Projekt ☆M@rlene☆

Mom was waiting for me at the entrance to the park, next to the vehicle ready to take us home. “You were quick.”

“Listen. Do you mind if I stay a few more hours outside?”
“Wouldn’t it be better for you to rest after such a busy day?”
“It’s just that I had promised someone to visit him-“
“Oh. And who, pray tell?”
“Masao Pedersen.”
There had been an imperceptible tremor in my voice. I did not want to lie to her, but I could not tell her the whole truth either.
I tried to sustain her gaze calmly.
Her face betrayed nothing; it had remained impassive and composed as always.
“I must assume that you have been seeing this person for quite some time, if you have had a chance to make this promise to him.”
“No, not really. I have.. We met him a short time ago, Anya and I. He recognized us and… Nothing, he told us we could come by and see him if we liked. Then we could have a cup of tea and talk a little.”
“Interesting,” her voice had a metallic tone.
“And then I thought. Since I’m a gamete Donor, and he knows all about the subject…. I mean, I’d like to understand a little bit more about what’s going to happen to me.”
“I don’t think you need his help to understand what’s going to happen to you. Besides, he wouldn’t be the best person to educate you anyway, given the regrettable doubts he expressed about the birth issue and the government’s handling of it.”
She looked away from me, shrugging his shoulders.
“I know he has some strange ideas. But he’s an excellent person.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Marlene.”
“But there’s the virtual assistant, isn’t there? If he even tried to introduce a forbidden topic he would be reported immediately, and I with him. And I swear I have no desire to lose any more ‘Good Civilization Points’.”
The Divine continued to look away, focused on the silent traffic flowing softly along the boulevard. She tormented her sapphire ring, as she was used to do when assessing some problem.
The ring was a war trophy: she had commandeered it from an enemy of the New Order during the battles she had fought as an auxiliary, and which had enabled her to become first General and then Head Of The Ethics Council.
This to her is the most important aspect of her personality: she is a soldier, and proud to be one. She believes in discipline, order and obedience, even in the education she gave me. In spite of this, however, she has never imposed anything on me on principle: she prefers me to make my own decisions and to make mistakes, focusing on making me serve very severe punishments necessary to inculcate the lesson in me.
It was a little different now, though, I understood that, too: given my new assignments, she had to weigh certain decisions carefully, because they could have very serious repercussions on her career as well.
A member of the escort approached muttering an apology. Mom made an annoyed gesture, “I get it, we can move now,” and turning to me, “All right, Marlene. But you have two hours, not a minute more. And I want a recording of your entire conversation.”
“Sure,” I stammered.
“Don’t make me regret my magnanimity.”
She elegantly climbed into the vehicle, leaving the clumsy escort to close the door and give the order to leave.
I waved to her, but she did not respond.
I walked in the opposite direction, toward ‘Bill Gates’ Park.
All the while I had been gently clutching the blue egg between my fingers, hidden in my dress pocket.
I reached the wrought-iron entrance to the park in a few minutes, and decided to question the assistant to find out where Pedersen was. If he could not be traced, I could proceed expeditiously to his home, where he had found a way to fool the monitoring systems.
But no.
The fluty voice of the assistant informed me that Masao was right in the park, just 500 meters from where I was standing.
I rummaged through my purse to find the very old ballpoint pen and notebook uncovered among the junk my mother had been keeping from her youth.

I had to write a message to warn Pedersen about the recording I was obliged to make, and about the fact that I had stolen a parrot egg I wanted to show him.
My handwriting was horrible and I was ashamed. I hoped it was understandable. Unfortunately, it was not a skill we were taught, since it was considered useless. That done, I resumed walking in the direction indicated by the assistant, and spotted him almost immediately: he was sitting under a Japanese cedar tree, lost in thought.

