Sense of Wonder: A Century of Science Fiction (616 page)

“Ah.”

Anne lowered her eyes. Darwin had been speaking about the Papists, but she knew the same was true of Redeemed missionaries. They tended to stay a year in one place, do a few blood tests, then move on if they could not show results—because results were exclusively measured in blood rather than what the people professed. If missionaries, her own missionaries, had been abandoning sincere believers because they didn’t believe the conversions were “true”…what would God think of that?

But Darwin hadn’t stopped talking. “Our voyage visited many islands, Your Majesty, a few of which had never received missionaries of any kind. Some of those tribes had serpentine analogues in their blood, while some did not…and each island was homogeneous. I hypothesize the potential for analogues might have been distributed evenly through humankind millennia ago; but as populations grew isolated, geographically or socially—”

“Yes, Mr. Darwin, We see your point.” Anne found she was tapping her finger on the edge of the table. She stopped herself and stood up. “This matter deserves further study. We shall instruct the police to find a place where you can continue your work without disturbance from outside sources.”

Darwin’s face fell. “Would that be a jail, ma’am?”

“A comfortable place of sanctuary,” she replied. “You will be supplied with anything you need—books, paper, all of that.”

“Will I be able to publish?” he asked.

“You will have at least one avid reader for whatever you write.” She favored him with the slightest bow of her head. “You have given us much to think about.”

“Then let me give you one more thought, Your Majesty.” He took a deep breath, as if he was trying to decide if his next words would be offensive beyond the pale. Then, Anne supposed, he decided he had nothing to lose. “Papists and the Redeemed have been selectively breeding within their own populations for hundreds of years. There may come a time when they are too far removed from each other to be…cross-fertile. Already there are rumors of an unusually high mortality rate for children with one Papist parent and one Redeemed. In time—millennia perhaps, but in time—if we continue with segregated breeding, I believe the two populations may split into separate species.”

“Separate species? Of humans?”

“It may happen, Your Majesty. At this very moment, we may be witnessing the origin of two new species.”

Queen Anne pursed her lips in distaste. “The origin of species, Mr. Darwin? If that is a joke, We are not amused.”

3. The Efficacy of Trisulphozyymase for Preventing SA Incompatibility Reactions in Births of Mixed-Blood Parentage:

The hearing was held behind closed doors—a bad sign. Julia Grant had asked some of her colleagues what to expect and they all said, Show trial, Show trial. Senator McCarthy loved to get his name in the papers. And yet the reporters were locked out today; just Julia and the Committee.

A very bad sign.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Grant,” McCarthy said after she had sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. His voice had a smarmy quality to it; an unpleasant man’s attempt at charm. “I suppose you know why you’re here?”

“No, senator.”

“Come now, doctor,” he chided, as if speaking to a five-year-old. “Surely you must know the purpose of this Committee? And it therefore follows that we’d take great interest in your work.”

“My work is medical research,” she replied tightly. “I have no political interests at all.” She forced herself to stare McCarthy in the eye. “I heal the sick.”

“There’s sickness and there’s sickness,” the senator shrugged. “We can all understand doctors who deal with sniffles and sneezes and heart attacks…but that’s not your field, is it?”

“No,” she answered. “I’m a hematologist, specializing in SA compatibility problems.”

“Could you explain that for the Committee?”

The doctor suspected that every man on the Committee— and they were all men—had already been briefed on her research. If nothing else, they read the newspapers. Still, why not humor them?

“All human blood,” she began, “is either SA-positive or SA-negative—”

“SA stands for Serpentine Analogue?”
McCarthy interrupted.

“Yes. The name comes from the outdated belief—”

“That some people have snakes in their bloodstream,” McCarthy interrupted again.

“That’s correct.”

“
Do
some people have snakes in their bloodstream?” McCarthy asked.

“Snake-like entities,” another senator corrected…probably a Democrat.

“Serpentine analogues are not present in anyone’s bloodstream,” Julia said. “They don’t appear until blood is exposed to air. It’s a specialized clotting mechanism, triggered by an enzyme that encourages microscopic threads to form at the site of an injury—”

“In other words,” McCarthy said, “SA-positive blood works differently from SA-negative. Correct?”

