Fragrance,
by Armond
 
 
Kipling once said "smell is surer than sight or sound."
At GenTech Labs, Sidney Edwards cannot trust his eyes nor believe his ears.
He'll have to rely on the forgotten sense to survive.

 
 
 
 
 
Smell is surer than sight or sound. - Kipling
 
 
Author's note: for a cleaner pdf version of this story, please click here
 

Part 1.

MONDAY, 8:00 A.M. - GENTECH CORPORATION HEADQUARTERS, MAIN LOBBY.

A barrage of perfume, cologne, and ‘natural’ scents slammed me, as it did every time I stood in a crowd. Such diversity! Yet I ‘scented’ the commonality the GenTech workers shared as they scurried to their cubicles, was desperate boredom.

Desperate boredom doesn't have a scent, you say? Ah! To amend the good bard's word's: 'There are more scents in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'

Okay, things are dire if I’m mangling Shakespeare at this screaming early hour. It's 8:00 a.m., and I'm standing like a rock in a stream of business casual GenTech workers, looking for my contact. Finally, I spot her: a frantically waving cheery-faced woman who has HR written all over her.

“Mr. Edwards?”

“Yeah. Joni MacKenzie?”

“The same. Good to put a face with a voice; you're taller than I expected.”

Was that a compliment or an insult? I mean, was she saying I looked athletic, or that my phone voice was wimpy? I shrugged and pressed on.

“Please, call me Sidney.”

“Very well. And you can call me Joni. So you're on site how long, Sidney?”

“Eighty-eight hours, give or take a few minutes.”

I could tell by Joni's ‘deer-in-headlights’ glaze she wasn’t in the loop about my visit.

“Sorry, I'm out of here Wednesday night, Thursday morning latest. Any longer and I turn into a pumpkin.”

“Too bad you're not here for our Founder’s Ball Thursday night,” the portly woman said, oblivious to my humor attempt, “Napa Valley Catering is handling, so there’ll be a river of wine -well two rivers, white and red- ‘Innocence Mission’ is playing, and tons of schwag.”

Before I could ask what the hell ‘schwag’ was, Joni grabbed my elbow and herded me toward a long corridor.

“Follow me,” she said, her voice chirpy in a way only HR reps can be. “The Diversity video starts in five, then it's Careful Communications.”

“Are you sure I need this training? I'm just here for a few days.”

“Yes, Sidney, at GenTech, we ARE compliance. Where will you be working?”

“Building A, I think; Dr. Carter is meeting me at 10:30 out front to take me over.”

“What?! Are you sure?”

As I confirmed with a nod, I saw this information troubled Joni.

“Building A. The Biogenetics building. The Wonka Factory.”

“Think so. That’s where the MASG tests are being run, right? I’m the test subject. Why's it called the Wonka Factory?”

Joni looked from side to side and lowered her voice. “It’s where the Umpa Lompas work, and things go bump in the night.”

“Hmm! Looks like I've got a golden ticket, then, because that's where I'll be.”

“That’s another weird thing, you’ll be the first man in Building A, ever; not even Watchers go there.”

“Watchers?” I'd lived abroad for the last few years, but I didn’t think English could have changed that much in my absence. Perhaps Joni was speaking in tongues.

“Spooks. Security. There’s an army of ‘em here at Gentech.”

She grabbed my arm again and spoke even lower.

“I don’t know how well you know Carter, but watch out for her. She runs Building A like it's a hive and she's queen bee. You don’t fit the template of someone who would be welcomed there.”

“Why?”

Joni was squeezing my arm hard now. “Something’s going on over there. Something bad. I don’t know what. Rumor is they’re all lesbian bitches…”

I could only blink at her; absolutely no responses came to mind, which was a rarity for me. Maybe she’s the one needing Careful Communications training?

“… and hate anyone not in a skirt,” Joni continued. “I'm guessing that item of clothing is not in your suitcase?”

“Now that you mention it, I do happen to-”

“-Last warning! Do whatever they’ve hired you for, and get the hell out!” Joni said, and turned to chug down one of GenTech’s sterile hallways. Her voice was chirpy again. “Come along; riveting training videos await your viewing pleasure.”

MONDAY, 10:30 A.M. — GENTECH LOOP DRIVEWAY, CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS TOWER

“Hey, stud, up for a spin with an old cougar?”

I turned to the voice, and when I spotted Julia, waving from a golf cart, I felt a goofy grin cross my face.

“Sure, babe,” Then I cupped my hands to my mouth to form a megaphone. “You got any diseases, Jules? Want some?”

“Shhh!” Julia said, looking mortified. “You win; I was insane to start an insult war with you.”

“Surrender accepted.”

Julia jumped from the cart and gave me a huge hug. After we unclasped, I took a long look at my friend.

The years had been kind. Yes, her short hair was streaked with gray, and wire rim bifocals perched above her nose. But her bright eyes told me her passion for her work burned bright. And she still had the aroma of cinnamon.

I worked as a summer intern and test subject for Dr. Carter years ago, doing sensory research at her old MASG project before funding dried up. So long ago, I couldn’t remember what the damned acronym stood for any more. ‘M’ was for memory, ‘S’, sensory and ‘G’, gene, but I hadn’t a clue about the ‘A’.

I’d kept up with Julia’s success since then; but of course, who on Earth hadn’t? Mind-blowing gene mapping and alteration work, culminating in a Nobel two years ago. After that, GenTech wrote her a blank check and whisked her away to head their genetics research group.

Julia climbed back into the cart, and the nanosecond I eased into the passenger seat, she popped the cart pedal, making the cart lurch forward.

“Hello? Bags?” I yelped, as I gripped the side of the cart.

“Already in your dorm room. Before we head to ‘A,’ I wanted to-”

“-Excuse me? Did you say ‘dorm room’?”

“Don't get your knickers in a twist Sid, it's more like a flat. Most GenTech drones live in the surrounding burbs, but the Biogentetics group is a closed community, and we all live on the top floors of the building; our quarters have living and kitchen areas too.”

“Yeah, what's with this Building A stuff? Joni said the oddest thing about the way you run it; like a kingdom or something.”

“That’s the HR rep you met this morning? I must have Deirdre chat with her about keeping her lips from flapping.” Julia’s scowl quickly disappeared. “Before I take you to said mystery building, how about a quick campus spin to get your bearings?”

When we wheeled away from the main tower building and onto a broad concrete walkway, I got my first full view of the GenTech campus; it was laid out in a wheel design, the tower as the center, three wide walkways -and the main entrance road- were the spokes, connecting a vast ‘wheel rim’ of Buildings A through H.

As we whizzed along I took a deep breath; the spring air smelled salty fresh. Julia slowed to point out a four-story all-glass building; through the ground floor windows, I saw people puffing away on fitness equipment.

“The fishbowl is G, Product Development. Burt ‘My pecker’s bigger than yours’ Thompson heads up that pack of piranhas.”

“Did you just say 'pecker' 'pack' and 'piranhas' in the same sentence? Is this what comes of winning the Nobel?”