I ordered the recording to start, gesturing awkwardly in the man’s direction to attract his attention, “Mr. Masao! Good morning, remember, I am..”
Pedersen roused himself, adjusted his glasses on his nose and opened in his usual friendly smile, “Miss. Marlene, right? But what a pleasant coincidence to meet you on this delightful sunny day!” “Oh, I must confide that on my part it was entirely intentional! I was looking for you, in fact. You know, today I was officially invested Interpreter Of Ancient Texts, and I also officially received thanks from the Council for my services as a Gamete Donor..”
As I told him this, I handed him the note I had written, winking. Masao read it, and as he carefully folded the note to put it back in his old jacket, he said, “Ah, that explains this beautiful dress! I extend my warmest compliments to you, my young friend. I hope you will not be offended if I invite you to my home to have a good cup of tea, and to share some cookies to celebrate.”
“No, not at all. Very gladly.”
Pedersen stood up with unsuspected agility, tidying himself up in a few moments.
“Do you come to this park often?”
“Oh, no, not at all. But today I had gone to the archive to look for some old documents, and I took the opportunity to stop here and meditate for a few minutes in the sunshine. I prefer my woods, even though it can be a little dismal at times.”
Pedersen walked swiftly and lightly on the white sand path that wound through the well- manicured flower beds. I almost immediately broke the silence that had descended between us, “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions? Because I realized that I am rather ignorant about such topics as the procurement of healthy gametes, and about the creation of synthetic ones, and why we have come to this..”
Masao seemed to feel uncomfortable, so much so that he stopped short and said cautiously, “I thought these were topics widely discussed in school. Besides, you are no doubt aware that I have been given attention by the Council for my ideas on the subject..”
“Oh, but I didn’t mean to embarrass you at all. Here, specifically, why is it so difficult to recreate female gametes as opposed to male gametes? That made surrogates indispensable at the time, and in fact we haven’t completely solved the problem today either.. Just see how enthusiastically they found out about my fertility.”
“Ah, I see. Yes, we can talk about that without any problems. First of all, there are so many reasons, and most of them are unclear. The creation of a living being is shrouded in a mystery that science has never been able to fully unravel. What we do know for sure, we discovered long ago: a very important genetic characteristic is passed on exclusively from the mother. We talk about mitochondrial inheritance. If the DNA of the mitochondria for some reason is compromised, it cannot be remedied. As you may know, these organelles perform some very important functions, such as energy production. Well, as early as around 2030, we could see that the normal oxidative activity suitable for the production of high-energy molecules was severely impaired, perhaps due to a genetic mutation, who knows. The fact is that this process was causing the organism to ‘age’ prematurely, and the inability to regenerate led to disease and death of increasingly young subjects, even fetuses. Some problems could be solved, but this extreme oxidative stress could not, we never could. That is why even today we can only limit ourselves to cloning those strains of gametes that have survived. But cloning often causes uncontrolled genetic mutations, and so we have to resort to chimeras, and on and on like that in a spiral with no exit and no ethics..”
“So my eggs are…”
“Indispensable and invaluable, my dear. Surrogates did not come… Forgive this term … ‘divested’ only because of the onset of mental and behavioral problems in the children they gave birth to and were taken from them, but also because they began to be affected themselves by this problem. I think only three or four genetic strains survived, and they’re the only ones we’ve been able to rely on, to this day.”
“I see.”
“It was a momentous drama, believe me.”
“Whereas, it’s different for spermatozoa, right?”
“Oh, certainly. Male gametes are a different matter. Much easier to correct, if necessary. We can reprogram their genome even in the absence of fertilization, and so-“

We had reached the woods where his house stood.
Pedersen was talking and in the meantime he was wandering among the trees peering through their roots, shaking grass and moss, looking for who knows what.
“May I ask what you are doing?”
“Huh? Oh, of course, excuse me. I’m looking for mushrooms, my dear. You see, I am fond of them, and I have recently selected some very interesting and hardy spores. They’re really delicious mushrooms, I assure you…. If only I could remember in which spot..Ah, here they are! Right near home, huh? I was more shrewd than expected.”
I moved closer to observe them: they were pretty, some white and delicate, some neon blue and almost luminescent, some red and sprinkled with white dots.
These were the very ones that made me jealous, so much so that I tried to pick the largest of the little group, which Pedersen seemed to ignore.
“No, Marlene, no, don’t pick it. These reds are poisonous. I grow them to study their properties and their use. But I gladly give you a handful of these. A few minutes in a pan, or even in a steaming vegetable soup…. Or maybe you can make a tasty tomato sauce with which to dress polenta.”

