Xenovation

Xenovation

Sonni Cooper

Published by Creative Enterprises

at Smashwords

Smashwords.com

Copyright 2011 by Sonni Cooper

Cover Image provided by NASA

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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

To Tigger,

my daughter Laurie’s hybrid Chinese Money Cat

who inspired the idea for this book.

XENOVATION

PART ONE

THE EXPERIMENT

Chapter One

Fonda

Frost painfully stung Fonda’s unprotected ears. Hurrying through the leafless tree lined campus in the Illinois early winter darkness, she looked even more petite than her five foot three. She bowed her head into the wind, pushing against the gale. Gasping for breath, she plowed through the sleet as if it were a solid unyielding wall. As the air became colder, large lacy snowflakes landed on her head, dissolved into her dark curls, and melted, joining the other wetness there. By the time she got to the front of the peeling frame house, a thin layer of snow had attached itself to the icy layer below making progress hazardous. A small Christmas wreath, cheap and home-made, was placed on the door of the decrepit boarding house. The attempt at hominess made Fonda feel just that much more desolate and alone. Determined to hide her feelings from her housemates, Fonda straightened up and reached for the doorknob. The door resisted as she pushed against the bluster of the storm. She forced it to open just enough for her to get inside.

The warmth of the hallway enveloped her in a comfortable shield. The fragrance of a spicy stew wafted from the kitchen. The sweetness of cinnamon and cloves mixed with apple, invitingly drifted from the adjacent living room. If it had been another day she would have been amused by the totally strapped residents' efforts to bring the season's cheer to their usually drab existence, but there was no cheer in Fonda this day. She frowned. No use dampening their fun with my problems, she thought as she headed for the stairs. Ignoring the laughing and animated voices coming from the living room, she longed to enter the quiet of her room. The evening news, coming from the large vid-screen in the living room was blaring loudly enough to be heard throughout the entire house. Fonda attempting to block everything out quickened her progress up the long flight of stairs.

Before she made it halfway up, she was waylaid by her always enthusiastic roommate. Hey, Fonda, Anne shouted excitedly, they're showing the whole tape of the Agoyon's landing again!

Fonda jerkily pulled away from Anne, running up the stairs as if pursued. I'm not interested.

Anne followed Fonda up the stairs. Her outfit, a replica of the aliens’ space-gear, was bizarre, flashy, and particularly unbecoming on a girl of ample bulk. The small dark goggles Anne was wearing, poor imitations of the alien's eye-gear, made her face look pig-like. It was not an image one could take seriously. Oh, come on, Fonda! Anne boomed. She never was one to be quiet, Fonda observed. Don't be such a wet blanket! It's the twenty-fifth anniversary of their landing. It'll look terrible if you don't join the celebration. After all, you're house president. She checked her time-scan. Everyone'll be arriving soon. Don't you think you'd better get dressed?

It was obvious Fonda had either forgotten about the party or wasn't at all interested. Resembling a rotund metal grain elevator, Anne stood at the top of the stairs blocking Fonda's further progress. Fonda almost shrieked her response. I can't. I just can't!

Caught up in her own party mood, Anne reached for Fonda's arm. We've been planning this party for a month. You can't disappoint everyone now. What’s wrong with you?

Realizing Anne had a point and wouldn't easily be placated, Fonda turned toward her disappointed friend. If the effort to be social was to be made at all, there was no better time to try. She relented. Okay, might as well get it over with. She abruptly changed direction and headed downstairs. Smiling triumphantly, Anne tromped down behind her. She very much wanted her friend to have some fun. Something had been bothering Fonda for days and she hadn’t been able to draw her out. Perhaps the party mood in the house would snap Fonda out of her blue funk.

