My father discovered the Progenitor virus in collaboration with James Marcus, an American virologist whom he had met through Oswell E. Spencer. Prior to Progenitor, I assisted him in researching a damaged and incomplete sample called the Clay virus. I was not directly involved in the development of Progenitor because, at my father's insistence, I retired to complete my PhD, specialising in genetic engineering. When I returned home, I completely disassociated myself from Progenitor after discussing it thoroughly with my father. The reason was that he wanted me to concentrate on my own work as a geneticist for the CODE: Veronica project.
CODE: Veronica is the provisional title I assigned to an obligation I self-imposed during a momentary slump. Why I came up with it is due to a strange confluence of internal and external factors that I try to deal with every day. From a young age, I always knew I would not be like my father, and my father was always aware that I would never be like him. However, I never gave up. But not giving up has been accompanied by a counterpart that I have struggled to recognise: frustration. It frustrates me to not know if I reach his expectations because he has never underestimated me. He never objected to my unhealthy tenacity and never sought to humiliate me. The Stuarts believe Edward was too overprotective of me. Supposedly because the miscarriage of his first child affected him. I am his second attempt and I don't want to speculate on certain assumptions that will make me feel bad. The point is that this perennial feeling of frustration has driven me to negativity and suicidal tendencies. After his death, I had to prolong the use of antidepressants until the date of writing this last manuscript, when I finally got rid of them because of the gradual improvement of my mental and emotional state.
I do not blame him. I was to blame for preferring the conformism of ignorance to the farsightedness of knowledge. It is easy to live in denial and I am sick of it. I'm not going to deny the obvious: that I'm no match for my father. That's why that film enlightened me. I saw in the automaton the illusion of giving my father a worthy heir. I wrote a letter. In England, we talked about it at length. He accepted. No more than that. He trusted me. I don't know why. Sometimes I reread the project reports and they sound delirious. Maybe they are a product of my self-delusion in wanting to fix the irreparable.
His passing overcame me. My mind was clear for little more than arranging the succession and becoming the sixth Earl Ashford. The status quo at Umbrella was completely upended. From the first T-virus variant synthesised by my father, James Marcus and his team managed to develop three more. My absence from the executive board increased Spencer's managerial influence, when he and my father were supposed to have agreed that the chairmanship and executive direction should be held by an Ashford and a Spencer, just as half of Umbrella Pharmaceuticals is owned by the Ashfords and half by the Spencers.
My relatives jumped on my neck as soon as they heard that I was going to be absent for a long time. They interpreted the omission of my presence as a drop in profits or my leaving the company. They know nothing. They have no idea what I have been doing for the last three years, and I am too cowardly to tell them. There's not going to be a drop in profits because Umbrella was invented so that our fortunes, ours and the Spencers', wouldn't dwindle by funding the development of Progenitor as a B.O.W. And the latter is not possible because the social and financial capital invested in it is too high. There is too much to lose by withdrawing, much more than by clinging to the chair my father should have occupied.
I can do no more.
Sometimes I dream of my childhood self holding my father's hand as we walk through the rugged hills of Northumberland. Other times of the inhuman creature he became after the accident. Many times I screamed in the middle of the night, scaring my mother.
Because of my pitiful state, the pain I was inflicting on my mother, and the advanced progress of Code: Veronica, I purchased on behalf of Umbrella Pharmaceuticals the property of an abandoned mine in Antarctica from the Australian government. I ordered the construction of a transport terminal inside and, at my personal request, instructed the architectural team to incorporate a secret high-tech laboratory that was not on the plans. My residential area in the facility was designed using the plans left by the late Trevor for the refurbishment of Ashford Hall.
The execution of Code: Veronica consisted of the following steps.
First, I finished sequencing the DNA sample I recovered from Veronica Ashford's mummified body. I identified the sets of genes related to the nervous system and mapped their structure. Due to lack of time and human resources, there were no alternative samples and no comparative study.
Second, I selected six female candidates to provide me with one egg each. They were young, healthy women with a high intellectual profile. Martin arranged for payment, procurement and shipment to Antarctica.
Thirdly, I contacted a surrogate mother. So that my family would not be suspicious and to ensure the legitimacy of the baby, I married the surrogate mother. Our marriage lasted until the first month after the birth. Having done his part, Martin arranged for her murder. My family never contacted the surrogate mother because we remained in hiding in London throughout the gestation period and after the birth.
Fourthly, I edited the DNA sequence of the unfertilised eggs according to the reference.
Fifth, Martin contacted five additional surrogate mothers. I faced a problem. My mother argued with me for not hearing from me. I told her I was with someone and that we were expecting a child. She swore she would make me take a paternity test as soon as I got back. I fertilised the eggs with my own sperm. I implanted the first four eggs. Result: one miscarried within the first week, the other two were not viable and the last one was defective. In the end, only two remained. Initially, I was going to go one at a time, but the IVF doctor made the mistake of implanting both at the same time. Both eggs were fertilised simultaneously and, against all expectations, survived. The pregnancy lasted nine months.
On 24 January 1971, twins were born, a girl and a boy.
Alexia and Alfred.
In March, just a month ago, I turned up at Ashford Hall with two children. I took a paternity test.
Just now I read the results: biological children.
My children.
Alexander Ashford