He tirelessly listed dishes unfamiliar to me, and in the meantime plucked what remained of the mushrooms, carefully stowing them in a cloth saddlebag he carried.
With the picking finished, we headed for the patio of his little house, which was right next door. He waited until he had crossed the threshold before telling me, “It will be impossible for you to record in here, but don’t worry: my artificial intelligence will make sure to provide you with a credible continuation of our conversation. As you can see, I am ready for any eventuality,” and he chuckled.
“And you managed to program it all by yourself?”
“Certainly, my dear. Best not to think about what might happen to me if it turns out how I applied my knowledge.”
He walked over to the sink to wash mushrooms and fill a teapot to prepare tea. All his gestures were calm and precise.
When the water was put on to heat, he turned to me, “So, it’s time to show me this egg, how about it.”
“Sure! I couldn’t wait!”

I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to him. Masao looked at it tenderly, turning it over in the small palm of his hand.
“Can a parrot really be born from this thing? It seems impossible to me.”
“If it is fertilized, absolutely yes, as long as the embryo is still alive…. They are very delicate, a temperature change and-” saying this, he grabbed a long arm holding a lamp, and began to observe the egg against the light.
He nervously took off and put his glasses back on, until.
“Ah there it is. Yes, the embryo stands out very well, I think it may be alive. We need to put it in an incubator, though. I have one right there.”
And he pointed to an ancient, rusty contraption abandoned in the corner of the room, surrounded by piles of books.
“And you think you could lend me this incubator?”

“I feel like I already have. But I think it’s best if it doesn’t leave this house, you can come anytime to check on your egg.”
“Thank you, Mr. Masao. You accept a big risk to help me. Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
Masao opened the glass door of the incubator, and carefully placed the egg under the glowing lamp, on top of a cloth rag. Under the lamp’s red light, the egg appeared purple.
I continued to contemplate it for a few minutes, imagining what the beautiful bird that would emerge from the tiny, insignificant thing would look like.
Pedersen handed me a fragrant, steaming cup.
“So. Are you still convinced that you want to track down your birth mother, as you implied?”
“I think so. I don’t know what good it would do me either, but it’s something stronger than me.”
“I tell you again, definitely wasted time, probably a bitter disappointment as well.”
“But you can understand what it means to feel that you belong to someone…. To be part of someone? And to not want to ignore that knowledge. I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t find it bad to feel that I need something more than society and its covenants and rules, its formalities and obligations. To need something that is only between two people. Was that what love was? I don’t know what it was, but I think it was something beautiful…. Something unique.”

Pedersen did not breathe a word; he watched intently at the swirls of smoke rising from his cup. At one point he seemed to want to say something to me, but he paused, swallowing and shaking his head imperceptibly.
I scrutinized his reactions, and insinuated, “I know you don’t agree with what I say , maybe you’re even thinking of turning me in, because of that..”