“Shut up!” She thwacked my arm. “Burt’s an ally, actually. The main tower has a cafeteria, but knowing your snobby tastes, you’ll want to go to ‘G’ because it has a gym, small grocery store and the ‘GenTech Eats Healthy’ gourmet health food bar.”

“Holy crap, ‘GenTech Eats Healthy’? Pathetic! A trained monkey could come up with a better slogan. How about, ‘For haut cuisine that’s not passé, dine at GenTech’s Gourmet Café,’ or-”

“-Sidney!” Julia held up a hand. “Nobel recipient here? Jingles are not in my job description. Feel free to pitch some to whomever will listen when you go there. Now, between ‘F’ and ‘G’ is a gorgeous lake; folks kayak on it in the morning. And over there...”

We zipped along the path, until Julia braked the cart, and pointed to a pasture area between the buildings H and A.

“Here’s a hobby I’ve picked up since the last time you worked with me; for grins, GenTech let’s me keep a collection of exotic animals; miniature llamas, ostriches, and a herd of Shetland ponies.”

This was a surprise; I thought I knew her pretty well, but I'd never guess she had an offbeat fetish like this. I wasn't sure how to respond, so I defaulted to sarcastic.

“Um ...how Michael Jackson of you.”

“An indulgence,” Julia shrugged, “the ponies are adorable! I started the herd a year ago and just keep adding to it. We stable em behind the woods near Building B.”

An indulgence? Drinking a $100 bottle of red instead of one costing fifteen is an indulgence. Upgrading to a Corvette over an Impala is an indulgence. Raising a herd of Shetland ponies? That bizarre excess smacked of something else. The words irrational, extreme, and unbalanced sprang to mind before indulgence.

I counted nine of the small horses, swishing their long tails and munching spring grass. When I turned back to Julia, I saw her staring at the gentle animals, deep in thought.

“Did you know that Shetlands have roughly the same body mass as humans? Pretty carefree life. Believe me, there are days I wish I was one of them.”

A life of nothing to eat but grass? I don't think so. “Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

“You’d be surprised what you can wish on your worst enemy, Sidney.”

I felt my eyebrows rise. That didn’t sound like my old Jules either. Had something changed in her? Still, my primary sense told me her core ‘goodness’ was true. So what if she was developing eccentricities, what of it? They way I figured, with all she’d achieved, she had earned the right to be a little weird. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t call her on it.

“Julia! How inscrutable. If you go all mystery woman on me, then I’ll ...I’ll dip into my flatulence joke bag. You remember that don't you?”

I was sure she did; the last time I headed down this path with her, my ‘gaseous winds’ monologue lasted a half-hour; each quip exponentially more stupid.

“I imagine you've acquired quite a pungent arsenal since we worked together.”

“A belch is but a gust of wind, that cometh from the heart, but should it take a downward trend, turneth into a fart.”

“No má¡s, I’ll stop with the cryptic, okay? I’m sure that was the tip of the iceberg.”

“Yup, but a whiff of my true cheese-cutting potential.”

Though Julia feigned dismay at my sense of humor, I knew she loved it.

She had battled her entire career; first, for respect, as a young female scientist. Next she fought -sometimes vicious- skirmishes with jealous peers at mid-career. Now that she had won a platform to advance her work, and had important work to advance, she was fighting a cold war with rival companies -and within her own as well- to hold on to all she’d earned through sweat and blood.

I imagine she had accumulated many enemies, a flock of loyal scientists who idolized and feared her, but …no friends.

Except me.

Eight years ago, when we worked together, I automatically treated her as if we were old chums, the best of friends. At first, she was stunned; no one had dared to joke with the uber serious scientist before, let alone unleash jokes about flatulence. Once she recovered from the initial shock, she became suspicious; what angle was I playing? Finally, when she realized I wanted nothing in return except her friendship, and after I wore her down with thousands of bad puns, she caved and we became friends.

Even though I never completed my college degree -which I knew disappointed her- we've stayed close; emailing, texting, calling, and even -heaven forbid- writing.

So yeah, my freakish sensory abilities are amazing and unique, and she did legitimately need me here to complete her old MASG work. But from a personal perspective? I bet she’s been looking forward to my visit for a long long time.

I know I had.

When we arrived at Building A, Julia led me inside to the elevator bank.

“Show time; are you ready?”

“Better be, I spent an hour signing waivers and releases. One sentence was -I kid you not- an entire page long.”

“Yeah, sorry kiddo, it's a lawyer’s world; we only exist to pay their fees.”

“I hope I don’t have to do it again,” I grinned about as wide as I could, “when they figure out I signed with a fake name.”

Julia palm-smacked her face. “What name did you use?”

“A fancy ass one I often use ‘across the pond,’ when I sign in at hotels,’” I snickered. “Juan Morefore de Rhode.”

“Juan Morefore-”

“-de Rhode. Get it? One more for the road!”

“Oh, God, the General Counsel will skin me alive. That’s not even close to a real name.”

“I know!” I was howling now; I truly amuse myself.

“I’ll have legal send over a fresh set of forms,” she said, as she reached up to thunk the back of my head. Then she grabbed a handful of my blond hair; it was much longer than the last time she'd seen it. “What’s with this?”

“When I agreed to your proposal, I went all in; bought clothes, let my hair grow out, and even bought make up.”

“Be still my heart! Are you actually taking this seriously? A gal can dream. Let's go then, the magic serum awaits in lab room A12.”

As she started to touch her ID badge hanging from her neck to a security sensor by the side of the elevator door, I reached a hand out to stop her; this didn’t make sense.

“It’s just us? Where are these Watcher guys? I heard Building A was Fort Knox or something.”

“We are our own security.”

My first thought was she was joking, but a look on her face told me otherwise. For just a moment, she looked ...well, I won’t sugar coat it, she looked deranged. Then it passed -I don't know; maybe it was the light- and she touched her badge to the sensor pad. She straightened, and a beam shot from an optical ball embedded above the pad; it scanned her left eye.

“Welcome Dr. Carter,” a pleasant female computer voice announced.

Julia motioned for me to touch my card to the pad as well. After the beam scanned my eye, the voice admonished:

“Retinal pattern not recognized. Verification incomplete. Await escort.”

“Retinal scans? Cool!”

“The security for the area you’ll be working in is not so stringent, but for the gene alteration lab? Oh honey, retinal scans are only the beginning! We still have voice pattern recognition, DNA ident, and rectal probe to go.”

“Rectal probe? You cannot be serious!”

“Gotcha! Woo, hoo! One for the good guys. Knowing how many gags you’ll inflict on us, it’s sweet to get a salvo in.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad-”

“-In comparison to who, Daffy Duck?”

The elevator doors dinged open, and I smelled roses.

The someone with the rose scent was five foot ten, wore a nameplate that read ‘Dr. Deirdre Rogers’, and looked like Kate Beckinsale in a lab coat and glasses.

“Sidney, I’d like you to meet Dr. Rogers. She’s my second in command…”

Second in command? What was this, a military organization?

“…and because GAP gobbles up so much of my time, I’ll only be able to oversee the MASG testing on a fly by basis. I’ve taken Deirdre off GAP while you are here to run your tests. I’m placing you in her capable hands. She’ll also be assisting me in your conversion.”

