Knowing Everything

By Kathryn Collis

Two boys, born with incredible intellects, know everythingexcept the facts surrounding their births.

While Xander basks in the adulation of his parents, Nathan and Marika, Leo suffers from the fact that his parents, Eloise and Phillip, have not succeeded in breeding the scientific super child they were expecting. They make no attempts to conceal their disappointment. Instead of creating a scientific genius, Leos forte is mathematics. Their disgruntlement is not lost on Leo.

By the time they are fourteen, both boys have been granted doctorates by their respective universities and are sent to work on top-secret government projects.

The earth is threatened by a huge mass, which will inevitably destroy it. Leo and Xander must pool their vastly superior knowledge and intellects to save the planet. However, the instant they meet and discover they are practically identical, the secrets surrounding their births are revealed.

Can they overcome their shock and apply themselves to the massive task they have been given?



Praise for Siblings

An intense, well-crafted story of how the people close to us can become our worst enemies (Kirkus Reviews).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: May 19, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543401066

Kathryn Collis

Kathryn Collis has published sixteen books through Xlibris, including Siblings, Eating Well for Less Than $30 a Week, Not So Grim Fairy Tales, and R.I.P. Details of her works can be found at www.kathryncollis.com. Kathryn lives on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast.

Book preview

ONE

SO YOU SEE, the use of nuclear power as an energy source has both its advantages and deficiencies, which means that scientists are forever exploring the possibilities of developing alternative methods of both generating and harnessing energy in order to produce power. Inevitably, in the future, nuclear power is bound to be replaced – by what, we don’t as yet know.

Professor Phillip Symington was reaching the vertex of his lecture. He now drew his eyebrows together and his eyes flashed as he peered through the lenses of his steel-rimmed glasses, over the bridge of his aquiline nose. His students must understand the importance of forever seeking out new energy sources. They were the scientists of the future, so the onus was on them to perpetuate the efforts of existing scientists. They-

His flow of thoughts was interrupted as he felt his cell phone vibrate in the pocket of his loose fitting suit trousers. Phillip was a tall, somewhat gangly man, with sandy colored hair, youthful features, a pointy chin, and bright, piercing grey eyes. He’d been likened to President John F. Kennedy on more than one occasion. His wife Eloise was forever imploring him to purchase bespoke suits for his lanky frame, but he simply didn’t have the time to be fiddling around with the endless fittings that buying tailored suits would no doubt entail.

He tried to carry on speaking, but the vibration persisted. Realizing he had no option but to take the call, he fumbled in his pocket and withdrew the phone. The caller’s number was unfamiliar to him. He was tempted to ignore the persistent buzzing, but in the end, curiosity got the better of him.

Excuse me, he said, as he answered the call, then made his way out of the lecture hall and thus out of earshot.

This is Doctor Vincent Iles from St Magdalene’s Hospital, the male voice on the other end of the phone said. Your wife has been brought in. Unfortunately, she’s had quite a serious miscarriage. We have stabilized her, but she has lost a lot of blood and-

I’ll be there as soon as I can, the professor snapped.

He knew what this meant, of course: His wife Eloise had suffered yet another miscarriage. How many was that now? He’d lost count.

He wished that she weren’t so adamant about wanting a baby. She was an accomplished and highly acclaimed scientist. Phillip himself had an IQ well in excess of two hundred, yet – although his pride didn’t want him to admit it – of the two of them, Eloise was the more superior physicist, by far. She had published several articles in academic publications, as well as two books on the theory of matter. They’d had a very satisfactory life together, but that had all changed when she hit her mid-thirties. Suddenly, the glorious halls of academia weren’t enough to satisfy her. She had become obsessed with having a child.

They had everything else any couple could want: a lovely penthouse apartment in Providence, Rhode Island, full of quality vintage and antique furniture, and decorated with the finest quality and most expensive woolen carpets, marble tiles and rich brocade curtains. Both were earning a small fortune in the professions they had chosen. They wanted for nothing.

Except a child that Phillip actually wasn’t really sure he wanted anyway. Eloise had just gotten this bug into her head and he couldn’t get it out.

Just think, Phillip she’d said. We’re both members of Mensa, each of us scored over ninety-eight percent in our IQ tests. Between us we have so much intelligence and knowledge. Don’t we have a duty to pass that on to another generation?