Lit only by the changing light from the huge vid-screen that was built into the wall, the twenty assorted residents of the co-op were all gathered about the big images projected into the room. Two commanding figures filled the screen. Fonda had to admit, if only to herself, that the images were impressive. She stood by the door with Anne, watching the screen. The visiting aliens were tall compared to their accompanying human hosts, almost eight feet tall, Fonda remembered from descriptions she'd read. She watched their vague smiles as they followed their hosts to a conference table. The odd goggles they wore hid all expression their eyes might have betrayed. It made them seem all the more alien and somewhat foreboding. The pictures being shown weren't new to any of them. Ever since the Agoyons' landing, twenty-five years ago, these same images of the aliens had been shown over and over again. With the silver anniversary of their landing, the past week had been filled with constant revamps of the story.

Although Fonda was weary of seeing the tapes, she didn't miss the excitement of the others as they watched the screen flash images of the long past meeting. In all of her eighteen years, she couldn't remember a time when the event was covered that people didn't stop in their tracks to take it in. They never seemed to tire of it. It seemed to her that they believed if they watched intently enough the projections would turn into true three dimensional beings and be there again.

It always gives me chills to see them, Anne breathed, wrapping her ample arms about herself. Just think. They came all the way from another world! I wish I had been there then to really see them. Don't you, Fonda?

Fonda realized attention had turned from the vid-wall to her. She wanted to retreat. Instead, her black mood prompted her to be candid. To be honest I don't believe they ever really existed.

You`re kidding! Anne pointed a stubby finger at the screen. You’re looking at them. Do you think they're a figment of all our imaginations?

Shaking the wet of the melting snow from her hair, Fonda sat down on the worn couch. She looked tired, not at all her ebullient self. Her voice trembled as she spoke, as if she were holding back tears. I was brought up believing in other worlds. It's part of my faith's basic tenets. But we're looking at a video, not reality. This was all supposed to have happened years ago, before any of us were born. Our space program was having major problems at the time. The Agoyons coming sure changed that. Suddenly, we made this huge effort to improve our space technology. Coincidence, do you think?

Anne's hand came up, with a resultant shimmering of reflected light from the video, causing her metallic costume to shoot colored streaks about the darkened room. A conspiracy? Oh, come on, Fonda! What’s wrong with you? Knowing her room-mate well, Anne was puzzled by Fonda’s black mood.

Fonda sighed. Years before the Agoyon's landed they made a movie about a hoax, a faked mission to Saturn. Some of you must have seen the old reruns. I think they took the lead from the movie and set the entire ‘Agoyon landing’ up.

I don't know what's bugging you, Fonda, but it's clear you're upset about more than imagined government subterfuge, Anne said. She handed her roommate a cup of hot-spiced cider. Here, it’ll warm you up. You sure can use it.

Chilled, despite still wearing her coat, Fonda sipped the welcome warmth of the spiced juice before responding. If they did land, then why haven't we heard anything from them since the original contact? They came, they observed, and then they left? I can't believe that! Not very constructive, or satisfying, or complimentary to us, if you think about it.

Anne primped her costume up. That's a damned pessimistic point of view. I, for one, believe they really did come. Maybe they found us too primitive, or something. What’s the difference anyway? It’s something to think about. Maybe they’ll surprise us and come back.

Finally warming a bit, Fonda took off her soggy coat and dropped it to the floor. Sure, and they decided to let us grow up before they return. Sounds like all the schlock science fiction I've ever read.

She looked up at the vid-wall. Look at them. Eight feet tall! And that funny skin coloration. And those hokey glasses! They look like basketball players who've dressed up like you, Anne, only taller and skinnier.

Anne backed off; if she could have shriveled to a smaller size, she would have. It was unlike Fonda to be cruel and unfeeling. Genuinely hurt by her roommate's comment, she turned away.

I've heard your theory before, one of the boys piped in to fill the uncomfortable void. My parents told me it's been that way ever since they first showed up. Some people’ll never be convinced. He shrugged. I really don't care one way or the other. We're having a party and I'm planning to have fun. After all the work and money we've put into this party, you've gotta at least try to look cheerful, Fonda.

