Perfect People

23

‘We have this eyewitness report from a yacht off the coast of New York State earlier today.’

John stared at the newsreader with his sharp suit and solemn face. Naomi sat beside him on the sofa, gripping his hand tightly. The camera cut to a static picture of a Bell JetRanger helicopter, identical to the one that had flown them to Dettore’s clinic.

A man’s voice, a clipped New England accent, came through, crackly and intermittent on a ship-to-shore radio.

‘Watched the…’ Sound lost then restored. ‘Flying low, just below the cloud ceiling…’ Sound lost again. ‘Just erupted into a ball of fire like a flying bomb…’ Sound lost again. ‘Then it came back and, oh God…’ His voice was choked. ‘Was horrible.’ Sound lost again. ‘Debris in the sky. Came down about three miles away from us. We headed right over…’ Sound lost again. ‘Nothing. Wasn’t anything there. Nothing at all. Just the eeriest feeling. Horrible sight, I tell you. Just gone. Gone.’

The picture of the helicopter was replaced with a photograph of the Serendipity Rose, which now became the backdrop behind the newsreader.

‘The billionaire scientist was returning to his offshore floating research laboratory and clinic, where he offered the prospect of designer babies for those able to afford his six-figure prices. Dr Dettore had this past weekend delivered a no-holds-barred paper to a Union of Concerned Scientists conference in Rome, in which he denounced the Vatican’s latest call for international regulations against experimentation on human embryos as a crime against humanity.’

The newsreader paused and the backdrop changed to a recent photograph of Dettore on a podium behind a bank of microphones.

‘No stranger to controversy, Dr Dettore has had his work compared to Hitler’s eugenics programme, and had featured on the front cover of Time magazine.’

John hit the mute button on the remote and stared grimly at the screen, feeling in a state of shock.

‘What do we do now, John?’

‘I called the clinic six times today, hoping I could speak to someone else – his colleague, Dr Leu. I got a number not in service message. I emailed twice. Both times the emails got bounced back, not able to be delivered.’

‘We have to get a second opinion.’

‘I spoke to Dr Rosengarten.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He was adamant he had not made a mistake.’

‘He’s hardly going to admit it, is he?’

‘No, but-’ He hesitated. Naomi, white as a sheet, looked terrible. How could he tell Naomi what Dr Annand had told him? That Dettore had most probably made a mistake, but not over the gender – over the entire embryo?

How could he tell her she might be pregnant with someone else’s child?

‘Why would a helicopter explode, John?’

‘I don’t know. Engines can go wrong – jet engines can blow up sometimes.’

‘The man said it was like a bomb.’

John stood up, walked the few paces across the small room to the Deco fireplace and looked at a photograph of Halley sitting in a toy police jeep, beaming happily. One of those rare moments of respite in his short little life. He felt angry, suddenly. Angry at Dettore for dying – irrational, he knew, but he didn’t care. Angry at the loss of the chance of the funding for his own research that Dettore had discussed with him. Angry at Dr Rosengarten. Angry at God for what he did to Halley. Angry for all the shitty hands he seemed to be picking up in life.

He heard what Naomi was saying; the implication was loud and clear.

Bomb.

There were plenty of crazy people out there. Fanatics who hated progress, who believed only their way was right. And irresponsible scientists, too, who believed the whole world was their laboratory and that they could do what they wanted, blow up small Pacific atolls, design generation after generation of biological weaponry, tamper with the germ line of the human species, all in the name of progress.

And in between were people who just wanted to live their lives. Some of them innocents like Halley, born into a living hell.

Science could prevent the tragedy of little children like Halley. Progress could one day eliminate diseases like his. Dettore was right when he said that preventing scientists from being able to do their research on embryos was a crime against humanity.

‘Don’t ever forget why we’ve done this, Naomi,’ he said, his voice raised in anger that was spawned from utter, helpless frustration.

Naomi stood up and walked over to him and put her arms around his waist. ‘You’ll love our baby, won’t you? Whatever happens, you’ll love her?’

He turned and kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘Of course.’

‘I love you,’ she said. ‘I love you and I need you.’

She looked so scared, so vulnerable. His heart felt wrenched. ‘I need you, too.’

‘Let’s go out tonight – some place cheerful.’

‘What do you feel like? Mexican? Chinese? Sushi?’

‘Nothing spicy. How about that place Off-Vine?’

He smiled. ‘That was the first place I ever took you to eat in