The Galactic Chronicles

Mars Born-4

Chapter SixDR. SPARKS WAS A TEMPERATE man and rarely experienced extreme emotions, but after his long secondment investigating the Paths, he was nearing the end of his tether. The death of the administrator who had tried to cut them while they were aboard Polestar’s satellite quarantine station had intensified the company’s scrutiny of the creatures. Rather than releasing Sparks to his usual duty as medical officer aboard prospecting starships, Polestar had insisted that he accompany the Paths to their more specialized labs on Mars. Anything that could kill had potential to be a weapon, of course.

What Sparks didn’t understand was why it had to be him doing the experimenting. Other Polestar scientific officers were better qualified and more experienced in research work. Three of them had been assigned to research the Paths alongside him: Graydon, Adrieux, and Rincker. Two women and one man with little to say outside of scientific discussions.

Sparks assumed it was a security issue. They were keeping him on task to limit his ability to divulge secrets. He wished he could air his sense of grievance about his secondment, but there never seemed to be an appropriate opportunity. Maybe they had an NDA to sign. He’d gladly do it for the opportunity to escape the research facility and return to what he did best: practicing medicine. But he never felt comfortable enough under their withering stares to express his dissatisfaction nor broach the subject of moving on.

When it came to the highly lucrative and explosive nature of weapons research, he also wasn’t sure what Polestar was capable of doing in order to keep a discovery under wraps. It wasn’t like he felt under threat day to day, but he knew the company was ruthless when it came to safeguarding its profits.

Each morning Sparks felt unsure that he could endure one more day of research on the cryptic Paths. Nothing he nor his colleagues had done had yielded quantifiable, statistically significant results beyond those he’d observed and recorded on the quarantine station. The odd, periodic fading of the creatures, the weird euphoric trance of the research assistant, Rogers, and the administrator’s death remained unexplained.

All the researchers had managed to do was to induce either a temporary coma or death in animals that threatened the Paths. However, because the animals they’d used were dumb creatures incapable of vocalizing their experiences, no one was any wiser as to exactly what the Paths were doing or how they were doing it.

Sparks and his fellow scientists had recorded elevated heart rates, blood pressure, and brain activity of comatose animals, and the cessation of heart function in those that died. The simple difference between the Paths’ response lay in the degree to which they felt threatened.

After yet another morning of boring, fruitless experimentation, Sparks was eating lunch with his colleagues. All four were intent on their interfaces as usual. The lack of meaningful conversation made alternative sources of entertainment necessary.

Sparks was reading about the recent appointment of a new Martian Governor. The man in question was a natural, and he made no effort to hide it. In fact, he was known for championing naturals’ right to work and to freedom from discrimination. The politician had cited what Sparks believed to be flawed research. The studies supposedly demonstrated that natural selection was more likely to give rise to geniuses like Einstein, Hawking, and Casson, than gene modding for high intelligence. Researchers proposed that humankind’s understanding of the genetic foundation of intelligence was still incomplete, and that as yet poorly understood environmental factors could play a large role in the determination of intellectual ability.

The notion that random gene selection and upbringing could produce anything superior to sophisticated modding was preposterous to Sparks, and he unconsciously snorted in derision as he read the article.

Graydon noticed his reaction. A phlegmatic woman with a horsey face and long, lank hair, she’d always held an antipathy toward Sparks.

“Something funny?” she asked.

“Er, no, not really,” Sparks replied.

“Hmpf,” Graydon said and returned to her interface.

Ordinarily, Sparks would have left it at that. He knew his views on modded individuals versus naturals weren’t politically correct, and over the years he’d become accustomed to being circumspect about to whom he aired them. He was sure that many others shared his opinion that genetic modification produced human beings who were superior in every way to their counterparts, but that few dared speak the truth about the matter. He’d learned to keep silent unless he was fairly sure he was speaking to a like-minded individual.

Today was different. Weeks of boredom and frustration made him careless.

“It’s this new governor,” he blurted, so loudly that all three of his colleagues took notice. “I mean, what were people thinking? Why has he been voted in? I don’t understand it.”

“What don’t you understand?” asked Graydon. Her dark look should have warned Sparks to moderate his words, but he was intent on getting all his resentment and irritation off his chest.

“What I don’t understand is, why would anyone elect a natural? I mean, what does this have to offer? Compared to someone whose parents actually cared about how their child turned out?”

Graydon put down her interface and folded her arms over her chest. Her eyes were hooded. Rincker was gesturing with his hand for Sparks to cut it out, but he failed to notice.

“You think someone who was modded would do a better job as governor?” Graydon asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sparks replied. “Do I need to spell it out? Genetic modification creates better human beings. That’s what it’s for,” he added, as if explaining to a child. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

Sparks finally began to notice the woman’s severe expression, and the weight of comprehension settled over his stomach. “Of course, not that all naturals are inferior. Only...only...” He swallowed. “Only some. I mean, it stands to reason, with the genetic variation involved in natural selection, that modification is required to avoid...” His words dried and a flush crept from his neck to his face.

Rincker cleared his throat in the uncomfortable silence. Graydon carefully pushed back her chair and stood. Without a word, she left the table.

“Need I tell you?” Rincker asked Sparks.

“She’s a natural.” Sparks groaned and buried his face in his hands. After a moment he pressed his palms down on the table. “How was I to know? I mean, who could have guessed that someone in her position could have gotten where she is without modding?”

Rincker raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you think you’ve said enough?”

Sparks clenched his jaw and returned to scrutinizing his interface, though he didn’t register what was written on the screen. He was too preoccupied with his feeling of somehow being duped.

***