Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lars follows the white-coated assistant down vanilla-box halls, fuming quietly the whole while. They push through into a room of soft lights and soft cheeps and Birgit holding court at the center. „What's so important you needed to pry me a—“

She flicks a hand—

The assistant flees.

—offers a cloth-wrapped bundle.

It squirms and squalls weakly.

„What. is. that.“

„Success,“ purrs Birgit.

„Su—that's a child, you—“ Takes a deep breath, heart sinking. „What have you done?“

„I succeeded.“ Taps a fingertip against a tiny nose. „This is my clone.“ Smugs, „With improvements, of course.“

Lars' vision goes grey at the edges and his throat dry. „What?“

Birgit cradles the newborn to her chest, tugs loose a corner of the cloth.

A ... wing, complete with patchy natal down, flops free.

„What have you done?“ he breathes.

She re-wraps the ... child, says simply, „My technique for cross-species gene splicing works.“

He blinks rapidly. „You're mad.“

„I'm right.“

„You're mad.“ Lars sits heavily in a chair, ears ringing. „I knew you were mad, but this ... this is beyond ....“ Tries to shake his head clear. „What were you thinking?“

„I wanted to be first.“

His mouth works wordlessly a moment, finally manages to croak, „First.“

Birgit hums, settles the ... settles the child in a bassinet.

It yawns.

—straightens the blanket, mumbles, „You surprised me, surviving, unlike the others.“

„There were others?“

„Five.“ Her eyes turn dreamy and she murmurs, „I didn't think such a small change—sex!—would solve the cardiovascular problems.“

„You're mad.“ Lars drags a hand down his face. „What do you plan to do with it now?“

She shrugs. „Dissect it, pr—“

„Di—!“ Lars' stomach claws into his throat. „You will do no such thing! It's a-a-a child, not a specimen!“

A wrinkle forms between her eyes. „You think it's human?“

„Of course.“

„But it's thoroughly unnatural! Made with animal genes! Conceived in a dish!“

The infant squawks.

„It feels pain—“

„So do rats.“ She absently strokes the child's cheek and it calms.

„Birgit ....“ A deep breath to steel himself. „You cannot destroy the breathing, living proof of your success.“ Gestures helplessly. „What if there are long-term effects on health from the cloning or splicing?“

She bites her lip, considers. „You have a good point. Longitudinal data would be useful ....“ Turns to Lars, eyes alight. „We can make over the guest room as a nursery and document its growth!“

„Are you insane? If the authorities find out what you've done, they'll take Dietrich and Karla from us!“

She gestures dismissively. „My work is protected by someone more powerful than any small-town meddler. We have nothing to worry about.“

„How can you say that? There's no ethics board in the world—“

„Which can stand against money.“ Smiles into the bassinet. „Or progress.“

Lars deflates.

Birgit gazes smugly at the child for a few moments, then bustles to a desk, picks up a clipboard and pen, and jots.

„Have you made arrangements for its care for the night?“

„Why would I—“

„Get one of your assistants in here,“ he snaps.

Birgit huffs out.

Lars watches her go, locates a blank piece of paper, and scrawls a list of basic supplies.

A youth appears, shifts his feet nervously. „Doctor Gottlieb said—“

„Take this—“ Shoves the paper into his hands. „—to the store and use the project's payment card to purchase everything listed.“

„But—“

„Do as he says, Théo,“ says Birgit, returning. „It's alright.“

He bows hastily, flees.

Lars sags into a chair, lets his head fall back, tells the ceiling, „You're mad, Birgit. I can't believe you've done this.“

„Of course you can't,“ she sniffs. „You never thought I would accomplish anything.“

He sighs.

Birgit makes more notes, idly humming.

Lars breathes deeply through his nose.

Birgit turns over a sheet.

„What's its name?“

„Hmm?“

„The child. It must have a name.“

„Oh.“ She frowns. „I hadn't thought of that.“

„Of course not,“ mutters Lars.

Birgit taps a fingernail against her paper. „Hermann,“ she declares. „'Warrior'.“

„Hermann, then.“

Birgit scratches away, resumes humming.

Lars sighs heavily.

That's all they do for several minutes.

„If I leave to get Dietrich and Karla their dinners, will you take care of ... of Hermann?“

„Mmhm.“

„Good.“ Lars shoves to his feet, drags himself from the offices, dread pooling cold in the center of his chest.