Creations (4 page)

“So, this hush-hush job offer that’s so secret you couldn’t even tell your own wife what it was about,” she said from the passenger seat. “If you do end up saying no to it, what then?”

“Then we’re back to the original plan,” he said.

“So that means you’re still going to Chile?”

He thought of the monitoring programme, and the school talks, and what might be waiting for him down there. “Yeah, it does,” he said.

“Well, at least that’s the option I’d prepared myself for. Six months away with one home visit, that’s still the arrangement I assume.”

“It is. Are you still okay with that?”

“I guess. I have stuff planned at least. Preparing for that San Diego exhibition will keep me pretty busy. It’s still a long time for you to be away though. Especially if we want the go-ahead to start a family sometime soon.”

“I know it is,” he said. The hardest part about joining the GRACE programme had been the prospect of spending so much time away from home. It was important work, something he believed in just as passionately as the school talks he worked into each monitoring schedule, but leaving Gillian for months on end to go off counting endangered creatures was a big sacrifice.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said without conviction.

They drove another half hour or so before the freeway forked, one branch heading toward Charleston, and the forests to the east.

“Here we go,” Max said as they got into lane. “No backing out now I guess.”

“Oh, Max, try to make the best of it. It’s been so long since I saw my family, if they knew I was so close and didn’t visit they’d be really upset. I know you don’t want to even go near the place, but please — one night can’t be that hard can it?”

“And do I have to spend that one night sitting there with my mouth shut whatever gets thrown at me?”

“I’ll talk to my dad when we get there if you like. If you want I’ll say nothing, but I’ll try my best.”

“I’ll let you know,” Max said. He could see the dilemma she was in; opportunities to travel across the country were few and far between and her separation from her family was hard on her. Marrying Max had been an unpopular decision with some of her relatives and the chance to show she still valued them and wanted to be close to them wasn’t something to give up lightly.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” she said. “You can rant and rave all you want once it’s over, just not tonight. I know it’s hard.”

For Max though, just being in the same room as people like that was hard. “I don’t know, Gillian,” he said. “I just can’t get my head around people who live in the most enlightened, technically advanced age the world has ever known, but somehow manage to think the earth was created six thousand years ago. I mean, there are cave paintings in France older than that.”

Gillian didn’t answer, staring straight ahead as they drove, as if she hadn’t heard what he’d been saying. Or maybe she knew what he was
really
saying, and didn’t want to look him in the eye.

“Like that ‘Freedom in Faith’ book,” Max said. “The one your dad always brings out. How many people have read that now? Swallowing every word of it as if it was true? If we have a child, do we really want them growing up in a world ruled by superstition and fear of the unknown?”

This time she answered. “What are you trying to do here, Max? Make me rise to the bait?”

“No, this isn’t bait. I’m genuinely trying to understand what makes people believe things that bear no resemblance to the facts they supposedly explain. I’ve never been able to understand it.”

“Because maybe there’s more to this world than facts and conclusions and scientific method?”

“And that’s the gap that religion fills? A system of belief in the supernatural so arbitrary and undefined that it comes in over a hundred different forms? Most of which have been at each others’ throats at one time or another?”

“It’s people who make wars, Max, not religions.”

“But if those wars amount to little more than an argument over who’s got the best imaginary friend? The responsibility has to lie somewhere.”

She went silent again. The things he’d said were things he genuinely believed, but Max knew he’d pushed it too far, treated her unfairly. They’d agreed long ago not to let The Big Difference be the thing that defined their relationship, and for year after year it had worked. But in recent months the threats had strained Max’s resolve like nothing had before and now he was breaking those rules, taking it out on her. Which was even worse considering he still hadn’t been able to tell her about them. And still he couldn’t say why.

