The Proteus Cure (39 page)

Here we go again, she thought. This sounded like a lead-in to their ongoing argument about expanding the scope of Proteus far beyond Tethys.

“Mama, please. Can you imagine the havoc that would cause?”

“Not so bad, I think.”

“Are you serious? First off,
Die Perfekte
is a blond-haired, blue-eyed Caucasian genome.”

“You say that as if it is a bad thing.”

“I know you’re joking, but considering the recent tragedies here—”

“Yes. Bill told me.”

Bill told her everything, it seemed. Abra couldn't help but feel a flash of jealousy at their closeness.

“Well, then you can understand why I don’t see any humor in it.”

Mama stared straight at her. “I wasn’t joking, dear.”

“What? Considering Grandpapa’s background—”

“Must you always bring that up? He has nothing to do with this.”

Mama’s father had been a member of the Nazi Party during the war. Just a paper shuffler in the Berlin headquarters, but still … the taint was there.

“It’s not
my
bringing it up we'd have to worry about. If people hear you talk like that and look him up—”

Mama’s chin lifted defiantly. “It is not as if he was a death-camp guard. He was a simple clerk and did nothing to be ashamed of. In those days you had to join the party to survive.”

“It doesn’t matter, Mama. The whole racial purity issue will rear its ugly head and drown out rational discourse.”

“This isn't at all about racial purity, although you'll have to concede that race lies at the heart of much of human conflict."

"Race and religion."

"In the end it all comes down to
differences
, yes? We fear the
other
, yes?”

“I suppose.”

“And so it stands to reason that if we were all less different, we would have less conflict, yes?”

“I suppose.”

“But let us put those issues aside and, just for the sake of intellectual exercise, assume that
Die Perfekte
cells could survive in the water supply. What would the resultant world be like?"

Abra tried to imagine and couldn't help but laugh. "Cataclysm and chaos—
Die Perfekte
is male. The female population would become sterile and begin to develop male characteristics."

Mama waved a hand before the screen. "Let us just assume that we can neutralize the gender effects of the genome."

"I don't think that's possible."

"Oh, it is, my darling. It is."

Something in her tone, her eyes …

"What are you saying? Have you—?"

Another laugh. "Oh, no. I am simply saying that with enough will and intelligence, anything is possible. So let us assume that we have neutralized the gender effects of
Die Perfekte
genome and introduced it into water supplies all over the world. What will happen?"

"Well, after a number of years, dark-skinned people will begin to notice a lightening of their pigment, and changes in their hair."

"Yes-yes. That is the first generation. But the next generation and the generation after that?"

"Everyone will begin looking more and more the same."

"All superficial. It is the internal changes that will cause monumental shifts in society."

"You mean diseases …"

"Just for starters, yes. All the inheritable forms of cancer and diabetes and heart disease and so many other diseases that have been eradicated from
Die Perfekte
will be absent from its population as well. Spontaneous mutations will still occur, but
Die Perfekte
will attack those tumors aborning and replace them with healthy cells."

"No question that the resulting population will be healthier," Abra said, "but—"

"Not just physically, my dear. So many forms of mental illness—depression, alcoholism, schizophrenia, and so on—are due to inherited aberrations in neurotransmitter levels.
Die Perfekte
will maintain serotonin, norepinephrine, and dopamine at their proper levels without drugs."

"You paint such a rosy picture."

"How can I not? With a healthy, happy populace,
differences
will fade, and along with that decline we will see less crime, less violence, less need for wars … what is not to like?"

"You're playing God, Mama."

She made a dismissive sound. "God botched it.
Die Perfekte
would correct His errors. And let us not cast aspersions: What do you think you are doing at Tethys? Do you not think you are playing God?"

"Not at all. People come here of their own volition requesting a cure. I give them a cure."

"And more."

"Yes," Abra conceded. "Much more."

Sheila shook herself as she felt her eyes drifting shut.

