thought she might smack the next smile she saw.
He scowled at Mel. "Let's go, girl."
She followed, for once not asking questions.
Jerome walked slowly. He wasn't as old as Great-Granddad Nicolas, but he wasn't a young man, either, and it showed. He was very thin, and not fashionably so. His limbs looked as if they could snap at any moment.
"Gods damn it," he muttered when one of his legs quivered and he had to stop.
"Gods?" Mel hadn't heard someone mention them since Great-Granddad Nicolas.
Someone must stand above those who do this to us .
"Do gods exist, Doctor Jerome?"
The old man laughed. He wheezed as he did, and the laughter itself came out as screeching.
"You tell me, girl. You tell me this after our little tour today."
They passed many locked doors and corridors before they reached an enormous, brightly-lit room. The Academy was bigger than it looked. Good. There must be an answer behind one of those doors.
"So, girl." Jerome pointed at the rows of tables lining the room's floor and at the glass cubes on the tables. There was liquid inside the cubes, as well as something moving. "Do you know what these are?"
Mel shook her head.
"Do you know where babies come from?"
"From cells," Mel said. "Non-embryonic stem cells from the parents." She felt stupid saying it. Even Mom knew as much. Everyone, or at least everyone wanting or having a child, did. When the time came, both mates went to the office of BabiesAsYouDream, Inc., where a special medstat cut a lock of hair from each and gently scraped cells from their tongues. Months later, the mates were messaged to go to BabiesAsYouDream, Inc. to receive their new baby and a special medstat to care for it in its first two years.
Or, that was the process for most people. Mel's dad had done work that the corporation usually did for you.
"The parents can choose which genes from the cells to use," Mel said, "though most people don't. I am sorry, Doctor. Doctor Eryn wouldn't tell me more than that. She said it was no business of a Doctor of Computers. She said I only needed to know how to care for existing people, if there ever was a need for my inadequate services."
"Heh, yes." He screeched with laughter again. "We wouldn't want to fill the heads of our Computer doctors with additional stuff that would only take space needed for their programs, would we? Worry not, even Doctors of People don't learn much of this. They don't need it, either."
"I am not worrying," Mel almost said. Why would she want the Doctors of People to know less?
She didn't say it. She was worrying. Why keep people, doctors or not, ignorant?
"Of course, girl, all that information is out there in the interweb."
"Is it? I didn't know that. What I do know"—Mel met his eyes, suddenly angry—"is that the information on the interweb is much, way too much, and always contradictory! I've read about pre-implantation genetic diagnosis and selection, about pluripotent stem cells, extrauterine fetus incubation. I've even read that the giving birth wonderful experience in the mall was once upon a time a real thing! But you asked me what I know, Doctor, not what I can find on the interweb! The interweb is words, words, words —so many that, as some of those very articles on the interweb say, you can drown in them. But what exactly is drown, doctor? Do you even know? They say that it is water killing you, but water does not harm people, it quenches thirst and gives health..."
One of the old man's feet shot in her direction. It kicked her in the knee and she fell, suddenly in great pain. A medstat was wheeling towards her, but the doctor shouted "No!" He gripped Mel by the collar and forced her head back, then grabbed a bottle from his pocket and poured water hard into her nose.
It was just like a wonderful experience in the mall—but much, much stronger.
It lasted no longer than a few moments. Then the medstat caught her with its metal hands, turned her on her belly, hit her back, made her cough
He scowled at Mel. "Let's go, girl."
She followed, for once not asking questions.
Jerome walked slowly. He wasn't as old as Great-Granddad Nicolas, but he wasn't a young man, either, and it showed. He was very thin, and not fashionably so. His limbs looked as if they could snap at any moment.
"Gods damn it," he muttered when one of his legs quivered and he had to stop.
"Gods?" Mel hadn't heard someone mention them since Great-Granddad Nicolas.
Someone must stand above those who do this to us .
"Do gods exist, Doctor Jerome?"
The old man laughed. He wheezed as he did, and the laughter itself came out as screeching.
"You tell me, girl. You tell me this after our little tour today."
They passed many locked doors and corridors before they reached an enormous, brightly-lit room. The Academy was bigger than it looked. Good. There must be an answer behind one of those doors.
"So, girl." Jerome pointed at the rows of tables lining the room's floor and at the glass cubes on the tables. There was liquid inside the cubes, as well as something moving. "Do you know what these are?"
Mel shook her head.
"Do you know where babies come from?"
"From cells," Mel said. "Non-embryonic stem cells from the parents." She felt stupid saying it. Even Mom knew as much. Everyone, or at least everyone wanting or having a child, did. When the time came, both mates went to the office of BabiesAsYouDream, Inc., where a special medstat cut a lock of hair from each and gently scraped cells from their tongues. Months later, the mates were messaged to go to BabiesAsYouDream, Inc. to receive their new baby and a special medstat to care for it in its first two years.
Or, that was the process for most people. Mel's dad had done work that the corporation usually did for you.
"The parents can choose which genes from the cells to use," Mel said, "though most people don't. I am sorry, Doctor. Doctor Eryn wouldn't tell me more than that. She said it was no business of a Doctor of Computers. She said I only needed to know how to care for existing people, if there ever was a need for my inadequate services."
"Heh, yes." He screeched with laughter again. "We wouldn't want to fill the heads of our Computer doctors with additional stuff that would only take space needed for their programs, would we? Worry not, even Doctors of People don't learn much of this. They don't need it, either."
"I am not worrying," Mel almost said. Why would she want the Doctors of People to know less?
She didn't say it. She was worrying. Why keep people, doctors or not, ignorant?
"Of course, girl, all that information is out there in the interweb."
"Is it? I didn't know that. What I do know"—Mel met his eyes, suddenly angry—"is that the information on the interweb is much, way too much, and always contradictory! I've read about pre-implantation genetic diagnosis and selection, about pluripotent stem cells, extrauterine fetus incubation. I've even read that the giving birth wonderful experience in the mall was once upon a time a real thing! But you asked me what I know, Doctor, not what I can find on the interweb! The interweb is words, words, words —so many that, as some of those very articles on the interweb say, you can drown in them. But what exactly is drown, doctor? Do you even know? They say that it is water killing you, but water does not harm people, it quenches thirst and gives health..."
One of the old man's feet shot in her direction. It kicked her in the knee and she fell, suddenly in great pain. A medstat was wheeling towards her, but the doctor shouted "No!" He gripped Mel by the collar and forced her head back, then grabbed a bottle from his pocket and poured water hard into her nose.
It was just like a wonderful experience in the mall—but much, much stronger.
It lasted no longer than a few moments. Then the medstat caught her with its metal hands, turned her on her belly, hit her back, made her cough
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