78

Lila Easterlin

October 25, 2047. Washington, D.C.

Lila’s hands were shaking as she called up the defenders’ specifications—the genetic recipe Dominique Wiewall had developed to create the defenders. To introduce an entire neurotransmitter system into the existing framework, which had been meticulously designed to create an intelligent organism that functioned without that neurotransmitter, was a staggering proposition. Even with a trained staff assisting her, it would have been a challenge. But alone? It was going to take a long time. How long, she couldn’t guess, because she wasn’t sure how she was going to do it. It would be far easier if she could redesign the defenders from scratch, if she weren’t also trying to hide the fact that she was doing this. Then she could simply back up and start over with the specifications for a human brain, and design something close to a defender. But these defenders had to look exactly like the existing ones, and to act like them.

As she typed a few tentative variations, she watched the genetic code transform before her eyes. Without the Mizrahi protocol, which translated genetically expressible characteristics into genetic code, it would take years to design these changes. It was amazing, really, that she hadn’t had to think in terms of adenine, cytosine, guanine, and thymine since graduate school. All of that was automated.

Lila jumped as a voice blared in her head.

Minka is coming to see you about an employee. She’ll be at your door in less than two minutes.

Lila masked the program she was working on, called up a productivity report. She had no idea the Luyten was eavesdropping, but it made sense—they had as much riding on this as she.

After Minka left, Lila waited, in case she thought of something else and returned.

All clear, the Luyten said before she could resume work on her own.

When darkness came Lila texted both Kai and Erik to tell them she wouldn’t be home until late. She went on working, knocking back coffee, driven by anxiety, blocked not only by a dawning understanding of how difficult, if not impossible, this was, but by doubts about whether she should be doing it at all.

At 3 a.m. she packed up and went home. If she stayed all night it might raise suspicion. On top of that, she wasn’t making progress. Not real progress, anyway. So far she was only learning what wouldn’t work. As she turned off the lights, it occurred to her that if the Luyten were telling the truth about the defenders’ plans, then in a very real sense every day she failed to create the blueprint for the altered defenders, millions of lives could be lost. Not that she needed to feel any more pressure.

Halfway home, the Luyten’s voice blared in Lila’s head again.

Please turn around and go back to your office. Make a portable copy of the defenders’ blueprint. Take it to Oliver’s apartment.

“Are you fucking kidding me? If I’m caught carrying a copy of—” She shut her mouth, thought the rest. Of the blueprint, I’ll be killed on the spot, and if I’m followed to Oliver’s apartment, he’ll be killed.

I’m passing on this request from Oliver. You’ll understand when you get to his apartment.

“Why can’t you just tell me now?”

I could, but it would ruin the surprise.

Lila slowed, pulled into an empty Wendy’s parking lot, and turned around. The surprise? Lila couldn’t help but laugh. How long had it been since she’d had a surprise that wasn’t a shitty one?

Surprise. Your own people are dropping bombs on your head. Surprise. While you were a POW, your husband was shot a half dozen times.

This is a good surprise.

“Stop eavesdropping.”

I literally can’t.

“Then have the courtesy to pretend you’re not eavesdropping.”

That seemed to shut the thing up.

As she knocked on Oliver’s door, Lila tried to imagine what could possibly be on the other side that would surprise her. What she really wanted was to hear that she didn’t have to do this, that they’d come up with another plan to avert the coming genocide, but that seemed too much to hope for.

The door swung open; instead of Oliver, Lila found herself face-to-face with a ghost.

“Oh my God,” Lila whispered. “I can’t believe it.”

Dominique grinned. “I can’t believe it, either.”

Lila launched herself, wrapping both her arms and legs around Dominique, who dropped to the floor under her weight, laughing.

“You’re going to help me?” Lila asked, speaking into Dominique’s shoulder. She noticed Oliver, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the two of them and grinning. Another man Lila didn’t recognize stood behind him, watching over Oliver’s shoulder.

“Let’s get to it,” Dominique said.

“I’ll make some coffee,” Oliver said.

Lila leaned back so she could look into Dominique’s eyes. “Tell me we’re doing the right thing.”

Dominique shook her head. “I used to think I knew when I was doing the right thing, but no more. At least we’re doing something. I’m not much in love with the status quo.”

Lila wished she could be so laissez-faire about it. The tightness in Dominique’s brow suggested she might be putting on a brave front, to take some of the pressure off Lila. That would be just like her.