grew to six-feet-two. The odds of that happening with Addison are seven-point-three in one hundred.

Your choices are to let nature take its course, which will likely result in a child who grows to the height of five-feet-nine to six feet, or you may choose to purchase premium height genes.

Rafa and Pandaros had talked about this, as they had talked about every choice they would make today. They hadn’t agreed on everything, and sharp words had been exchanged on several occasions, but they had agreed on this.

Rafa tapped LET NATURE TAKE ITS COURSE, after which Falco’s voice said, with a tinge of disappointment, Alright. But remember, you can always change your mind. We have premium genes that could help your child reach the height of six-feet-five inches. We can’t guarantee that, of course, but your odds would be sixty-two-point-eight percent that it would. Would you like to give it a little more thought?

Rafa tapped NO THANKS and the app proceeded to hair color.

Falco led them through their combined genetic history for hair color, straight or curly hair, and the chances of their child going bald, since they were requisitioning a male.

Rafa once again tapped their decision to accept what nature gave them and rejected Falco’s attempt to up-sell them.

Next, brown, green, and blue eyes appeared, blinking and winking, eliciting scattered and marginally more enthusiastic applause throughout the room.

Rafa glanced at Pandaros, at her chocolate-brown eyes. She gave him the same steely look she’d given him the year before when she’d told him, You know I hate my brown eyes. My parents weren’t in the position to get me blue when they requisitioned me but our child will not look so ordinary. Rafa had protested, citing the extra cost for something that had no practical value, but Pandaros had remained firm.

Rafa whispered to Pandaros, "Are you sure? Really sure? We could use the credits for something pragmatic, like boosting his intelligence or his business acumen. And you know how he’ll be taunted in school."

A little teasing won’t hurt him. Pandaros glanced over her shoulder at the advocate, who’d fallen asleep and was wheezing again. Why don’t we see how much they cost before complaining about the price?

Falco said, Addison has a ninety percent chance of having brown eyes. The camera zoomed in on Falco’s striking blue eyes. If they’re not brown they’ll be green. Unless you take action. We have some appealing blue alternatives if you’d like to look at something different.

Pandaros tapped YES, LET’S SEE SOMETHING DIFFERENT. Guests murmured their approval, more for having something novel to watch than for any real excitement for their hosts.

Be careful, Pandaros’s mother whispered to her. Remember your budget.

Excellent! Falco said. Give your son a head start by giving him the eyes of someone who has contributed so much to society.

A screen of categories appeared. Pandaros scrolled through them with one-finger flicks until she arrived at LUMINARIES. She tapped and flicked through pages until she found the lapis-blue eyes of Marco Sabaté.

Female cries of delight arose in the room.

An image of what Addison would look like, should look like, at age five appeared, with Marco Sabaté’s eyes. The face grew until it filled the screen. The eyes were striking on the boy. The group oohed.

Addison’s face aged until he reached thirty, then rotated forty-five degrees to the right and to the left, to give everyone an idea of how he might look from different angles.

Chiara said, What a handsome man he’ll be.

Pandaros’s lungs refused to inflate as she tapped ACCEPT.

Superb choice! Falco said. One of our preeminent upgrades. Let’s add that to Addison’s requisition order, shall we?

The order page appeared. The base fee for a requisition was fifty thousand credits. The price for the first add-on, the eyes of a famous actor, doubled the fee.

A few gasps were heard.

Rafa whispered to Pandaros, "Fifty thousand for eyes? Surely you’re not serious."

This is how serious I am. Pandaros tapped OK.

Alright then, you’ve got your blue eyes.

"I don’t, but Addison will."

Falco’s face appeared, beaming. He winked again. He’ll draw a crowd wherever he goes. Let’s move on, shall we?

Falco led Rafa and Pandaros through physical attributes such as ear size, the shape of his chin, length of fingers and toes, and the thickness of his beard, for thirty minutes. Several guests threw in with the advocate, creating a chorus of snores and wheezes.

Then Falco said, Rafa and Pandaros, you’ve been through a lot so far tonight, made a lot of tough decisions. Why don’t we take a fifteen minute break. Get a bite to eat if you’re hungry or refresh yourself if you need to.

Rafa tapped YES, LET’S TAKE A BREAK.

Super. We’ve still got a lot to do and I need you sharp when we discuss the return policy.

The room lights came up and the window blinds retracted. Guests stood and stretched. Pandaros sprang from her seat and sped to the kitchen to oversee the caterers.

Julienne Hatton gave Rafa a one-armed hug. How are you doing? She had gold bracelets that jangled, three sets of gold earrings in each ear, and thin gold ribbons running through her blonde hair. Her eyes looked as though they’d been snipped from a mid-morning April sky.