But we do that, he protested. Your articles and books, my lectures at the university…

To be honest, how many of the people who read my articles and books, and attend your lectures, would have above average intelligence? she asked.

Phillip had thought of his then current group of students and sighed. Out of that year’s class of twenty-five, perhaps one or two would make the grade. Physics required a dedication and commitment that he feared was lacking in this particular generation.

We can’t rely on others to either acquire or pass on our knowledge, Eloise persisted. It’s up to us, Phillip.

But… we’re scientists. What would we know about bringing up babies?

That doesn’t matter. If we find ourselves floundering – though I really doubt that would happen – we can afford to hire the very best help available.

He’d tried to think up more arguments, but had been unable to find any that he thought might be convincing.

Since then, Eloise had become pregnant umpteen times… only to lose the fetus in the first trimester. The miscarriages had been violent and brutal. Twice Eloise had needed blood transfusions. He wondered how on earth she could keep putting herself through such tortures.

He re-pocketed his phone, then returned to the lecture hall.

Eloise was in good hands. It wasn’t a matter of life or death. Well, for the fetus, it obviously was, but that couldn’t be helped. Granted, Eloise needed his support, but apart from muttering a few platitudes, there was nothing else he could really do for her. He would finish his lecture, because he wanted his students to leave the hall pondering his final words. There was plenty of time for him to make his way to St Magdalene’s and hold his wife’s hand.

Once the lecture was over and the students had filed out of the hall, Phillip headed quickly to the university’s staff car park and soon located his Mercedes-AMG E43. The car was red. He’d spent ages dithering about the color because red seemed to him to be a bit flashy. The trouble was, both white and black cars tended to show dust, and he couldn’t be bothered taking his car to the car wash every other day.

The hospital was a forty-five minute drive away through the brisk traffic that seemed to be an interminable feature of Rhode Island.

Once he arrived at St Magdalene’s, it took him a few minutes of circling around to finally locate a vacant parking spot.

After dealing with the inevitable paperwork that Louise’s admittance to hospital entailed, particularly the health insurance issues, he was directed to the third floor.

Just take the lift, said the sharp-featured middle-aged receptionist, pointing. Ask at the nurse’s desk when you arrive.

Phillip didn’t bother to inform her that he’d already been here far too many times and felt as if he knew the hospital inside and out.

He had no trouble finding the private suite into which his wife had been installed.

Eloise was sleeping when he entered. They must have given her a sedative, he surmised. He stood in the doorway and took stock.

Usually, her hair, clothing and makeup were immaculate, but she’d obviously had the miscarriage before she’d begun to get ready for work. Her shoulder length blonde hair, which she normally wore in a neat chignon, lay in flat, lifeless strands against her pillows. Her complexion, which she usually enhanced with expensive makeup, was pallid, almost white, in fact. That was probably due to blood loss, he supposed. Where Phillip was tall, with a physique reminiscent of a string bean, Eloise was petite. Lying there under a sheet and a cotton blanket, she seemed to have diminished in size. She looked more like a child than a woman in her early forties.

She must have sensed he was there, because her blue eyes fluttered open. Phillip, she mumbled.

He approached the bed. There was a chair close beside it. He sat down and immediately took one of her hands in his.

So it’s happened again.

Yes, she said miserably. Oh Phillip, why can’t I carry?

I’m afraid that’s a question for your gynecologist to answer, darling. I’m just a humble scientist.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. I want a baby so much.

You can’t keep putting yourself through this.

So the gynecologist told me, she sniffed. He said it could lead to permanent internal damage.

It looks as if we just aren’t meant to have a child.

Her blue eyes blazed fiercely, and she set her chin determinedly. We can’t just give up.

Well, I don’t know what other choices we have. I mean, there’s adoption-

No! There’s no point having a child if it has none of our genetic components. The reason I want a child in the first place, is so that we can pass on our knowledge, have someone to replace us when we’re gone.

So what does that leave?

The semblance of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. There’s IVF.

But there’s no point. Our problem isn’t you conceiving. It’s the gestation that’s causing so much trouble.

"Yes, but don’t you see? The baby that would be created from your sperm and my ova doesn’t necessarily have to be implanted into my uterus."

He shook his head. Eloise, what are you suggesting?

Her next words shocked him to the core.

I’ve heard of people who get a surrogate to carry their baby for them. We need to find a surrogate who is prepared to lend us her womb. We’ve got plenty of money, so we could afford to pay her whatever she wants, as well as paying for her medical and other expenses.

