Extinct Doesn't Mean Forever by Phoenix Sullivan (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

anymore, not since Sam had died in that accident. Not after she’d struggled so hard to have Sam, the whole ordeal of the in vitro fertilization, the failed attempts, the spontaneous abortions. All the blood and pain and despair, all the joy at giving birth to Sam, only for death to take him so soon. She didn’t believe in a god that had let Sam die, nor in his fluttering army of angels.

“As you like. Still, can you do this for me?”

“I don’t want to meet the child. You know it would remind me of Sam.” Her eyes stung, but she refused to let her voice break. “Why don’t you go? It’s your project, not mine.”

“The boy is closed up, not talking. Two days ago he stopped eating. You’ve got that mother filter, you can—”

“I’ve got work.” The icy fingers curled around her middle, squeezing. “Did you need anything else?”

“The whole project could fail if the boy dies. Too much money was invested in him, and everyone is just waiting for the chance to bring us down. Think, Lucy. He will be the news of the millennium. Imagine the headlines, if this angel boy lives to be studied and his cells harvested—”

“You have no clue, do you, of what you’re asking me to do.” She gripped the edge of the desk.

“Please.”

That was a word she hadn’t heard from Fred’s mouth in a long time.

“Jesus, Fred. You brought to life some … creature,” she bit her lip, “with mutant DNA, when the constitution says that our son —”

Fred said in a harsh voice, “I don’t make the laws.”

“— is not allowed to be cloned.” Her chest ached. Sam…

“What do you want me to say? They won’t clone people, ‘cause then everyone would do it all the time, and nobody would stay dead. You know this.”

“There’s a reason we got divorced Freddy. You never —”

“Sammy’s death, that was the reason, and it wasn’t my fault.”

“— never think of other people’s feelings.”

A silence. “That’s unfair, Lucy.”

Maybe it was. Many things were.

“Just go meet with this kid. Please. It’s the last favor I’m asking you.”

Christ. She shook her head. “What is he, really, Fred? What have you cloned?”

“We’ve called his race ‘angels’ for thousands of years.” He sounded guarded. “Talk to Dr. Andrews, he’ll explain.”

Intriguing.“Why should I do this for you?”

“Legally you own part of all my projects. It was in the divorce agreement, or did you forget?” His voice had gone cold and clipped. “Marcia wants you to sign some media releases, so we can go public with the results. Nobody can force you to meet the child. I just thought that you might want to help him.”

“You thought wrong.” As usual. She bowed her head, fury tingeing the world red. “I’ll sign the goddamn papers, but that’s it.” She checked her calendar. “I have a break at 5 this afternoon.”

“Great. I’ll tell Marcia to wait for you.”

And he hung up, leaving her to glare at her computer screen.

An angel.

She stabbed at the enter key, sudden panic constricting her breathing. I don’t have to meet this child. She straightened her shoulders. I don’t have to believe in angels or Fred’s projects. I’ll just sign the papers and go home.

~~~

The Angel Genome Project was housed in GenLife, one of the major private genetics institutes, in a cubic grey building out of the city. It towered among manicured lawns.

So, it was here they cloned these so-called angels, when they wouldn’t clone her son. Angels indeed.

With a knot in her throat and her heartbeat too loud in her ears, she stopped her car at the entrance. The guard sent her nervous glances.

“I’m here to see Marcia, I was told she’s waiting for me.”

He spoke into a headset, then turned back to her. “Boss says first floor, room 187.”

Let’s do this. She parked, grabbed her purse and hurried through the automatic doors into the quiet lobby. Green carpets gave the impression of meadows, and slender flowers were painted on the white walls. A glass wall faced onto a small grove of cedars that swayed gently in a breeze. The strong smell of antiseptic permeated the air, rendering the whole illusion fake — the flowers too perfect, the cedars beyond reach. The smell reminded her of the morgue, where she’d gone to identify—

“May I help you?”

She jumped at the female voice behind her. A nurse in white smiled, her cheeks dimpling.

Oh Christ. She was in the land of happy people. “I’m here to talk to Marcia. About some media releases I’m supposed to sign.”

The nurse’s smile faltered and slipped. “You’re here to meet Zeph.”

Oh?“Zeph?”

“From Zephon, the name of a fallen angel.”

 Dear lord, how cruel. As if being a genetic experiment didn’t guarantee enough trouble, the kid had to have a weird name as well. “I’m not here to meet him.” She clutched her purse like a shield. “I need to sign some media release papers Marcia has prepared for me, that’s all.”

The nurse nodded. “I’ll inform Dr. Andrews.”

She checked Lucia’s driver’s license, called someone on the phone and made agreeing noises. Then her eyes flicked uncertainly to the heavy metal doors on her right, and up at the ceiling. “Oh dear, not again,” she murmured. “On the wall?Really?”

That sounded ominous. And it was all taking too long. Lucia resisted the urge to tap her heels on the floor.

“This way please. Sorry you had to hear that.”

Resigned, Lucia followed. “What happened?”

The nurse glanced at her. “I’m not to talk about the project to outsiders, but Marcia said it was okay to talk to you.” She had a slight foreign accent Lucia couldn’t quite place. “Zeph was acting up again. He refused to eat, and threw his food on the wall.”

Trying to stifle a snort, Lucia coughed behind her hand. Fantastic. “Not very angelic behavior, is it?” If that wasn’t a clue, she didn’t know what was.

The nurse laughed lightly but said nothing. She waved a card over a blinking sensor, and the metal doors whirred open. Lucia followed her