Fine, Mother. Rafa ran a dry tongue over parched lips. It helps that we were prepared, that we had already talked about and agreed on everything.

You agreed to line Marco Sabaté’s bank account to the tune of fifty thousand credits? Rufus Hatton pointed eyes the color of a forest meadow at his son. "Have you taken leave of your senses? Do you realize you extended your payments four years, just for blue eyes?"

Pandaros was adamant he would stand out, Rafa said. But Sabaté… I’m as surprised as you. I thought she would pick something more, sensible. He shifted his weight to his other foot and tugged on his earlobe.

Well, if all she wanted was for him to stand out you could’ve made him taller or given him a big nose for a tenth of what PureGene’s charging for Sabaté’s eyes. Rufus Hatton took the tone Rafa had heard many times in his youth. You should have saved your upgrades for talent and intelligence. Things that matter.

Julienne said to her husband, "Appearance does matter. Every woman in the district will notice him. She patted Rafa on the back. Don’t you listen to him. He can’t help being a stingy old grump."

Rufus thrust his chin at his wife. "Every woman? Even if that were true, what good would that do him? Having a lot of women noticing you is nothing but a distraction, a nuisance."

How would you know? Julienne tilted her head back to look up her nose at Rufus.

Pandaros was adamant, Rafa repeated. It was a compromise.

Having lost the debate with his wife, Rufus leveled his jutted chin at his son. Compromise? Compromise means you get something in return. What did she give up in return for fifty-thousand-credit eyes?

Well… Rafa reached to tug on his earlobe, but scratched the back of his head instead. His eyes fell to the floor.

That’s what I thought.

Leave him alone, Julienne said to Rufus. Today is stressful enough without you badgering him.

Pandaros walked up with two glasses of wine. Who’s thirsty?

Julienne took one of the glasses and said to Pandaros, Thank you so much. But wine isn’t going to cut it for Rufus. He’s gotten himself all worked up over Marco Sabaté’s gorgeous blue eyes. Haven’t you, Rufus? She batted her eyelash extensions at her husband.

It’s their child and it will be their bill. Rufus took the other glass. They can do whatever they please. He left, grumbling.

Julienne said to Pandaros, Perhaps I’ll come over some day and teach you how to do that.

I’m kind of thirsty myself, Rafa said. A drink sounds great.

No alcohol, Pandaros said. I don’t want you falling asleep like the advocate.

After Rafa left, Julienne said to Pandaros, I have to admit I was surprised. You know upgrades don’t always take.

I’m well aware of that. Pandaros stalked the advocate with interested eyes as he made his way through the room, shaking hands and patting backs.

Are you going to follow it up with some artistic upgrades?

You’ll have to wait and see. Perhaps we’ll manage to surprise you again. Pandaros left to intercept the advocate.

Well… Julienne took a sip of wine and looked out at her son’s small but well-manicured yard.

Pandaros hovered behind Advocate Whately while he spoke to her neighbor to the south, a man named Walter Grivets, who owned a modest farming operation.

At the first lull in their conversation, Pandaros pounced. I trust you’ve been well taken care of, Advocate. He turned to face her. We had to serve produce from Walter’s farms, of course. She bowed slightly to Walter, who returned the bow. We wanted only the best.

Delicious, the advocate said. Everything’s delicious. And of course you want the best. The first is so special.

Pandaros positioned herself between the advocate and her neighbor, took the advocate by the elbow, and led him to a vacant spot by a window.

The advocate flashed square teeth at her. What can I do for you, Pandaros?

You can enjoy yourself, Advocate.

He kept the smile in place and fixed his eyes, eyes as blue as a third full moon, on hers. No one has pulled me aside just to tell me to enjoy myself since I accepted this appointment. What is it you and Rafa do?

Well, since you asked. We operate a drone transportation business.

I see. Go on.

Rafa rejoined his mother, who was watching Pandaros work the advocate.

What does Pandaros want with him? she asked Rafa.

Rafa followed her gaze. We’ll be acquiring more drones in a few months, which we hope will help us attract some Stockard Party business.

Ah. But, he chairs the Gene Oversight Committee. What does that have to do with transportation?

He’s a powerful man. If we can get him to put in a good word for us to the right people…

Of course. Now, would you be so good as to refresh my drink? And bring me some of those shrimp things. The fried ones, not the cold ones. Thanks, dear.