Surrogacy? Phillip asked dubiously, once he’d recovered some of his equilibrium. Isn’t that a bit drastic?

Not in our situation, Eloise argued. I can’t see any other options left for us.

But it’s riddled with problems. I mean, I’ve read about cases where, having given birth, the surrogate refuses to relinquish the baby. Anyway, how can you be sure that it’s legal? Who told you that?

I’ve actually looked into it, Eloise told him. This recent technology, the internet (or world wide web) was proving to be a veritable font of information. It’s definitely legal in California, Florida, Maine and Virginia. As far as the surrogate not wanting to give the baby up once she’s had it, we can make out a formal, legally binding contract so that she can’t renege. After all, the embryo would belong to us, not her. It’s no different to the articles and books I’ve published. With them, the input, the content, is mine. Just as an embryo we created would be ours.

He thought about that for a while, then he said, You’d need to develop a close relationship with the surrogate – if you could even find one. And of course, you’d need to check her out thoroughly, six ways to Sunday.

I know all that. She could see how dubious he felt; it was written all over his face as if someone had used an iridescent marker pen. Phillip, it’s just about the only choice we’ve got left. I’ve had five miscarriages in three years.

He raised his eyebrows. Goodness, had it really happened that many times?

I’m running out of time, Phillip. My biological clock is ticking very loudly. Something has to be done soon.

I guess there’s no harm looking into it, he said grudgingly.

Now her face lit up and she favored him with a broad smile. Thank you.

He had been saving his news for that evening, but now he decided he’d better share it with her. It might help dissuade her from the desperate actions she was contemplating.

I’m afraid I won’t be able to have much to do with looking after the baby when it arrives, he said. You know I applied to work on a confidential new project the government is establishing? She nodded. Well, they’ve accepted me. I’ve actually been appointed to head the project. The position carries a lot of plaudits. It’s something that will preserve my reputation into perpetuity.

"You gave me the impression you were only thinking about that. I mean, they didn’t even interview you."

He flushed a bright crimson, then said, Uh, well, actually, they did interview me, yesterday afternoon, by video conference.

She looked as if he’d struck her. So when were you going to tell me about that?

I figured there was no point mentioning it until I knew whether or not I’d been appointed to the position. Anyway, this new job will entail quite a lot of travelling.

Where to? she demanded.

They couldn’t tell me. All they could say was that it would be interstate, but not international. In any case, I’m going to be away from home quite a bit from now on.

What impeccable timing! she said caustically. "I’m trying to have a child for us, and you’re going to be a husband and father in absentia. I can’t understand why you couldn’t be satisfied to remain in your lecturing post. You’re head of the science faculty, and the pay’s certainly not miniscule."

He sighed, and summoned up his patience. I can’t progress any further at the university, and I’ve been lecturing for some years now. This project-

About which they can’t even give you any specific details, she interjected.

They will. Anyway, this project represents a new challenge. I’m told I’ll be heading a very elite team. I’ve been lecturing so long, I feel as if I could give lectures in my sleep. This represents an exciting new opportunity for me.

"I’m kind of glad you said that. Because it means you’ll understand how I feel about this, the baby project. I see it as my new challenge."

But isn’t your research and writing more important? I mean, any woman, at any intelligence level, can be a mother, but a woman with your far superior intelligence and skills… don’t you think it’s a bit of a waste?

I’m prepared to put my own work on hold indefinitely, and make motherhood a priority, she said forcefully. Once I’m gone, my intelligence and skills will go with me. There’s only one way to pass them on: genetically. You know that as well as I do.

I suppose you’re right. They’d had this debate before – ad nauseam. Phillip knew that once his wife fixed her mind on something, she could not be dissuaded from her chosen course.

Now she was pensive for a moment, before saying, The only problem is, how will we manage to create a child if you’re not going to be here?

I won’t be working three hundred and sixty-five days a year. They said I’ll be flying in and out to the project center, which means they do plan to give me plenty of time off.

Eloise considered this. She’d investigated some aspects of in vitro fertilization, or IVF. The very term in vitro meant combining the ova and sperm outside the body. Her ova could be harvested any time that she was ovulating, and it could be stored until required. Phillip did not have to make his own contribution at exactly the same time. Her idea was feasible – if they could only find a surrogate willing to help them.

