BioShock Rapture

She obviously dressed up for the meeting, with a touch of lipstick, awkwardly applied. She wasn’t so bad, despite her tobacco-stained teeth and chewed-down fingernails.

As they sat on ornate sofas across from each other, Fontaine ran a hand over his bald head, wondering if he should grow out his hair—but women seemed to like him bald. “May I smoke, please?” she asked.

“Sure you can. Have one of mine.” He passed her the ornate silver cigarette box he kept on the coral and glass coffee table.

She took a cigarette with trembling fingers, inserting it into an ivory holder she produced from a small pocket in her dress. Fontaine lit it with a silver lighter shaped cunningly like a seahorse. She glanced at him as she blew smoke toward the ceiling—then looked quickly away.

Both of the scientists, sitting widely apart, seemed quite stiff and formal. Seemed like they didn’t trust him. They’d get over it when he started shoveling mounds of money over them. Something nice and cozy about a blanket of cash.

Suchong was a lean Korean, wearing wire-rim glasses. He must’ve been twice Tenenbaum’s age. She didn’t at all seem in awe of him, though he had a string of degrees.

“How about some wine?” Fontaine asked.

She said yes and Suchong said no at precisely the same instant. Suchong laughed nervously. Tenenbaum just stared fixedly at the end of her cigarette.

Fontaine got wine for himself and her and said, “Dr. Suchong—I understand you’ve been working for Ryan Industries.”

Suchong sighed. “Suchong works for himself. There is the Suchong Institute and Laboratories. But—contracts with Ryan and Sinclair, yes…”

“And Miss Tenenbaum—you’re working … as a free agent?”

“Yes. This is a good description.” She looked past him, over his shoulder, as if she were trying to give the impression of looking at him without quite being able to.

“This is where I say, You’re all wondering why I called you here,” Fontaine said, putting down his wineglass. “I asked you two here because I’m thinking there’s bigger opportunities in this science stuff than I ever thought of. I’ve got people who work for Ryan giving me the inside skinny. What I hear, you two are feeling somewhat frustrated.”

Tenenbaum bobbed her head, her eyes flickering at everything but Fontaine. “This is true, what you say. Ryan says work on anything—but research costs money. Financial support is, what is the word—inconsistent.” She flicked her eyes at Suchong. “Dr. Suchong does not wish to make Mr. Ryan angry—but we both need … more!”

Suchong frowned. “Woman, do not speak for me.” But he didn’t deny it was true.

They were ripe and ready to pluck. “Well now,” Fontaine said, “given the right situation, the three of us could start our own little research team. Suchong, I understand you’re working on a new kind of tobacco?”

“Not precisely.” Suchong’s accent was heavy—it took Fontaine a moment to translate plee-cise-lee into precisely. “Suchong alters genetics of another plant to make nicotine. Make nicotine in sugarcane! We will extract and make ‘Nico-treats.’ Nicotine candy!”

“Clever!” Fontaine said, grinning. “Yeah, I’ve been reading up on this whole genetics business. You could make all kinds of things by switching genes around, seems to me. Maybe miniature cattle we could keep down here somewhere for fresh beef, yeah? And from what I hear, you could switch a person’s genes around. You could make changes in people, right?”

Her frown deepened into a scowl, which she directed at the floor. “What do you know of that?”

“Just rumors. That you’re paying for some kind of special sea slug. I hear you’ve bought ten of them…”

She nodded once, briskly. “I would buy more if I could. No ordinary sea slug. This species is a living miracle! I asked Ryan to help fund these experiments. He was not listening.” She sniffed, taking her cigarette butt from the holder and dropping it vaguely toward the ashtray. It fell onto the table and smoldered there. She gnawed at a nail, her eyes unfocused, seeming halfway in another world, oblivious as Fontaine reflexively put the cigarette out in the ashtray.

Making a sudden awkward pushing gesture with her hand, she went on, “Ryan, he put me off! ‘Maybe later,’ all this sort of thing.”

“You on the point of a breakthrough?”

“Perhaps.” She glanced at Suchong. He shrugged.

Fontaine smiled. “Then it’s something I want to invest in. I’ll pay well for a stake—and Ryan doesn’t have to know about it. When you’re ready, you can come and work for me completely. Both of you! I figure this genetics dodge could be the wave of the future—and I’ve got a few things in mind. The two of you could work on it—Suchong could bring you into his lab, and I could pay your salary, for now … Maybe get this guy Alexander involved. Only I don’t want Ryan to know about any of this. I want it on the QT, see. He’ll move in and take anything we come up with otherwise—and he’ll find some excuse to keep all the rights to himself.”