The Fair & Foul (Project Gene Assist Book 1) (29 page)

Her vision flashed with an incoming call notification; it was Damien. She accepted the call without hesitation.

“Hi, Juliane, I just wanted to check in to see how the construction is going.”

“You are an absolute magician. I don’t know how you were able to pull it all together so fast! I thought we would still be knee-deep in the permit process.”

“I take that to mean that you are pleased with the process.”

“More than pleased. I almost wish that my proposal had required more than two towers.”

“Well, I am glad to hear that. Any trouble with the locals?”

“A handful of people were opposed, but, for the most part, the majority of the locals are excited about what this park will do to their land values.”

“Excellent."

“One of these days, Damien, I want you to share how you are able to accomplish so much so fast. Alan is good too, but you, sir, are a master.”

“Perhaps now you will be more willing to visit my office on a regular basis. I have a few secrets I'd love to share with you.”

Juliane’s jaw began to ache from smiling so much. After so little use over the years, the expression felt unnatural.

“The board will meet in two weeks," Damien continued. "I'd like to add phase two to the agenda. Would you be ready by then?”

Juliane looked up toward the globe. The stone surface was so highly polished that Juliane thought she could just make out her own reflection in its surface.

“I can manage that.”

“Good. It will definitely be worth your time. There are a number of other projects that have been developing that I believe you will be interested in learning more about.”

“I look forward to it.” Juliane disconnected the call and leapt from the stone stairs.

An early model Porsche 918 Spyder pulled up at the park’s entrance just as Juliane reached the street. While the muscle car was aged, it had been well-maintained. The glossy exterior shone like black enamel. While the majority of vehicles on the roads were silent, this one still possessed the quiet roar of a tsunami. Even with the top down, it took a few moments for Juliane to break her attention away from the car to recognize its driver.

“Sarah? Is that you?”

Sarah smiled, although the expression never reached her eyes. “Who else would it be?”

"I'm sorry. I just would have guessed you drove something more . . . er . . . practical."

Sarah tilted her head. “You aren’t the only one who appreciates the benefits of being associated with the rich and powerful." She frowned. "But, in this case, you’d be correct. This is Camille’s car. I'm to take you to her.”

“Camille?" Her hand had risen as if it wanted to scratch her head on its own accord. She pulled it back to her side through conscious effort. "What does Camille need me for?"

Juliane had little reason to interact with the group’s medical technologist over the years professionally and even less interest in forming any personal connection. Especially after noticing that she and Sarah seemed to be friends.

“Camille doesn't need you for anything . . . You need her."

Juliane's forehead wrinkled.

Sarah rubbed her temple. "Do you remember asking me about being upgraded?"

Juliane nodded.

“Well, accessing the Internet is just a fraction of our potential. Camille’s been able to do so much more. Damien thought you would appreciate a little demonstration.”

Sarah sent the car racing within seconds of Juliane strapping herself into the seat. The wind of their passage transformed Juliane’s hair into a whip. She reached up to secure it into an informal ponytail as they drove. If she had a car like this, she would have to cut her hair short like Sarah's.

“I'm surprised that you didn’t attend Betty’s funeral. Weren't you two friends?"

"It was a private ceremony. I'm honoring her memory in my own way." Juliane had been relieved not to be invited. Just thinking of Betty lying lifeless in a box blackened her vision and caused her legs to lock into place. She remembered the feeling of their connection as it severed and shuddered.
Cursed private network,
Juliane thought once again. She would never, ever, establish one of those again.

"Such a tragic business. To lose one’s spouse, well, that is a terrible thing, but at least he still has his son . . .” Sarah trailed off. Juliane wasn't sure if she was hearing Sarah correctly over the roar of the engine, but her tone seemed as if she were discussing a spring shower upsetting picnic plans.

Sarah continued. “I was told that I will likely never have children of my own, so I have always had to live vicariously through others.” Sarah glanced in Juliane’s direction. “You did know Alan had a son before this?”

