Algeny

TWO

Dr. Kovane was running through the winter’s morning on his way to work.  Two years before the Chlorination began, laws were passed that said non-altered citizens could no longer be licensed to drive.

Walter thought about this every time he came to work.  As he ran down the street, lined from beginning to end with identical boarding houses, he remembered as though it were occurring at that moment.

Ian Kovane graduates and becomes a research scientist at age nineteen.  The year is 2009, and the word prodigy is used.  For the next eleven months Kovane studies eugenics at GenEng Research Facilities—they are dabbling in the field in hopes of curing diseases and disorders which pass genetically.

In the year 2010, Dr. Kovane discovers the breakthrough that allows doctors all over the world to perform hundreds of thousands of life saving surgeries.  Ian is also made the primary surgeon for such operations.

As he passes the end of the third block, when he reaches this point in his memory hallway, Ian smiles.  This was the point in his life where life looked good.  He had met the woman he would marry, he was making money, and he was in a line of work which was as challenging as it was rewarding.

Dr. Kovane continued along running, remembering, when he saw something which derailed his train of thought entirely.  

He saw a violet scarf lying on the porch of one of the boarding houses and stopped running.  His curiosity insurmountable, he walked over to it and picked it up.  

It smelled sweet, and it reminded him of his youth and the way girls from school used to smell.  He pressed it to his face and breathed deeply—curiously.

Genetically-altered citizens—GACs—didn’t wear identifying clothing, because they had no need for it.  GACs didn’t use colognes or perfumes, because they had no need for it.  After the chlorination and the death of all the non-altered citizens—NACs—companies quit designing unique clothing and quit making things like perfumes and make-up.

Ian stood, completely baffled.  Could there be other NACs still alive?  Or had something changed?  He shoved the scarf into his shirt and continued on his way to work.


At exactly 7:05, Kovane walked into GenEng Research Facilities.  He was five minutes late, and he was completely terrified that that might get him fired.

He made his way to his office, everyone else staring at him.  He was the only NAC working for GenEng, and at fifty-one, he was also the oldest one.

Before he could make it there, he was called into his boss’s office.
As he was walked in he was greeted.

“Hello, Dr. Kovane,” his boss greeted, gesturing him farther through the door.

“GA-213,” Ian replied.  “Did you need something, sir?”

He laughed, “You know what I love about you, Kovane?  You remember every single surgery that you perform.”  He mused momentarily.  “No matter how good any of our GACs get at these, they never do that.”

Ian knew this was, because the other surgeons had no need to remember their patients for any time beyond their surgeries.  Ian knew they said it was excess and, therefore, inefficient.  Ian did not say any of this.  He only nodded.

“Dr. Kovane, how long have you been working here?” GA-213 asked.

“I’ve been working at GenEng since 2009,” Ian replied

“My, my… 32 years.  That’s certainly a long time.”

It still baffled Ian that everyone could do mathematics so instantaneously.

“In 32 years,” 213 continued, “you’ve never been tardy once.  You’ve never botched a surgery.  No patient has ever complained about your work.  Your quite impressive, Dr. Kovane.”

“Thank you, sir.”

213 smiled.  “It’s a well-deserved compliment, doctor.” He walked over to Ian, and put his hand on his shoulder.

He mused at how young and smooth 213’s skin was.  Ian reflected time and time again that he was the oldest living man, and his wife the oldest living woman.

“Doctor, do you know why I called you here?”

“No, sir.”

“I called you here, because we believe it may be your time to part ways with GenEng.”

Ian swallowed his fear, his anger, and his tears.  “Why is that, sir?”

“Well, it seems that, as wonderful an employee as you’ve been, that your falling behind your colleagues.”  213 paused to give Ian a courtesy smile.  “Dr. Kovane, you are the oldest employee working for GenEng.  You’re 51 years-old.  Fit and intelligent as you are, you are still nowhere near as efficient as anyone you work with.”

A tear escaped from Ian’s eye.

“But what will happen to me?” Ian asked, trying desperately to keep an even tone.

“The same thing that happened to all the other NACs, I’m afraid.”

“And my family?”

“The same.”

The doctors eyes welled up, and he let go.

“How can you do this?  After everything I’ve done for this company, how can you do this?” Ian pleaded furiously.

“Doctor, please, don’t make this hard…”

“No, you don’t make it hard, Steven!  Don’t you tell me how to feel when I’ve been told I’m being fired from the very company I helped build!  I pioneered the surgery, and god damn it, I am the reason you exist!”