“No, that I would never do, Marlene. And it’s been a long time since I’ve heard anyone express such thoughts. To tell the truth, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard anyone express any original thoughts in place of ideologies that have no meaning. For our society you are cultivating negative, individualistic and dangerous feelings and desires. But the absurdity lies in the fact that underpinning our ancient idea of family, and then society, were these very feelings. They were one of the most intelligent and evolutionary responses we were able to put in place to ensure our survival and the growth of our civilization for thousands of years. They were the engine of artistic and scientific research. They were what made us similar to the gods. And all that seems to have been lost. But as long as people like you, and like me, hold on to this beautiful disturbance of the soul and the awareness that comes with it, there will be hope.”
He patted my hand, reassuringly, as his slightly glazed eyes wandered in the direction of a shelf that, needless to say, was cluttered with old volumes.
But it was not the books, which Masao contemplated.
Following his gaze I noticed the yellowed image of a beautiful girl, carefully framed.
Masao noticed that I had seen her, and blushed.
“I also belonged. I still do, and forever will belong to someone. No one can understand you better than me.”
“Was it that woman? The one on the shelf?”
“Yes. But let’s drop this for now, please. Have patience with this poor old man. It’s something I don’t want to talk about right now.”
He stood up slowly, taking the empty cups with him.
“Would you like some more tea? And I promised you cookies. I’m a really bad host, my manners have gotten rusty over these years of loneliness. I’ll serve you now, then I’ll leave you alone for a few minutes, I have to go to the garden to gather some vegetables for dinner.”
“Thank you.”
He returned from the kitchen with another steaming cup, and a plate filled with dark cookies, with large shiny pieces of something even darker.
“Here. This is real chocolate, something you may never have tasted…. I won’t reveal how I get it, but I make my own cookies. Just as I grow my own vegetables and raise my own chickens for meat and eggs. I care about my food independence, as well as my spiritual independence. I’ll be right back,” and he went out a side door, which led to the back of the house.
I peeked out of the window next to the door: in the small garden there were flower beds bordered by wooden planks, where many lush plants were growing.

I had never seen anything like it.
Like all the people I knew, I had only ever eaten food cooked by others, by the androids who served our homes, or pre-packaged food that was normally bought in Alma Mater stores.
I had no idea that it grew from the earth, or that it had to be raised and that it was alive. I didn’t know what it looked like before it became just an ingredient.
The man moved among the flower beds picking here and there what he needed, checking with obvious pleasure the state of each plant. I promised myself to ask him to teach me everything he knew about food, and to show me these chickens, which layed eggs that could be eaten.
The little picture of the old man engaged in his little kingdom was fascinating, but I was almost immediately distracted from it, because I wanted to look more closely at the picture of the mysterious girl.
Eagerly eating the fourth cookie, I approached the shelf.
The young woman portrayed was truly stunning, perhaps the most beautiful I had ever seen: her features were not perfectly sculpted and frozen in eternal perfection thanks to cosmetic surgery and constant and invasive treatments; she was soft and expressive, even if immortalized forever on that moldy surface. She had dark hair styled in voluminous ringlets, her gaze shy but intense. The white dress she wore was elegant, though old-fashioned in style, with rich embroidery on the fitted bodice. The snow-white skin on her shoulders seemed to glow in the sunlight.

I took the wooden frame in my hands, to observe it better and imprint it well in my mind. Turning it over, I noticed that stamped on the back were these words, “Forget me not, there is no waiting too long for those who love each other as we do. There is no distance for souls destined for eternity. Anne Marie.”

I heard the old man’s footsteps approaching the door, so I quickly put the frame back in place and pretended to randomly wander around the room.
Pedersen returned laden with colorful and fragrant vegetables, which he immediately took to the sink.

I followed him, asking, “Wouldn’t you get in trouble if they found out about your mushrooms and vegetable garden?”
“For mushrooms, no. I turn them out as a scientific experiment, and I provide the information of their characteristics to the Council For Natural Resources and Environmental Protection, which can use it in its decisions on whether or not to introduce a species into our ecosystem. I have done, along with my distinguished colleagues, the same thing for every plant species and every living creature in the Fortress Cities of the country. For food it is a bit more complex…. There is no real law against growing it, but certainly the desire to be independent of ‘Good Civilization Points’ spending is controversial. It makes a person less controllable, since the government cannot monitor his or her choices, and thus what he or she feels is essential to his or her livelihood. In addition, I do not participate in any social activities, treat myself without using the Integrated Health Care, and do not buy goods of any kind. All these things make me a very bad citizen and example, even without considering the trouble I had for my ideas.

