Lake

 

 

“Where are the octopuses?”

Sophie keeps warning me not to think of them as pets, but it’s not easy when Lucille, Marco, and Stumpy change color when I pet their skin. Just below their epidermis are chromatophorus cells whose center contains an elastic sac of pigment in various colors. An array of nerves and muscles control which colored sac is expanded or contracted, which changes their appearance. They also have the ability to alter their skin’s texture. When they’re calm, it feels like velvet.

Sophie answers, “The cephalopods have been taking me down the wrong path.”

Because of their ability to regrow limbs and their unique nervous system, she’d been sure they were the key to regenerating human brain tissue. At least we’ll no longer need to harvest their body parts. Now that I can’t play with them here, I’ll ask Deborah if I can have an octopus for real.

Sophie lights a cigarette. It smells wonderful. “Alzheimer’s doesn’t stem from cellular mutations like cancer,” she says. “It’s a genetic mutation. That’s where I need to focus my attention.”

“You want us to work on correcting someone’s DNA?”

“It’s too late by then. I want to prevent the disease from ever occurring.”

“But we are still working on a way to reverse Alzheimer’s damage, correct? You know about Grandma Bee, and how important it is to me that we try to help her.”

Sophie shakes her head impatiently. “Once the synapses have deteriorated, memories are lost. Even if we can heal the damaged tissue, the person will never return to who they once were.”

My mouth goes dry. Sophie has never taken this stance before. “We can still work on stopping her dementia from getting worse. I’ve been researching how art and music therapy can stimulate the senses and help trigger memories. And there are promising supplements like coenzyme Q10, coral calcium, and huperzine A.”

“I need to fix the cause, not waste time trying to patch the symptoms.”

Being able to remember loved ones is not a waste of our time.

My grandmother was so proud when I was chosen to work on Alzheimer’s. She knew the chances of finding the cure in time to save her were questionable, but she pushed me to come here anyway, even though we may never see each other again. And if one day we do, she most likely won’t remember who I am. But I’ve always held on to my hope that Sophie and I would defy the odds and figure it out in time.

I am not giving up on my grandmother, or the millions of people like her who are suffering.

“Sophie, we can do both. Fix the cause and work on reversing it so we can help those who have it now.”

She grabs a file from the cabinet and slides the drawer shut. “The past is the past. I need to focus on building a better future.”

I clench my hands to stop myself from screaming in frustration. “The future? Sophie, you think you live in the eighties.”

She lifts her head and stares at me in a way that makes me believe she’s finally figured out what’s really happening. “You say the oddest things. We’re done debating. I’ve made my decision.”

The anger I’ve been holding back explodes like trinitrotoluene. “This isn’t only your decision. It’s mine, too!”

Sophie slaps down the file on the counter. “You’re forgetting your place. I’ve been beyond patient with you, but if you continue your insubordination, it may be time for you to take your leave. Permanently.”

The memory of the all-encompassing fear when Sophie disappeared wraps around me like steel bands. I can’t face that nightmare for the rest of my life.

“I don’t want to stop working together,” I say in a voice as calm as I can manage. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. It won’t happen again. But help me understand. You said we were making progress. What’s changed since yesterday?”

“Yesterday? We haven’t seen each other for a week.”

My stomach sinks.

“I don’t know why you wanted to spend your spring break in that dreadful Panama City when you could have come to the Côte d’Azur with me. I told you we had plenty of space.”

My memory has always been perfect in my dreams, so I know I’m not the confused one here. “You were in France with someone else?”

“My cousin, Francesca. It’s her apartment.”

She has to be remembering a trip from her first life.

“I love the timelessness of that part of the world,” Sophie adds, surprising me with her chattiness. “The art museums there are fabulous. I always end up seeing something that helps me look at a problem from a different perspective, like what happened on this trip.”

I pull up a stool and sit across from her. “Is that when you decided to change the direction of our research?” Once I help her understand it didn’t really happen, we can return to working on a way to reverse Alzheimer’s.

She examines her cigarette as if it contains the answer to the meaning of life.

It smells delicious. “Can I have one?”

“This is my last. Sorry.” She takes a deep drag, then lets it out.

I breathe in the secondhand smoke, yearning for more.

“I predict this story will become legend,” Sophie says, gazing at the ceiling as if seeing it play out in a movie. “I was in a hall lined with portraits of the royal families that spanned centuries. Every few paintings, a dwarf child would appear among their other normal-sized children. That’s how I came up with my breakthrough.”

