“The implantation process was simple. I’m just not sure it’s going to take. She’s heavily sedated.”
Lewis nodded to acknowledge his colleague’s concerns, then entered the adjoining room. The two-way mirror that now separated the two doctors served only to represent the dissolving border between theoretical science, and the monstrosity of creation.
“What’s Lewis doing in there?”
Sierra looked up at Charlie, who seemed to materialize from thin air. Since he had launched the Genesis project he had lost several pounds, become irritable and, at times, unresponsive. He was approaching his 50th year now, and the result of his stress was sunken cheeks and drooping eyes, which only served to age him quicker. Together, he and Sierra watched Lewis curiously lean over their test subject. She seemed not to notice he was there, even when he stroked her hair, and then her stomach. It was only starting to protrude. Sweat rolled down her forehead, and shoulders. Her chest heaved, and her limbs twitched. The doctors had resorted to sedation when they caught her trying to escape. Now, she was only a shell of a person – no will; no desire.
“He’s pleading with her, I suppose,” Sierra whispered.
Charlie grunted his approval. All three of them knew this was their last shot. No other test subject had ever carried to term, but Marcy had come the furthest. This fourth try might very well be all her body would take. The anticipation filled the lab like a thick fog of impending doom.
“Fourteen more weeks to go,” Charlie sighed. With that, he disappeared into the back room.
“How are you feeling today, Marcy?”
Marcy heard the voice, but it seemed so distant she feared her reply would not reach it. She mumbled incoherently and tried to raise her arms. She could not.
“We had to tie you down, I’m afraid. You got a little out of control, but you’re going to be fine.”
The voice was calm, and although she identified it as male, there was something inherently feminine about it. Marcy pulled her head up as high as she could, hoping to catch a glimpse of her surroundings. All she saw was her own belly, high and mountainous. Her cries were muffled by her own lack of energy, but Lewis could see the fear in her eyes.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he speciously reassured her. “You’re going to have a daughter, Marcy. I really believe so. If you can just hold on a little longer.” He smiled, nodding frantically – his nerves having finally got the best of him. His eyes were beginning to flood. “She’ll be our little Genesis.”
Lewis stroked Marcy’s head paternally as she struggled to remove herself from his touch. The air smelled repugnant to her, and she associated it with the mysterious man who had strapped her down and put a person inside of her without her permission. Quickly, Marcy surveyed her memories to assess her whereabouts, and the date. Most of it came back in flashes:
There had been a raid in her sector.
All the women wearing numbers were identified as fertile and taken away.
She had kicked and screamed.
She saw men in riot gear beat her father when he tried to pull them off of her.
She had been so hot, secluded in a bare, metal, space.
There had been blood tests; they had taken blood. But they had also injected something… what was it?
Women losing consciousness while having monsters ripped from their bodies.
Herself in pain. So much pain she could not think, swallow, or fight.
There had been so many needles.
The doctors all had fire in their eyes.
As the flashes converged, Marcy tried to process what had happened to her body. Her thoughts still lacked linearity, and the more she forced it, the weaker she became. Eventually, Lewis’ sobbing faded to black with the rest of it.
“They’ve discontinued the research on cloning in Sector 8,” Sierra offered as small talk as she and Lewis prepped for surgery.
“I know,” he replied solemnly.
“It’s a good thing. It means there’s more funding for us. More faith.”
“Faith? We’re creating monsters, here.”
Sierra’s glare manifested a gravitational pull that kept Lewis’ eyes glued to hers. “We’re creating people. A population,” she exacted. “There are no monsters in science.”
Lewis frowned, not knowing what he believed anymore. It had been eleven years since he had agreed to Genesis, motivated by a sense of supremacy. It had been naïve to think three scientists could save the world. The world had been relinquished long ago. Still, he couldn’t let go of the feeling that something big was going to happen; that Marcy was the key. It would be foolish to give up just yet.
Screeching; whimpering; gurgling.
The sounds were nearly incomprehensible.
They were certainly undecipherable.
Marcy coerced her eyes open, unsure that she even wanted to see anything. The room was in utter commotion. Everyone seemed to be in hysterics. Finally, Marcy saw what all the fuss was about: a baby lie sprawled on a metal table beside her own. It was swaddled only in wires and tubes; liquids pumped in and out of her tiny body. It was a grotesque and morbid picture. And yet, all Marcy could think was that she had somehow done it.
An easy wave of calm fell over her. Yes, she had done it. Tomorrow, she might awaken to a whole new world. That is, if she were to awaken at all.
Shyla Fairfax-Owen ©