“In this one regard, yes,” Julia nodded.

“Do you think SA-positive blood is
better
than SA-negative?”

“It provides slightly more effective clotting at wounds—”

“Do you
admire
SA-positive blood, doctor?”

Julia stared at him. Mentally, she counted to ten. “I am fascinated by all types of blood,” she answered at last. “SA-positive clots faster…which is useful to stop bleeding but gives a slightly greater risk of stroke. Overall, I’d say the good points and the bad even out. If they didn’t, evolution would soon skew the population strongly one way or the other.”

McCarthy folded his hands on the table in front of him. “So you believe in evolution, Dr. Grant?”

“I’m a scientist. I also believe in gravity, thermodynamics, and the universal gas equation.”

Not a man on the Committee so much as smiled.

“Doctor,” McCarthy said quietly, “what blood type are you?”

She gritted her teeth. “The Supreme Court ruled that no one has to answer that question.”

In sudden fury, McCarthy slammed his fist onto the table. “Do you see the Supreme Court in here with us? Do you? Because if you do, show me those black-robed faggots and I’ll boot their pope-loving asses straight out the window.” He settled back in his chair. “I don’t think you appreciate the seriousness of your situation, Dr. Grant.”

“What situation?” she demanded. “I’m a medical researcher—”

“And you’ve developed a new drug, haven’t you?” McCarthy snapped. “A new
drug
. That you want to loose on the public. I wonder if the person who invented heroin called herself a medical researcher too.”

“Mr. McCarthy, trisulphozymase is not a narcotic. It is a carefully developed pharmaceutical—”

“Which encourages miscegenation between Papists and the Redeemed,” McCarthy finished. “That’s what it does, doesn’t it, doctor?”

“No!” She took a deep breath. “Trisulphozymase combats certain medical problems that occur when an SA-positive father and an SA-negative mother—”

“When a Papist man sires his filthy whelp on a Redeemed woman,” McCarthy interrupted. “When a Papist
fucks
one of the Saved. That’s what you want to encourage, doctor? That’s how you’ll make the world a better place?”

Julia said nothing. She felt her cheeks burn like a child caught in some forbidden act; and she was infuriated that her reaction was guilt rather than outrage at what McCarthy was saying.

Yes
, she wanted to say,
it
will
make the world a better place to stop separating humanity into hostile camps.
Most people on the planet had no comprehension of either Papist or Redeemed theology; but somehow, the poisonous idea of blood discrimination had spread to every country of the globe, regardless of religious faith. Insanity! And millions recognized it to be so. Yet the McCarthys of the world found it a convenient ladder on which they could climb to power, and who was stopping them? Look at Germany. Look at Ireland. Look at India and Pakistan.

Ridiculous…and deadly, time and again throughout history. Perhaps she should set aside SA compatibility and work on a cure for the drive to demonize those who were different.

“A doctor deals with lives, not lifestyles,” she said stiffly. “If I was confronted with a patient whose heart had stopped beating, I would attempt to start it again, whether the victim was an innocent child, a convicted murderer, or even a senator.” She leaned forward. “Has anyone here ever seen an SA incompatibility reaction? How a newborn infant dies? How the mother goes into spasm and usually dies too? Real people, gentlemen; real screams of pain. Only a monster could witness such things and still rant about ideology.”

A few Committee members had the grace to look uncomfortable, turning away from her gaze; but McCarthy was not one of them. “You think this is all just ideology, doctor? A lofty discussion of philosophical doctrine?” He shook his head in unconvincing sorrow. “I wish it were…I truly wish it were. I wish the Papists weren’t trying to rip down everything this country stands for, obeying the orders of their foreign masters to corrupt the spirit of liberty itself. Why should I care about a screaming woman, when she’s whored herself to the likes of them? She made her decision; now she has to face the consequences. No one in this room invented SA incompatibility, doctor. God did…and I think we should take the hint, don’t you?”

