14
Thursday, May 3
9:30 A.M.
NewYew headquarters, Manhattan
225 DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD
“Good,” said Carl, nodding at the slide show. Kerry was presenting new product ideas for ReBirth, and Carl nodded again, as giddy as Lyle had ever seen him. “I like it. What else?”
“I think you’ll really be pleased with this one,” said Kerry, walking to the computer. He looked more like Lyle every day. His wife had already found new DNA to change herself, but Kerry was waiting. He was still trying to decide who he wanted to be.
They’d put ReBirth on hold after the theft, unsure what the thieves were planning to do and how they should respond to it. Now all such concerns were gone: a moisturizer they could delay, but a DNA overwriter was too big to take any chances with. They were pushing forward as fast as they could, hoping to launch on the first of July. There was too much money at stake, and the executives were going wild.
Kerry tapped a key on the laptop and the slide changed to show another row of images, mock-ups of hypothetical product, each bearing the image of a buxom woman. “Breast augmentation,” said Kerry, grinning like a maniac. “Boob jobs in a bottle! We identify a range of models with our standard quality baseline—good skin, attractive, O negative blood, et cetera—but specifically calibrated in a full range of breast sizes. You want to be bigger, smaller, perkier, whatever, we can do it in one application: no surgery, no stress, and no judgment.”
Carl nodded, and looked at Lyle. “Will this work?”
Lyle threw up his hands. “We’d have to be incredibly careful to make sure our models are all naturally beautiful—the lotion doesn’t copy your body, it copies the genes that produced your body, which means our customers are never going to be getting exactly what’s on the box. Models with breast implants are right out, obviously, but that’s not the only way these women have artificially altered their bodies. What about exercise? Models tend to have excellent metabolisms, prone to good health and limited weight gain, and yes, our DNA lotion can copy that, but they also have strict daily regimens of diet and exercise. Pedro and the others looked like me because I don’t do anything to change my body, but these models do—their look is half genes and half very hard work. ReBirth can’t just give that to someone.”
“So we start selling exercise equipment,” said Kerry, pulling out a pen and jotting down the idea. “We could sell fitness kits: some ReBirth, some weights, and a Pilates program all rolled into one package. ‘An exercise program designed to make your body beautiful, and a body designed to make your exercise as effective as possible.’”
“That’s a step in the right direction,” said Lyle, “but there’s so many other ways to use this technology to help people. If we can give people a healthy metabolism, why not take it all the way and give them a healthy heart? Healthy kidneys? Let’s find people with good bones and strong circulation and imprint that—give our customers a way to improve their actual lives instead of just their appearance.”
“Never sell a cure when you can sell a treatment,” said Cynthia. “A magical lotion that protects you from heart disease is great for you, but then what do we sell you in the next fiscal quarter? How do we keep our business growing? We need something temporary and/or disposable.”
“I’ve got just what you’re looking for,” said Kerry, tapping the keyboard. The slide changed to show a glamorous couple on the streets of Paris, the Eiffel Tower shining brilliantly in the background. “Fantasy kits,” said Kerry, barely controlling his excitement. “Ma and Pa Kettle from Nowheresville, Wisconsin, decide they want a vacation, something really special like an anniversary, so they buy this kit and rub on the lotion and bam! Suddenly they’re young, dashing sophisticates on a weeklong cruise on the French Riviera. And here’s the kicker: each fantasy kit includes a couple of bottles of blank lotion, so they can imprint themselves first, and then when they’re done with the high life they go back to Nowheresville and put on the ‘them’ lotion and turn back into themselves. They get the best of both worlds, and when they’re ready for another fantasy they come right back to us and buy another one.”
“I love it,” said Cynthia. “It would be even better if we could do it with actual celebrities.”
“Can we get celebrities?” asked Kerry.
“Only the ones desperate for attention,” said Sunny.
“And those are never the ones you want,” said Jeffrey.
Carl looked at Lyle. “Will it work?”
“It’s biologically feasible, yes,” said Lyle, “but do we really want to sell unimprinted lotion? That could get out of hand incredibly quickly—it’s like giving the gun to the retarded kid.”
“Wow,” said Sunny. “I thought we were crossing the sensitivity line.”
“It’s an old science fiction story,” said Lyle. “You know the one I’m talking about, right? Nobody?”
“Some of us had dates in college,” said Kerry.
“There’s a scientist who invents a death ray or whatever, and his friend tries to convince him not to tell anyone, and the guy insists he’s just there to make the science, and he’s not responsible for what anybody else does with it. So the friend gives the scientist’s mentally disabled son a handgun, like as an object lesson.”
Sunny raised his eyebrow. “What kind of sick bastard gives a mentally disabled child a handgun?”
“That’s exactly my point!” said Lyle. “You can’t just give someone a power they don’t understand and then say it’s not your fault when they hurt someone with it. If we give people blank ReBirth, we are giving them a power they can’t possibly hope to control. I don’t even think we can control it.”
“So let me get this straight,” said Cynthia. “You think our customers are mentally retarded?”
“It’s a metaphor.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Sunny, “because we’re already on it. The standard retail model is too uncontrollable, like you said, so Carl had me working on alternatives all night.” He glanced around the room. “This is jumping the agenda by a couple of bullet points, but Carl’s approved the plan so we may as well announce it: we’re building our own clinics. Just a few at first, in some of the major cities, which incidentally gives us a period of limited supply where we can boost the price due to heightened demand. Instead of buying this stuff at Walmart you come in to a private NewYew center, make an appointment, and a trained professional oversees the whole procedure under the safest possible conditions.”
“We’ll need to contract a new design team for the look and feel of the clinics,” said Kerry. “Something as classy as possible, to justify the prices we’re going to charge.”
“I like it,” said Cynthia. She looked at Lyle. “Does that mollify you?”
Lyle nodded, grudgingly. “I have to admit that yes, clinics are a very good idea. The tighter we can control this substance, the better.”
Carl nodded sagely. “The clinics give us higher visibility, as well, which doubles as advertising. Sunny’s team is already shopping for high-profile locations we can buy.”
Lyle raised his eyebrow. “You want to ask if this is scientifically feasible, as well, or can I object on some other grounds?”
“Please, Lyle,” said Cynthia, her voice mocking. “Tell us all the things we’re doing wrong.”
“You need to get off your damn high horse,” growled Carl. “You think you know better than everyone else in the room—you think you are better. You’re as deep in this as everyone else: you keep telling us we’re evil for thinking of product ideas, but so far you’ve signed off on every single one of them. You could turn us in to the cops in a heartbeat—you’ve got more than enough evidence to get us all locked away for the rest of our lives—and yet you haven’t done or said a thing. You want to protest, but not enough to actually stop us. Just enough to mollify your conscience and still get the payout at the end.”
“I’m here because you promised to help Susan,” said Lyle.
“And your part in that plan,” said Sunny, “is to modify her DNA without her knowledge or consent. The morally murkiest part of this entire project.”