Two thoughts fought for primacy in my mind as I took in the information:

One — wasn’t there some sort of cosmic rule prohibiting egghead scientists from looking drop dead gorgeous?

Two — if looks could kill, she was definitely trying to send me to my grave.

MONDAY, 10:50 a.M., GENTECH BUILDING A, GAP GENETICS LAB A12.

I freely admit it. I'll shout it to the world. On top of my catalog of other glaring faults -bohemian slacker, never finishing anything- I am a world class wus. Needles scare the bejesus out of me, a temperature of 99 º sends me into whine mode, and if pain tolerance levels were a limbo contest, I'd win every time.

So, I was shaking as the team of white lab coats strapped me into a GAP stasis chamber.

“Hey, relax, tough guy,” Julia smiled at me and squeezed my hand. “You'll feel no pain; the anesthetic gas kicks in, you travel off to la-la land, and before you know it, we're waking up the new improved you.”

“I'm scared. What if I don't wake up? What if-”

Julia squeezed my hand again. “Hey, you. I won't let anything bad happen. If death comes a knocking, I'll turn him into a frog, alright?”

“’kay.” I blew out a small relief sigh. Knowing Julia, she just might.

She had been explaining the procedure to me for months and, intellectually, I knew everything would be fine, but thinking about the possibility of my death made me realize how little I'd accomplished in life. Almost twenty-seven years old and if Sidney Edwards left the world today, not an eye would blink.

The chamber door shut with a stark metallic -click- and I gazed on the world through a tiny glass window. I smelled the sweetness before I heard the gas hiss, and soon my brain melted to cotton candy and echos.

Before I fuzzed out, and after Julia smiled at me through the glass, Deirdre peered in too, and I swear the demon scientist's face had a look of sympathy. Or ...more than that ...caring?

Naw, had to be the gas.

MONDAY, 7:23 P.M., GENTECH BUILDING A, GAP GENETICS LAB A12.

Murmuring.

Voices drifting in and out.

“...you've made your position clear and I overruled ...be a professional and...”

That sounded like …Julia? Why was she in my bedroom? And why won't she let me sleep?

No ...that's not right …I was ...she and I were ...doing something. What was it?

“...my job as your second to warn ...Edwards ...endangers Project Y...”

I knew her voice too. Dammit! It's on the tip of my tongue, which felt like it needed to be shaved. Started with a D. Deb ...no ...Deer...”

“...Sidney’s the only one who can validate my MASG research ...his olfactory abilities ... best I’ve seen...”

I remember! I'm at GenTech! Did it ...work? I’m thinking, sooo I must be alive, but why can't I move? So tired ...my eyelids feel like lead weights.

“...why this side show now when we are progressing Program Y as fast as we can and is GAP at breakthrough stage? ...competitors ...trying everything to steal data. ...already outed three spies ...is learning how men and woman sniff differently worth the risk?”

Deirdre! That's her name! She sounds pissed.

“The sensory experiment is more than that, Deirdre, and you know it. Great, with GAP, we’ve proven we can safely alter a person’s genes to make them into …well, anything. Just look at her! She's stunning...”

Wait …who’s stunning? Does she mean ...me?

“So yes, we’ve learned how to manipulate genes. But we know so little about why our genes make us we behave as we do. Answering that is vital for Project Y…”

Why are they standing around having a scientific debate while I'm paralyzed and stuck in this tube? C'mon, Julia, quit the mumbo jumbo and get me out of here! But no, Julia droned on.

“Imagine finding the most sensory sensitive male and female in the world and comparing their behavioral responses to a wide range of stimuli. Must have data? Absolutely! Still, any conclusions must be qualified, as two people will always input data differently, however slight that difference may be. Now imagine if you could conduct the experiment instead with a single sensory gifted person, first as a male, and then…”

Julia stopped talking and I felt her eyes on me. Dammit! Why can't I open my eyes?

“…Sidney’s unique; his sensory responses eight years ago are still unmatched, so this is a golden opportunity to conduct the tests with Sidney as a female.”

“-Conversion complete,” I heard the pleasant female computer voice announce. “Reversal countdown begins.”

Thank God! The stasis chamber unlatched, the door popped open, and cold air rushed in. Suddenly I was freezing, but I still couldn't move!

“Oh …my…” Julia said.

“She’s darling,” Deirdre gasped.

Darling? DARLING? What the hell do I look like?

“Amazing is more like it.” Julia's voice again. “She’s perfect; the computer model didn’t do her justice. Her hair is spun gold.”

A hand ran through my hair, another across my cheek.

“So soft,” Deirdre said, hoarsely. “Did you design the virus to make her look like this?”

“Nope. Unlike our other conversions, the vector we used for Sydney targets the sex chromosomes of every cell in the body. The Trojan virus inserts nanites into the nucleus of each cell, which replicate the X chromosomes and deactivate the Ys. So Sydney reverts to the woman she would have been had she been born female.”

“Your work is magic,” Deirdre said. “Look around, we are surrounded by technology so expensive, I get lost in the zeros; so secret, people kill for it. The elimination of diseases, birth defects, injuries, of aging itself - all within reach. Whole segments of the medical and health care industries will be obsolete, and that's for just for starters. Look what it did for me! You see why I’m paranoid about …her …presence here.”

“I fully understand, but he is … she is ...my friend. I trust her. And …more than that …I need her with me. Especially now, when so much hangs in the balance. She will …steady me.”

“Nature was cruel to make her male…” Deirdre ran a finger across my cheek again, lingering at my lips. “She reminds me of Shakira.”

Shakira? The singer? My ears must not be connected right, she couldn’t have said that.

“The only alteration we did to her vector was to make her biologically eight years younger, the age Sydney was when she …he …interned with me. Look, she's waking.”

The weights holding me down faded and I could finally open my eyes. They fluttered, and then Deirdre and Julia came into focus. I cleared my throat.

“…Am …am I …a ...woman?”

My voice! Holy shit, they've turned me into a chipmunk!

“One hundred percent pure,” Julia said, as she unstrapped me. There were a dozen or more white lab coat types behind Julia and Deirdre. It was then I remembered I was buck ass naked.

“Um ...clothes?”

“In a minute; first we discuss rule number 1.”

Julia pulled a digital wristwatch from her lab coat pocket. It read ‘88:35:04’ and was counting backwards. She buckled it on my wrist.

“We have this much time before the deactivated Y chromosomes start to degrade.”

I recalled the conversation months ago when she'd proposed the new MASG tests. She’d phoned me in Nice, France where I was slumming. It had taken a marathon call just to explain the procedure.

Unlike previous alterations where they overwrote their subjects with new DNA, Julia needed me to become my genetically equivalent female to validate the prior MASG data. So 'Sidney' becomes ‘Sydney.’ But this created a time constraint, because the deactivated Y chromosome begins to degrade at around 88 hours. After that, mutation risk prevented injection of the reversal virus.