What doesn’t compute is if she’d had this breakthrough before we merged, she wouldn’t have had us spending all that time on octopus enzymes. But how could her trip to France have happened the way she believes?

I realize she’s staring at me expectantly. “You want us to work on dwarfism?”

“Don’t be obtuse. My point is, people will continue to procreate even when they know there’s a genetically based disease in their family history. I want to make it impossible for them to pass on their defects to future generations.”

“I don’t understand where you’re going with this.” At least, I seriously hope I don’t.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to make sure everyone with disease markers is sterilized.”

Sophie looks like she’s in rapture, whereas every hair on my body is standing on end.

“No one will agree to that,” I counter.

“That’s why they won’t be told. Humans can’t be trusted to keep their defects out of the gene pool.”

“Sophie, it’s impossible to secretly sterilize billions of people.”

“We’ve been vaccinating people against diseases since 1796.” She looks at me knowingly, making my skin crawl.

She’s given this a lot of thought. When did this happen? It wasn’t in our dreamspace, or I wouldn’t be blindsided. “I can’t condone something like this.”

“I thought I made myself clear. You will either do what I require, or you will leave this internship. I hope you understand how monumental this is. My work will end diseases caused when irresponsible parents gamble with humanity’s future. Don’t make the mistake of walking away from a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to watch me change the world.”

Fear grips me so hard, I can barely catch my breath. Sophie is psychotic and living in my brain!

“Don’t you see?” she says, as if the problem is me being dense. “Not only will people no longer suffer from preventable diseases, it will also rein in our population explosion. In the past, a new plague would appear and wipe out a good portion of those living in densely populated areas. The strongest survived, creating more viable future generations. There was also the added bonus of providing a reprieve to our natural resources. But because of advances in science, we’ve curtailed this natural cleansing process.”

When positioned like that, it almost doesn’t seem maniacal—unless one has a conscience. “Sophie, having children is part of the human experience.”

“Those people will now have the time and money to pursue other meaningful endeavors. Look at me. I chose not to have children, and I’ve never regretted it.”

“But it was your decision. Taking away someone’s choice is immoral.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic. I’m not proposing we end the life of the gene carriers. They’ll go on with their selfish lives until their diseased bodies fail. But I’ll remove their ability to make future generations suffer. And, once they die, their genetic defect will become extinct.”

What she doesn’t realize is she won’t be forever known as the Josef Mengele of my generation. That honor will fall to me—the only one of us who will face the repercussions.

In this form of life, Sophie’s and Angus Doyle’s behavior is unchecked. When there is no societal judgement or enforceable laws or the fear of hell, is this what happens to someone? Or, would a lack of consequences only corrupt the type of person who is willing to do anything to live a second time?

Did the Darwinians not consider something like this could occur?

“It’s a lot to take in,” I say.

“I’m confident once you’ve had time to think about it, you’ll realize it’s the most effective way to end Alzheimer’s, and all of the other diseases lurking in our genes.”

This is far bigger than my trying to protect our unusual relationship. It’s time to tell the Darwinians the truth about Sophie. They need to know that Angus Doyle isn’t the only Mentor who has become a super id.

“Do you mind if I leave early today?” I ask.

“Go on. I’m going to stay here and keep working.”

Again, how will she do that without me?

 

 

I glance at the clock, then notice the moonlight shining through my window. It’s not eleven in the morning. It’s eleven o’clock at night. The longest dream session yet. No wonder I’m starving.

I reach for my journal. What were we working on tonight/today? Deborah tries not to act disappointed when I don’t have much to report, but clinical research is a slow and methodical process, and it’s the exception when something momentous occurs. I remember Sophie and I discussing our cephalopods. I’ve become a big fan of octopuses. Not only are they affectionate, they contain DNA that no other creature on this planet possesses. Sophie considers them an evolutionary anomaly. But there are a surprising number of scientists who believe the Cambrian Explosion from half a billion years ago—when most of the planet’s species came into existence—originated with viruses from outer space.

But what about the octopuses? Of course! I want to ask Deborah if I can have one as a pet. It’s not technically allowed, but they don’t make noise or a mess on the carpet. Was there anything else? Nothing comes to me. I pull out the drawer in my nightstand and shuffle through the contents. What did I do with my cigarettes?