Designer Genes
‘A Seed in Every Womb’, from Pulp Literature Issue 21, Winter 2019, was the first (but not the last) publication by talented writer and archivist Emily Lonie.
Take a peek into this dystopian future in the excerpt below, or pick up Issue 21 to read the whole story. On sale now for the throwback price of $8 till the end of June!
A Seed in Every Womb
Emily Lonie
My mother had little imagination and even less cash. Those with the means to self-design were free to conceive at any time, but the downtrodden squirreled away what they could and waited. On her forty-ninth birthday, my mother met with a Konzeption Consultant. She opted for Discount Package B, which entitled her to blue eyes, a standard double-walled heart, anti-lactic muscle coating, and one bonus maturity feature of her choosing. All seeds came with Biokinder’s lifetime health guarantee.
Perhaps my mother’s choice was a result of some cosmic prescience, but I suspect she picked at random from a list of features that were soon obsolete.
In the early years, the radical right decried kreation, picketing Biokinder in a futile attempt to halt the future. But by the time I was born, no blue eye was organic.
The weather changed when I was ten. Of course, there had been warnings for decades, but they went unheeded. We ignored and consumed and then we froze. Some were lucky — their parents had selected resistance to cold. I blamed my mother for having opted for the economical package.
I received my first mandatory injection in the autumn of ice year one. The chair was clinical — a white metal frame with a simple plastic seat. I shifted and squirmed, unable to settle. My mother placed a steadying hand on my knee and smiled. A woman appeared in the doorway. She was tall, with delicate features and long, flowing blonde hair. Her slender frame was accentuated by a black figure-hugging pencil skirt that gave her an air of authority.
“First time, sweetheart?” she asked. I nodded, buoyed by my mother’s reassuring smile. The injection was painful but brief. I would come to see it more as an annual inconvenience than a source of anxiety.
Biokinder: Natural, by Design. I read through the pamphlet as instructed. I learned that when a seedling comes of age, the maturity abilities begin to manifest. My overactive imagination conjured an array of spectacular possibilities, but any excitement I felt in that moment was immediately crushed by the reality of my mother’s circumstances. The option she had selected endowed me with Virusight, which had once been a valuable diagnostic aid. But in the years since I was conceived, disease had been eradicated in the general population. Careful engineering of the patented injection formula had rendered my ability useless. I was devastated. I wish I could take back the hateful things I said to her as we left the clinic.
Find out what happens next in Issue 21, Winter 2019 …
Emily Lonie is a professional archivist concerned with preserving the past, but in the evenings she enjoys exploring possible futures in her short fiction. She is thankful for the little bursts of inspiration that come out of nowhere and demand to be explored. Originally from Ottawa, she now lovingly calls Vancouver home. She is the author of the children’s book Corben and the Crow Commute. ‘A Seed in Every Womb’ was her first piece of fiction published in Canada.The Kingfisher Poetry Prize
The Kingfisher Poetry Prize, judged by Bowen Island Poet Laureate Jude Neale, opens July 1st. Polish up your short poems now!
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