form a new species.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Jill. It’s one-point-six per cent, and the differences are spread throughout the whole goddamn genome, including control loci, not just one or two isolated genes. Chimps are close relatives, but not that close.’ Ro shook her head. ‘And the general fuckin’ public doesn’t know the difference between algorithm and data, because DNA is both and what matters is exactly which—’
‘Whoa.’ Jill held up both hands. ‘Peace. I’m just telling you that the bishop is wavering, all right? If the Pope made an announcement either way, the uncertainty would be over ... but she’s keeping quiet on the issue.’
Ro shook her head.
‘I don’t believe the kids have souls. But I don’t think you or anyone else has one, either. Shit. Can the Vatican even spell “emergent properties”?’
‘Only the Jesuits. But, “falling revenue from church collections”? Or “rising dissatisfaction among congregations”? They can spell those just fine.’
That was yesterday, in the cool, rational surroundings of her Alpine home, far removed from the hard air and stifling heat of Mexican noon. Even meditating in the shadow-painted storage room, eyes shut against the hammering white light reflected from the courtyard outside, Ro was aware of a harsh edge to reality, the faintest hum as a beetle flew to the nearest wall.
Then she was standing, though her eyes remained shut.
Three aircars. Drawing close.
Ed was supposed to come alone.
‘Shit, shit, shit.’
Ro opened her eyes and popped out her contacts, then flicked the lenses aside. If there was to be any kind of action, she wanted no mistakes.
Two flyers circled low, out of sight behind the rooftops, their sound muffled by the quotidian cacophony of the town. They settled down. Ro imagined armed men spilling forth, running to surround this courtyard.
Wait.
Finally, the smallest of the flyers was overhead, a white speck in a baking azure sky. It hung for a moment, then descended in a puff of hot dust. A pale unhealthy figure stumbled out.
‘Ed. God damn it.’
Monsignor Edwin Grayling winced at every step, and Ro wondered at the state of his feet. Beating the soles was unsophisticated but effective. They had been careful to leave no cuts or bruises on his face.
Why? You think I wouldn‘t notice something was up?
Ed walked towards the storage room.
Ro could slide out and get away, sneak through the tiny window at the rear ... maybe. Abandoning Ed.
She could not do that.
Instead, Ro stepped into the sunlight with a cheery wave, skin prickling as she sensed targeting beams reflecting from her face and body, and called out: ‘Ed! You made it!’
He moved his mouth, but only a croak came out.
Anaesthetic spray to the vocal cords. Bastards got that right, at least.
Ro gestured back at the building.
‘I brought the others. We’re all here.’
She hoped that would give them pause. The flyer could not hold more than four or five men, but if they were trained that was enough. More of them were outside the courtyard, crouched in the street: close enough that she could sense the trickle-currents of their xaser weapons.
It took more nerve than expected to walk completely into the open, all her senses screaming danger, smiling at Ed as though nothing were wrong. Anguish clawed at his face.
Invisible targeting beams from six different weapons moved across her skin, centred on the same target.
Now.
This was the moment.
Both hands grabbed hold of Ed’s shirt as she spun, threw herself in a sacrifice move which hurled Ed to the dusty ground close to the flyer. Then she was continuing the roll, onto her feet - ‘Stay there!’ - and thrusting forward, into a sprint towards the nearest building.
Coherent X-ray beams torc the ground apart behind her.
But she was faster, diving through
‘For Christ’s sake, Jill. It’s one-point-six per cent, and the differences are spread throughout the whole goddamn genome, including control loci, not just one or two isolated genes. Chimps are close relatives, but not that close.’ Ro shook her head. ‘And the general fuckin’ public doesn’t know the difference between algorithm and data, because DNA is both and what matters is exactly which—’
‘Whoa.’ Jill held up both hands. ‘Peace. I’m just telling you that the bishop is wavering, all right? If the Pope made an announcement either way, the uncertainty would be over ... but she’s keeping quiet on the issue.’
Ro shook her head.
‘I don’t believe the kids have souls. But I don’t think you or anyone else has one, either. Shit. Can the Vatican even spell “emergent properties”?’
‘Only the Jesuits. But, “falling revenue from church collections”? Or “rising dissatisfaction among congregations”? They can spell those just fine.’
That was yesterday, in the cool, rational surroundings of her Alpine home, far removed from the hard air and stifling heat of Mexican noon. Even meditating in the shadow-painted storage room, eyes shut against the hammering white light reflected from the courtyard outside, Ro was aware of a harsh edge to reality, the faintest hum as a beetle flew to the nearest wall.
Then she was standing, though her eyes remained shut.
Three aircars. Drawing close.
Ed was supposed to come alone.
‘Shit, shit, shit.’
Ro opened her eyes and popped out her contacts, then flicked the lenses aside. If there was to be any kind of action, she wanted no mistakes.
Two flyers circled low, out of sight behind the rooftops, their sound muffled by the quotidian cacophony of the town. They settled down. Ro imagined armed men spilling forth, running to surround this courtyard.
Wait.
Finally, the smallest of the flyers was overhead, a white speck in a baking azure sky. It hung for a moment, then descended in a puff of hot dust. A pale unhealthy figure stumbled out.
‘Ed. God damn it.’
Monsignor Edwin Grayling winced at every step, and Ro wondered at the state of his feet. Beating the soles was unsophisticated but effective. They had been careful to leave no cuts or bruises on his face.
Why? You think I wouldn‘t notice something was up?
Ed walked towards the storage room.
Ro could slide out and get away, sneak through the tiny window at the rear ... maybe. Abandoning Ed.
She could not do that.
Instead, Ro stepped into the sunlight with a cheery wave, skin prickling as she sensed targeting beams reflecting from her face and body, and called out: ‘Ed! You made it!’
He moved his mouth, but only a croak came out.
Anaesthetic spray to the vocal cords. Bastards got that right, at least.
Ro gestured back at the building.
‘I brought the others. We’re all here.’
She hoped that would give them pause. The flyer could not hold more than four or five men, but if they were trained that was enough. More of them were outside the courtyard, crouched in the street: close enough that she could sense the trickle-currents of their xaser weapons.
It took more nerve than expected to walk completely into the open, all her senses screaming danger, smiling at Ed as though nothing were wrong. Anguish clawed at his face.
Invisible targeting beams from six different weapons moved across her skin, centred on the same target.
Now.
This was the moment.
Both hands grabbed hold of Ed’s shirt as she spun, threw herself in a sacrifice move which hurled Ed to the dusty ground close to the flyer. Then she was continuing the roll, onto her feet - ‘Stay there!’ - and thrusting forward, into a sprint towards the nearest building.
Coherent X-ray beams torc the ground apart behind her.
But she was faster, diving through
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