Read Online Raven's Choice by Harper Swan - Free Book Online

that he smiled right before his hands lifted up and off.
    Raven flew down the valley like a swallow released from someone’s fist, leaping rocks and streams, feet barely touching the ground. Once she’d covered some distance, she paused to adjust her pouch. She looked up the valley, hoping for a last glimpse, but he had already gone out of sight.

California, Early Twenty-First Century
    D espite his earlier misgivings about the seriousness of Genetics and Me, Mark is impressed with what he sees on his tour. The company has obviously committed to providing a reasonably priced product so the general public can pursue their individual genomes.
    “Really wish you would stay a while,” Greg says, back at the conference room door, behind which erupt gusts of laughter and animated chatter. “You’re what—only ten minutes away at the Sunnyvale facility?” He raises his hands up, palms out. “Promise you won’t regret it.”
    Mark feels like a complete jerk—Greg has done his utmost to be a gracious host since they first met. Perhaps he should stay. After all, he is there to forge a goodwill connection. “Okay,” he says. “For a little while.”
    “Great.” Greg opens the door. “Come with me up front. I’ll introduce you to everybody.” They wind through the crowd, and Mark sees a lot of curious looks glancing his way. He stops at one side of the podium, trying not to fidget.
    “Listen up, folks.” Greg taps the microphone. “I’ve got just a few things to go over before we dig into that wonderful-smelling bison chili and other goodies. First, I want to let everyone know that we have a distinguished visitor with us today. More distinguished than even he realizes,” Greg says with a chuckle, looking at Mark.
    Mark wonders what Greg is talking about. He wants to look away from the blue eyes boring into his but concentrates on maintaining eye contact.
    “This is Mark Hayek from the Parkinson’s Institute, one of our new research partners. But that isn’t what impresses me most about him,” Greg says. “Mark, when Genetics and Me heard about recent research showing that Neanderthal ancestry can be found in the genomes of many people living today, we used that research to work up the percentage amounts each of our customers carries. And of course, we also did it for ourselves, and that’s what today’s party is all about.”
    Greg turns his eyes from Mark to the group. “Everyone here will receive a T-shirt with his or her Neanderthal ancestry amount printed on front. The piece of tape with your name on it covers the percentage—I didn’t want anybody spoiling the surprise factor by seeing the amount early. These shirts are a new product at our online store, so get the word out, people.”
    He turns and pulls a T-shirt from the clothesline. “DNA amounts go from zero to two percent—or that’s what we thought until a few days ago. The winner of this genetic lottery,” Greg says dramatically, “is standing right here beside me.”
    Mark takes the T-shirt from Greg and pulls off the tape beside the redheaded Neanderthal man pictured on the front. The shirt reads 3% Neanderthal DNA .
    “Show us!” someone in the crowd yells, and Mark turns the shirt around and holds it up.
    “Wow, look at that,” the woman standing closest to Mark says into the brief silence. “We didn’t totally replace them after all.” Clapping and whistling reverberate throughout the room. Mark gives a small bow before heading for the podium as Greg steps aside.
    A familiar discomfort makes him swallow when he gazes around the group. His stomach growls, the sound fortunately low enough so that he feels a gurgle rather than hearing it. The rich bison chili smell saturates the air, and Mark realizes that in spite of his nervousness, he’s hungry—a try-anything kind of hungry.
    Mark thanks them for inviting him. He promises to mix with the group and get to know everyone better while they eat, keeping his remarks short before