Engineering Infinity Read Online Free PDF Page A

can take
a chip and stick it on her lobe, listen to music so soft no one knows it’s on,
and play at the same time, following the notes.
    Mommy says there’s a better
program, more advanced, more expensive (Suze hates that word). If Suze just
thinks the name of a song, she’ll see the score dancing in front of her eyes.
    She’s watching scores right now.
Watching the piano part, watching the vocals, letting the sound overwhelm her
senses.
    “Didn’t you learn anything when
we were kids?” Daddy screams. “Money is finite. And it can go away. Where the hell
did you learn how to spend like that? Where the hell did you get the idea that
we’re entitled? We can’t fucking afford it. We can’t -”
    Suze turns the music up, holds
Dolly close, wishes Dolly could see the notes too. They’re dancing, dancing,
dancing. Painting the air with each and every sound.
     
    Nils dates Madeline’s insanity to
the first moment of her pregnancy. Maybe all the way back to the moment his
sperm burrowed into her egg. Certainly back to the moment she knew, when they
stood over that little stick covered in urine, telling them they were going to
have a baby, telling them which doctor could guide them through the pregnancy,
telling them to choose attributes now, before it got too late.
    Attributes: He wishes he had
never heard that word. His parents tell him that back in the day, they could
test for abnormalities in the DNA if fertilization happened outside the womb.
The abnormal foetus wouldn’t be implanted. In the womb, more tests for
abnormalities - monitoring, monitoring, monitoring. But no choosing attributes.
    No one talked about IQ or
athletic ability or artistic skill. Parents, his told him, were happy to know
the gender before the baby was born, so they could paint the nursery the proper
pink or blue. They were happy to know that the baby would grow up healthy, that
potential problems could be avoided.
    His grandparents remained quiet
through those discussions. Just once, his grandfather - a crusty man ten years
older than his wife - said before she shushed him, “Hell, kid, we were just happy
if that squalling piece of flesh we birthed had ten fingers and ten toes.”
    That, Nils knew, was primitive.
He couldn’t imagine going through nine months of a traditional pregnancy only
to have the wrong gender pop out, the wrong gender with some kind of syndrome,
missing an arm or a leg, or (God forbid) half the brain. Not to know what kind
of child you had - intelligence- and abilities-wise - for years ,
after you’d invested time and energy and affection, in someone (some thing ) not quite optimal.
    The doc the test led them to was
one of the best - chosen, not just for his skill, but for their income level.
They could pay his rates, so he was advertising on their test.
    They sat in his office - filled
with comfort pheromones and soothing colours and soft music - and listened
while he gave what had to be a spiel. And Madeline, still trim and still
looking like the woman Nils married, dark hair, dark eyes, smooth skin - all
unenhanced - leaned forward as the doctor spoke, looking displeased as he told
of the legislated limitations.
    “What do you mean, you have to
work with our DNA?” she asked, question so sharp that Nils winced.
    “We can’t add something that the
child couldn’t have had,” the doctor said. “Athleticism doesn’t run in either
family, we can’t add it to the foetus. We’re not allowed, by law.”
    “Who made up that stupid law?”
she snapped, and Nils, used to her sharpness in private (once it was something
he admired about her), felt startled as she unleashed it in public.
    “Congress,” the doctor said,
seemingly undisturbed by her tone. “Supported by the courts, of course, all the
way up to the Supremes. Everyone is afraid of full-scale genetic engineering.
Afraid that those who can’t afford upgrades will become less than human. Most
countries have something in place, to prevent a Master