The analogy she’d used was the degrading chromosome resembled corrupt programming stings in a computer’s registry. If degradation began they could still reboot me back to chromosomal male, by overwriting with new DNA, but I would never again be the unique genetic code that was ‘me.’

Julia grabbed my face to make me look in her eyes.

“Tell. Me. You. Understand.”

Maybe my synapses still weren't all firing, because I let out a giggle. “Yeah. I told Joni after 88 hours I turn into a pumpkin.”

“NO! This is critical! There is no cushion or grace period. Got it?”

When I gave a groggy nod, Julia shook her head. “Say the words.”

“Unless I receive …the reversal virus, within,” I squinted at the wrist watch on my wrist -my God! That's my wrist? It's so tiny!- “88 hours and 34 minutes, I can never go back to my old body.”

“Good girl.”

Julia pushed my hair out of my face. “Now, before you have your gynecological exam,” My eyes popped wide at that, “take a look.”

She handed me a mirror. Taking a deep breath, I looked, turning my face to one side, then the other. Then I shook my hair, and laughed.

“Julia, I’m …I’m …”

“Pretty? Yeah, amazing, ain’t I, although, there was one major flaw with the procedure.”

“What flaw?” Was there something horribly wrong with me? A missing kidney, or eleven fingers, or-

“-Your stupid joke gene; I fear I was unable to deactivate it.”

MONDAY, 7:45 P.M., GENTECH BUILDING A BASEMENT HALLWAY.

“Why so quiet, Ms. Edwards,” Deirdre asked, “Aren’t you bursting with questions?”

I blinked, struggling to think through the sensations flooding me. I was so tiny! I felt small, helpless and overwhelmed.

Small, because I was sandwiched between Julia and Deirdre as they walked me down the hallway. Neither were Amazons in stature, yet my new 5’ 3” frame made them seem so.

Helpless, because I was clothed in a short green hospital gown and matching cloth slippers, the building A hallways had suddenly become crowded, and all eyes were on the new girl.

And since my senses were inputting sensory information at levels far above anything I’d experienced as a male, I was completely overwhelmed.

“Lot to take in,” I managed to whisper.

“The good news is the conversion worked perfectly,” Julia said. “Dr. Stevos confirmed you are a healthy nineteen year old female; you handled that well, by the way.”

“Yea me. That duck billed thing she stuck in …um …down there…” I struggled with the foreign terminology.

“The speculum, dear?” Julia suggested.

“I guess. It's always that cold?”

Julia snickered. “It could be warmed, yes, or a plastic one could have been used, but I thought you’d appreciate the …full sensory effect.”

“So that was …a prank?” I felt a slow smile crossing my face. “Tip of the hat, Jules; Lord knows I deserved it, for everything I pulled on you.”

“That’s it? No threats of evil revenge? Maybe I did deactivate your joke gene.”

I shrugged; and then looked at the women lining the hallway. “Why are so many people around? It’s like everyone knew when the parade would be.”

“They did,” Deirdre answered. “I texted everyone in ‘A’; I wanted them to get a good look at you so they’d know who avoid. I’m not sure you noticed, but there are no men here; that’s because it’s a controlled experiment.”

“I don’t understand, you mean the sensory experiment is female only, or GAP or-?”

“-No,” Julia interjected, “she means the entire ‘A’ research complex is, literally, an experiment. As males have been the dominant social gender for thousands of years, naturally, research has followed a patriarchal approach. It’s well documented women are more collaborative, network, and question more than men, so we set up Building ‘A’ as an experiment-”

“-to see how the work …produced by all female researchers …differs from research produced under the …the traditional male model?” I got it, it made a certain amount of sense.

“Very good, Syd, yes, that’s the thrust of it,” Julia said.

“Cool,” I smiled, but then my eyebrows arched. “What kind of soul sucking corporation spends money on this kind of research?”

“This is not supported by GenTech,” Deirdre answered. “It’s Julia’s brain child. She insisted on complete control of the Biogenetics research division as a condition of her employment.”

I knew GenTech’s hiring of Julia had skyrocketed their share price, but I hadn’t realized how much leverage that had given her.

“O-kay, so why are you doing this, Jules?”

Julia gave me a long stare; it seemed she was weighing something.

“Mankind is either on the brink of its next evolutionary step, or extinction. I’m afraid we are headed for extinction, so I’m trying to give evolution ...a helpful nudge.”

“Eight years ago you wanted nothing to do with the workings of the world; you were all about the ... theory of pure knowledge, um what's it called?”

“Epistemology.”

“That’s it, and the way knowledge was acquired. It was why MASG jazzed you up. When did you...” I had never pulled punches with Julia, and wasn't going to start now, “...develop this god complex?”

Julia smiled. I'm guessing she's never found anyone else who was as honest with her; maybe it’s one of the reasons we liked each other so much.

“There’s a global train wreck happening, but who will stop it? We’ve seen the typical male responses to the climate crisis, and we cannot afford that here.”

“Global train wreck?”

“A genetic development with cataclysmic implications for the human race.”

That confused me; Julia mentioned genetic, so she wasn’t taking about global warming, right? And anyway, Al Gore was all over that. So what other world crisis was she referring to? I shook my head; saving the planet was not my worry.

“Okay, let's say you're right about this …thing coming; how much of a difference can your new agey social experiment make?”

“New age?” Julia laughed. “Honey, this template ain’t new; in ancient times, the Amazons offered a sanctuary for strong, independent women. That’s what I’m aiming for here.”

I debated gender issues with Julia for countless hours during the first MASG tests. I didn’t disagree with her positions, but goading the woman was fun sport.

“So, to summarize, you’re using the biogenetics group as a platform to empower woman to,” I put my little fingertip to the side of my mouth, “take over the world?”

Julia snorted, but Deirdre turned red.

“I knew she’d be incapable of understanding,” Deirdre said. “Her dossier was accurate; she lacks maturity.”

“I was kidding! I didn’t really … wait, dossier? I have a dossier?”

This was news; when had I merited something like that? Was I moving up in the world?

“Look around, Ms. Edwards, you've entered a complex that is the bleeding edge of genetics research, that is itself a singular experiment. Do you think we let anyone waltz in?”

Something occurred to me. “Wait? You think I’ll ruin the Building A experiment?”

“No, I won't let you screw it up.” Deirdre flipped her black hair to one side, and leaned over me. “Consider yourself quarantined; outside of the MASG group, everyone in A has been ordered to avoid you.”

“Back off.” My fists were clenching; Deirdre giggled in response.

“You want to take me on? In your tiny body? That’s so cute.” She ran her fingers through my hair, “I could toss you over my knee and spank you, and you couldn’t do a thing about it, except cry. In fact, I’d enjoy that.”

I shot a look at Julia. “I don't care crap about science; I’m doing this as a favor for you. I did NOT sign up for public humiliation. As my friend you’re supposed to watch out for me.”

“Stand DOWN, Rogers. I'm taking Syd on from here. Meet me back in the lab; I want a word with you.”

“Fine,” Deirdre said. “Just remember, I’ve warned you.”

“Shoo, go somewhere and pull wings off flies,” Julia said. “that seems to be the kind of funk you’re in.”

