would pick her up as soon as she hit the Orbiters. Then she’d get the Zone. And no one comes back from there.”
There was a brief silence as Lola unwrapped a small vial from its wrapper. “Now listen, this is an eye spray. You gotta administer it every four hours for the next few days. I’ll come help you, but you know how forgetful I am.” She caught him gawking at her again as she spoke, and fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly.
“So come on, ask me.”
“Ask you what?” Oriente felt his cheeks flush.
“Where I got such great genes from. You’re the one who’s always so curious.”
“Okay.” He smiled. “Where did you get such great genes from, Lola?”
“Well, funny you should ask,” she said. “By great good fortune, I unexpectedly came into some money and I found a great carpet-beater who had worked in Europe, and he came up with something very different. And very expensive.”
“What was that?”
“Well, I shouldn’t tell you ‘coz it ain’t exactly legal.” She chuckled. “But then, neither are you. So what the hell? It’s Nefertiti.”
He was lost for a second. “What’s Nefertiti?”
“ I am. Well, genetically speaking. With a few updates and add-ons. She didn’t have these blue eyes, I bet.”
“Nefertiti the ancient Egyptian queen?”
“Wife of the Pharaoh Akhenaten, in fact,” she said proudly. “The greatest beauty of the ancient world, worshipped by her own cult as a goddess.”
“Where the hell did you get her genes from?”
“Like I said, I found a good carpet-beater. You know, those guys who comb all the old furniture and heirloom rugs for skin flakes and gene pool from lost civilizations? Most of them are grave-robbers. They collect all this genetic material, then test it to see who it might have belonged to. It’s legal. Except the grave robbing bit, but then nobody really gives a shit about that.”
“And this carpet beater of yours…what did he do, break into a pyramid or something?”
“Worse,” she giggled. “He broke into the Berlin Museum of Anthropology. Seems it’s not very well guarded these days. That’s where they keep her body, though of course, she doesn’t look quite as good these days as I do. But he only took a tiny swab. Not like he ran away a leg like a dog in a butcher’s shop. Anyway, so here I am.” She stood up and took a bow. “Wasn’t it worth it?”
”I’ll say,” nodded Oriente.
“Now, where did they get the model for Shareen, you ask?” asked Lola. “You know what I heard from the other nurses? 'English school dinner lady, circa 1940.'” She nodded happily, then tottered out of the room on her high heels, throwing Oriente a wave over her head as she went.
***
The man with wavy blonde hair stared at the rear wall of the large room, which was covered by a large, smoked-glass window.
“Are we recording? Testing, one two three. Okay? Sure? Right, I’m getting the thumbs up from the engineer. Shall we proceed?
“Good morning everybody. First of all, let me welcome those of you who haven’t been before to the Delpy Institute, one of the world’s foremost research institutes into bio-engineering and posthumous evolution. My name is Professor Jeffrey Poincaffrey, director of the Delpy. On my right this morning” – he pointed to a disheveled man in a cable-knit roll neck, his straggly beard crested with grey – “is Dr Brian Porter, head of our research department. To his right, we have Professor Leora Whiteling, director of the historical archive, and across from her is Dean Ashby Wattiki, of the Mowan Endowment, which as you probably know, is responsible for the study of indigenous inhabitants and their customs. And I’m sure you’ll recognize our very own mayor of London, Yev Lupo. Very honored you could join us this morning, Mr Mayor.”
The mayor gave a formal nod, and for a second the hunter wondered if he could possibly be a local. Certainly he had rarely seen an Eternal look as
There was a brief silence as Lola unwrapped a small vial from its wrapper. “Now listen, this is an eye spray. You gotta administer it every four hours for the next few days. I’ll come help you, but you know how forgetful I am.” She caught him gawking at her again as she spoke, and fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly.
“So come on, ask me.”
“Ask you what?” Oriente felt his cheeks flush.
“Where I got such great genes from. You’re the one who’s always so curious.”
“Okay.” He smiled. “Where did you get such great genes from, Lola?”
“Well, funny you should ask,” she said. “By great good fortune, I unexpectedly came into some money and I found a great carpet-beater who had worked in Europe, and he came up with something very different. And very expensive.”
“What was that?”
“Well, I shouldn’t tell you ‘coz it ain’t exactly legal.” She chuckled. “But then, neither are you. So what the hell? It’s Nefertiti.”
He was lost for a second. “What’s Nefertiti?”
“ I am. Well, genetically speaking. With a few updates and add-ons. She didn’t have these blue eyes, I bet.”
“Nefertiti the ancient Egyptian queen?”
“Wife of the Pharaoh Akhenaten, in fact,” she said proudly. “The greatest beauty of the ancient world, worshipped by her own cult as a goddess.”
“Where the hell did you get her genes from?”
“Like I said, I found a good carpet-beater. You know, those guys who comb all the old furniture and heirloom rugs for skin flakes and gene pool from lost civilizations? Most of them are grave-robbers. They collect all this genetic material, then test it to see who it might have belonged to. It’s legal. Except the grave robbing bit, but then nobody really gives a shit about that.”
“And this carpet beater of yours…what did he do, break into a pyramid or something?”
“Worse,” she giggled. “He broke into the Berlin Museum of Anthropology. Seems it’s not very well guarded these days. That’s where they keep her body, though of course, she doesn’t look quite as good these days as I do. But he only took a tiny swab. Not like he ran away a leg like a dog in a butcher’s shop. Anyway, so here I am.” She stood up and took a bow. “Wasn’t it worth it?”
”I’ll say,” nodded Oriente.
“Now, where did they get the model for Shareen, you ask?” asked Lola. “You know what I heard from the other nurses? 'English school dinner lady, circa 1940.'” She nodded happily, then tottered out of the room on her high heels, throwing Oriente a wave over her head as she went.
***
The man with wavy blonde hair stared at the rear wall of the large room, which was covered by a large, smoked-glass window.
“Are we recording? Testing, one two three. Okay? Sure? Right, I’m getting the thumbs up from the engineer. Shall we proceed?
“Good morning everybody. First of all, let me welcome those of you who haven’t been before to the Delpy Institute, one of the world’s foremost research institutes into bio-engineering and posthumous evolution. My name is Professor Jeffrey Poincaffrey, director of the Delpy. On my right this morning” – he pointed to a disheveled man in a cable-knit roll neck, his straggly beard crested with grey – “is Dr Brian Porter, head of our research department. To his right, we have Professor Leora Whiteling, director of the historical archive, and across from her is Dean Ashby Wattiki, of the Mowan Endowment, which as you probably know, is responsible for the study of indigenous inhabitants and their customs. And I’m sure you’ll recognize our very own mayor of London, Yev Lupo. Very honored you could join us this morning, Mr Mayor.”
The mayor gave a formal nod, and for a second the hunter wondered if he could possibly be a local. Certainly he had rarely seen an Eternal look as
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