Perfect People

29

John had an old school friend, Kalle Almtorp, from his home town of Orebro, who now worked as an attache at the Swedish embassy in Washington. They rarely met up, but kept in touch by email. Kalle had good connections.

John had contacted him now to see what further information he could find out about the death of Dr Dettore, and the total silence from his ship. He also asked him for anything he could find out about the organization who called themselves the Disciples of the Third Millennium.

This morning, John had almost two hundred emails, as well as a whole barrage of voice mails both at his home and office numbers. The story of their designer baby had hit Sweden and, it seemed, just about every other country on the planet. There were phone messages from family and friends, as well as three from publicists begging to take him and Naomi on as clients, assuring them their own personal story could be syndicated globally for vast sums.

There was a reply from Kalle Almtorp. It was in Swedish – they always communicated in their home language.

Kalle had barely more information on the death of Dr Dettore than John had seen on the news. Like the ship, the helicopter had been registered in Panama and the crash had happened in international waters. However, because both the pilot and Dettore were US citizens, the FAA were taking an interest. A full air-sea search was underway and a salvage vessel had been sent to the crash area. So far there had been no reported communications from the Serendipity Rose, nor any sighting of wreckage.

As for the organization calling themselves the Disciples of the Third Millennium, Kalle had no information on them, either. It could just be a hoax, he suggested, some crank learning about the helicopter crash – maybe some religious nut – and claiming responsibility. However, he advised John and Naomi to be extra vigilant for a while, and he said he would be in touch again when he had any further news.

John typed a brief reply, thanking him, then another email caught his eye. It was from his old mentor in England.

John,

This is a long shot, because I imagine you have been totally seduced by the Californian sunshine. But I’ve seen on the internet the stir you’ve caused with designer babies and thought you might want to get away? We have a great opportunity here. UK government funding, Sussex countryside, pretty well-assured lifetime employment and ample funding. This is a real boffin establishment. Two hundred acre campus. Six hundred research staff. A particle accelerator to rival Cern under construction. Micro Writing department – there’s a machine here that can write three hundred lines on a human hair… I’ve just been recruited to head up a new department, and we are actively looking for bright scientists in the virtual life field. I could offer you a lab of your own with great facilities and total freedom.

In any event, tell me how you are, you old Viking sod, and what’s new?

Carson Dicks.

Professor. Dept of Virtuality. UK Government Morley Park Research Laboratories. Storrington. West Sussex. United Kingdom

John leaned back in his chair and stared at it thoughtfully. If he mentioned this to Naomi, he knew exactly what she would say; she’d bite his hand off for the chance to go back to England. Back home.

But for him it was less appealing. Sussex was where he had lived before, and he had liked it well enough. It was close to London, it had the sea, it had Brighton, which was a handsome and vibrant city, it had great countryside.

But it was England. Dismal weather. Dismal attitudes towards scientists. It was hard to believe that a country which had been responsible for so many of the world’s greatest inventions had such an indifferent and miserly attitude towards research. Tenure at USC might be a problem, thanks to Sally Kimberly, but he could remain in the US, sell his soul and get a job in industry, with a software or maybe a pharmaceutical company.

He liked Carson Dicks. But the thought of going back to England depressed him. Although, he conceded, it might be the answer to their present predicament.

He typed a guarded response back, telling the professor it was good to hear from him, and he would think about it.