Julia led me to the A elevator banks and we left the fuming woman behind.

“Syd, when we reach your room, you’re going to want to crash hard. The body hits a massive low within an hour of conversion; it's like jet lag on steroids. So get plenty of rest. In the meantime, I'll have a talk with Deirdre about attitude adjustment.”

“If you would, that would be great. I don’t want to be crossing swords with her the whole time I’m here,” Then I yawned. “Oh yeah, I could use some zzzs”

“I’m meeting you for breakfast at 6:15 am and testing begins tomorrow at 7:00 am sharp, so don’t be late!”

I yawned again in response.

“And Sydney?”

“Mmm?”

“Sweet dreams, hun.”

“Yes, mama.”

MONDAY, 8:05 P.M., GENTECH SUITE D 114

I could barely stand, and the temptation was to jump straight into bed and not move for an eon. Through sheer power of will, I forced myself to stay awake, and learn the layout of my temporary home. I walked through the living area to the kitchen, and opened drawers and cabinets. Good; it was fully stocked.

Next, I went to the bedroom, where I found my suitcases stowed in the closet. The call of the king-sized bed and white fluffy comforter was like a siren, but I resisted; this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I was going to do it right.

I traded my oh-so-lovely hospital gown for a white terrycloth robe, grabbed my toiletry bag, and headed to the bathroom. The door closed, the robe fell, and I took a long look in the mirror.

I started with my hair; golden and soft, it had a messy shag look, with layers of curls. Leaning into the mirror, I confirmed my eyes were still green, maybe more vibrant than I remembered, though. Giggling, I blew a kiss.

Next, I cupped my breasts; the computer modeling they’d sent me of my projected measurements listed them as 36C. Glad they weren’t bigger, they seemed huge. Huge, soft and…

I massaged them, and scraped my fingernails across my nipples. Wow! The pleasure shiver that spread through me made me gulp. What was it Steve Martin said in L.A. Story? That he couldn't be a woman because he’d play with his breasts all day?

“This is gonna be fun.”

My hands itched to travel lower, so I turned my gaze to my new ‘plumbing’. I’d done my homework before coming to GenTech, and gave myself a pop quiz. Below a small mass of blondish hair, I named the clitoral hood, clitoris, labia and vagina.

“Hooray! Gold star for me!” I planned to reward myself with further exploration when I got in bed.

After I washed my face and brushed my teeth, I went back to my bedroom to my suitcase. I fished around in it, pulling out a red piece of clothing. I glanced around with what must have been a guilty look on my face. I couldn't help it! The encounter with Deirdre had shaken me; the fact that someone was studying my 'dossier' left me feeling paranoid. What else was being done to monitor me?

Then I gave a headshake. “Rogers be damned, I’m going to taste, smell and feel all this body can offer.”

The silk chemise slithered on. I ran back to the bathroom to see the show. My hands smoothed down the slick material, and I turned sideways, to look at my smooth thighs and butt dimple showing through the high-cut side slits. When I turned back to face the mirror, I put a hand on a hip.

“Whistle if you want me, Deirdre,” I growled. “You know how to whistle, don't you? You just put your lips together and blow.”

I held the pose for about two seconds before I started giggling; I definitely needed to work on my Bacall thing.

I scampered back to my bed where I slid between the sheets. After some long moans and a few back arching ‘ohmygods,’ I finally did fall asleep.

TUESDAY 6:15 A.M., Gentech BUILDING G, ‘GENTECH EATS HEALTHY’ FOOD CAFE

“Sydney, you’re lovely!”

“You like?” I spun around before sitting down at Julia’s table. I was wearing a white silk blouse, acid wash jeans, and rust colored loafers.

Julia's head bobbed emphatically; When her eyes squinted, I guessed she was picking up that I’d even applied a little powder, lip-gloss, and eyeliner.

“You don’t do half-ass, do you? How long did you say you’ve been getting ready for this week?”

I slapped my butt. “Nothing ‘half’ about this new ass. I’ve been getting ready since the moment you sent my projected measurements; clothes, shoes, cosmetics, everything. Don’t worry, all unscented and hypoallergenic. Nothing to clog the old olfactory bulb.”

“I’m thrilled you’re exploring this opportunity, Syd. Now, before we order, what’s the time?”

I looked at the wall clock. “A little after-”

“-Sydney! What time is it!”

“Oh. That.” The changing back into a pumpkin countdown. I held up my wrist. “77 hours, and 48 minutes.”

“It’s easy to get caught up in new experiences, you more than most, but don’t lose track of this.”

“Of course, mama.”

“You’re going to keep calling me that, aren’t you,” Julia laughed, and picked up a menu. “Since I’m the one that ‘birthed’ the beautiful girl you are, I am kind of your mom. So show mama some respect, daughter. Okay, lecture over. What do you want?”

I had already looked at my menu and closed it. “A banana berry protein shake, and a shot of wheatgrass on the side.”

Julia frowned. “That’s light even in your new body. As I remember, you liked giganto breakfasts, eggs, bacon, pancakes, hash browns…”

I shook my head. “A smoothie is hard to screw up.”

“The food here is not bad, their ‘Poached Huevos Rancheros’ is popular, I’m told,” Julia said, as she motioned for a waiter. “They use eggs from free range hens and fresh cilantro and-”

“-Thanks, no.”

“Not impressed with our spectacular café? Spill, child, what’s wrong?”

“You mean other than its hideous name?”

“Um-hm. Enlighten me.”

“Sure. First, the menu’s impressive, too much so, in fact, offering an array of selections; dishes from Jamaica, Korea, California, Hawaii, Thailand, Mexico, Japan, Italy. What are the chances of a cook being proficient in all those styles?”

“Okay, trying to do too much; valid point. What else?”

“You mentioned the Huevos Rancheros? That poor schmuck ordered it…” I pointed to a woman seated far across the dining room, “…and from the smell, it should be renamed, I don’t know, ‘a bushel of cilantro with a side of eggs.’ The chef completely lacks subtlety.”

“You can tell from this distance?”

“Oh yeah; my senses have really sharpened since my ‘conversion.’ I can tell you what’s on the grill right now — blueberry pancakes.”

They had sharpened amazingly. Imagine the first time you try put on prescription glasses and you see the world in the clearest detail. Now translate that to smell. That is what I’ve experienced since I stepped out of the stasis chamber.

Julia looked to the kitchen; it was in a completely separate room and the door was closed.

“You’re amazing. So how would you run it?”

After I launched into a five minute dissertation on how I how would manage the café, I noticed a kind of lop-sided grin had plastered itself on Julia’s face.

“What? What are you smiling about?”

“About how darling you look.” Julia leaned in again. “We’ve done seven full DNA transformations so far, two of which were gender reversals, and my team treats it as business as usual. They’ve moved on to more ...exotic challenges. But it’s still a mind-blowing miracle. I know this is a stupid question, but does it feel …weird? You’re the first transformee I've been close to, and I’m dying to ask.”

“Weird? Yes and no. Mostly it’s all strange and new, the sensations I’m feeling. Yet …there have been moments when my mind is preoccupied, and I feel this is normal, where …for a moment …I forget it’s even happened. Does that make sense?”

