The Darwinians

 

 

“We may have another problem,” the raven-haired man states.

The man with the beard sighs. “What is it now?”

“The Nobel for Chemistry is exhibiting strange behavior.”

“Define strange.”

“Deborah and Cecil have observed signs of memory loss,” the raven-haired man says. “I told you I thought something like this might happen.”

“That’s what my father would call closing the barn door after the horse got out,” the woman says.

“Might I warn you both against making unfounded speculations,” the bearded man says.

The woman pointedly looks at him. “You didn’t know about her pre-existing condition, did you?”

“That’s preposterous!”

“I believe you, sir,” the raven-haired man says. “However, it may be wise to shorten our test phase for Procedure Omega-Sixteen.”

“Are you implying what I think you are?”

“I’m merely ensuring our team is adequately prepared, should the need arise.”

“And what happens to our colleagues then?” the bearded man asks.

“Exactly,” the woman says. “Besides, I can’t sign off on potentially inflicting the same outcome on another child. When I think about what happened to those other children—”

“They signed the Agreement,” the raven-haired man cuts in.

The woman’s breathing is wet and labored. “This isn’t about hiding behind our legal rights. We need to protect them. It’s our moral obligation.”

“If you believe that, I don’t know how you can justify what you plan to do.”

“That is entirely different.”