The sharp catch of bile rose in Julia’s throat. For a moment, she couldn’t find the strength to fight it; but she couldn’t be sick, not in front of these men. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to breathe evenly until the moment passed. “Senators,” she said at last, “do you actually intend to suppress trisulphozymase? To withhold life-saving treatment from those who need it?”

“Some might say it’s a sign,” McCarthy answered, “that a Redeemed man can father a child on a Papist without complications, but it doesn’t work the other way around. Doesn’t that sound like a sign to you?”

“Senators,” she said, ignoring McCarthy, “does this Committee intend to suppress trisulphozymase?”

Silence. Then McCarthy gave a little smile. “How does trisulphozymase work, doctor?”

Julia stared at him, wondering where this new question was going. Warily, she replied, “The drug dismantles the SA factor enzyme into basic amino acids. This prevents a more dangerous response from the mother’s immune system, which might otherwise produce antibodies to the enzyme. The antibodies are the real problem, because they may attack the baby’s—”

“So what you’re saying,” McCarthy interrupted, “is that this drug can destroy the snakes from a Papist’s bloodstream?”

“I told you, there are no snakes. Trisulphozymase temporarily eliminates the extra clotting enzyme that comes from SA-positive blood.”

“It’s only temporary?”

“That’s all that’s needed. One injection shortly before the moment of birth—”

“But what about repeated doses?” McCarthy interrupted. “Or a massive dose? Could you permanently wipe out the SA factor from a person’s blood?”

“You don’t administer trisulphozymase to an SA-positive person,” Julia said. “It’s given to an SA-negative mother to prevent—”

“But suppose you
did
give it to a Papist. A big dose. Lots of doses. Could it destroy the SA factor forever?” He leaned forward eagerly. “Could it make them like us?”

And now Julia saw it: what this hearing was all about. Because the Committee couldn’t really suppress the treatment, could they? Her results were known in the research community. Even if the drug was banned here, other countries would use it; and there would eventually be enough public pressure to force re-evaluation. This wasn’t about the lives of babies and mothers; this was about clipping the devil’s horns.

Keeping her voice steady, she said, “It would be unconscionable to administer this drug or any other to a person whose health did not require it. Large doses or long-term use of trisulphozymase would have side effects I could not venture to guess.” The faces in front of her showed no expression. “Gentlemen,” she tried again, “in an SA-positive person, the enzyme is
natural
. A natural component of blood. To interfere with a body’s natural functioning when there’s no medical justification…” She threw up her hands. “Do no harm, gentlemen. The heart of the Hippocratic Oath. At the very least, doctors must do no harm.”

“Does that mean,” McCarthy asked, “you would refuse to head a research project into this matter?”

“Me?”

“You’re the top expert in your field,” McCarthy shrugged. “If anybody can get rid of the snakes once and for all, it’s you.”

“Senator,” Julia said, “have you no shame? Have you no shame at all? You want to endanger lives over this…triviality? A meaningless difference you can only detect with a microscope—”

“Which means they can walk among us, doctor! Papists can walk among us. Them with their special blood, their snakes, their damned inbreeding—they’re the ones who care about what you call a triviality. They’re the ones who flaunt it in our faces. They say they’re God’s Chosen. With God’s Mark of Blessing. Well, I intend to erase that mark, with or without your help.”

“Without,” Julia told him. “Definitely without.”

McCarthy’s gaze was on her. He did not look like a man who had just received an absolute no. With an expression far too smug, he said, “Let me tell you a secret, doctor. From our agents in the enemy camp. Even as we speak, the Papists are planning to contaminate our water supply with their damned SA enzyme. Poison us or make us like them…one way or the other. We
need
your drug to fight that pollution; to remove the enzyme from our blood before it can destroy us. What about that, Dr. Grant? Will your precious medical ethics let you work on a treatment to keep us safe from their damned Papist toxins?”

Julia grimaced. “You know nothing about the human metabolism. People couldn’t ‘catch’ the SA factor from drinking water; the enzyme would just break down in your stomach acid. I suppose it might be possible to produce a methylated version that would eventually work its way into the bloodstream…” She stopped herself. “Anyway, I can’t believe the Papists would be so insane as to—”