Chapter I

Marlena lowered her head and instinctively massaged her right temple. Despite all the advancements of genetic engineering over the past few decades, they still had not managed to eradicate the good old migraine headache. In fact, the causes still remained a mystery.

The charts and tables on the holographic screen in her office glared at her intensely. She scrolled back to the business performance summary slide. She focused again on the numbers while ignoring the title that gloriously declared that one was looking at the Group Financial Highlights - Half Year 2145. Thirty-one years had passed since she had founded G N Morphic but she still could not help herself thinking of it as a startup. It was her brain child. She had poured her heart and soul into it, and had spent most of her best years trying to make it what it was today. The company's presence across Unified Europa, Eurasia, the Americas and Furthermost Asia was well established; its innovation levels unsurpassed.

She scrolled down the charts. Turnover was great. Ever-growing across all geographies, with some stagnation in Furthermost Asia. She was a little concerned about the impact of returns on the bottom line. Despite the steady profitability, the numbers could be improved by fewer complaints and product rejections. Their scientists and engineers were the crème de la crème of bioengineering and their clients paid top dollar; however, product standardisation and increase in competition were beginning to weigh on the bottom line.

"Dial Sebastien," she said. A holoscreen materialised.

"Good evening, Marlena," greeted Sebastien, his handsome, pedigreed face appearing on the holoscreen.

"Sebastien! Early evening I presume for you today? What part of the world are you in?"

"Not far away, actually. Had to stop by Head Office today. Is there anything pressing?"

"Have you managed to review the latest financials?"

"Yes, I had a look earlier today. The top line is as expected."

'Quite right, but profitability seems to be stagnating and the main driver seems to be the high product returns figure. Could you please speak with Lionel first thing tomorrow? I want his take on the high rejection rates.'

"Will do. Please call it a night, Mother. You should be reducing your hours at your age. It is not healthy."

"Nothing that genetic engineering can't fix," said Marlena playfully. "Speak tomorrow!" She swiped the holoscreen away.

She pressed her right temple again and tried to stifle the deafening silence. Her gaze took in the state-of-the-art office surroundings. Marlena felt comfortable at work: she enjoyed staying late, well after hours, when everyone else was long gone. The stillness of the environment allowed her to think.

G N Morphic was pretty much her life and she liked it this way. She had never warmed up to the idea of family life, nor saw the point of getting overly obsessed with people simply because you happened to share common genes with them. Most humans were annoying - downright exhausting if you allowed them to get too close to you. Marlena had her boundaries and did not hesitate to enforce them every time she sensed it was necessary.

Sebastien came into this world just over three decades ago and she was still appreciative of him. He was handsome and intelligent, although he never developed the artistic abilities that he was genetically predisposed to, as per her order specification form. He fit the bill of what she wanted. Back in those days, embryos were still mostly carried by humans: she still recalled the unnecessary discomfort she went through over those nine months. The swelling, the queasiness and the back pain were particulars she never wanted to go through again. Luckily, Sebastien was to a large extent compliant with what she had asked for in her pre-order form, especially as genetic engineering was well inferior to the state it was in today. She raised him to be ambitious and responsible, and managed to instil an interest in genetic engineering in him from childhood.

Marlena slowly rose from her chair and walked towards the coat hanger. She threw one last glance at the surroundings, confirming that she had not forgotten to take care of all the pressing things that could not wait till tomorrow, then abruptly walked out and deactivated the lights.

Sebastien passed through the first entry point and waited for the mechanical door to close before the second one activated. He felt the heat from the Main Incubator even before he entered. He walked through the transparent passageway that cut across the walk-through aquarium-like inner structure of the facility, observing the perfectly aligned, pear-shaped individual capsules, all connected via separate tubes to the Main Nutritious Stem, or the MNS as it was widely known across the industry.

The separate incubators, immaculately arranged into Russian doll-like sub-layers were further aligned to form together an enormous egg-shaped, three-dimensional molecular formation with the MNS as its axis. Sebastien could see the pulsating hearts of the embryos that were additionally organised by size and genetic requirements.

Lionel's office was directly opposite the cylinder walkway's entrance, right in the centre of the research lab that partially fringed the walls of the incubator bunker. A side door, encapsulated by modifiable glass walls and accessible via a secure entry, led directly from Lionel's office into the fish-ball research lab. Today all walls had been left fully transparent. Lionel smiled at Sebastien as he made his way through the cylinder.

"To what do I owe the ivory tower visitation?" said Lionel playfully but with a note of concern.

"I couldn't sleep and needed some fresh air," retorted Sebastien.

"Hardly the place, if distraction had been your goal,' smiled Lionel.

"How are you, Lionel?" asked Sebastien, now in a more serious tone.

"How long do you have?"

"I spoke with Marlena late last night."

A soft smirk ran across Lionel's face but he remained silent, allowing Sebastien to complete his thoughts.

"She wants your take on the rejection rates," muttered Sebastien.

Another smirk ran across Lionel's face.

"The rejection rates. yes, I know they are higher than her target, Sebastien. But this is a product that, to a very large extent, depends on the raw material that we are working with. Human genes are not perfect: despite advancements in genetic engineering, I can only enhance an embryo as much as the specification form asks me to. If I am requested to modify it to have green eyes, curly hair and athletic abilities, as well as affinity for arts, I work on those specific phenotypes. I can try to improve some areas that the clients ask for but in theory the remainder of the embryo's characteristics are derived from its innate unmodified genetics." Lionel paused and sighed.

"Truth is, clients often reject the product on the basis of their own, personal hereditary imperfections. They are rarely willing to acknowledge that certain traits attributable to their own gens should had been modified as well. Individualism is a deeply rooted principle in our society, Se, and there is a fine line between us risking offending clients and accepting that they might eventually complain about the product after gestation."

Lionel looked at the floor then glared back at Sabastien.

"I can do a lot, Se, but I am no magician. I can only change what I have been specifically instructed to. I cannot change the genetics of the donors, unless I have been explicitly asked to. This could lead to complaints due to non-compliance with the specification request - not to mention that it is downright illegal."

Sebastien remained quiet, as if allowing Lionel to think aloud.

"There are some things we could do, such as suggestion forms, but we are treading on dangerous ground as few would be pleased to hear that certain phenotypes of their genetics need changing. This is for the clients to decide of their own accord - otherwise we risk offence and losing business at unprecedented rates. Do not forget that we are close to commoditisation phase and might end up shooting ourselves in the foot. A higher rejection rate is better than en masse client outflow. At the end of the day, I am only the scientist: I'll be guided by Corporate on such decisions. I am simply informing you of the risks. I have a breakdown of the reasons for each rejection and I am afraid to say that most are on the premise of the unmodified genetics of the hosts."

Lionel went quiet for several seconds, as if to enhance the importance of what he was thinking of saying next.

"There are only a few delicate ways to communicate this to clients, without offending and alienating them irreversibly."

Lionel looked directly at Sebastien, trying to judge what was going through his mind. Sebastian just smiled, nodded and then uttered in a low voice, "Thank you for being honest, Lionel. I will speak with Marlena but, knowing her, she might be on your case even before I have managed to get hold of her."

"I'm sure of that," smiled Lionel, laying his hand on the top of Sebastien's shoulder.

Lionel had known Se for a long...