"Please, Phillip, tell me you’ll at least consider it. I-I can’t go through this again. There just has to be another way."

Okay, he promised, I agree, there’s no harm in looking into it. She smiled. Eloise had a truly beatific smile. It was one of the attributes which had attracted him to her in the first place.

That joyful expression which was now spread across her face was surely worth all the hassles that he could envisage, wasn’t it?

As he dropped a kiss on her cheek before leaving the hospital, Eloise rested back on her pillows, wondering how on earth they were going to find someone prepared to endure a nine month pregnancy, then relinquish the baby. Still, there were women like that – somewhere.

* * *

You seem to have recovered fairly well, Eloise, said Doctor Robinson, her gynecologist. That’s quite surprising, seeing you had to have a blood transfusion.

The doctor was short and round, almost completely bald, with heavy jowls and a big nose. He looked a bit like a cartoon character, but he was very skilled in his profession and his patients adored him.

Eloise hopped down from the examination couch, straightened her clothes, then took a seat in front of the specialist’s desk

He leaned forward, and his expression was grave. "You have sustained a lot of damage, Eloise. I urge you not to try and get pregnant again. You lost a lot of blood this time, quite a terrifying amount, in fact. If this were to happen again – another miscarriage – it could prove fatal. I’m not saying that just to frighten you. It’s a fact."

I know, she said. I can’t afford to have another miscarriage. I simply don’t understand why I can’t carry.

It just happens to some women, he said gently. Even I can’t work out why. Call it bad luck, if you will, because that’s basically what it is.

I haven’t given up on wanting a child, she told him. There is another option.

Yes. You could adopt-

No. That’s not what I’m talking about. There’s IVF, and there’s… surrogacy.

He removed his thick-lensed, black framed glasses and his dark eyes bored into hers. That’s a somewhat rocky path to parenthood, you know. IVF is expensive, and it often takes several attempts for it to work. Sometimes it doesn’t work anyway. Other times, it results in multiple births. As for surrogacy… that can turn out to be a legal minefield. I’d advise you to think very carefully before seeking out that option.

I had plenty of time while in hospital to think about both, Eloise said. And I don’t believe I have any choice at all.

Doctor Robinson realized that, regardless of his own misgivings, his patient was right. She definitely had very few choices left.

* * *

That evening, Eloise told Phillip about her planned strategy for finding a surrogate.

The closest states where surrogacy is legal would be Maine or Virginia, she said. I’ll place ads in all the major newspapers that circulate there.

And say what?

"I don’t know, how about: Childless couple seek surrogate. Discretion assured. Generous compensation offered? Then just my cell phone number?"

It was the year 2000. Facebook, Twitter and similar social media didn’t exist, and while the internet had been around for a couple of decades, it was not the massive communication vehicle that it was later to become. eBay had been launched in 1995, but that was hardly an avenue for seeking a surrogate mother. It dealt solely with goods for sale. The search engine Google had been launched, but the volume of information available on the internet was infinitesimal compared to that which would be available a couple of decades later. There was Craigslist, launched in 1995 around about the same time as eBay, but Eloise had not reached the stage where she would trust something as vitally important as her search for a surrogate to internet technology.

Phillip shrugged. I suppose newspaper ads would be okay – provided we can place them fairly anonymously.

Anonymity really doesn’t matter too much if we’re not breaking the law, she reminded him.

Then by all means, let’s do it. Anything for peace.

TWO

NATHAN CARMICHAEL LEFT the doctor’s surgery with a grim expression on his face. How could he possibly convey this dire news to his wife Marika?

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed her office number. As soon as she answered, he said, Hi honey, it’s me. I thought we might go out to dinner tonight, to Juliano’s.

That’d be lovely, she said, But I won’t be able to get away until about six-thirty.

I’ll book for seven, to give you time to get there.

Okay.

After terminating the call and returning his phone to his trousers pocket, Nathan headed thoughtfully back to his office.

Nathan, who was in his mid-forties, owned an international security firm that specialized in computer technology. While most operators in this particular line of work were based in larger cities such as New York, he had established himself in his home city of Portland, in Maine. He had never liked New York, which he saw as far too crowded and impersonal.