Fonda sighed again, looked around the decorated room, and realized as a house officer she couldn't, shouldn't, let the others down. She forced a smile. I'll try, she whispered half-heartedly. I’ll be right back. Promise! She quickly retreated upstairs to get into costume so she could rejoin the festivities, at least feigning to have fun. Before Fonda was half way up the stairs she realized Anne was following her. She turned back toward her roommate. I'm sorry, Anne. I just didn't think. I didn't mean...

Anne shrugged. Yeah, well we all say things we regret at times. She put a friendly hand to Fonda's shoulder. Anything I can help with?

Fonda shook her head, then, unable to hold back her feelings any longer, burst into tears. It wasn't like Fonda to cry. If anything, she tended to be stoic. After treating Anne so shabbily just minutes before, she was surprised when her roommate put an arm of comfort gently about her shoulder. Hey, Fonda, what's really wrong? Fonda silently sunk onto her bed and turned her back to Anne.

Come on. It can't be that bad."

I'm not gonna be able to stay in school, Fonda responded tearfully.

Anne sat down on the bed beside her. Why? What's happened?

Fonda reached for a tissue, blew her nose, and turned back to Anne. No more money. My family’s strapped. At least that’s what my father wants me to believe.

"You don’t believe him?

With six younger brothers and sisters, I should. He just wants to control all of us. He’s got everyone to think of. I suppose he means well, but -I hate large families! I'll never have kids!

The sound of extra loud funky music, laughter and chatter filled the house, invading Fonda's sanctuary. Even through her closed bedroom door the smells of sweetness from the hot spiced punch and goodies, mixed with a freshness of pine from the newly collected Christmas tree, intruded on her bleak mood. Not knowing why she'd permitted Anne to convince her to come down to the party, she put the last touch of make-up on and stood back to see the effect. The gray-green make-up effectively hid her pinkish flesh tones. She was sure she could hide her true feelings.

Unlike the others, she'd not made her costume of a metallic fabric. Rather, she'd chosen to wear the strange green the aliens actually were wearing on the old vids. It was an indescribable color: baby-shit, came closest to an accurate description. Although it was an unattractive color, at best, Fonda was pleased to see it didn't look too bad on her. In fact, it brought out the red highlights in what, she believed, was her rather ordinary brown hair. Girding herself for the unwanted party, she pulled down on the hem of her tunic and headed downstairs. Well, Fonda, she instructed herself, you've always been a good actress. This is the time to do your best. But then her thoughts came back to her overwhelming problem. Maybe I could get a scholarship after all. But she was too much of a realist to believe it possible. No. Too late in the year to apply. The thought of returning home, of being forced into a church operated college plagued her. There has to be a way to stay here!

Hi, Fonda! Charlie's husky voice distracted Fonda. Although she'd invited him, he never indicated he'd come to the party. She hadn't really expected him. But there he stood, blond, blue eyed, intelligent, and available. He's too good looking for his own good, even in the faked alien get-up he's wearing. Charlie seemed too good to be true. There had to be something wrong about him, but she had yet to find it. Maybe I don’t want to. Something in this world has to be just right. Appraising him, she knew he'd be a marvelous catch for any girl. And he likes me. But, no, she thought ruefully, not with my family's feelings. Not in these times. We're too different, from two different churches, too many barriers. ‘Wrong church-wrong man!’ Dad will say, and that would be that. I'm not strong enough to fight everyone. In these days, when everyone is keeping to his own, I can't get involved seriously with Charlie. But I do need a good friend now...

Fonda forced a smile. It wasn’t too hard since she was genuinely glad to see him. "Hi, Charlie. Glad you came.

He handed her a glass of rum punch. You look like you need this.

She thought she'd covered better than that, took the warm glass and downed the spicy punch in a gulp. So much for Church dogma, she thought wickedly as the liquor burned its way down.

Charlie looked serious. I'd say you weren't that thirsty.

She shrugged him off. Charlie, let's just enjoy the party, please.

Sure. He guided her through the celebrants toward the naked Christmas tree. Its welcome pine scent freshened the close air in the room. In preparation for decorating it, boxes of ornaments were strewn at the small tree's foot. It's tradition for the house president to put on the first ornament. Anne announced. Throwing Fonda an encouraging smile, she handed her a shiny red ball. Merry Christmas and Happy 2155!