Would she worry? Certainly she would, but that wasn’t enough of a reason on its own, not for keeping something like this from her. Maybe it was more to do with what those people claimed to represent, what they claimed to be upholding, and how close that came to what Gillian herself believed. Was he protecting her from the realisation of what those who could be considered her allies were capable of? No, that didn’t fit with his feelings either. There was a truth in amongst those feelings, a truth he was reluctant to face. Deep down he knew he was only protecting himself from the way she would react if she knew what his actions had brought upon them: actions aimed at furthering a view of the world which she saw as fundamentally
flawed. There were a lot of old arguments on that subject, arguments they’d put behind them long ago, and opening them up again to explain why his choice of career had led to people threatening his safety, and hers, was not a course of action he wanted to take. But if she ever did find out — for the past year Max had tried not to think what that would be like.

They were halfway to her parents’ place, the scenery outside dimming to shades of grey, when Gillian’s omni rang with an incoming message. She checked the listed sender, then bit her lip and stared straight ahead. Max could tell she’d seen something she didn’t like.

“What is it?” he said.

“It’s the medical board,” she said. “They’ve decided.”

Max waited for her to open the message, unwilling to rush her when something so important was at stake. Eventually she plugged the omni into the car’s viewer and brought up the message on the display in front of her. It took only seconds to read what was there.

“They said no, Max. We’ve been rejected.”

Her voice was flat, emotionless. From that alone, Max could tell how hard the news had hit her.

“Did they say whether we can go through another round?” he said.

“We can, but it gets less likely each time.”

“That’s no reason not to try.”

“No, you’re right, it isn’t.”

Her tone however suggested she already saw it as a lost cause. And that at least was something Max would find hard to argue with. They were only thirty-five years old, but the longer a childless couple spent trying to get the go-ahead the less likely it became that the process would come down on their side.

“So what do we do?” she said.

Max paused. This had the potential to be a long and difficult conversation. “We can apply again,” he said. “In fact we should
do, no matter how unlikely it is. But if our names don’t come up — I don’t know what we’d do then. I’m starting to wonder whether we should just go for it, find somewhere we can pay for the treatments ourselves.”

She shook her head, her usual stoic resilience obviously dented by the news. And with good reason; almost twenty percent of conceptions needed some kind of medical assistance these days, to counter the effects of the sea of chemicals and leaked synthetic hormones that made up the environment, and tests had confirmed that Max and Gillian were in that category. With the world’s population already at unsustainable levels, the opportunity to ration those treatments was too tempting for those in control to pass up. The government had targets to meet: a decrease of twelve million people in the next fifty years, a twenty percent cut in industrial output. Sometimes it seemed they lived in a world defined by its rules: who could fly, who could drive, who could have children. They were necessary rules, internationally agreed between the free world nations, and Max more than most could see the need for them, but the restrictions were a strain that left few unaffected.

“Pay for them ourselves?” she said. “Where?”

“We go abroad and get treatment. Asia, North Africa, there are plenty of places.”

“And how do we get there? Walk? No, Max, we’d never get a warrant to fly there, and they’d cripple us when we got back. I’ve seen it happen. Asha, that woman I exhibited with last year, she had to sell her home to cover the penalties. She thought it would be okay, but it wasn’t.”

Max looked over at her and nodded slowly. He was trying to look as sympathetic as he thought she expected him to be, but really his mind was on more practical matters, searching for things they could actually do to solve the situation they were in. Right now, he had no answers.

They went over it again after that, cycling through the
familiar territory of the barrier they’d come up against, suggesting then discounting one course of action after another, knowing that they’d have little new to add compared to the last time they’d discussed it, or the time before that. And all along they knew the answer was a simple one: just one little implant, fitted under Gillian’s skin to monitor and modify her blood chemistry over the course of six months, to make normal conception and development a possibility.

“We can’t do anything tonight,” Gillian said eventually, a glimmer of her usual fortitude returning to her voice. “Let’s get the griddex for the next application and try for that. We’ll play up your qualifications and the job you’re in, that might count for something.”

