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Yet why does nature still give priority to replacing worthless hair and not to
vital organs? Or limbs?"
It was the way she said it. The stress she put on the last word, accompanied
by another flex of that child's hand.
The truth hit Dr. Emil Kowalski like a hard fist to the stomach.
"That isn't a graft," he whispered, awed. Winking, she offered another
contented purr. The coat came back on, covering the limb that Dr. Kowalski
knew should not be, but was.
This was big. Research was heading in this direction, but results were still
decades away. He needed to hear more.
Later, in a dark corner of the hotel bar, he heard her theories on transgenic
organisms. Science was becoming involved more in the creation of new species.
It was easier to mix genetic material and start from scratch. She explained
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that inherited genetic traits from one organism could be spliced into an
existing organism without rejection by the host.
By this point it was very late. The bar had cleared out. She had ordered a
martini at one point during the evening, but had taken not a single sip.
From the start she insisted that Emil drink only springwater. She told him she
wouldn't waste time sharing thoughts with him if he wasn't stone sober. Dr.
Kowalski agreed. He wasn't about to refuse an order from the most beautiful,
brilliant companion he had ever gone out with.
They were whispering. Dr. Kowalski felt like a spy. It was all so exciting, so
dangerous.
"There was research going on in this field before," he said. "You must have
heard about it. In Boston? But it didn't work out. Both times there were
deaths. After the last time, Congress passed a law against human testing."
"Human laws don't apply to us," she said.
Dr. Kowalski wasn't sure exactly what she meant by that. And at that moment he
didn't really care. He put down his glass of water.
He was dizzy. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. By the time he realized
she had slipped something in his drink, it no longer mattered.
He soon learned that his companion was the notorious Dr. Judith White, the
infamous madwoman of BostonBio. She had used her own formulas to alter her
features slightly just enough so that none at the conference recognized her.
And that wasn't all.
The change came over Emil Kowalski rapidly. In the first terrible moments, the
last vestiges of his humanity conjured images of bloody, half-eaten corpses
like he'd heard about on the news. But when it was done, he had no desire to
eat human flesh.
"I feel different," he said, puzzled. "Am I like you?" His voice was slower
now than before. A low, contented moan rose from deep in his throat.
She shook her head. "I need someone with your brains, Emil, but with no
ambition and total loyalty," Judith White explained. "If I'd made you like me,
you'd be like all my young. Thinking with your belly. I couldn't have bodies
piling up around your lab. That would draw the authorities. I've made you a
totally new hybrid. I drew on a few different species. You're now as indolent
as a cow. No Nobel ambitions from you. I'll tell you what to do and you'll do
it. The rest of the time you'll do pretty much nothing. And you're as loyal as
a dog. You won't dream of turning on me. Feel proud, Emil. You're a totally
new creature, unlike any other on the planet."
Emil liked the idea of that. Almost as much as he liked the woman who sat
across from him in the bar. He would die before he betrayed her. Knew it on an
instinctive level. He wondered what his new wonderful friend wanted from him.
"I need a lab," Judith White said. "A good, permanent one. I can't keep moving
from place to place, plundering equipment here and there, afraid of being
caught. I need a base of operations, sweetcakes, and Genetic Futures is it."
And so began Emil Kowalski's relationship with Dr. Judith White.
Emil was satisfied just to do what he was told to do. For the past two years
he did his work, and when he wasn't doing his work he spent his time either
caring for his lawn or-better yet-staring blankly into space.
Dr. Emil Kowalski was staring at the wall of his San Diego office when there
came a sudden knock at his door.
Emil wiped some lawn drool from his chin. "Come in," he called.
A young Genetic Futures scientist stuck his head in the room. The man seemed
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