Fonda returned the smile and ceremoniously placed the ball on a middle branch. Wasn't it thoughtful of the Agoyons to come at Christmas time? She dutifully pronounced as she stepped away to admire her handiwork. Having performed her presidential function, Fonda turned back to Charlie, and sighed, I really need this holiday break. Being totally unaccustomed to drinking, Fonda felt the rush of the alcohol. She flushed under her odd greenish make-up, heading for the cooler hall.

Charlie followed closely behind her. Hey, Fonda, you all right?

Turning her back to Charlie, Fonda lied. I'll be okay. I’m just not used to drinking. That's all.

Charlie wasn't convinced. What are friends for, anyway? Didn't I bare my soul to you when I broke up with Marcy?

That was different.

He sat down on a stair and patted the step next to him, prompting her to sit beside him. Not so different. A problem is a problem. Come on, now.

This is really not the time to...

No better, Charlie asserted. I feel like a damned fool in this get-up, and I have to admit, I've seen you looking better when you had the flu. That make-up is ghastly.

Thanks. Just what I needed to hear.

Ya mean some truth? he jabbed.

You're just like my big brother, Michael. She was beginning to see a crack in Charlie’s perfection. A tear ran down her cheek, streaking and exposing her natural flesh-tone.

That bad, huh?

Worse.

The party was beginning to spill out into the hall. Seeking privacy, Charlie took Fonda's hand and led her up the stairs and into her room. He closed the door behind him. I don't wanna be your big brother, Fonda. I've been coming to realize...

She cut him short. Not now, Charlie. I don't want to hear it.

He was sincerely crestfallen. You mean you don't care about me. Just wanna be friends?

No, that's not what I mean at all. I mean I can't deal with a serious relationship. Not now, particularly when it's not exactly ‘made in heaven!’ There are too many pressures on me to even consider getting involved with you. With anyone! Maybe when I get my act together.

Your act? What are you talking about, Fonda Anderson? I've never met anyone who had it so together. You're getting straight A's!

No money! And it’s too late to apply for a scholarship this year.

You could get a job.

Sure, and ducks can ski. You ever try to find a job in this town?

Charlie nodded forlornly and stretched across the bed, feet dangling. He couldn’t help laughing. Kinda tall isn’t it? he quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

Fonda went to the dresser and began removing her stained make-up. One glance in the mirror told her that her natural color was almost as pallid as the awful stuff she'd applied to give herself the alien coloring. She was grateful Charlie was kind enough not to mention it again.

Suddenly Charlie sat up. Fonda?

She continued looking at him through the mirror. It was easier than facing him directly.

I got an idea. It's kind'a off the wall, but...

Eager for any solution, Fonda came toward him. I'm desperate enough to try ‘most anything.

You ever hear of Professor Cumberland? In the Biology Department?

Of course, I have. Period Two, in the Bio Building, Micro-biology III. We call him Mumberland, for obvious reasons. What about him?

Ever hear about his ‘experiments’?

Fonda laughed. Hear about them! He's notorious. I've heard him personified as Jekyll, Frankenstein, and Dorian Grey all rolled up into one. Then there are others who think he's Albert Schweitzer. I just take the class because it’s a requirement in my program and try to ignore the campus crap about him.

The experiments he's conducting are real, Fonda. And I know he pays the participants.

I heard that too. But to do what?

I'm not sure, exactly. I suppose it’s okay, though. I heard the University's sponsoring the research along with some fancy medical institute somewhere. Anyway, I think it's a way for you to get some quick money, and be able to stay in school. What do ya think?

Fonda wiped her tears and sniffled. I don't even have enough money to hold me ‘till the end of the semester. I can’t stay here. I’m already a month behind. All I have is a ticket home.

Charlie came up her behind her. She turned her toward him and he kissed her lightly on the cheek. There was a distinct gleam in his eye. There's room for you in my place.