“And I assure you, GenEng, Vadium, and the world appreciate all that you’ve done to make this the perfect world.”

“And this is how you show appreciation?  By killing off the doctors which your life possible?  Dr. Keller, Dr. Polk, me!  We are the reason you are alive!  How can you do this to us?  To our families?”

Dr. Kovane hid none of his fear.  All of his cards were on the table now.

“There is still hope for your daughter.  She’s not yet twelve, and so we can still operate.”

Dr. Kovane let the statement hit him like a stone.

“Go home, doctor, talk to your wife.  Law says you still have five days to get all your affairs in order.”

Trying to regain composure, Ian replied, “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

“And, doctor?  Don’t make the same mistake Walter Polk made.  His daughter’s death was an unnecessary tragedy.”


Dr. Kovane walked home.  There was no need to run now, no need to stay fit.  No need to do anything at all.  He and his family were alone now, and soon they, too, would be dead.

His memories switched gears from positive to dramatically negative.  They flashed in his mind like a perpetual nightmare.

It starts with GenEng, Research Facilities’ financial downturn.  Surgeries are expensive, but the federal government provides funds to pay patients’ fees.  Soon enough, the project becomes too large and unwieldy to support itself.

The company turns to billionaire trustees in search of eugenics designed for more aesthetic purposes.  The doctors suddenly go from curing disease to changing eye color, hair color, IQ scores.

The first children are unbelievably intelligent, strong, and beautiful.  At first there are dozens, but within months there are thousands.

By the time the first set turns twenty-five, their intellect and desire for efficiency makes the new GACs an easy choice for political office, and soon they hold majority in Congress.

Soon, NACs rights are taken away, each with the explanation that it will make their lives safer.

Eventually, the GACs agree that the NACs destructive and unorganized system of living is damaging to society and to the earth, and they deploy a final solution.

And in 2036, the mass killing of GACs by the government begins.  The last remaining NAC-published newspaper calls the event the Chlorination of the gene pool.

After that, the only NACs who remained alive were in some way still useful to society.

Dr. Kovane arrived at his home, completely blank, completely absent of thought and emotion.  He walked through his door, nearly ignoring his wife’s greeting and subsequent questioning.

“Jesus, Ian, are you all right?  You look so pale,” she said.

“No, no, I’m fine,” he replied, taking a seat at the kitchen table and rubbing his temples with his fingers.

“Bullshit, Ian.  Why are you home so early?  What happened?” his wife asked heatedly.

“Izzy, calm down, Abigail’s bound to be listening.”

Isabella turned around to see that their daughter hadn’t noticed and was happily playing in her bedroom.

“Why isn’t she at school?” Ian asked.

“Because I heard you crying last night, and I assumed the worst had happened.  I… didn’t want her to find out through school that… you were fired.”

“I wasn’t crying, because I was fired.”

“But you were fired…”

“Yes, Izzy, I was!  Do we need to talk about this right now?  Do we really need to discuss the fact that we’re going to d—” Ian was interrupted by his daughter who was suddenly standing by his side.  “Sweetie, what is it?”

“Why were you shouting, daddy?” Abigail asked.

“I wasn’t, kiddo.  Mommy and I were just talking, okay?” he answered, tousling her hair.  “Go back and play, all right?”

Abigail smiled and ran off to her room.

“How long are you going to keep lying to her, Ian?”

“Look, please, just give me a break, all right?  I’m just not ready.”

“I don’t think she can wait for you to be ready much longer, Ian.  She’s got to know soon, and we both know that.”

“I know, hon, I do.”  He looked up at her with wet eyes.  “Just… not today… I’m just not…”

“Look, calm down,” she said.

She put a hand on his lap and looked him in the eyes, pressing her forehead to his own.

He closed his eyes briefly and opened them again, staring right into hers.

And then it all came pouring out.

He was a mess of tears as he sat shaking in their kitchen.  Isabella held him in her arms, trying to console his fear.

Through his sobs, he spoke.  “Sometimes, I wonder if it would be best to have Abby altered.  I mean, with what happened to Walter’s daughter… I couldn’t bear the thought of—”

Isabella interrupted him.  “Ian, I know you’re scared, but you can’t think that way,” she said, giving him a stern look.  “Go in there and look at her, and tell me you’d consider changing her.”

“But what are we going to do, Izzy?” he said, forgetting to muffle his cry.

“I don’t know, Ian, but we’ll figure it out.  One way or another, we’ll figure it out.”