On the way to the kitchen, Rafa was passing the LifeCenter when it emitted the particular chime all Orythonians dreaded. The LifeCenter intoned, I am sorry to interrupt your event Mr. Hatton, but I have a security alert from the Stockard Party. It is mandatory viewing. Please gather your guests.

Guests had seen the alert announcement on other LifeCenters so it only took Rafa a couple of minutes to get everyone into the living room. Drinks were abandoned and people maneuvered to see the screen.

Rafa said to the LifeCenter, Play the transmission.

A one-hundred-foot-high steel and concrete barricade appeared, stretching in either direction far beyond the range of the camera lens. In front of the barricade sat construction equipment operated by men and women wearing hardhats, and armored vehicles and infantry moved about with manifest purpose.

A stern male voice came through the speakers: An hour ago, the Yellow Eye Horde launched an attack on the eastern section of the Northern Barricade, where structural improvements have been underway for months. What you’re about to see is rife with senseless violence: It is recommended that you remove children who have not reached the Age of Reason from the room.

There were no children present so Rafa said, Continue.

Workers abandoned machinery, descended ladders, and dropped equipment. They fled on foot or jumped into the back of trucks transporting people to safety. Pilotless machinery crashed into scaffolding, which toppled. Some workers hung on but others fell forty feet to their deaths.

Guests gasped and hands flew to cover mouths. A few cried out.

The camera cut to cement pouring out of the back of an unmanned truck. It overflowed the forms and oozed onto the road like gray lava. A woman in military clothing, with a flaming arrow sticking out of her back, fell face first into the wet cement.

Pandaros gripped Rafa’s arm and squeezed.

Rafa covered his mouth with his free hand and stared at the LifeCenter with dilated pupils.

The camera panned to the sky and the screen filled with flaming projectiles that soared over the barricade. Dozens, then hundreds rained fiery death on the multitudes scrambling for cover below. Several struck construction workers sitting in the back of a truck, impaling and setting them on fire.

The Hordes’s last attack on the Northern Barricade occurred just over one year ago but was nowhere as fierce as this one. Five thousand Yellow Eyes are estimated to be amassed outside the barricade, searching for a way to breach it so they can overrun Orython.

An image from the top of the barricade, looking down on the outside, showed a swarm of warriors, pushing and shoving toward the structure. Their yellow eyes glowed with menace in the gloom. Clad only in animal skins with faces painted for war, they struck the barricade with clubs and metal weapons. A line of archers a hundred feet back shot an endless stream of blazing arrows skyward.

Thankfully, their crude weapons are no match for our military and the great Stockard Barricade. However, as you can see from these terrifying images, the savages continue to spawn at an alarming rate. Their numbers are now estimated to be as high as five million in the wasteland north of Orython, with a greater number estimated to live to the south, where the weather is more conducive to their barbarous existence.

The camera zoomed down on the Yellow Eyes and panned, pausing on ones with deformities. One male had a oversized head and a flat face, another a flap of reddish-green flesh where an ear should have been, yet another with no ears. A one-armed hunchback swung a huge club at anything that moved.

The Yellow Eyes’s indiscriminate, filthy breeding has led to grotesque deformities Orython rid itself of hundreds of years ago.

The hunchback clubbed the flat-faced male on the head, knocking him to the ground. He continued hitting until the male stopped moving, then swung at another Yellow Eye.

Ugh. Pandaros closed her eyes and said to Rafa, Tell me when the violence is over.

There will be violence as long as there are Yellow Eyes.

He pried her hand off his arm. That’s starting to hurt. Then noticed her closed eyes. Pandaros!

Her eyes popped open. Fine. I’ll watch.

That was reckless.

She focused on the edge of the screen and tried to ignore the chaotic scenes the Stockard Party thought she and the rest of Orython needed to see.

Orythonian military forces eventually drove the Yellow Eyes from the barricade, then cleanup began.

The announcer said, As always, the Stockard Party thanks the hard-working corporations that produce the materials and technology used to maintain the barricades. Without them and the brave people in our military Orython would fall prey to those who wish to destroy it. Until next time, be obedient, be vigilant, and stay tuned to your LifeCenter for further news.

Orython’s blue, yellow, and gray flag appeared, waving in a gentle breeze.

Thank goodness for the military, one guest said, and for the Stockard Barricades. Where would we be without them?

We owe the brave men and women who risk their lives protecting us a great debt of gratitude. Advocate Whately put on his most somber face. It’s impossible to put a price on their sacrifice.

A murmur of agreement rippled through the gathering.

People looked at each other, at the floor, the walls, then gravitated to where they’d left their drinks.

These broadcasts leave me feeling sick for hours. Pandaros flopped into her seat in front of the LifeCenter and patted her hair with both hands.