Julia nodded. “You look very natural like this, Syd...”

Then she followed it up with the ever cryptic, “…interesting.”

TUESDAY 7 A.M., GENTECH Building A, MASG LAB ROOM 313

“Here she is folks, the prettiest lab rat you’ll ever meet.”

Julia introduced me to the group of white lab coated women gathered in the room. In addition to Deirdre, I met white-haired Dr. Alcina Thompson, the Korean researchers Kim Jin and Park Ji, and Amanda Benedict, a red-haired grad assistant.

“I hate to dump you and run, Syd, but I'm needed in the GAP lab, stat. I’ll circle back this afternoon and we’ll have dinner together tonight. I'm leaving you in Dr. Roger's care, who I'm certain will be filled with nothing but sweetness and light.”

Deirdre gave a pained grimace, adjusted her glasses, and said nothing. Great, I’ll be battling her my entire stay.

“I'm putting my trust in you, ‘daughter,’ be good.” Julia gave me a quick kiss on my head, and left.

“No way were you a man, no way,” Amanda said, grabbing my hand. “I can’t imagine what it’s like. And what was it like in the á¼ber secret GAP lab; other than Dr. Rogers, no one here has seen it. Was it too cool? Hey! Can I get you a coffee before we plug you into the ‘helmet’? Do need a pee break or anything?”

Amanda’s stream of consciousness barrage overwhelmed me; I guessed the red head was the good humored ‘let’s everyone get along’ member of the team. Heh! Time for some fun. I lowered my voice.

“Well, now that you mention it, I’ve …been scared to …you know …pee …because I’ve never done it without a …penis …so could you maybe …show me how to?”

“Oh sweetie! Have you been holding it in all this time? Let me take you to the-”

“-Amanda! Don’t be thick,” Deirdre said. “She’s joking, obviously; don't believe half of what Sydney says. She's incapable of mature thought.”

“Hey! It could have been true, it’s not like anyone gave me a manual or anything.” I patted the hand of the now red-faced grad student. “And you were being so nice. Now you’ll probably go spit in my coffee.”

“What a great idea-”

“-Enough!” Deirdre could restrain her annoyance no longer. “GenTech did not agree to use its most expensive and secret treatment on you so you could chit chat about peeing. Get in the chair and let’s get going.”

“So much for sweetness and light,” Then I gave a Hitler salute. “Ya vole mein Doktor.”

Soon I was seated, with sensors stuck to my forehead. “This was the stuff we used years ago; there’s gotta be more advanced equipment.”

“Of course, but we have to recreate the conditions of the original MASG tests, so, on with the Frankenstein headgear,” Deirdre said. “We’ll be videoing and monitoring your vitals as well, just like Julia did the first time.”

“Got it. And I’ll try to act like I did for the old tests, at least as much as I remember. Come to think of it, I didn’t shave my face during the first testing phase, so I won’t now either.”

“Sydney, you don’t need to shave your face now because you’re a-”

Score!

Deirdre saw my smirk. “Stop, dammit, just stop! That's not even vaguely humorous. Do you remember how your first tests started?”

“It's been a while, but didn’t we set a baseline?”

Deirdre nodded. “Before you can begin profiling, we’ll have you place the 32 standard test odors into one of eight primary odor categories. Dr. Thompson will lead you through this.”

The elderly woman wheeled a tray of tiny glass vials next to me.

“I’m so excited to be working with you, Ms. Edwards; Dr. Carter has told me how miraculous your senses are. Now, as you may remember, the eight primary odor categories are camphorous, fishy, malty, minty, musky, spermous, sweaty, and urinous.”

“Fishy? Urinous?” I rolled my eyes. “I’d forgotten how sexy this work was.”

Alcina smiled, and held the first vial to my nose. “How do you categorize this?”

“Stinky.”

“Young lady, that is NOT one of the categories-”

“She’s joking, Alcina,” Deirdre said. “Sydney! On task!”

I cocked my head. “The journey of a thousand odors begins with a single sniff.”

“Syd-NEY!”

Deirdre stormed over; for a moment, I thought she might cold-cock me.

“Dr. Thompson has B.S. and M.S. degrees in Botany, PhDs in Microbiology and Genetics, and is enormously respected by her peers. She was one of the pioneers who smashed through the glass ceiling imposed on women by male researchers. Do you intend to treat her -or our other equally qualified scientists- flippantly the entire test period? I warned Julia you would do this.”

“No ...I was only...” I wished she had slapped me; now I felt stupid and immature. “I'll try not to … to ...screw around anymore, okay? I really did mean to be serious.”

When Deirdre took my face in her hands, I blinked at her in surprise.

“Not good enough. Swear to me you will focus, that you'll work with us.”

I sighed. “Deal. I’ll cooperate. Fully. No more joking.”

“No, more than that. Promise me ...” Deirdre voice became a breathy whisper, so that only I heard her. “…you’ll be my good girl, and do …everything I say.”

Christ! I didn’t know what to make of that; someone’s personal fantasy leaking through?

“Uh, look, I said I'd cooperate, that's the best I can do, okay?”

“We'll see about that,” Deirdre said, giving my cheek a playful slap. It took me a moment to realize I blushed in response. What the hell is wrong with me? I shook my head and turned to Alcina.

“Sorry, Dr. Thompson, would you please give me that scent again?”

“Quite all right, dear.” Alcina held the vial to my nose.

“It’s camphorous, ma'am.”

“Good. Call me Alcina. And this?”

“Musky.”

“And this?”

As the testing continued, I noticed Deirdre watching me a half-crooked smile. It looked …lecherous.

TUESDAY 4:00 P.M., GENTECH BUILDING A, BIOGENETICS LAB ROOM 313

“These next tests will focus on stimulus intensity,” Deirdre asked me. “You’ll need to stay blindfolded. Do you need a refresher on the LM scale?”

“No, I’m good, ‘barely detectable’ is just above 0, and ‘strongest imaginable’ is 100.”

“You’ve been sniffing non-stop for hours,” Amanda chirped, from her lab station where she'd been inputting some of the day's data. “Need some fresh air or a natural break?”

I was bleary and starting to feel sensory deprived; I’d been blindfolded for nearly all the tests. I didn’t want to stop, though, after Deirdre’s dressing down this morning, I wanted to prove to her I could be responsible.

“Thanks, no,” I shook my head. “We were on a shoe string budget during the old MASG tests, and had to do it all at once, so let’s press on.”

I wasn’t so tired that I didn’t recognize the new scent entering the room.

“Mmm cinnamon. Is Julia here?”

“That’s amazing; yes she's just arrived,” Deirdre said. “Julia smells like cinnamon?”

I raised my blindfold and blinked at the light. “Not actual cinnamon, I …okay ... confession time…”

I lowered my voice so only she would hear. Why I was spilling this secret to her, I hadn’t a clue.

“You’ve heard people use the phrase ‘passing the smell test?’ Well, since I can remember, I can tell by someone’s scent whether I like them. And, for people I really like, I mentally assign a pleasant smell. Julia is cinnamon. When I deeply dislike someone, I assign them other scents, like stinky socks or rotten eggs, or…well, you get the idea.”