Chapter Two

Professor Cumberland

Well, how'd it go? Charlie was so eager to hear Fonda’s answer he didn't even wait for her to get her coat off. You ever meet Professor Tandy?

Nope, not until today. Never had any need for seeing the Dean of Students. He's kind of a mousy man. He sat twiddling his thumbs the whole time I was telling him about my problem. I had the tremendous urge to make him stop, like taking a bite out of those wiggling fingers. I had to clench my teeth to stop myself. It was exasperating. She imitated the Professor, leaning back in his chair with fingers twirling madly. With lowered voice, she croaked in imitation, ‘Straight A's. Very good. And you say your family can't afford to keep you in school any longer.

I explained how hard it's been this winter. How expensive the helicopters Dad needs to get food to the range cattle are to rent. How my dad's struggling to keep the livestock alive. I hoped he'd understand. But his fingers just kept on twirling. Fonda gruffed her voice in imitation again. In light of your excellent record, I see no reason why a scholarship can't be arranged. Of course, at this time of year, funds are tight. We could cover the costs of your classes, some books, but not your maintenance. You'll have to support yourself in some other manner.

Charlie hugged her. You got it!

I got it! She bussed him. I still have to have some way of paying for my living expenses, but at least matriculation is taken care of.

I was so relieved I almost kissed the old guy. That would have blown him out of the water! Then she sobered. But I still haven't got enough money to live on, Charlie. My staying in school all depends upon Professor Cumberland’s accepting me into his experimental project, whatever it is. Charlie was about to offer a word of encouragement when the phone rang. Fonda sprang for it and was immediately sorry she'd answered. It was her father, and from the tone of his voice, it was clear he was not at all pleased with his daughter's recent behavior. We want you home. Now! his deep voice demanded.

Knowing there was no way she could satisfactorily explain her new living arrangement with Charlie, Fonda had been avoiding his calls. Even her going to school in Illinois, rather than in Utah had been a compromise. (With all kinds of stipulations attached, of course.) She admitted it had been a battle she'd won against great odds. Fully appreciating the situation, she gave her parents credit for stretching their belief structure by allowing her the opportunity to study at the school of her choice. The ever-growing conservatism of the country was reflected even more dramatically at home in Utah. She knew it hadn't been an easy decision for them. The expanding problem of separatism had become much more universal lately. Keeping to one's own was not only the Church's doctrine anymore. Ghettoism: each to its own, each color to its own, each philosophy to itself, had become a way of life for everyone in the country. In fact, it was fast becoming universally accepted world-wide. Fonda was fully aware of the fact things weren't always so restrictive. She wondered what it was like to have lived in a more open, accepting society and why things had changed so abruptly.

Not only was she defying church and family, but a greater societal trend. What was more puzzling to her was that it seemed so desirable for her to break with acceptable custom and that she so willingly was pursuing a rebel course. Until the last year, when she had left home and been on her own for the first time, she hadn't realized she had so much of the stuff of independence in her. She smiled, thinking how her small seed of independence had grown into a weed of rebellion. All this, which she had mulled over before again and again, fleetingly crossed her mind before she spoke to her Dad again. She startled herself as much as her father with her response. No, Dad. I'm not coming home. I intend to stay here. With Charlie.

Dad sputtered. He's not one of us! I thought you were sensible enough to understand that's not at all acceptable, Fonda.

If cursing had been acceptable in his philosophy, she knew Dad’s response would have scorched the phone. As it was, his reaction was so predictable, it was almost amusing. Fonda was glad he couldn't see her grin when he responded, just about word for word, as she'd expected. She was glad she’d turned off the vid on the phone. Fonda didn't want an argument and tried placating him. Dad, it's not that bad. He's really very nice. Respectable. Smart. She could hear the pain in Dad's futile attempt at reasoning with her. I'm not going to marry him. We’ll just be sharing living space until I can afford a place of my own.

Leave it to Dad to superimpose a greater problem. She hadn't really thought that far. What would be wrong with it anyway? So the Church wouldn't accept the marriage. Possibly, Charlie could convert. She put the thought out of her mind. It was much too soon to even think of the possibility of marriage, let alone converting Charlie. Why, she hardly knew him well enough to consider marrying him, no less converting him.