Rafa sat next to her, rubbing his arm.

The Stockard Party should keep them to themselves, or at least let us watch them at our convenience. Pandaros gestured toward their guests. Look at those long faces, and listen. Do you hear any laughter? Of course you don’t. Everyone’s terrified now. I walk around half the time fearing getting an announcement that one of the barricades has fallen and the country is being overrun by yellow-eyed barbarians.

It was unfortunate to get one tonight, of all nights. Rafa flexed his arm, then set his hands in his lap. They’ll bounce back in few minutes. They’ve seen more security alerts than we have, they’re used to them.

Pandaros stopped patting and turned to glare at Rafa.

But, Rafa said, perhaps we should extend the break another ten minutes. Give everyone time to have an extra drink. Or two.

I’ll tell you what we should do, we should exterminate the Yellow Eyes. Pandaros’s cheeks flushed and her voice rose in pitch. Send the military through the barricades and get rid of them all, every last one. Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t.

You’ll get no argument from me against that.

And the very idea that we send yellow-eyed children over the barricades to add to their numbers is preposterous.

But only after they’re drecked. I don’t see how they can do much harm after that.

Still.

Elliot Falco’s face replaced Orython’s flag on the screen. Ready to get started?

Great. Pandaros threw herself back into the seat. Just what we should do, bring another child into a world where we live in fear of invasion and being pillaged every day.

Rafa said to Falco’s image, We need another ten minutes.

Fine, fine. See you in ten.

At the end of the extended break, the lights dimmed and Falco’s inanimate smiling face lit up the LifeCenter.

Rafa tapped his tablet and Falco came alive. Refreshed and ready to go? Good, good. I’m anxious to see what else you’ve got planned for Addison.

Rufus whispered in his wife’s ear, He means he’s anxious to see how many more credits he can extract from them.

Hush.

The genetic IQ potential for Addison is slightly above average at one hundred and twenty, Falco said. That should get him into better-than-average schools, but nothing top-notch. Boosting his IQ above one-thirty would certainly improve his chances there. Getting it above one-forty would be a big plus. What do you say, Mr. And Ms. Hatton?

Rafa tapped NO THANKS.

Falco’s avatar appeared disappointed. Alright then. As I said before, you can always come back and boost his intelligence later, if you change your mind. Let’s take a look at the talent upgrades available.

Talent upgrades popped onto the screen.

Your genetics show the strongest predilection for business, naturally, considering the manner in which you and your immediate relations support yourselves. Like most couples, you’ve got just a little of everything else so there’s plenty of room for improvement.

Then Falco shut up.

Their discussions about talent upgrades had been mixed, but more civil than the discussion about eyes. Rafa had summed up his position at the end of their last talent talk by saying, Since he’ll be in the same line of work we’re in, he’s already pretty set so far as genetics are concerned. We could boost his business acumen a little if we really wanted, if it didn’t cost too much. Pandaros remained mum after that, which had left Rafa uneasy.

He crossed his legs and watched out of the corner of his eye as Pandaros lifted her tablet.

Talent areas included ARTISTIC, SCIENCE, EDUCATION, BUSINESS, and PHYSICAL. Pandaros tapped BUSINESS, and Rafa uncrossed his legs. A dropdown menu showed business-related areas a couple might want to boost their child’s aptitude in.

Pandaros swiped back to the main TALENT screen, tapped ARTISTIC, quickly scanned the offerings, tapped MUSIC, then VOCAL.

Cries of surprise rippled through the room. The advocate harrumphed.

Interesting direction, Falco’s voice said. Let’s see what we have here.

What are you doing? Rafa whispered.

I’m designing a son that hopefully won’t be like his father and mother.

What’s wrong with us?

I want him to do something important. Something people will remember him for. He shouldn’t be forgotten the moment his dead body is shoved into the crematorium. She pressed her lips together until they turned white.

Rafa stared at her for a few seconds, then returned his attention to the LifeCenter.

A dropdown list of vocal genres appeared. She scanned them and tapped CONTEMPORARY, flicked through the decades until she found the present day, flicked through the next dropdown list until she found the name she was looking for, and tapped on it.

Rafa grabbed her arm and whispered, This is completely irresponsible. Addison will never be an entertainer, you’re just throwing credits away.

She shook his hand off.

The cost for good odds their son would develop the vocal skills of Ignacio Fita were modest compared to Marco Sabaté’s eyes, but it still came to ten thousand credits.

The advocate asked his wife, Who’s that?

Some reprobate singer, I think. Wasn’t he sent to prison with his criminal girlfriend?