People seemed to have the preconceived notion that computer experts were all geeks and nerds. In no way did Nathan fit this description. Of average height and build, he had conventional features: an oval face, a patrician nose, and a pair of wide set hazel eyes. He wore his dark brown hair short and ensured he visited his barber regularly. Though he didn’t demand it of his staff, he insisted on wearing suits to work. The casual jeans, sweatshirts and t-shirts his employees chose to adopt were undeniably more comfortable, but Nathan aimed for a professional appearance. He felt that it showed potential clients that he took his business, and theirs, seriously.

The offices he operated from were situated in Congress Street. As he entered the building, Nathan exchanged greetings with Ted, who was one of the security guards. Although Portland was a relatively safe city, a lot of secrets were stored in the offices of Carmichael Security. Nathan believed in the old adage of being safe rather than sorry. Computer security was a very sensitive issue.

Nathan made his way to the elevators then pushed the button marked 3. His offices occupied the entire third floor. He had a dozen full time employees, all of whom had been thoroughly vetted before being hired. They were dedicated to their work, and thoroughly trustworthy.

As usual, when he arrived at his desk, he saw that it was strewn with messages. He would be lucky if he was able to escape the place by six-thirty.

After phoning Juliano’s to reserve a table, he ploughed through his emails and telephone messages. The afternoon flew. It was actually closer to six-forty when he finally left the office and caught a cab to the restaurant, to find that Marika had not yet arrived.

Nathan and his wife were regulars at Juliano’s. The head waiter, Gianni, greeted Nathan as if he were part of the family.

By the time Marika made her entrance, Nathan was enjoying his second glass of a particularly satisfying Chianti and the antipasto he’d ordered had been delivered to the table.

As Marika headed towards their table, Nathan watched her with unconcealed admiration, and he could see from the reactions of the few other male patrons in the restaurant that he wasn’t the only one to do so.

Tall, slim, and with long, raven black hair, even in a plain grey suit and light pink silk blouse, his wife was stunning. She had a pointed face featuring broad lips, prominent cheeks, an aquiline nose and deep brown eyes. Her parents had migrated from the Ukraine in the late 1970s, but Marika had been born locally.

Not only was she stunningly attractive, Marika was extremely intelligent, especially when it came to mathematics and chemistry. She was a lecturer at the Portland Campus of the University of Southern Maine. A friend had confided to Nathan, soon after he and Marika had met, that her IQ was far higher than that of Stephen Hawking, Albert Einstein or Leonardo da Vinci. In other words, she was a genius. Yet she never flaunted her intelligence in any way.

Sometimes he was in awe of her. Nathan knew his way around computer technology, but he was also very aware of the fact that compared to his wife, intelligence-wise he was just a little above average, certainly no genius.

They had met at an art exhibition. The artist had been local. While his work was commendable and had garnered him substantial local fame, he had never managed to break into either the national or international art scenes. As they studied the artist’s works together, Marika had impressed Nathan with her warmth and her humility. She was unlike a lot of other academics he had met, who seemed to be puffed up with their own importance.

He stood now, and held out her chair while she seated herself. She looked at the tray of antipasto and said, Ooh, I just love the trays they do here! Within seconds she was tucking into artichoke hearts with crackers and camembert cheese.

They didn’t talk much during their main course of chicken scallopini and it was only when they had finished eating their tiramisu and had ordered their coffee that Nathan patted his lips with his napkin, then said, Marika, there’s something I need to tell you.

She raised her eyebrows. Oh, what is it?

I’m afraid it’s very bad news. I… er, went to the doctor today, to get the results of those tests that were done.

And? Even as she said this, she knew the answer. It was etched into his face.

My sperm count is extremely low. The chances of you conceiving are, well, the doctor used the word ‘miracle’, so that should tell you something.

And there’s nothing they can do?

I’m afraid not. Darling, I’m so sorry.

"But Nathan, I’ll be forty next birthday. I want – I need a child."

But you have a successful career. And you have me. Us. Isn’t that enough for you?

Marika shook her head. I’ve accomplished everything in life that I want to achieve. Except being a mother.

We could look into adoption-

No. I want my own baby, not someone else’s.

I’m so sorry.

I know. She couldn’t bring herself to say that his inability to father a child was okay, because as far as she was concerned, it wasn’t.

She’d been twenty-eight when they married. Parenthood hadn’t been an issue. Over a decade later, though, it had become incredibly important to her that she experience pregnancy, childbirth and motherhood while she was still young enough to do so. Wasn’t that her