northeast, observing as people approached and passed, the optic microfiber woven into their clothes glowing corporate logos and slogans.
The shadowy form of a woman drew near, tall, gliding on long purposeful strides, shoulder length hair bobbing in time with her gate, an Oshun Services logo radiating from the front of her work uniform. Moyer knew it was Robyn before he saw her face. She was smiling. Robyn hadn’t been this happy in a very long time, since well before she’d lost her programming job. He stood and held his arm bent away from his side. Robyn slid hers underneath and they walked into Hogan-Perko arm in arm.
Fredrick Duncan waited in the lobby, sitting in one of the low chairs near the front windows. He held an electronic clipboard in his hand and motioned for them to take a seat. Moyer wondered how long he’d been sitting there, and whether he’d occupied his time watching Moyer freeze on the bench.
“Mrs. Winfield, so glad to finally meet you,” he said, extending his arm forward. Robyn shook his hand with a guarded expression. She was nervous, unsure perhaps of what Moyer might have said to Duncan about her in their previous meeting.
“This shouldn’t take long,” Duncan said. “Before we collect donor cells, I must ask some questions so that we might achieve the best result.”
Moyer and Robyn exchanged glances. She smiled a little. He knew what she was thinking. She couldn’t believe it was actually happening; they were having a baby. She clutched her purse close in her lap and nodded.
“First, boy or girl?”
Again they exchanged glances. It was a topic that hadn’t come up in a very long time, not since they were first married. Moyer wondered if the answer was still the same. “A girl,” he ventured. Robyn grinned and nodded. Her eyes had grown glossy.
“Very good,” Duncan said. “Are there any specific traits you prefer to see passed along?”
“Robyn’s green eyes,” Moyer said.
Robyn blushed. “I want her to have Moyer’s dark hair and olive skin,” she said.
“Anything else?”
“Tall and slender, the same as us,” Moyer said.
“Okay, that shouldn’t be an issue considering both of you carry those traits. Are there any traits you want screened out?”
A sheepish expression crossed Robyn’s face. “Uh, Moyer’s father was a sensitive . Moyer is also, to a lesser extent. Can you screen for that?”
Though he wanted the same for their child, Moyer was hurt. No matter how it was couched, Robyn was pointing out a part of him she could barely tolerate, something she wouldn’t want to see repeated in her daughter. If given the chance, Moyer would have chosen to eliminate that trait as well, but hearing it from Robyn was painful.
“We can. Many times it’s missed because it might not display in the parent until after they have a child and the trait has already been passed. It’s good you have a family history.”
“Huntington’s disease,” Moyer said, “I mentioned it before. It was screened out of me, but my mother had it and I want to be sure.”
“Of course,” Duncan said. “It should have been eliminated from your genetic profile during your screening, but we can double check both of you to be sure. Is there anything else?”
Moyer waited for a cue from Robyn. When she shook her head, he shook his.
“Fine. Then, please, come along with me.” Duncan stood, and Moyer and Robyn followed him to the elevator. Duncan pressed 17 and the car shot upward. When Robyn grabbed for the rail, Duncan smirked. After a few seconds, the car slowed.
Duncan led the way out after the doors opened. A dimly lit corridor of smoked glass curved away from the elevator in a long arc. Moyer peered into empty offices through transparent walls. The opposing walls were also glass, making the offices appear as though platforms floating in space. Beyond them, a circular atrium extended through the core of the building upward out of his field of vision, and downward as well,
The shadowy form of a woman drew near, tall, gliding on long purposeful strides, shoulder length hair bobbing in time with her gate, an Oshun Services logo radiating from the front of her work uniform. Moyer knew it was Robyn before he saw her face. She was smiling. Robyn hadn’t been this happy in a very long time, since well before she’d lost her programming job. He stood and held his arm bent away from his side. Robyn slid hers underneath and they walked into Hogan-Perko arm in arm.
Fredrick Duncan waited in the lobby, sitting in one of the low chairs near the front windows. He held an electronic clipboard in his hand and motioned for them to take a seat. Moyer wondered how long he’d been sitting there, and whether he’d occupied his time watching Moyer freeze on the bench.
“Mrs. Winfield, so glad to finally meet you,” he said, extending his arm forward. Robyn shook his hand with a guarded expression. She was nervous, unsure perhaps of what Moyer might have said to Duncan about her in their previous meeting.
“This shouldn’t take long,” Duncan said. “Before we collect donor cells, I must ask some questions so that we might achieve the best result.”
Moyer and Robyn exchanged glances. She smiled a little. He knew what she was thinking. She couldn’t believe it was actually happening; they were having a baby. She clutched her purse close in her lap and nodded.
“First, boy or girl?”
Again they exchanged glances. It was a topic that hadn’t come up in a very long time, not since they were first married. Moyer wondered if the answer was still the same. “A girl,” he ventured. Robyn grinned and nodded. Her eyes had grown glossy.
“Very good,” Duncan said. “Are there any specific traits you prefer to see passed along?”
“Robyn’s green eyes,” Moyer said.
Robyn blushed. “I want her to have Moyer’s dark hair and olive skin,” she said.
“Anything else?”
“Tall and slender, the same as us,” Moyer said.
“Okay, that shouldn’t be an issue considering both of you carry those traits. Are there any traits you want screened out?”
A sheepish expression crossed Robyn’s face. “Uh, Moyer’s father was a sensitive . Moyer is also, to a lesser extent. Can you screen for that?”
Though he wanted the same for their child, Moyer was hurt. No matter how it was couched, Robyn was pointing out a part of him she could barely tolerate, something she wouldn’t want to see repeated in her daughter. If given the chance, Moyer would have chosen to eliminate that trait as well, but hearing it from Robyn was painful.
“We can. Many times it’s missed because it might not display in the parent until after they have a child and the trait has already been passed. It’s good you have a family history.”
“Huntington’s disease,” Moyer said, “I mentioned it before. It was screened out of me, but my mother had it and I want to be sure.”
“Of course,” Duncan said. “It should have been eliminated from your genetic profile during your screening, but we can double check both of you to be sure. Is there anything else?”
Moyer waited for a cue from Robyn. When she shook her head, he shook his.
“Fine. Then, please, come along with me.” Duncan stood, and Moyer and Robyn followed him to the elevator. Duncan pressed 17 and the car shot upward. When Robyn grabbed for the rail, Duncan smirked. After a few seconds, the car slowed.
Duncan led the way out after the doors opened. A dimly lit corridor of smoked glass curved away from the elevator in a long arc. Moyer peered into empty offices through transparent walls. The opposing walls were also glass, making the offices appear as though platforms floating in space. Beyond them, a circular atrium extended through the core of the building upward out of his field of vision, and downward as well,
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