Wasn’t Shen ever going to leave?

She’d made a return trip to Bill’s office and scooped up the keys in his top drawer. They’d been in her pocket for almost an hour now as she sat at her window watching the parking lot. It looked more like a pond.

She yawned. No one had called from the ward. Lucky thing. Left her time to wait on Shen. Tired. Not much sleep last night. But then, who could sleep with what was going on? Things moving too fast. She needed a little breathing room, a little time to—

She straightened in her chair as a figure slogged away through the icy water toward one of the half-dozen cars in the lot. She glimpsed his face as he slipped behind the wheel: Shen Li.

Sheila’s fatigue evaporated as she all but leaped from her seat and headed for the hall. She bounded down the flights to the tunnels and made a beeline for the mystery door.

Caution slowed her as she neared it. She peered around to confirm that she was alone and that wet footprints wouldn’t give her away. She pressed her ear against the door: all quiet. Just to be sure, she knocked. She had no idea what she’d say if anyone answered, but that would be better than being caught with a key in her hand—
if
she had the key.

When no one answered, she tried the first key. No luck. Too big for the hole. The second fit but wouldn’t turn. She took a breath and tried the third.

It turned.

Another look around, then she pushed through. Before closing the door she found a light switch and flipped it. As the overhead fluorescents flickered to life, she closed the door and turned the deadbolt.

She looked around and felt as if she’d wandered into the storage room of a Best Buy. Red and green lights glowed in the faces of black electronic boxes stacked on shelves along the walls. The room was tiny to begin with, but so much equipment made it feel even smaller. She’d never been claustrophobic, but this would be the place to start.

She looked for something recognizable. Two chairs and two cheap pressboard desks sat at right angles. Scattered papers, a pair of black leather gloves, a pair of small video monitors plus a DVD player on each of the desks.

Monitors? What good were they if you were recording audio?

And then it hit her.

Not knowing what she was doing, but unable to stop herself, Sheila stretched a trembling hand toward the nearest monitor and pressed the ON button. The screen flickered to life with an overhead view of an empty office. She couldn’t tell whose it was but knew it wasn’t hers.

Her mouth went dry.

They weren’t just listening, they were watching as well.

Oh-no-oh-no-oh-no …

She turned that off and tried the neighboring monitor—and saw just what she prayed she wouldn’t.

Her office.

She closed her eyes and leaned against the desktop. Had they been watching when …?

A disc protruded from one of the DVD players … the one with its wire connected to the monitor showing her office. She pushed it into the slot and waited as the machine accessed it and started playing.

At first she couldn’t tell what she was seeing, then gasped as she recognized the two naked figures writhing on the desk.

Her … Paul … in
flagrante
… her legs spread … Paul between them … the two of them moving … moving …

Sheila jabbed a fingertip against the EJECT button.

Weak, breathless, she felt her face and the rest of her body burning, perspiring … Shen had been spying then and no doubt watching an encore this morning …

She suppressed a surge of bile. He’d burned a disc of it. How many times had he watched? And who else had seen it?

Oh, God. Bill.

He must have seen it. That was why he’d seemed so different. He’d said all the right words, made all the right gestures, but always seemed one step removed. Now she knew why.

You filthy bastard.

Her embarrassment mutated to anger. She and Paul in their most intimate, private moment … and Bill and Shen making it into a peepshow, a porn movie. She wanted a hammer to shatter every screen, smash every piece of electronics in here.

But she couldn’t. Couldn’t let them know she’d been here. Had to leave everything as it was. Even the disc.

She stared at it sitting there in its slot, ready for another viewing. She wanted to take it home and throw it on the fire.

Sheila forced herself to turn away and survey the filthy little room to make sure everything was as she’d found it. She had one hand on the deadbolt and the other on the light switch when she heard footsteps in the hall.

Headed here? Shen’s replacement?