He couldn’t have been. Criminals’ genes can’t be sold.

Well, he got in trouble for something. I just can’t remember what it was.

Pandaros turned and said to Anita Whately, He didn’t get in trouble, he died.

Oh. That’s not so bad, then. Are you sure his voice is worth that much, dear? It seems like an awful lot to spend on such a mediocre talent.

Pandaros’s mouth flew open, then snapped shut. She turned back around and jabbed her tablet to add Ignacio Fita’s vocal talent to Addison’s requisition order.

Good choice! Falco said. I’m sure Addison will have a fine voice.

Every time an extra credit is spent it’s a good choice, Rufus whispered to his wife. She’s going to bankrupt them.

Rafa needs to put a stop to this, Julienne whispered back. Pandaros is acting out some kind of fantasy. We never should have agreed to their marriage.

Pandaros refused to delete the vocal talent but relinquished the rest of the requisition to Rafa.

Do you have everything you want? Falco’s voice asked after Rafa had finished. No changes are possible once the order is placed. Do you need a few minutes to discuss things?

The app paused, and Rafa turned to Pandaros. He read many emotions in her expression, but only one mattered. He tapped WE’RE READY TO PROCEED.

Alright then, Falco said. I hope you’re as excited as I am. Let’s go over the fine print, shall we?

Guests dashed to refill drinks.

Rafa and Pandaros acknowledged they’d read and understood PureGene’s lengthy and complicated financial agreement, agreed to view the parental education training the Stockard Party mandated, and affirmed they understood that if for any reason PureGene couldn’t deliver their infant in nine months, they would implant and grow another at no additional cost.

The last topic of discussion was the return policy: when Addison reached the Age of Reason, on his eighth Celebration of Extraction, they would return to PureGene to declare if he was to become a Kept Child or a Returned Child.

Do you have any questions? Falco said. Is there anything you don’t understand or would like explained again?

Rafa and Pandaros glanced at each other, then tapped NO on their tablets.

That’s it, then, Falco said. Well done! He clapped twice. Addison will be implanted into his grow pod within three hours. We’ll record it and send you a transmission about an hour afterward. You can look forward to receiving many transmissions from us over the next nine months because we want you to feel like you’re right there with him in his womb room.

The camera zoomed in on Falco’s face until it filled the screen.

PureGene: planned, purposeful, and precise propagation.

CHAPTER TWO

IMPLANTATION

THE HATTON’S REQUISITION reached PureGene’s Northwestern Production Facility’s main computer at 8:47 p.m. Pandaros’s genome contained the HB23609 allele, so the computer forwarded the requisition to an offsite location where PureGene operated their secret Stygian Project.

A seventeen-year-old lab tech named Una sat at Stygian’s main computer terminal, her feet on the desk and her hands clasped behind her head. Una’s short, straight black hair crowned a flat face dotted with a round nose. Like all Stygian techs, her eye sockets were covered by tight-fitting, matte-black goggles that wrapped around her head and docked to a port in the back. Wiring from the port connected the cameras in the goggles to her optic nerves.

The requisition flashed across the monitor, and Una said, Mr. and Ms. Hatton have ordered a boy. What a shock. Why does everyone get a boy first? Girls are way more interesting.

She thought she heard someone in the hallway, quickly put her feet on the floor, sat up straight, and waited. No one appeared so she flung her feet back on the desk and sent the requisition to a tablet docked to the computer. Thirty seconds later the computer beeped twice. Una stretched and stood, picked the tablet up, and headed into the facility to find her work partner, a boy named Pierce she had renamed Igor, because she felt it suited him better.

She hustled down the hallway, checking the schedule on her tablet, lost in thought about where Igor might be hiding. So lost she didn’t hear a door close ahead of her.

She almost crashed into a maintenance man before she even knew he was there.

Get out of my way, mutant!

Her tablet flew straight up. She snatched it out of the air and spun toward the wall. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.

Didn’t see me? I was walking right down the middle of the hallway, how could you not see me? A man with sweat-stained armpits stopped directly behind Una and shoved her in the back, driving her into the wall. She barely had time to get a hand up to keep her face from being smashed. He growled into her ear, Next time you don’t get out of my way I’m going to lay you out, break your little nose. I bet it wouldn’t take much, just a quick jab to the face.

I’ll be more careful from now on.

He lingered behind her, sniffing her hair. I used to think this place stunk so bad because of what was done down here, but I was wrong. It stinks because of you mutants. I can’t seem to get your smell out of my clothes or off my skin. No matter how much I scrub or how many times I run my clothes through the wash, the stink’s still there.

He growled and