"Alcina. How does she register to you?"

I smiled. "Brandied cherries."

“I'm afraid to ask what I smell like.”

“I’d rather not tell you.”

“I see...” For a second, her eyes showed hurt, then they hardened.

“No, you don’t. It’s the opposite of what you think.”

“I’m a big girl.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me how your ‘personality smell-o-meter’ reads me.”

“Roses” I mumbled. I didn’t know what that hell that implied, but she undeniably did. “I’m sorry if this offends you or-”

“-Shhh.” Deirdre eyes were bright again; she put a finger to my lips. “No harm, no foul. You have a most discerning nose.”

“Um, thanks,” I said. Why I was suddenly shy?

“So how’s our new gal doing?” Julia said, giving me a smile as she joined us; I could tell something was wrong, though.

“Great, better than expected,” Deirdre said

“How so?” Julia cocked her head.

“We feared Sydney would be disruptive...”

“Yes,” Julia nodded, “But I built in extra time to account for the delays I thought she’d cause. Has she exceeded the cushion already?”

They’d built in extra time because I was frivolous? God, how shallow did they think I was? And ...were they right?

Deirdre shook her head. “After a few cracks this morning, she became intense, focused. Perhaps she’s matured since she interned with you.”

“No,” Julia said, “yesterday when I picked Syd up, he was more bombastic than ever.”

“In case you don’t realize it, this is me, sitting right here. Don’t talk like I’m not, okay?”

But of course, they did.

“If anything, she’s been …hmm, demur.”

The way Deirdre said that, it sounded nasty. But in a good way.

Julia barked a laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day when that word described you, Syd. Any problems from your gender switch?”

“Surprisingly few,” Deirdre answered for me again, since I was incapable, apparently. “She’s said ‘this is so weird’ several dozen times, but I can tell she’s enjoying her temporary skin. Aren’t you sweetie?”

She pinched my cheek and I felt myself blush. I was, in fact, enjoying myself immensely, discovering the differences, and similarities, between this body and my old one.

“Remarkable. Is it possible you’re better as a woman? What a study that would be.”

“I wouldn't mind conducting that experiment,” Deirdre murmured.

I really must be getting tired; everything Deirdre said was sounding like sexual innuendo.

“Er …how is she doing on the MASG testing?” Julia asked.

“Fantastic!” Deirdre's face lit up. “Sydney’s previous sense and smell tests were amazing, but as a woman? Off the charts! I’ve snuck a peek at some of the old ‘Sidney as male’ test data to compare -I know, mustn’t draw conclusions- but her increased hypersensitivity must also indicate an increase in scent sensitive neurons…”

Julia bit a lip in what I guessed was an attempt to hold back a laugh.

“…which could be linked to high estrogen levels. Her ...her …physiological and behavioral responses are measurably …no, markedly, different! At first I thought the 8 year time lag between the MASG tests was problematic, but now I'm thinking it validates, because ‘she’ can't remember her responses as a ‘he’.”

“Julia!” Deirdre was dancing around so much she looked like she needed to pee. “It’s inescapable that the genetic responses generated by sensory reactions play a HUGE role in human behavior on a moment to moment basis. This is exactly the direction we need to go to understand the effect of the genetic changes we are contemplating with Project Y...”

Deirdre sighed when she finally noticed ‘cat-that-ate-the canary’ grin Julia was wearing. “Okay, let me have my well earned 'I told you so.'”

“None coming,” Julia said. “I'm glad you've come around to MASG's importance. Ironically, now that you are engaged, I'm going to pull you away for a bit. Styles has called a meeting with me, and he is insisting on having it here.”

“No! Absolutely not, there’s no way we’re-”

“-He’s informed me that two serious assaults have been reported at GenTech over the last twenty-four hours, and —for our safety- he's insisting to be allowed into Building A to warn the residents.”

“And just like that, you’ll let him in, and jeopardize everything? We can’t trust him!”

“I didn’t say I’d let him in; I was simply letting my second in command know everything he’d told me. I’m meeting him in the small breakout room in our lobby. I won’t let him put a toe in here.”

“That’s a relief; since you were willing to so easily give the keys to the castle to Sydney, I wasn’t sure how far you'd go.”

Deirdre was officially back in bitch mode. Fabulous.

“-Dammit, let this thing go,” Julia said. “I trust her! That should be good enough for you! You just said she’s performed well and-”

“-You’re right, sorry, I’ll let it drop. So what trumped up excuse has Styles fabricated to weasel in?”

“Rapes. Two of them. Lauren yesterday afternoon, Kara last night.”

“Oh God no,” Deirdre said. “Weston from the genetic disorders group and your Kara from GAP?”

“Mm-hm. While I’m meeting with Styles, I want you to go to them. Help them. Find out anything you can about-”

“-who the bastard was that did this, and how we can cut off his balls.”

“There’s no disagreement between us on this one, dear. Sydney, your testing is over for the day. I want you to come with me.”

“She already knows too much! Are you insane? ” Deirdre's voice was by turns loud, then pin drop quiet. “...are you?”

Was she?

A far more dangerous drama than I could have possibly imagined was unfolding at Gentech, and I wondered, with the industrial espionage at work, the ominous 'global crisis’ Julia alluded to, and now these horrible rapes, could my old friend be cracking under the strain?

I didn’t doubt my test results would be valuable to Julia and her team, but at the end of the day, it was still just a freakish skill. Maybe Julia needed me for a more fundamental purpose. Maybe with the world's weight on her shoulders, the world's premier geneticist needed, every now and again, to have someone she could lean on? I wonder if something as basic as friendship could keep her from crossing that thin boundary between genius and insanity? I was willing to try.

I faced Deirdre. “You don’t trust me, I know this. I bet my ‘dossier’ tells a tale of one who flits from job to job, never committing to anything. But Julia needs me; I swear to you, I will keep my mouth shut and mind on task.”

I’m not sure which of them looked more surprised, but the tension drained out of Julia’s face and her eyes turned wet.

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“This is so not a good idea,” Deirdre said, but the conviction had evaporated from her voice.

“Probably not, but it’s going to happen,” Julia said. “Go care for Lauren and Kara; they’ll need serious counseling; the sooner the better. And get the details of what happened to them; initial reports are they’re suffering from memory loss. I need you with me on this, Deirdre.”

A stricken look crossed Deirdre’s face. “I am your most loyal follower.”

“-Sorry; I know you are. But these rapes on top of everything else… someone’s tightening the screws on us …”

Just as suddenly, Julia looked lost again, and on impulse I grabbed her hand. Deirdre had the same thought because she took the other. Julia smiled at us when she realized what had happened.

“I need both of you right now. It would be great if you could get along, but if that’s not possible, can you agree not to kill each other? For me?”

I nodded, and then noticed Deirdre was staring at me. If I read her eyes right, I gathered she saw me as something more than an callous annoyance to be suffered. That I might not be completely worthless.

I prayed she was right.