Even if someone was simply passing by, they might notice light under the door. She flicked the switch and held her breath. The sudden darkness revealed a spot of light from the peephole.

She put her eye to it and began a litany as she listened to the footsteps.

Please don’t stop … please don’t stop … please—

But the steps did stop—right outside the door. An Asian face, distorted by the fisheye lens, hove into view.

Shen.

Mother of God, what to do? What to say to explain? Would he kill her?

Hide. But where? The room was so small.

Under one of the desks. It seemed ridiculous even to try but she couldn’t just stand here.

As the key slipped into the lock she ducked into the kneehole of the desk on the right and tucked herself into a ball. She couldn’t hold this position long. Her only hope was that he’d forgotten something and would stay only a minute.

She heard the door swing open, saw a shadow on the floor framed in a shaft of light from the hall before the overheads came on. She watched as dripping boots stepped into sight and moved past her.

Please don’t let him play the disc!

She couldn’t sit through that, listening to her moans. She’d jump up and throttle him.

She heard him muttering as he shuffled papers on the neighboring desktop. Then the boots appeared again. She pressed herself back against the wall as they stopped only inches away.

More muttering, more shuffling papers, then a pleased sound followed by a Chinese phrase.

The boots backed away. She heard him slide his hands into his gloves and then saw the bottom half of Shen, papers squeezed tight in his gloved hand.

The lights went out.

The door closed.

The bolt clicked home.

It took her a couple of minutes to muster the nerve to unwind her body and regain her feet. She felt wobbly as she stumbled to the door and peered through the peephole. No one in sight. She turned the deadbolt. Before she stepped out she turned on the lights and took one last look around. What had Shen come back for? Please not that disc.

No. It was in the DVD slot, still partially ejected just as she’d found it. As she stared at the disc it seemed to call to her.

Don’t leave me here. Take me … take me …

Nothing she’d like better, but she couldn’t let on that she’d been in here.

Then she thought of Shen watching it again, touching himself as she and Paul touched each other, as they—

She stepped over and snatched the disc from the player. Let Bill and Shen worry about where it had gone. Let them wonder who had been in their nasty little den. So what if they knew.

Her jaw muscles bunched in rage. The disc is gone? Deal with it, you bastards.

Neither of them would ever watch it again.

Fuck ’em.

Li Shen stepped into the monitoring room and locked the door behind him. He felt ashamed at coming back here instead of staying home with Jing and Fai, but the disc, the cursed disc had drawn him back.

Dr. Gilchrist was not in Switzerland. His flight had been canceled. He was home and had called Shen, asked questions about Paul Rosko that he could not answer. Shen feared he might come to the monitoring room and find the disc, so he had to retrieve and hide it.

He had ignored a direct order in not erasing the file. But he could not.

He didn’t know why it fascinated him so. He’d seen many pornographic films, both here and in China. None of them terribly interesting. One viewing always enough. None had ever stayed with him.

But not so with this one. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Maybe because he was acquainted with both people. Maybe because Doctor Sheila was so beautiful. Perhaps because it was not acted. It was real—real lust, real passion, real—dare he say it?—love. He did not know the reason; all he knew was that he needed to watch it again and again.

He took off his dripping coat and hung it up. But when he sat and reached for the DVD, he found the slot empty. Quickly he glanced at the other player. He always used this one but maybe—

No, that one was empty too.

Sharp-toothed fear gnawed at his heart. Had Dr. Gilchrist already been here? Had he found it? That would be a catastrophe.

Shen rose and began a search, stacking all papers in one spot, examining every videocassette to see if it might be the one he sought. He hadn’t labeled it, but he had stuck a round orange sticker on it.

But he could find no disc with an orange sticker. Had it fallen off? If so, it wasn’t in sight.

And then Shen realized that if Dr. Gilchrist had found the disc, he would have called immediately to rage at him.

Unease wormed through his skull. Had someone else besides him and the doctor been in here? It seemed impossible.