he assumed, to ground level. A dark cylinder several meters across and standing on end bisected the atrium. An eerie red glow emanated from the cylinder outlining large, protruding, plastic nubs arranged in a spiral pattern similar to that of an immature pinecone.
“What is that?” Moyer said, pointing toward the atrium.
“That, Mr. Winfield, is the cradle of life. It’s the incubator chamber. Your baby will be reared there. People here call it the hive . Those bumps along the outside are synthetic uterine pods, each one holding a baby. Hogan-Perko developed them. It’s what made human cloning possible and what saved mankind.” There was an expression of pride on Duncan’s face. “It takes nine months for a pod to spiral its way from top to bottom into the waiting arms of its parents.”
Duncan led them into an office. Inside, a wood desk and three deep leather chairs were arranged near an interior window overlooking the hive. It was a different office from the one Moyer saw on his earlier visit. This office was tastefully appointed. The desk was hewn from some exotic wood Moyer didn’t recognize. The carpet was thick and plush. Moyer couldn’t take his eyes off the hive, the product, the symbol of Hogan-Perko success. It was a view intended to impress, to seal the deal.
Duncan sat and placed the digital clipboard on a scanning plate. An intense beam of green light passed down the screen. A moment later, two labels emerged from a slot in the desktop. Duncan opened a drawer, withdrew a pair of glass test tubes, and tapped them on the desk. “I’m going to need blood samples. Are either of you squeamish?”
“Not me,” Moyer said. Robyn shook her head.
“Sorry,” Duncan grinned. “I have to ask. Occasionally we’ll get someone who faints dead away at the sight of blood. Regardless, I’ll have to ask you to be seated, just in case.”
Moyer and Robyn sat. Moyer pushed up his sleeve and extended his arm to Duncan. The stopper on the tube was coated with white fuzz. Duncan pressed the stopper against Moyer’s arm. It tickled. Fine glass filaments penetrated his skin, and the vacuum inside drew in a current of scarlet. Duncan pulled the tube away after it filled a third of the way. “That’s much more than we’ll need.”
When Robyn was done, Duncan placed labels onto the tubes and banded them together. A phone on the desk chimed. Surprise registered on Duncan’s face. He picked up on the second ring.
“Hello? Yes sir, right away.” Duncan placed the receiver down carefully. His mouth was drawn tight. “Mr. Perko has asked to see you, Mr. Winfield. Mrs. Winfield and I will be in the lobby when you are through.”
Moyer waved to Robyn through the glass as he walked past on his way down the hall to the elevator. The car waited doors open. He stepped in. The doors closed behind him and the car started upward before he could press a button. Motors hummed, ascending in pitch as the car gained momentum. Moyer sensed he was being observed. He swirled his tongue inside his mouth trying to make spit. Petro’s warning played inside his head. Despite the whine of the motors, the popping in his ears, and the pressure planting him to the floor, the elevator seemed to take forever getting to Perko’s office.
Viktor Perko sat behind his U-shaped desk facing away from the door when Moyer entered. Moyer walked through circles of light on the floor laid out like a chain to Perko’s desk. As he neared the old man, he saw a flash of movement at the edge of his vision. They were not alone. Two agents lurked against the wall hidden in the darkness, barely visible in black armor.
A single monitor in Perko’s media wall was lit. On it, Duncan sat beside Robyn in the lobby with an agent positioned at the door.
“Your wife is a lovely woman,” Perko said. Something in his voice seemed lustful, as if watching her had stirred desires long dormant. “She will make a wonderful mother.” He turned toward Moyer and
“What is that?” Moyer said, pointing toward the atrium.
“That, Mr. Winfield, is the cradle of life. It’s the incubator chamber. Your baby will be reared there. People here call it the hive . Those bumps along the outside are synthetic uterine pods, each one holding a baby. Hogan-Perko developed them. It’s what made human cloning possible and what saved mankind.” There was an expression of pride on Duncan’s face. “It takes nine months for a pod to spiral its way from top to bottom into the waiting arms of its parents.”
Duncan led them into an office. Inside, a wood desk and three deep leather chairs were arranged near an interior window overlooking the hive. It was a different office from the one Moyer saw on his earlier visit. This office was tastefully appointed. The desk was hewn from some exotic wood Moyer didn’t recognize. The carpet was thick and plush. Moyer couldn’t take his eyes off the hive, the product, the symbol of Hogan-Perko success. It was a view intended to impress, to seal the deal.
Duncan sat and placed the digital clipboard on a scanning plate. An intense beam of green light passed down the screen. A moment later, two labels emerged from a slot in the desktop. Duncan opened a drawer, withdrew a pair of glass test tubes, and tapped them on the desk. “I’m going to need blood samples. Are either of you squeamish?”
“Not me,” Moyer said. Robyn shook her head.
“Sorry,” Duncan grinned. “I have to ask. Occasionally we’ll get someone who faints dead away at the sight of blood. Regardless, I’ll have to ask you to be seated, just in case.”
Moyer and Robyn sat. Moyer pushed up his sleeve and extended his arm to Duncan. The stopper on the tube was coated with white fuzz. Duncan pressed the stopper against Moyer’s arm. It tickled. Fine glass filaments penetrated his skin, and the vacuum inside drew in a current of scarlet. Duncan pulled the tube away after it filled a third of the way. “That’s much more than we’ll need.”
When Robyn was done, Duncan placed labels onto the tubes and banded them together. A phone on the desk chimed. Surprise registered on Duncan’s face. He picked up on the second ring.
“Hello? Yes sir, right away.” Duncan placed the receiver down carefully. His mouth was drawn tight. “Mr. Perko has asked to see you, Mr. Winfield. Mrs. Winfield and I will be in the lobby when you are through.”
Moyer waved to Robyn through the glass as he walked past on his way down the hall to the elevator. The car waited doors open. He stepped in. The doors closed behind him and the car started upward before he could press a button. Motors hummed, ascending in pitch as the car gained momentum. Moyer sensed he was being observed. He swirled his tongue inside his mouth trying to make spit. Petro’s warning played inside his head. Despite the whine of the motors, the popping in his ears, and the pressure planting him to the floor, the elevator seemed to take forever getting to Perko’s office.
Viktor Perko sat behind his U-shaped desk facing away from the door when Moyer entered. Moyer walked through circles of light on the floor laid out like a chain to Perko’s desk. As he neared the old man, he saw a flash of movement at the edge of his vision. They were not alone. Two agents lurked against the wall hidden in the darkness, barely visible in black armor.
A single monitor in Perko’s media wall was lit. On it, Duncan sat beside Robyn in the lobby with an agent positioned at the door.
“Your wife is a lovely woman,” Perko said. Something in his voice seemed lustful, as if watching her had stirred desires long dormant. “She will make a wonderful mother.” He turned toward Moyer and
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