“Of course.”

Sarah mouthed "of course." More subdued, she said, “If it hadn’t come up once in conversation, I might not have ever known. Alan never brought him in and didn’t ever have a single photograph to share. It seems that Betty was the family photographer, and now he can’t find any of her files. Can you imagine how awful that must be for him now?”

"You've heard from him then?" Juliane asked

"Of course," mimicked Sarah.

Excuse me for asking,
thought Juliane. As much as she wanted to hear more about Alan and Stevie, it was clear that Sarah would not be a forthcoming source of information. “Alan was never much for clutter, hard copies or electronic. Betty was always the less organized one. I am sure she has a few scattered about.”
How do you like that?

“I heard you were with her when she died. Is that true?”

“I visited her at the hospital.”

“Did she ever share photos with you? I only ask because I am worried about how Alan is holding up in this situation.”

“She was unresponsive when I got there." If Juliane told Sarah about the private network, she had little doubt that Sarah would try to establish one just to prove she could.
No one deserves that
, thought Juliane.
Not even Sarah.

“You're late.” Camille met them at the door of her facility and escorted them back to her office.

“I thought you would appreciate it if I didn’t damage your car,” Sarah retorted with a warm-hearted laugh.

“What have you told her?”

“Very little. You know me. I just do the filing."

Camille's eyes twinkled at what had to be an inside joke and turned toward Juliane. “Are you at all aware of the works of Jonathan Hutchinson or a condition known as progeria syndrome?”

“I can’t say that either has come up in my field of study.”

Camille closed her eyes and took a breath. “It is an extreme genetic condition which manifests as premature aging in afflicted individuals. Those with the condition typically age at a rate eight to ten times faster than normal, all because of a mutation in a simple protein.”

“That sounds terrible. I assume you have been working on a cure?”

Camille tilted her head, stretching the muscles in her neck before answering. “A cure would only help a small portion of the population. No, Juliane, we are thinking bigger. Once we were able to isolate the cause of the mutation, it took little imagination to see the benefit in applying the same technique to normal human cells.”

“Are you telling me that you are working on creating a technique that could potentially cause people to appear to age only one year when, in fact, ten years have passed?”

Camille turned her nose up, allowing the hallway light to shine fully upon her face. “We aren’t working on a technique. We’ve perfected it.”

Only then did Juliane see that neither Camille nor Sarah possessed the fine lines around their eyes that would have normally given away their ages. “You’ve undergone the procedure.”

“Of course. So has everyone else on the board. I imagine your visit here today will cause at least one person to lose their wager. Most of us thought that after spending so much time with avatars, you might never notice un-aging people in real life long enough to question why we always looked so young."

“We’re effectively immortal now,” interjected Sarah.

“No, Sarah," corrected Camille. "We are still very much mortal. The process only slows down aging and even appears to reverse its effects to a point, but the process doesn’t stop aging altogether.”

“I’m surprised this technique of yours hasn’t already been blasted on the news," Juliane said.

Camille smiled and shook her head. “The fountain of youth doesn’t exactly need help with advertising.”

“I suppose you're right. But don’t you want to share this accomplishment with the world?”

“The idea of being a public figure has never appealed to me.”

Julianne sputtered before regaining control of her voice. “But you could have the world eating out of your hand.”

“Why do you think I can’t have that while remaining private?”

“But if you don’t release what you have done, how would anyone realize your service is any different from the dozens of other cosmetic procedures?”

“The difference would be that my clients could potentially reach their seven-hundredth birthday. However, I would imagine that the word would have gotten out long before then.”

“But you could have it all tomorrow. Don’t you want that?”

“Juliane, I’ve already undergone the procedure. Time is no longer my enemy. I can afford to be patient. Until then, rest assured that those who have the means and the motivation will find me. Now that you understand the full implication of what we have achieved here, would you be interested in joining us?”