Before her father could say another word, Fonda cut him off. Sorry, Dad, I've gotta go. Got a class. She knew it was much better not to argue with her father. It never got her anywhere with him anyway. She hung up. The heated conversation would only deteriorate into a shouting match. The call had interrupted her preparation for the next hurdle. The meeting with Professor Tandy was just the beginning; this was the day of her crucial meeting with Professor Cumberland. Everything has to go well. What if Cumberland doesn't need another student volunteer? What would I do? After having the freedom of campus living here, I couldn't return home. That would be unbearable—impossible! He's just gotta accept me!

*** ***

Except for seeing Cumberland as a figure at a lectern in a large hall or on vid when she missed a class, and hearing about him as an object of campus gossip, Fonda knew almost nothing about the Professor. She had made it a point to try to check him out before meeting him. From what she'd learned, it seemed he'd been working in the field of fertility from day one of his tenure at the University. To a girl of eighteen it was more like forever. To prepare herself for the meeting, she'd not only investigated him personally, but had researched his work as well. Having done her homework, she felt a little more prepared to speak to him convincingly. Her grades were a matter of record. She was glad learning came easily to her and her academic record was so good. She believed, and sincerely hoped, that gave her an edge over other candidates. Charlie kissed her for luck and she left. Fonda stepped out into the frigid air and caught her breath. Charlie's place was only three blocks from the campus, but the bitter weather made the walk seem much further. Butting against the cold felt like slamming into a solid wall. She hoped it wasn’t a portent of things to come. There was still a long winter to come.

Students, looking like bundled baggage, slouched their way through the cold, heading quickly indoors. Bicycles, usually the only practical transportation on campus, were useless on the icy paths, so most walked or rather skidded to class. Although the campus was bustling, Fonda felt oddly alone. She threw her scarf over her face to protect her nose and mouth from the biting cold, and hurried into the Biology Building. Cumberland's office was on the second floor of the antique building. It was one of the original structures on campus, built in the late 1800's, when the school was a land grant college. Made of brick and stone, there was a distinctive hominess in the old building that was lacking in the newer steel and glass structures on campus. It had a comforting familiarity since her labs and other Bio classes were conducted in this building.

To compensate for the extreme cold outside, the building was overheated. Fonda peeled off her scarf and hat and then her coat as she climbed the stairs. At Cumberland's office door, she brushed back a stray hair and straightened up her dress. She felt pants were not appropriate for the interview and risked freezing her butt off to look right. Satisfied she was presentable, Fonda knocked on the solid oak door.

Come in, the familiar voice called. Fonda took a deep breath for courage, slowly opening the door to her future. She was greeted by a warm smile on a pinkish face. Cumberland was a rotund man she guessed to be in his late forties or early fifties. She figured he was about as old as Dad, but the Professor was entirely different from him. Dad's body was hard and muscled. The physical work he’d done all of his life showed in deep etched lines. Cumberland was softer in all ways. Overweight, slightly balding, and a great deal grayer than Dad, the Professor gave the impression of being considerably older than he truly was.

Deep aromatic smoke curled out of a carved meerschaum pipe held in his soft, pudgy hand. She noted the rotund imp carved on the pipe greatly resembled the man holding it. It was unusual to see anyone smoking anymore. The habit was completely out of vogue, like Cumberland himself, Fonda mused. As she entered the office, the Professor tapped the pipe on a glass ashtray and put it down. His office was unlike any room Fonda had ever been in before. It was like the dens one saw in old movies. Overstuffed leather chairs faced a carved mahogany desk. Dog-eared out-dated books covered every horizontal surface. Warm browns and reds cheered the room; it smelled of his pipe and real leather. It was obviously home to him and put Fonda at a loss. In the university setting, she'd expected more of a utilitarian place.

Cumberland pointed to one of the huge leather chairs. Sit down, Miss Anderson.

