scientist’s accusations. “That was the intent.” She made a mental note to increase security on Level Four. “You needn’t worry, though; all of our special children possess a genetic immunity to all forms of streptococcus.”
“ At the moment, I don’t care about your precious whiz kids!” Nervous trepidation gave way to anger as Singer vented his previously hidden qualms. He rose from his seat on the edge of the fountain and began to pace upon the courtyard’s red cement tiles. “Hell, I’m smarter than average, ninety-ninth percentile and all that, and even I’m freaked out by these pint-sized mega-geniuses we’re [49] manufacturing, especially that precocious little four-year-old of yours, the first creepy chip off your block.” His gaze drifted automatically toward the director’s swollen belly, as if envisioning an even more unnerving prodigy to come. “But what about the rest of us? What about the billions of ordinary people out there? Do you know what this superbug could do to them?”
“Of course I do, Joel.” She waited patiently for him to put the pieces together, mildly surprised that it was taking this long. Was he, perhaps, not really as bright as advertised, or was he just in denial? She suspected the latter.
But no amount of willful self-delusion could shield him from the ugly truth forever. She could literally watch the realization sink into his consciousness as the blood slowly drained from his face. It made an interesting case study in somatic responses to psychological stress.
“Oh my god, that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Pruning the herd to make room for your Master Race? In with the new, out with the old.” His entire body was shaking now, rocked by tremors of shock and remorse. “Nobody told me about this part! I thought we were working to help humanity ... !”
“That depends on how you define ‘humanity,’ ” she said, carefully probing his responses. In truth, she was more interested in analyzing the turncoat scientist than converting him. “The future of the species is here at Chrysalis.”
“No, it’s inhuman! I see that now. There’s nothing human about this entire insane project.” His tone swung between outrage and pleading. “We’re talking about a flesh-eating bacterium here. Millions of innocent people wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Ah, I see, Kaur observed, understanding at last. A misguided reverence for individual human lives, married to excessive identification with a soon-to-be-obsolete mode of humanity. We’ll have to watch out for that in the future, especially with American candidates. If nothing else, his volatile, highly emotional reactions made it clear that certain aspects of the project’s long-term agenda should remain known only to the upper echelons of Chrysalis’s leadership. Why burden the likes of Singer, or even Walter Takagi, with foreknowledge of the dreadful sacrifices to come?
[50] Unfortunately, she judged, there was little that could be done to salvage Singer himself at this point; his counterproductive prejudices were doubtless deeply rooted. “Thank you for speaking so freely,” she told him sincerely. “You’ve provided me with everything I need to know.”
The finality in her tone reached him even through his mutinous outburst. “So, what now?” he confronted her. “Are you putting me on the first plane back to the States?”
Kaur shook her head. “I’m sorry, Joel. I wish I could.” She removed a small brass bell from her pocket and rang it once. In response, two massive Sikh security guards appeared at either end of the garden, blocking both exits. Stern, unforgiving faces regarded him from beneath both turbans and bristling black beards. Their uniforms were blue, the color of the unstoppable monsoon. Automatic pistols in hand, they converged on Singer, who began to shake uncontrollably as his mind grasped the rapidly shrinking shape of his future.
“Wha—? No!” he exclaimed, his eyes
“ At the moment, I don’t care about your precious whiz kids!” Nervous trepidation gave way to anger as Singer vented his previously hidden qualms. He rose from his seat on the edge of the fountain and began to pace upon the courtyard’s red cement tiles. “Hell, I’m smarter than average, ninety-ninth percentile and all that, and even I’m freaked out by these pint-sized mega-geniuses we’re [49] manufacturing, especially that precocious little four-year-old of yours, the first creepy chip off your block.” His gaze drifted automatically toward the director’s swollen belly, as if envisioning an even more unnerving prodigy to come. “But what about the rest of us? What about the billions of ordinary people out there? Do you know what this superbug could do to them?”
“Of course I do, Joel.” She waited patiently for him to put the pieces together, mildly surprised that it was taking this long. Was he, perhaps, not really as bright as advertised, or was he just in denial? She suspected the latter.
But no amount of willful self-delusion could shield him from the ugly truth forever. She could literally watch the realization sink into his consciousness as the blood slowly drained from his face. It made an interesting case study in somatic responses to psychological stress.
“Oh my god, that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Pruning the herd to make room for your Master Race? In with the new, out with the old.” His entire body was shaking now, rocked by tremors of shock and remorse. “Nobody told me about this part! I thought we were working to help humanity ... !”
“That depends on how you define ‘humanity,’ ” she said, carefully probing his responses. In truth, she was more interested in analyzing the turncoat scientist than converting him. “The future of the species is here at Chrysalis.”
“No, it’s inhuman! I see that now. There’s nothing human about this entire insane project.” His tone swung between outrage and pleading. “We’re talking about a flesh-eating bacterium here. Millions of innocent people wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Ah, I see, Kaur observed, understanding at last. A misguided reverence for individual human lives, married to excessive identification with a soon-to-be-obsolete mode of humanity. We’ll have to watch out for that in the future, especially with American candidates. If nothing else, his volatile, highly emotional reactions made it clear that certain aspects of the project’s long-term agenda should remain known only to the upper echelons of Chrysalis’s leadership. Why burden the likes of Singer, or even Walter Takagi, with foreknowledge of the dreadful sacrifices to come?
[50] Unfortunately, she judged, there was little that could be done to salvage Singer himself at this point; his counterproductive prejudices were doubtless deeply rooted. “Thank you for speaking so freely,” she told him sincerely. “You’ve provided me with everything I need to know.”
The finality in her tone reached him even through his mutinous outburst. “So, what now?” he confronted her. “Are you putting me on the first plane back to the States?”
Kaur shook her head. “I’m sorry, Joel. I wish I could.” She removed a small brass bell from her pocket and rang it once. In response, two massive Sikh security guards appeared at either end of the garden, blocking both exits. Stern, unforgiving faces regarded him from beneath both turbans and bristling black beards. Their uniforms were blue, the color of the unstoppable monsoon. Automatic pistols in hand, they converged on Singer, who began to shake uncontrollably as his mind grasped the rapidly shrinking shape of his future.
“Wha—? No!” he exclaimed, his eyes
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