Max was glad it was her that had decided to postpone further discussions. He knew how she felt, seeing their chance to start a family taken away so unfairly, but without firm suggestions, practical answers, he was lost.

“I’ll find it when we get to your dad’s,” he said. “We may be able to get our names down early.”

“Yes, do that,” she said. “We’ll be there in ten minutes. I’ll call him now to say we’re close. And Max, when we get there, try to keep things friendly, okay? My sister’s bringing her fiancé over. He’s from the church as well, but she says he really wants to meet you. And don’t let my dad get to you. If you think he’s trying to make you rise to it, then just — just don’t, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Max said as she made the call. “That’s all I can promise.”

The house was up a forested hill, timber-built, like a large alpine cabin, with the steep slope to its rear and tall trees overhanging it on all sides. Theirs wasn’t the only house here; the nearest neighbours were just a few hundred yards away, but the foliage and curving road hid any other signs of habitation. Max and Gillian got out of the rental car and climbed the short steep pathway to the door.

“Gillian, my girl,” her father said when he answered. Ira Letz was a stocky white-haired man, his face creased and ruddy, thick arms covered in more coarse white hair. Even the backs of his hands and fingers had that same wiry coating. He held Gillian tight, then took her by the shoulders and held her facing him while he looked her in the eyes. A protective gesture, but one of protection by restraint. “Everything okay? You keeping well?”

“Yes, Dad, I’m fine,” she said. “Really good.”

Then she moved inside leaving Max on the doorstep facing her father.

“Max,” her father said, looking him in the eye. They shook hands, but from a distance, leaning in to avoid coming too close and never taking their eyes off each other. Then Ira went inside, leaving Max to bring in the bags and close the door behind him.

The interior was dimly lit, low-level table lights illuminating the dark woodwork and quilt-draped furniture, a musty smell in the air. A haphazard collection of pictures lined the walls, some paintings by Gillian, others were family photographs, many of her brother, Luca, before his death. Max dropped the bags by the door and went over to where Gillian was greeting her mother. Derry Letz remained seated — they’d heard she was weaker now — and held Gillian’s hands in her own.

“Max, it’s good to see you,” Derry said when Max went to Gillian’s side. Her voice sounded as frail as she looked. “I hope you’re taking good care of my daughter.”

“I am, Derry, as best as I can.”

Derry turned back to Gillian, still holding her hands. “Your sister wants to introduce someone,” she said. Laura was sitting on a sofa off to the side, and stood up as Gillian approached. They hugged, gushing greetings, but it was Laura’s companion, standing behind her, who caught Max’s attention. He’d heard the guy’s name was Roy, but beyond that hadn’t known what to expect from this tall, smartly dressed young man, all broad shoulders and thick sandy hair. Though it was the pin he was
wearing on his chest that told Max exactly where Roy’s priorities lay, with its green and purple design of hands and stars encircling the world. “The Children of the Faith”, Max immediately recognised that high profile, well-funded group, whose ability to get whole laws redrafted in line with religious teaching had brought them to his attention a number of times.

“Max, hi, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Roy said when they were introduced. Max wondered exactly what he had been told; the greeting was friendly enough, but tinged with a look of curiosity, a hint of ‘so this is what a Darwin worshipper looks like.’

They stayed in the lounge, drinking coffee and juice, while Gillian’s parents caught up on what she’d been doing and where she’d been exhibiting her artwork. Max sat out of that part of the discussion, allowing them their family time before the conversation moved on to other things. It was when Ira brought up the subject of children that Max knew the first potential minefield had been reached.

“Are you ever going to make us grandparents?” he asked Gillian. “Your mother and I have waited so long, it’s what we’ve wanted for you for such a long time.”

“I want to, Dad, Max and I both do,” Gillian said, the strain of the situation evident in her voice. “But we’d need treatments, most people do these days, and it only ever gets harder to get through the process.”