TUESDAY 4:20 P.M., GENTECH BUILDING A LOBBY, ‘BREAK-OUT’ ROOM

GenTech’s security chief was easy to spot when he entered our conference room; he fit most of the Hollywood clichés, black suit, military short brown hair. If he’d sported the MIB sunglasses, then the stereotype would have been complete.

He wore Ralph Lauren’s Polo Blue cologne, -I’d worked a year and a half in Paris as a perfumer for L’Oreal several years ago, and still recognized the majority of the crappy scents for men- but as for the smell the cologne was masking, well…

He was followed by two beefy dark-suited men that had ‘subordinate’ written all over them. They were wearing sunglasses. The security chief’s gray eyes scanned me longer that I thought was necessary.

“Dr. Carter, I don’t believe I’ve met your young associate.”

“This is ...Cindy Johnson, my temporary personal assistant.”

Hmm. From lab rat to gopher; was I moving down or up in the animal kingdom?

He held an open hand to me. “I’m Richard Styles, GenTech’s chief security officer. Pleased to meet you.”

I nodded and shook it. He turned his attention back to Julia.

“The information I must discuss is highly confidential, Dr. Carter. If I may suggest you ask Ms. Johnson to wait in the lobby while we-”

“-Ms. Johnson will remain with me. As I’ve told you previously, I will not attend a meeting with you without at least one witness present.”

“Can I assume Ms. Johnson has signed a non-disclosure agreement with GenTech?”

“You can assume anything you like.” Julia was practically hissing.

“Cooperative as always. Dr. Carter, your refusal to allow law enforcement officials into Building A is unacceptable. I want you to understand that obstruction of justice is a criminal offense, punishable by fine, or imprisonment, or both.”

So far, if an outside observer were watching this? They would have seen a man talking in a measured tone, and a woman who’s voice was shrill and eyes were darting. In other words, they’d conclude he was being reasonable and she suspect.

I was perceiving something far different - Styles reeked of rotten slimy fish.

No, not literally; cologne aside, if I were back down in the lab, I'd say he had a musty smell, LM 32. But on my -what had Deirdre called it? my personality smell-o-meter?- he was deep in the bad zone.

Julia’s scent, on the other hand remained of clean honest spice.

I intended to keep my mouth shut -I did!- but when had that plan ever worked for me? He'd gotten Julia on her back foot; maybe I could help her rally? I cleared my throat.

“Care to start over, Dick? Instead of accusing Dr. Carter of hypothetical crimes, maybe you should start with real ones first? Call me crazy, but how about -oh, I don't know- an update on how the rape victims are doing, and how the authorities, with the assistance of your crack department, are going to catch the bastard who did this?”

For an instant, Styles' ice facade cracked and he glared daggers at me. Then his expression went neutral again and turned back to Julia.

“Both of the alleged victims were from Building A. There may be others who have not reported being assaulted. It is possible that you, or Dr. Rogers, have been covering this up in an effort to prevent entrance into A. If the police want in as part of their investigation, you can’t stop them. I will encourage them to want in.”

“My assistant is correct; why would you start our meeting by threatening me, rather than telling us what happened?” Julia said; purpose replacing her uncertainty. “Perhaps, Syd's ...er ...Cindy's words were too complex for you; I’ll start with a question so simple even you can understand. Were Lauren or Kara hurt?”

“Spare me your false concern. The so-called victims told us nothing; as per your instructions, I’m sure.”

What happened next surprised everyone; Julia's hand whipped out and across Style's face with a loud satisfying smack.

“Feel better? You’ve just given me more of an injury than either 'victim' sustained. From the way they described their attacks, it was like both women wanted this to happen. In any event, the game is almost up, Doctor. Any more Building A rape victims, and even the idiot cops will follow the bread crumbs into A. They’ll be coming in, and I’ll be with them. I so want to throw open these doors and show the shareholders how you’ve pissed away billions of their precious dollars. I’m on to your game. I know how you periodically dole out new products to keep prying eyes from seeing what really goes on in A.”

“I squander shareholder funds? Last I checked, products from my research have increased GenTech’s profitability by 40%. Share price is at an all time high. I’d hardly call that pissing away.”

Styles stood, and motioned to his agents that it was time to leave. “See you on the inside very soon.” He started to leave, then stopped, and turned to me. “There is a rapist on the loose, Ms. Johnson. A woman like you ought to be ...careful.”

After they left, I blinked at Julia.

“A …woman like me? What’d he mean by that?”

“You still think of yourself in terms of your male self-image, I suspect. But at this moment, you are a young and very attractive female, Syd. Keep that in mind.” Then she gave me a long look. “You’re starting to have real doubts about my stability, right about now, I expect.”

I was worried about her, but Styles was a different matter. I shook my head. “I don't trust that man's scent. He’s a toad.”

“Seriously? You can judge someone's character by scent? That's interesting.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I've always had the knack, but in this body, it’s way clearer, and ...that man's pond scum.”

Julia barked a laugh.

“No, I'm serious.”

“I'm not doubting you. I'm surrounded by brilliant scientists, yet I never get such an honest assessment. Except maybe from Astra.”

I wrinkled my eyebrows. “Astra?”

“You'll meet her soon enough; Lord help us all when you two get together. There was some truth in what he was saying, about how loose I play with my fat research budget. I have been trickling out inventions, giving the company just enough to leave me alone.”

“How so?”

Julia ran a hand through pepper gray hair as she composed her thoughts.

“My first release was genetically engineered rice, produced by recombinant DNA technology. It contained rich amounts of pro-vitamin A, beta-carotene and iron, and is a godsend for third world countries.”

“That sounds fantastic!” And just the kind of world improving product I'd expect from her.

“It is. But it did not, however, contribute to GenTech's bottom line. I soon felt the heat from the CEO, and learned altruism didn't sell.”

“Oh. God, I guess I'm naive.”

“I was too. We tried again. This time my team developed a kit to be used by cosmetic store representatives, which would instantly determine a person's genetic skin characteristics and recommend specific products based on the results.”

“Well, it's not hunger relieving like your first product, but it still is beneficial, and it sounds more marketable.”

“Oh, it was, but it did not produce significant profits. So I sent my team back to the drawing board. This time, they came up with ‘Geneta Anti-cellulite Crá¨me’, or GAK as its huge fan based dubbed it. Through integrated nano-technology, the nanites in the crá¨me deliver an extract that activates the metabolism of the fat cells. And ...it worked! It actually breaks down cellulite.”

“A …fat melter?” Okay, I saw where this was headed. “I'm guessing it was a hit?”

“Grand slam home run. You gotta love America. The FDA verified it, and GAK sales exploded through the roof. So GenTech’s CEO was a happy camper this fiscal year, and I was free to follow my real work without prying eyes. Until our encounter with Mr Styles.”

Julia picked up her cell and punched a button.

“Deirdre? Yeah, the wolves have been turned away, but not for long. Call an emergency committee meeting in the big conference room STAT. We are under siege.”

I waited until she clicked off her phone, but I had to ask her.

“Julia, what is your real work?”

“Saving the world, Syd, saving humanity.”

End Part 1

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