Chapter 3Professor Bernhard Vitol started at the sound of a knock, bewildered that people had the temerity to bring their corpses to his door. “Can't you jerking trake me?” he muttered to no one in particular. He popped out his jack, rose from his desk, and stepped in that direction, muttering imprecations.
He'd divorced five years ago, after the Coalition had imposed mandatory ovum and sperm donations. His Ifem wife had divorced him after a pretty Ofem half her age had done a collection.
“I gave yesterday, blast your a*s!” he said, swinging the door open.
The slight, sour-faced man staring at him wasn't whom he'd thought it would be. “Maris Peterson, Investigations, Special Branch.” The man flashed a badge.
“I been regular with my donations, I swear! Take me to booking if you have to,