Fonda put her coat over the back of the oversized chair and sat down facing him. The chair enveloped her in its deep leathery folds. She spotted her record on the console screen on his desk.

Well, young lady, what can I do for you?

I - I came about your experiments, she stuttered nervously.

Cumberland chuckled. What about them?

Fonda recovered her courage. Are you still looking for volunteers for your research project?

The Professor nodded and picked up his pipe again; drawing a large, fragrant draft, he puffed the smoke slowly out of his pursed mouth. Where did you hear about my experiments? He tapped the pipe against the glass ashtray bringing a tinkle into the room.

Fonda sat on the edge of the chair. I guess everyone knows about your project, Sir.

Do they now? Cumberland said with amusement. And what are they saying, young lady?

Despite an attempt at control, Fonda blushed.

Cumberland grinned. I see. I assure you there's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm merely conducting experiments in infertility. To help childless couples, you know. Do you believe I am conducting deep, dark secret experiments as campus gossip implies? Fonda was surprised and embarrassed by his straightforwardness. More serious now, the Professor continued. I’m aware of what's being said about me. If you're really interested in my work, I'll take you through the labs. I'm sure it will ease your mind. Once you are reassured, we can discuss the possibility of your participation.

I'm really interested, Fonda blurted, fearful her restraint would jeopardize her chances. I’m sure everything is okay. The University and Foundation wouldn't have funded your research all these years if it weren't first class.

Cumberland eased back into his leather retreat. I see you've been checking up on me.

She blushed again. I tried to learn as much as I could about your work before applying. I hope you don't mind.

On the contrary, Cumberland said with a hint of amusement in his voice, "I approve. I respect a bright, inquiring mind. I gather from your interest, you've already made the decision to participate?’

Fonda leaned forward. I’ll be honest with you, Professor. I need the money. Without it, I can't stay in school.

I see, he said, drawing deeply on his pipe. As he let the smoke slowly ooze out of his mouth in a perfect circle, he sat back, studying her. I had hoped for more of a commitment to the research.

From what I've learned, I thought you only needed occasional assistance, not long-term or anything.

In most cases that's true. However, I think you’re someone special, Miss Anderson. He indicated the large auxiliary comp-screen on the wall. As you can see, I've been studying you, too. Your grades are exemplary in fields of expertise badly needed in my research. How would you like to be a laboratory assistant as well as an active participant in the experiment?

Surprised by his offer, Fonda didn't immediately respond.

If you need added incentive, the money’s good. Enough to support you more than adequately, young lady. I know of your difficulties, you see.

Cumberland’s interest and knowledge of her was disquieting. Somehow, from the dullness of his lectures, Fonda had obtained an entirely different and obviously wrong impression of him. What she'd recently learned about Cumberland’s experiments was becoming clearer. It seemed that most she'd heard about him was true. His interest in teaching was nil, (not surprising in light of his dull lectures). It was only an excuse to be active faculty and obtain tenure. His real dedication was his research. In deference to his research projects, she learned he had turned down the position as head of the Biology Department three years previously, leaving the business of running the department to the more politically ambitious Professor Flanders. But all Fonda had learned about Cumberland's actual research seemed routine, not all that innovative or absorbing. She knew there had to be more to it than she had read or the funding would have been cut off years before.

While they quietly and openly appraised each other, Fonda nervously waited for Cumberland to say something—anything. The Professor finally spoke. Well, young lady, are you interested or not?

Of course, she answered without any further hesitation. And it's not only for the money.

Now, as for your physical participation in my experiments, do you have any idea as to what they're all about?

I read some, but couldn't really get much information. In all of these years you must have published more results than I could find.

Indeed, you're right, young lady. A great deal more. Now that you have committed to working in the lab, I can tell you, in confidence of course, that much of the work we've been doing here is highly classified. So you see there are secrets after all, but not at all sinister as gossip implies.

Interest piqued, Fonda leaned forward. I don't understand.

