Page 87 of Perfection

York seemed to sense her unease and strolled over to join her in that cocky way he had. He swung an arm around her shoulders. “Everything will be okay.”

He said that a lot, she realized. And she wanted to believe him.

“I sure could use a unity session,” she said with a shaky voice that didn’t sound like her own.

“I’ll see what I can do.” His eyes held hers before he leaned toward her. She thought she saw something more in him, something he wanted to express. But he kept it to himself.

She reached up and wrapped her fingers around his hand, which had settled on her shoulder. It was really,reallynice to have someone to lean on.

She shifted her gaze to the equipment. She sighed. How could life go from comfortable to a catastrophe in a matter of days? She’d never been through a natural disaster, not an earthquake or tornado or flood, but she’d seen pictures of trees uprooted and houses flattened, lives ruined. A survivor—that’s what she felt like. But the storm wasn’t over yet. Plus, she had to start all over again with her job…from scratch.

She let go of York’s hand, eased away from him, walked to the desk, and fired up the computer. According to York, it was connected to the main system the police department used. The question was, would it be powerful enough to process all the data housed on Seville’s genetic supergiant HERO? Cloning and genetic fabrication, from the food they ate to the skin wrapped around a car chassis, was a well-established norm. However, nothing was as complex as the genomes that comprised every living thing.

Now someone’s misconceived notions of good and bad had triggered a calamity like none she’d witnessed in her lifetime. She sighed as the computer booted.

“Hello, there,” it said. “My name is Steven. I’m here to assist you. Who are you?”

“I’m Kindra,” she replied, disappointed. She missed Comp Nine.

“Do you have something, in particular, you wish to accomplish, Kindra?”

“Yes. I need to access the information on a micro-dot.” She pulled out the case and removed the two-millimeter dot. The computer prepared the reading compartment. She placed the dot on the slide and waited.

A short time later, information scrolled across the screen at lightning speed. When it stopped, Kindra searched the data that matched the virus and the children’s corresponding data. There were holes. Things were missing, like obscure white cell counts in the children’s brains. Plus, the gene expression remained incomplete.

She sat back in her chair. Most of the info the micro-dot divulged was almost useless. Perhaps it was because the actual analysis samples weren’t part of this system, and that wasn’t her area of expertise.

“Steven, why can’t I view the complete analytical breakdown?”

“That would require an advanced genome program. Only the HERO computers at creation facilities have access to such programs.”

That’s what she’d feared. “So even if I put this dot in the police master computer, I won’t be able to access and interpret the data?”

“That is correct.”

York waited at the side of her desk. She felt his presence giving her strength. “Well, then, this won’t do us any good. We’ll have to find another way.”

* * *

Seville’s HERO was a beautiful thing to behold. On the outside, twinkling lights flickered as syntax zoomed through circuits and gases faster than human thought. He watched the external workings as if he were viewing the stars in the sky.

He sighed. He didn’t have all night. He needed to get on with it. From a small shopping bag he’d brought to work that morning, he removed three devices, each the size of a large coin—not that coins were in use any longer. Gina had given him the connections to acquire the tiny bombs. She’d been helpful in many ways. He was sorry he’d had to kill her. But she’d allowed that detective to find her, and became too great a liability. He’d had to make the difficult choice to distance himself from her permanently.

Angling his body to hide his actions from the security cameras, he placed the devices strategically inside the computer’s electrical workings. If someone attempted to access its information—say, if Kindra B-Zaika or the police wanted to take control of this lovely machine—well, the thing would blow up.

And no more genetics play. At least in this part of the world. It was true that Nine could do some of the work, but not the deep genome pathing.

A cynical smile peeled his lips back from his teeth. He imagined a world without the creation of superior, genetically engineered babies. That wouldn’t be so tragic.

But maybe it would never happen. They could leave the computer alone and all would be well. Then he’d unearth a cure and emerge the hero.

Yes, that’s how it would play out.