If what Camille said was true, she would have several lifetimes to continue her work. Juliane caught her reflection on a mirror hung in Camille’s office. By accepting, she would not only remain mentally in her prime, but physically as well.

“Absolutely.”

Sarah and Camille exchanged a glance, and Sarah exited the room, returning later with a small rod.

“In order for this procedure to work, a candidate must have first gone through the original upgrade. So not just anyone will be eligible. Next, this rod will upload a command sequence to the code already running in your DNA. Once that is done, the specific protein in your DNA will be isolated and modified by your own natural chemistry.”

“So, in theory, I might have been able to modify the protein without its assistance?”

Camille shrugged. “And enough monkeys typing at random could replicate Shakespeare. You might have stumbled upon it one day if you tried hard enough. This just speeds the process along like a cheat code in a game.”

Juliane felt a pinching along the length of her body as if she had been bitten by hundreds of mosquitoes. She hissed.

“That uncomfortable feeling is your cells responding to the treatment as your skin begins to firm and tighten. Don’t worry; it’s only a temporary effect. You won’t even notice the sensation an hour from now.”

Juliane glanced back at the mirror. She did not realize how many lines had begun to etch her face around the corners of her eyes until they blurred away. She still held herself with the confidence of someone experienced with the world but had the smooth skin of a twenty-year-old.

“I'll admit, I am impressed.”

“I'm so glad my work meets your approval,” Camille said, putting the rod down on a nearby table. She looked at Sarah. “I believe I have done what I said I would. Now may I return to my real work?”

Sarah nodded. Camille turned and exited the room without saying good-bye.

As the sound of her footsteps faded, Juliane asked Sarah, “I take it that giving me the procedure wasn't her idea.”

“Damien made it clear that he wanted all board members to have the opportunity to improve themselves.”

Juliane laughed. “And you do everything that Damien asks?”

Sarah’s lips tightened as she appeared to chew on her response. “Not all of us are treated like the prodigal daughter. Some of us have to earn our place.”

Juliane continued to gaze into the mirror, patting her hair smooth. “I earned my place, just the same as you. I may have just done so a little differently than the others.”

Sarah slammed her fists down upon the table with such force that Juliane had to return her attention to the enraged woman. “You cannot begin to comprehend what I have done, what I have sacrificed, to have a place by Damien’s side.”

Sarah picked up the rod from where Camille had left it and examined it for obvious damage before pocketing the device away. “Why don’t I take you home?”

Juliane, stunned by the venom in Sarah's voice, took a step back. “That's probably a good idea.”

Juliane and Sarah did not speak again until they were both secured in Camille’s vehicle and the medical complex was a mere speck in the rearview mirror. “I take it that Camille wasn’t the only one who would have rather I not been upgraded today.”

“You want to hear the truth? No, acting as your personal chauffeur wasn’t high on the list of things I wanted to do today either. You have no idea how easy you’ve had it being Damien’s favorite, how much freedom he has allowed you over the years. Even now, when he is bringing you back into the fold after your epic failure, he is doing so with gifts.”

Juliane sat in silence for a few moments. “What epic failure are you referring to?” The sound of the woman suffering in the factory audio played in her mind.
It was an accident. A terrible, terrible accident.

Sarah groaned. “Juliane, you are not nearly as sly as you think you are. How can you possibly think that I don’t know about the disaster at your manufacturing facility? I bet you never once wondered why the press let it go so quickly. I should remind you that two of their own, two Americans,” Sarah emphasized the word, “are considered among the victims. Mountains had to be moved.”

Juliane swiped her hand across her forehead. She couldn't show weakness in front of this woman. “Everyone knows that there is always a risk of corners being cut when dealing with low-cost manufacturing regions.”

“So that’s it? You admit that corners were cut.”

“I am not admitting anything to you or anyone else. I am only saying that I recognize that there was a risk. Funds for a formal investigation went up in flames with the factory, and the local government isn’t talking. If they don’t want to pursue justice for the victims, then I have to respect their sovereignty.”