If I felt you couldn't be trusted, I wouldn’t have offered a position to you at all. You see, I've checked on you most carefully. Come to the lab. He tapped his pipe, emptying the glowing ash in the ashtray, put it face down, and headed to the door. I'll explain as we go. Fonda wondered why the hallway was so empty, then she took a glance out the window and realized the predicted storm had hit with full force. The grounds were already mounded with fluffy white and the campus had taken on a fairy-land quality. It had been rumored classes would be canceled if the blizzard hit. It had, and everyone had taken off. But it really didn't matter who was there. There was more to Cumberland and his research than she imagined; she was intrigued and hurried to catch up to him.

Years ago, when I began my research as a graduate student-in this very building, Cumberland said, I would never have believed the turn my research would take.

What turn? Fonda wanted to ask, but she was smart enough not to press. From having attended Cumberland's lectures she knew he eventually got to the point, if somewhat obtusely at times. Cumberland unlocked the lab door and held it open for her. Fonda smiled at the vestiges of gentleman still clinging to the Professor. It was rare to find a man with any of them even the slightest intact anymore. She decided she kind of liked it, and smiled her thanks.

Cumberland's lab didn't look any different from any of the others Fonda had been in. In temperature controlled cabinets, were rows of test tubes, neatly labeled and dated. If anything, the lab seemed a little less crowded and more sterile than others she'd seen. Certainly none of the pictures conjured up by secret research and Frankenstein monsters were evident. She wasn't sure whether she was pleased or disappointed at discovering the lab to be quite mundane. Cumberland handed her a data sheet.

January 10, 2155: 13:00: LOG - Today's. She perused it, trying to get the sense of the entries. All sterile? she asked.

By no means, the Professor answered. The top row has been fertilized and they are awaiting implantation. They represent the hopes of many childless couples. He waited for his statement to sink in.

You supply fertilized blastocysts for implantation? A baby factory?

I never thought of it in quite those terms. When we are successful, we can accomplish fertilization with the mother or father's donation, and sometimes with both.

Fonda was beginning to get the picture. And if you can't you use other ova and sperm?

Cumberland nodded. Is the idea against your beliefs? I understand you come from a very conservative Mormon family.

Fonda shook her head. I hadn't given it much thought. I hadn't thought of having any kids, not yet, anyway.

The Professor smiled. The process is quite detached. It isn't exactly like having a child of your own. In fact, you may never know if your donation has been fertilized or not. It is your option, of course, but I prefer the donors not know the result of their individual participation.

Fonda read through the log again. I don't see anything here which could be considered classified, except, of course, the identities of the participants. This kind of activity isn't uncommon. It hasn’t been for years.

True, Cumberland answered. But he didn't expand further, leaving her with as many questions as she'd had before.

The procedure is quite routine but there are some constraints necessary for active participation in the program. Cumberland lead Fonda out of the lab, then locked the door behind him. As they headed back to his office, he explained further. Any form of chemical birth control must be terminated for at least three months prior to the first ova removal. Even then, we found there may still be residual inhibiting factors. No smoking. No drinking.

It was almost like one of Dad's unsolicited and unnecessary lectures. Fonda felt the swell of rebellion rising, but controlled her urge to speak openly. If it were Dad assigning the constraints she would have exploded in irrational anger. Knowing there were practical considerations for the taboos Cumberland was asking helped her keep her head. Besides, she acknowledged secretly, not one of the prohibitions was difficult for her. She didn't use birth control, never smoked, and couldn't stand the taste of most alcoholic beverages. There was nothing Cumberland was asking her to do, she didn't already do anyway. What bothered her was the asking, not the doing. It wasn't logical, but her residual feelings of resentment, caused by a restrictive upbringing, were real nevertheless. Cumberland had hinted of more than the obvious, more than he had shown her. Fonda was doing her best to remain calm, subverting her curiosity to the point of bursting. Patience, she reminded herself. Not one of your virtues. Don't blow it, Fonda. You'll get to know what’s going on here in time. Proud that she'd controlled her emotions so far, Fonda smiled at Cumberland. When they entered his office, he gestured for her to sit down. Fonda took the