“Last night, on MeTube, I saw this awesome video about a dog just like Spike,” David announced, jockeying for the spotlight. He tapped on his screen. “Look. It’s so cool.” David handed his tablet to Lindsey.
Lindsey played the video, holding it up so everyone could see.
Jeeves entered the dining room and set Jacob’s cup of coffee in front of him. Then he stood at attention in the back corner of the room, awaiting instruction.
The video footage showed a man breaking a window from the outside and attempting to enter a nicely furnished home. The robotic dog, outfitted with a rotating rifle on its back, shot the man in the head.
Lindsey stopped the video. “That wasn’t very appetizing.”
“I don’t want you watching that violence. I could have Jeeves suspend your access to the internet,” Rebecca said.
“But he was a bad man,” David said.
“Wouldn’t it be better if the dog just called the police or used a Taser?” Rebecca asked. “What if that was the owner of the house? What if he was locked out?”
David shook his head. “That was a bad man. He had on a mask. All the bots know faces anyway. He was prob’ly a murderer.”
“Where are you learning these things?”
“It’s normal for enhanced kids,” Jacob whispered to Rebecca. “Mayer’s kids did the same thing. They just grow up faster.”
“I know, but he’s only six,” Rebecca whispered back.
David gulped his milk. “Can we put a gun on Spike?”
“We’re not putting a gun on Spike,” Rebecca said.
“I could program Spike to bite their junk,” Lindsey said.
The boys howled, milk shooting from David’s nose.
Rebecca laughed too. “We’re not doing that either.”
Jacob stood up from the table and held out his coffee cup. “Put this in a travel mug.”
The bot approached Jacob, took the cup, and responded, “Right away, sir.”
“You’re leaving already?” Rebecca asked.
“I’d rather stay home, but I have a ton to do before the Bilderberg Meeting on Friday,” Jacob said.
“Is that this week?”
“Afraid so.”
“You’re invited this year?”
Jacob stiffened. “Dad wants me there for the after-meetings.”
“It’s a waste of your time,” Rebecca replied.
“Maybe. I’m hoping to secure financing while I’m there.”
3
Summer Stock
Summer sat on the toilet, peeing on a stick. She washed her hands and checked the tiny digital screen on the stick. Nothing yet. She leaned on the sink and stared into the mirror. Summer’s wavy brown hair touched her shoulders. She had a round face with wide-set blue eyes, a prominent nose, and glowing skin.
Do I even want a baby? I’m not getting any younger. She’d just turned thirty last month. Can we afford it? Summer sighed. It’s never a good time. She checked the digital readout again, the result now clear. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a few seconds, not sure how to feel. Summer placed the test in the bathroom wastebasket, shoving it to the bottom and covering it with the existing trash.
She padded to the kitchen. Her fiancé, Connor, sat at the breakfast table, eating cereal, watching his tablet. He worked for Next Generation Robotics as an entry level programmer, specializing in household bots.
“Good morning,” Summer said without conviction.
“Morning,” Connor mumbled, his eyes glued to the shadowy figure on the screen, aka Braveheart. Connor’s hero.
The kitchen was tiny, barely enough room for their table for two. Summer turned sideways to pass between Connor’s chair and the counter. She filled up her water bottle and grabbed a banana.
“Now, with every wealthy couple designing their own superspecial bundle of joy, the gap between the haves and the have-nots continues to widen.” Braveheart’s rant was apropos.
“I need to talk to you,” Summer said.
Braveheart continued, his voice digitized to protect him or her from the authorities. “We continue to fall behind, and that’s exactly the plan.”
“Can you turn that off?”
Connor held up one finger, still mesmerized by Braveheart.
Summer sat across from Connor, eating her banana, as Braveheart finished his rant.
“The elites don’t need us anymore. Robots do the work we used to do. They do it better, cheaper, faster, and without any bitching and complaining. The elites don’t need or want us to train for the new economy. They have us chipped, tracked, and using the same currency worldwide. Now they want us to shut up and to accept our fate.” Braveheart paused. “Until next time, stay safe and watch your back.”
Connor stopped the video and looked up from his tablet. He had a handsome face: blue eyes, a strong chin, and a perpetual stubble. He wasn’t overweight, but his body was soft and doughy from his sedentary lifestyle. “You gotta listen to the beginning of that before they erase it. It was crazy.”
“The NSA’s probably monitoring everyone who watches Braveheart,” Summer said. “It’s illegal hate speech.”
“It’s not illegal to listen to hate speech.”
Summer shrugged. “I think you’re tempting fate.”
“Stop being such a drone. Nothing’s gonna happen. Too many people watch his videos.”
“If you say so.”
“Did you know that the first designer babies were made in 2019?”
“Really?”
“It was in the video. These Chinese scientists removed the CCR5 gene to be resistant to diseases linked to chronic inflammation. Then they found out that removing that gene gave people better memories. And they were using the DEC5 genetic mutation way back then.”
“The mutation to reduce the amount of sleep people need?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought the first enhanced babies were in 2032?” Summer said.
Connor had a crooked grin. “You’re so PC. You can call ’em designer babies. I’m not gonna tell Big Brother.”
“I’d rather not get in the habit. I see a lot of enhanced people at work. Can you imagine what would happen to me if I called someone a designer baby? I’d be fired in a nanosecond.”
“This PC bullshit is out of control.”
“I agree, but this is the world we live in.”
“Unfortunately.” Connor rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, you’re right in a sense that the first designer babies were in 2032. The earlier models focused on disease prevention for the most part. It wasn’t nearly as much of an advantage as the ones in 2032. Braveheart talked a little about how they’re eighteen now, and almost every one of them is super successful. Half of them already graduated college. A lot of them have corporate and government jobs. Almost all the Olympic gymnasts are designer babies. They’re totally dominating high school sports now. In the next few years, they’ll start dominating college sports, then the pros. Must be nice to be a designer baby.”
“Do you think a natural baby can compete?”
“A stock baby? Hell no. I would not wanna have a stock baby.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Now I can’t say stock baby? I don’t get how that’s offensive. I’m a stock baby. You’re a stock baby. We’re all stock babies.”
“It’s upsetting to people. It’s belittling.” Summer discreetly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Connor didn’t notice. Summer stood from the table. “I should go.”
Connor furrowed his brows. “Are you mad at me?”
“No, it’s getting late. I need to hurry if I’m gonna finish my run before work.”
“I’ll see you tonight.”
Summer nodded and left the apartment. The park was only a few blocks from her apartment. She jogged on the sidewalk, passing apartment buildings, restaurants, hotels, and commercial high-rises. A digital billboard urged Americans to vote in the midterm elections. Real Americans vote. Exercise your right to vote today, 11-5-2050! The ad portrayed a diverse group of people wearing I Voted T-shirts and big smiles.