Little Deadly Things

When Marta learned of his confinement she appealed to her Congressional representatives and to the State Department. Their responses were uniform, crisp, and curt. Rafael Cruz had been convicted of a serious crime in a foreign country. The mighty resources of the United States would not be brought to bear on behalf of a terrorist.

Eva Rozen’s resources were another matter. She worked in secret, not only to keep her role from being discovered, but because the severity of the sentence affronted her private sense of honor. Her skills at jacking into secure databases and ghosting through foreign legal systems were not yet fully ripened and she could not set him free. She did, however, effect a transfer for Rafael to Isla Maria Madre, a minimum-security prison with a focus on genuine social rehabilitation.

This became Rafael Cruz’s home until the Great Washout.

12 HARVARD

CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS

AUTUMN 2030

Marta Cruz was eager to begin the work-study project and ended her maternity leave and returned to Harvard a week earlier than expected.

She carried Dana in an infant carrier strapped to her chest as she walked across a green swath of grass to the columned entrance of the science building. Marta turned her face up to the sun and breathed the fresh morning air. Every leaf, flower, and blade of grass before her was in sharp focus. Marta felt that invisible tendrils emanated from each green point of life to touch her. It was a sequel to her parents’ vision, the twinned vines with a golden stalk emerging. The child she carried at her breast was the focus of this new transcendence. Dana gurgled in happy affirmation of Marta’s walking meditation.

Her reverie was short-lived. She entered the building, took an elevator to the fourth floor and found her way to the office that she would share with Eva. She’d planned to arrive before Eva and review her colleague’s work. Instead she found Eva lost in a holographic display of Marta’s own research files. How did Eva get her notes?

The office door snicked shut and Eva spoke without turning. “Didn’t expect you for another week.”

“What are you doing, Eva?”

“Harvesting data. Your research is central to our work and I need the notes.”

“But how did you get my notes?”

Eva turned and peered at Marta. “Nice baby.”

“A darling, although now I understand what sleep deprivation is all about. But—what are you doing with my notes?” Her voice took on an edge. The meditation in which she’d been wrapped was displaced by a growing annoyance.

“Just getting things organized. Soon as I finish, I’ll bring you up to speed. Good that you’re back early. There are a handful of flowers and plants that have properties that are hard to isolate but might be perfect for molecular assembly. Good stuff here, Mom.”

“But my notes were in my dataslate.” She spoke quietly so as not to disturb Dana but she felt her face flush with irritation.

“I copied your slate when we were on the way to the hospital. Didn’t take too long with the changes I made to my datasleeve.” Eva grinned, “I can jack just about anything with it.”

“You jacked my slate? Eva, that’s private. All you had to do is ask for my work and I’d have linked it to you. You didn’t have to jack me.”

Eva continued, as if Marta had not spoken. “Okay, here’s where we are. Out of the 141 plants in your catalog, there are three or four that hold promise for nanoassembly—”

Marta took in a deep breath and let it out. She repeated the cycle and then pinched her ear to stimulate the acupressure points that would lower her blood pressure. She said nothing more about Eva’s intrusion. It was time to compartmentalize in order to focus on her work.

The baby cried and Eva cooed. “Would you like to hold him?” Marta offered. “I could use a minute to stretch my back. If I push too hard, my JRA pushes back.”

Marta unslung Dana, checked his diaper, and then held him out to Eva. “Here—take him for a minute, will you?”

“Me? The maternal type?” But Marta could see something in Eva’s eyes. Curiosity? Admiration? She handed Dana to Eva who examined him at arm’s length. “He’s not going to pee on me or something?”

Marta chuckled. Don’t I just wish. “Don’t worry. He’s wearing diapers.”

“Great,” said Eva, “I really want to smell like a dirty baby bottom.”

But Eva’s gaze at Dana belied her words. Marta watched as her colleague crooned one of Gergana’s lullabies. Something wistful, then sorrowful, passed across Eva’s face. She cocked her head as if she’d heard something, and then turned back to the baby. Whatever memory had been evoked passed, and she embraced Dana. She held him and closed her eyes. Her face relaxed and for that moment, Marta thought that she saw another Eva, childlike, innocent. Which is the real Eva? she wondered, and thought for a moment about bibijagua. Was Eva the biting ant, destroyer of crops? Or was she the nurturer of the soil? Abuela said that both qualities live within a person. Marta could imagine both within Eva, but it was hard to imagine both coexisting in her.

Eva passed the infant back to his mother. The two scientists shared a pot of mint tea and reminisced about Marta’s fast delivery. They chuckled over Eva’s mobilization of the medical personnel. It had been classic Rozen. Then they turned to their project.

Eva was organized and driven. “Our goal is to isolate two medications. With any luck, we can build them by nanoassembly, and be ready for clinical trials by graduation.”

The work exhilarated them. They were flush with the excitement of starting something new, something that had once been a dream. They grabbed quick meals at their workbenches. There were breaks for Dana’s feedings and diaper changes. Smart fabrics meant fewer diaper changes, but even science could not keep pace with the inexorable digestive production of a seven-week old infant.

Dana was as much a focus of their interactions as was the science. Eva surprised Marta by picking Dana up when he cried and walking him to soothe him. She held him carefully, supporting his head. How did she know to do that? Marta wondered. She even volunteered to change his diaper and held her tongue and temper when the infant, released from the confines of his diaper, chose that moment to pee. “I’ve just been baptised,” she said.

Jim came to their lab to take Dana for the afternoon. “Shall we go outside and sit in the sun?” Marta asked Jim. She packed diapers, wipes, and a privacy blanket for nursing and placed Dana into his carrier. Eva double- checked Dana’s diapers, his placement in the carrier and made certain that Marta was set before the family left the lab. Jim’s brows knotted in amazement at Eva’s mothering and then again when Marta rolled up Jim’s dataslate and took it with her. Jim looked confused, but followed. He was a dutiful husband.

When they exited the lab, Marta held a finger up to silence Jim’s questions. Once in the elevator, Marta powered off Jim’s slate and her own. She touched a finger to her lips.

“What’s with the slates?” Jim asked, once they exited the elevator.

“I came in this morning and found that Eva had jacked my dataslate. I’m pretty angry and I’m not sure what to do.”

“What’s the big deal?” asked Jim. “It’s a joint project.”

“That’s just it. I’m happy to share my data. Why would she jack my slate? I don’t like it and I feel, well, violated.”

“Is it possible that you’re overreacting?” Jim smiled. “Postpartum blues, maybe?”

“Very funny. No, other than sleep deprivation, I feel great. And you’re the world’s best father.” She gave him a quick kiss.