I am disliked by all the Councils, but they fear me and need what I can do, and this keeps a certain balance in our relations. No, I will never be truly free again, but at least I have made it clear that I do not accept this gilded slavery.”
“But we are the free, not the slaves. The slaves are out there, forced to produce and work for us, settling for a poor and uncertain life..”
He looked at me sorrowfully, “Oh, sure. That’s what they teach, isn’t it? That uncertainty and work is a form of slavery. That having limits is absolute evil. That the decline of the body due to old age and our biology must be rewritten and erased by cosmetic surgery and gene treatments. That the world is what we decide, shaped in our own image and comfort. What if I told you that this is not true? That what we live in is the cruelest form of slavery humanity has ever experienced?”
I knew he was right.
I had always known it, I just didn’t have the words to express it.
That was why since my oath this morning my stomach had been aching.
That was why I wanted to find the woman who had raised me in her womb.
That was why I was greedy for stories, for books, for movies of the pre-2030 world.
It was why I had sought out Masao Pedersen, why I had stolen an egg that should not have existed, and why, I knew, I would get into trouble.
I was destined for destruction like the egg, like the love that had bound Masao to Anne Marie.
But I wasn’t going to abandon my resolutions for that.
“Here are some truths they wanted to erase, Marlene: there is no freedom without risk or responsibility. There is no joy without limit and pain, and there is no love without forgiveness and courage. You have a great soul, dwell in it and you will see that it will guide you in the right direction to find all the answers you need. I would like you to accept my friendship, because yours is really important to me.”
“Do you really want me as a friend? But friend as you used to mean?”
“I don’t recognize any other form of friendship.”
“Yes, of course I want us to be friends. Forever, isn’t it?”
He smiled bitterly, “For as long as life wills to grant us.”
“Say forever, please. Even though it can’t be true. I want to believe it will be so.”
“Then, we will be friends forever.”
“Thank you”
“You have to go now”
“Yes, or my mother will freak out. Time has gone by too fast”
“It won’t be the last time we see each other”
I stood up and grabbed my purse, which I had abandoned on a chair. As I walked toward the door, accompanied by Pedersen, I suddenly turned to him, “You said you don’t want to help me track down my mother. I understand that, and I won’t insist. But I’m sure you know a way, or someone, who can help me do it.”
He burst out laughing, “It doesn’t make much difference, does it?”
“Give me even a hint.”
Pedersen put his hands in his pockets and squeezed into his slender shoulders, staring at his toes. What seemed like endless silence followed.

“I’ll just tell you this: if you have curiosity to delve further into the subject of procreation and its mysteries, a curiosity that it is impossible for me to satisfy so as not to influence you too much and avoid getting you into trouble, you can consult the old version of the government website…. I am sure you are familiar with the old Internet. There are some interesting insights, and if you have a passion for research, some of the names will come in handy, or direct you to other equally interesting sites. They will keep you busy for quite some time. But as I said: have no doubt that your soul and intuition will guide you in the right direction.”

He wrote an address from the old Internet on a piece of paper and handed it to me, “Here. They had changed the URL to make it hard to find. Making it disappear would have raised too many questions at the time, and no one cares about it now.”
“Thank you. I have to run now. Thank you for everything.”

“As far as the recording is concerned, everything is already taken care of. See you soon, Marlene.”
“Goodbye.”
Outside the sky had just begun to turn pink. The assistant told me that I had fifteen minutes left to get home, or the punishment my mother had devised for my disobedience would automatically be triggered. I sighed, “Can you call me a cab, please?”

“I’m sorry, but that would be a way around not meeting the agreed-upon time for the meeting with Dr. Masao Pedersen.”
“But what does it have to do with how I wish to return home? I am tired, I would like a cab that I will pay regularly with my Points.”

“I’m sorry. I was instructed by the people in charge of being responsible for your growth not to facilitate in any way an attempt to circumvent the agreed-upon time frame, and from my assessment, calling a cab represents facilitation in this regard”
“You are a traitor.”

“I’m sorry, but my vocabulary indicates that this word is misused in this context.” Definitely, at Alma Mater we had no idea what freedom was.