Page 5 of Adam, Mine

“Victor.”

“—he decided he needed to put in a nail? The concept is ahistorical and cruel! Beyond that—”

“Victor.” Professor Krempe leaned forward.

“—separating my project from, say, Petyr’s project shows extremely unprofessional favoritism. You can’t possibly think a medical project designed to figure out a way to prolong life is more threatening to the demise of humanity than what he’s chosen?! Some kind of atomic decay?”*

Professor Krempe changed tactics. “And what say you to this, Petyr?”

Victor fell silent.

Petyr, who appeared to be sketching, looked up. “What?”

“What say you to the comparison between your subject and Victor’s in regard to potential damages, bearing in mind that his subject has already been rejected and yours has been accepted?”

Victor hazarded a glance at Petyr, who pressed his lips into a thin line of distaste.

“While . . . the margins of error with my proposal are high and the damages if incorrectly applied are catastrophic, the resulting benefits would meet or exceed these damages,” Petyr said slowly. “The energy from atomic decay could be used to unburden men of their jobs, clear the smoke from the skies—”

“But somehow the pursuit of biological—” Victor started, but Petyr put up a hand.

“The issue here isn’t whether your desire to insulate the body from ‘damage, age, and death” threatens humanity. It’s the imbalance between benefit and drawback. Your interests—even beyond the scope of this proposal—are meaningful to the currently living, but if used to catastrophe, they could immediately have negative impact on individual lives. Not to mention the continued employment of our professor, legal issues with the university, damages requested from you personally from aggrieved loved ones, and front-page, humiliating scandal. On the other hand, my work could destroy generations just as it builds generations—and it would only destroy in the form of failure. Yours comes at the cost of lives, bare minimum, even in the case of your greatest success.”

Victor seethed, and he turned from Petyr to Professor Krempe.

“And you care so little for The Now? You, a soldier, who has stood among men in tatters, with pieces missing. Seen friends come home changed and bitter. Washed clothes drenched in blood that did not belong to enemies? Should the sacrifices and advancements as a result of experimentation that prolonged their lives have waited?”*

Professor Krempe reared back as though he had been struck.

Victor turned to the class. “And the rest of us. Have we not had our sleep interrupted by the cries of the dying during the birth of the living? Played with friends one morning and wept at their bedside the following evening? The son of a doctor has seen many things the rest of you have been denied the pleasure of viewing. Pain is not immaterial just because it is brief.”

“So you would force vulnerable people to endure horrors to escape your pain?”

“Men two hundred years ago would consider our advancements today ‘horrors.’ As that which is unnatural is, in partiality, that which is only unfamiliar,” Victor spat. “And more, this is only theory. Whether I get to work on this project here or not, I will someday. When I have finished, I will let you all know.”

Petyr leaned forward, closing his notebook.

“Do you think there would be much profit in this?” he asked.

Victor was caught off guard. Petyr sounded genuinely interested.

“Uh. Perhaps? Starting with medical study would likely not provide financial windfall for some time . . . but securing a military contract could potentially bear fruit in that regard. . . . Why?”

“I was curious if that was your motivation,” Petyr said with a smirk. “It would be mine.”

Victor looked between Professor Krempe and Petyr.

“I promise it is not. I hadn’t considered this until asked. . . .” Victor trailed off. He didn’t really need money: his inheritance would finance a tidy living and additional moneys from work would be merely supplemental. Fortune seeking was really the least of his interests. Prioritizing money was obscene in comparison to the value of human life. Though having this pointed out this late in the argument was a bit . . . embarrassing.

Professor Krempe closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them again.

“Victor, if I allow you to design this . . . object, you are still not allowed to use it for live human testing. Save that sort of thing for your apprenticeship after graduation. That way your mentor will take responsibility for any potential damages, humiliations, and legal matters, not me or this institution.”

Victor sighed. Thank God.

“And,” Professor Krempe continued loudly, “you must write an additional thirty pages on potential ramifications of unethical human testing, and not just from the perspective of ambitious, wealthy boys just like you.”

“Thirty pages?! But that’s twice as long as—” Victor spluttered.