Genetic Modification

Genetic Modification


Today was to be the day. All of the tests, the hypotheses and fights with ethical groups had been, either worked out with scenarios considered, probed and prodded, or just discarded. Elaine, or just Laney to her group of friends, was ready. A small thrill of fear and doubt coursed through her, but she pushed it to one side and revelled in the luxury of the no expense spared comfortable room.

“Hi Laney, would you like anything?” The mechanical and electronically filtered voice of Trisha came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

“Uh…No thanks, I’m fine.” Laney lay back on the feather filled sling cushion and idly traced the Aztec pattern of the weave with a fingertip. She carelessly tossed the toga like wrap to one side and un-self conscientiously exposed her thighs. The fabric was diaphanous in any case and wouldn’t have hidden much, meant more for comfort a subliminal modesty wrap.

“Not long now Hon.” Trisha, although she could not be seen through the two-way mirror shared Laney’s thrill of anticipation. Why they had chosen today for the experiments consummation was beyond her. Still, it had to happen some time, so why not today. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t worked toward it for long enough.

Laney looked around the room; she had studied it many times before and knew every colour, every texture and even the slightly antiseptic smell of the cleaner droids work. For the last three years, she had been subjected to every test known to modern man, and plenty of others only just invented to suit the needs of the programme. Since she had volunteered for this singular honour, her life had not been her own. The Corporation owned her lock stock and barrel.

Was it really only three years ago that she had answered the ad? What had it said? The crux had been one hundred and fifty thousand US dollars per anum. She could remember that much and the need she had at the time. The protection of a huge pharmaceutical company had also attracted her, it meant that her former lover’s financial legacy was paid off and nobody would be looking for her to ask why he had turned up in a storm drain with too many holes in him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Trisha’s voice again. “Laney Hon, three twenty two is here. You sure you want to go through with this babe? It’s not too late to pull out.”

“Aw thanks Trish, me and old three twenty two will be just fine. Could you turn the lights down a notch or two please, and some music would be good, just a little light classical eh?”

The room dimmed appreciably and Barbers Adagio for strings, from the floor speakers replaced Trisha’s voice. “A bit less with the volume, okay” Laney shouted although it wasn’t necessary.

A panel slid up on the far wall. Blackness shone from the oblong hole it revealed. Elaine looked and waited for her first look at her new lover, the one she had been waiting for, for the past three years, the one she had undergone so much testing to meet, the one who, with luck, would produce the first, and who knew, may be, the first of many.

Nothing happened for a few seconds. Time seemed to stretch, slowly; her surroundings took on a surreal appearance, as if she were looking through a telescope the wrong way. It was like a trip she had experienced once, when she was at University. That trip had almost cost her the ultimate sacrifice; she vowed never to drop acid or any other narcotic again. Apart from cannabis, she had stuck to it since. The feeling of unworldliness was just like the initial hit of the acid, when colours and shape take on whole new meanings and dimension as a kaleidoscope distorted pattern.

Three twenty two poked his nose around the edge of the opening. A tan band of fur followed his black nose. Then, hesitantly, the rest of his black and tan body left the safety of the dark hole. Elaine was impressed by the size of the Doberman; he was big even for his breed. She watched, a little scared by his physical presence and the fluid grace of muscles under the shorthaired body. She watched, immobile as he began to examine his new surroundings; watched him taking information in by the olfactory senses that were his primary source of information.

He toured the extremes of the room, moving in a counter-clockwise direction, pausing when a trace of something was revealed.