Mutation

“Can’t we talk about the major issues?” VJ demanded, pounding the table with his fist.

“You asked what we were going to do about all this,”

Marsha said. “First we have to know all the facts. What about the children?”

VJ drummed his fingers on the surface of the card table.

His patience was wearing thin. “They were getting too smart.

They were beginning to realize their potential. I didn’t want the competition. A little cephaloclor in the day-care center’s milk was all it took. I’m sure it was good for most of the kids.”

“And how did it make you feel when they died?” Marsha asked.

“Relieved,” VJ said.

“Not sorry or sad in any way?” Marsha persisted.

“This isn’t a therapy session, Mother,” VJ snapped. “My feelings aren’t at issue here. You now know all the dark secrets. It’s your turn for some honesty. I need to know your intentions.”

Marsha looked to Victor, hoping he would denounce VJ’s demonic actions, but Victor only stared blankly at VJ, too stunned for speech.

Marsha interpreted his silence to mean acquiescence, possibly even approval. Could Victor be so caught up in VJ’s achievements that he could dismiss five murders? The murder of their own little boy? Well, she wasn’t going to take this silently. Victor be damned.

“Well?” VJ demanded.

Marsha turned to face him. His unblinking eyes looked at her in calm expectation. Their crystal blue color, so striking since birth, and his angelic blond hair, dissolved Marsha to tears. He was their baby, too, wasn’t he? And if he committed such horrors, was it really his fault? He was a freak of science. For whatever Victor had accomplished in terms of ensuring his brilliance, a conscience seemed to have been lost in the balance. If VJ were guilty, Victor was as culpable as he. Marsha felt a sudden wave of compassion for the boy. “VJ,” she began. “I don’t believe that Victor realized all the repercussions of his NGF experiment—”

But VJ cut her off. “Quite the contrary,” he told her.

“Victor knew precisely what he wanted to achieve. And now he can look at me and at what I’ve accomplished and know that he has been ultimately successful. I am exactly what Victor wanted and hoped for; I’m what he’d like to be himself. I am what science can be. I am the future.” VJ smiled. “You’d better get used to me.”

“Maybe you are what Victor intended in scientific respects,” Marsha continued, undaunted. “But I don’t think he foresaw the kind of personality he was creating. VJ, what I’m trying to say is, if you did commit those murders, if you are manufacturing cocaine . . . and can’t see the moral objections to these actions, well, it’s not all your fault.”

“Mother,” said VJ, exasperated, “you always get so sidetracked. Feelings, symptoms, personality. I reveal to you the greatest biological achievement of all time and you probably want me to take another Rorschach test. This is absurd.”

“Science is not supreme,” Marsha said. “Morality must be brought to bear. Can’t you understand that?”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” VJ said. “And Victor proved that he holds science above morality by the act of creating me. By conventional morality’s dictates, he should not have gone through with the NGF experiment, but he did anyway. He is a hero.”

“What Victor did in creating you was born out of unthinking arrogance. He didn’t stop to consider the possible outcome; he was so obsessed with the means and his singular goal. Science runs amok when it shakes loose from the bonds of morality and consequence.”

VJ clucked his tongue in disagreement. Then he turned his fierce blue eyes on Marsha. “Morality cannot rule science because morality is relative and therefore variable. Science is not. Morality is based on man and his society, which changes over the years, from culture to culture. What’s taboo for some is sacred for others. Such vagaries should have no bearing here. The only thing that is immutable in this world are the laws of nature that govern the present universe.

Reason is the ultimate arbiter, not moralistic whims.”

“VJ, it’s not your fault,” Marsha said softly, sadly shaking her head. There would be no reasoning with him. “Your superior intelligence has isolated you and made you a person who is missing the human qualities of compassion, empathy, even love. You feel you have no limits. But you do. You never developed a conscience. But you can’t see it. It’s like trying to explain the concept of color to someone blind since birth.”

VJ leaped from his chair in disgust. “With all due respect,” he said, “I don’t have time for this sophistry.

I’ve got work to do. I must know your intentions.”

“Your father and I will have a talk,” Marsha said, avoiding VJ’s gaze.

“Go ahead, talk,” VJ said, putting his hands on his narrow hips.

“We’ll have a talk without children present,” Marsha said.

VJ set his mouth petulantly. His breath had quickened, his eyes were afire. Then he turned and left the room. The door slammed and clicked. VJ had locked them in.

Marsha turned to face Victor. Victor shook his head in helpless dismay.