Because their decision would affect him in a thousand ways. It would affect everything about him, from simple acts of charity such as donating blood to large things such as his financial future. Ro did not even think about the added offer, the way that the companies would pay for more children, the way that all of this would affect their lives.
She studied everything she could find, became familiar with genes and DNA and experiment processes. She learned that Alden was one of a select group. Less than point one-one hundredth of all the children born since the human genome project had been finished were categorized as medically perfect. Of that small percentage, only a few were born in the United States each year. There was no information on families who had chosen the options she and Gil had been offered, except short mentions in various papers that people had taken those offers. Nothing about the parents, about how they made the decisions, about how they felt later.
Two nights before she and Gil were to talk again with Dr. Wyatt, she sat in Alden’s room. The room smelled of talcum and baby, and was silent, except for Alden’s even breathing.
They had remodeled the walk-in closet beside the master bedroom as the nursery, thinking that later they would give Alden a room farther from theirs. The nursery was small but bright, with a balloon mural on the wall that Gil had painted and matching pillows all over the floor, sewn by her mother. White baby furniture completed the look. They had modern smarthouse equipment in here and in the master bedroom, an expense that Ro had insisted on when she became pregnant. No old-fashioned baby monitors for her. She wanted the very walls to listen to her child, to make sure he was all right every moment of every day.
Still, she sat often in the rocker her grandmother had given her and watched Alden sleep. Ro did her best thinking when Alden slept. She remembered her fear of becoming one of those mothers, with a diseased child, a woman who clung to her baby hoping to give it life.
Alden had life. He had more than life. He had, genetically speaking, a life that would be healthy and full. He was the opposite of those children.
Something in that thought held her. She had come to it over and over again in the last ten days. She was approaching her child because of what he had instead of who he was, and she had always thought that wrong.
Alden was a joyful baby. Everyone said that. And they said how lucky she was. He could have been naturally cranky or energetic or listless. He could have been so many things, but he was not. He was born with a mind and a personality all his own. It was up to her-her and Gil-to help him develop those things.
She stood slowly, then walked to the crib, bent over, and kissed her sleeping child. He stirred slightly, confident in her touch. Knowing it was a light touch, a secure touch, a loving touch. He trusted her, especially now, when he could not do anything for himself. He trusted her to do the best thing for them all.
Dr. Wyatt’s office door was open, and he was waiting for them. He bent over one of his tea roses, his long fingers working a particularly delicate trim. Ro watched him, seeing the gentleness, now knowing that was only a part of him.
Gil held Alden’s carrier. They agreed that Ro would do most of the talking. It had been her idea, after all.
Dr. Wyatt smiled when he saw them and took Alden’s carrier as he had done before. They took their places in front of the desk.
“Well?” Dr. Wyatt asked as if he already knew the answer.
“We have decided,” Ro looked at Gil, who nodded at her to continue. “To let Alden make this decision when he turns eighteen. We agree with the waiver we signed. This is not a decision we should make for our child.”
Dr. Wyatt frowned. “It would be better not to wait.”
“Better for whom?” Ro asked. “The companies? Yes, it would. And perhaps for a few patients, too. But we are locking my son into an agreement for life, which is something medieval. We don’t believe in such things, Dr. Wyatt.”
“I’m sure some clauses can be waived. Perhaps you could even get a temporary agreement, something that would be nonbinding on him when he became an adult.”
Ro shook her head. “This is not an emergency, Doctor. We are willing to be contacted on a case-by-case basis in the event of an emergency, when someone actually needs Alden’s help. What we are refusing is a business arrangement. We want our son to be a child first, and a commodity only if he chooses to be.”
“He wouldn’t be a commodity,” Dr. Wyatt said.
She stared at him for a long time. “Maybe not to you,” she said. “But the biotech company who bought his genes wouldn’t know him. To them, he would be something that would enable them to make a profit. To other patients, he would be another tool. To us, he is a person already. And people make their own choices, and their own commitments. We’re sorry, doctor.”
She stood. So did Gil. Finally Dr. Wyatt did as well. He ran a hand along Alden’s small face. “He is a perfect child.”
“No,” Ro said. “He’s not. He’s got good genes. That’s all.”
“That’s plenty,” Dr. Wyatt said. “Promise me you’ll tell him of this opportunity when he’s grown.”
“You will,” Gil said. “Or someone in your clinic will. We will stipulate that. We have an attorney who can draw up a document.”
“It was kind of you,” Ro added, “not to mention the money.”
Dr. Wyatt took Alden’s tiny hand in his own. “You realize how rare and precious he is.”
Ro smiled. “Yes,” she said softly. “We do.”
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Kevin J. Anderson has more than sixteen million books in print in thirty languages, including Dune novels written with Brian Herbert, Star Wars and X-Files novels, and a collaboration with Dean Koontz. He just finished the sixth book in his epic space opera, The Saga of Seven Suns. He and his wife Rebecca Moesta have written numerous bestselling and award-winning young adult novels.
Loren L. Coleman is a full-time novelist. His first novel, Double-Blind, was published in 1998. He has since explored the universes of BattleTech, Magic: The Gathering, Crimson Skies, MechWarrior: Dark Age, Star Trek, and Conan. His latest works are a new trilogy set in the Conan universe and co-development of a new fiction market for the Classic Battle Tech and MechWarrior universe: www.BattleCorps.com. Currently he resides in Washington State with his wife, Heather Joy, two sons, Talon LaRon and Conner Rhys Monroe, and a young daughter, Alexia Joy. The family owns three of the obligatory writer’s cats, Chaos, Ranger, and Rumor, and one dog, Loki. His personal website can be found at www.rasqal.com.
Brenda Cooper has published fiction in Analog; Oceans of the Mind; and Strange Horizons; and in the anthologies Sun in Glory; Maiden, Matron, Crone; and Time After Time. Brenda’s collaborative fiction with Larry Niven has appeared in Analog and Asimov’s. She and Larry wrote a novel, Building Harlequin’s Moon, and her solo novel, The Silver Ship and the Sea, was published in 2007. Brenda lives in Bellevue, Washington, with her partner Toni, Toni’s daughter Katie, a border collie, and a golden retriever. By day, she is the City of Kirkland ’s CIO, and at night and in early morning hours, she’s a futurist and writer.
Dave Freer was born at a very early age. And then, alas, things started to go downhill for him. He was unable to maintain the status quo; despite considerable and lifelong resistance to growing up, he has found himself married to Barbara and a father to two sons-who were also born at a very young age, proving it must be hereditary. In a desperate and vain attempt to change the world and also to pay the rent, Freer turned to the writing of fantasy and science fiction. He believed they were closely related fields; both paid badly and required a great deal of intellect and very little common sense; and therefore it was something he could do. Fortunately he was wrong about the intellect it required of him, although it has taken him ten books-eight of them with co-authors Eric Flint and/or Mercedes Lackey-to figure this out. “Boys” is his eighth short story sale. When not writing Freer can sometimes be found clinging to rocks, both on the sides of mountains or in the raging sea, in the mistaken impression he is getting back to his roots.