BLOOD

In which Neva learns about Dr. Woodworth's plan for her and deals with the consequences.

Neva accidentally cut herself on a thorn when Dr. Rosenberg entered the garden.

As the blood on her finger welled up and dripped into the dirt, she reached for a towel to wrap it in. She'd been pruning the rose bushes, cutting back the dying branches and the smallest of the buds, so that the remaining flowers would have more of the plants' energies devoted to them. The blooms came in many colors: crimson, red, pink, peach, yellow, white, and even a pale purple hue that reminded Neva of the photographs she'd seen of the prototype. By this point in her work, her pile of clipping was inches deep, with the fallen petals blowing around her toes when the ventilation kicked on. As Dr. Rosenberg approached her, her lips pressed into a line as she looked at Neva's wrapped finger.

Neva signed, "It's too hot in here for gloves."

Dr. Rosenberg's shoulders rose and fell with her sigh, before she signed back, "Please be more careful. We don't want you to get an infection."

"I know. Don't worry. It was just one cut," Neva signed back.

Dr. Rosenberg gestured for her to follow her to the nearby bench. "I need to talk to you about something. Let's sit down."

Neva nodded and followed her. Once they were sitting down, Dr. Rosenberg's hands stayed still in her lap. Her brow was furrowed, as if she was trying to figure out what to say. Then she lifted her hands and signed, "Have I told you how babies are made?"

Neva remembered an early lesson that had explained the concept of mating to her, though it hadn't seemed very relevant, considering that most of the pokémon here were created using artificial means. She nodded and signed, "Yes, but that way makes the…." She struggled to figure out the gesture she wanted, then went on, "…essence of the baby random, doesn't it? So it's not as good as your methods?"

Dr. Rosenberg made a quick sign: "It's called the [unknown sign] makeup."

Neva mimicked the unknown sign as closely as she could, adding a question mark to it.

Dr. Rosenberg took out her phone and pulled up an article explaining what she meant. "Genetic" was what she'd been signing. It was a more precise term than "essence," but they basically meant the same thing. Neva saw that her original point was correct, in any case. Mating produced random gene combinations, which could sometimes be advantageous—promoting diversity in a population and sometimes positive mutations—or disadvantageous, causing hereditary diseases or negative mutations in the offspring, sometimes across generations. Neva couldn't help but think that Dr. Rosenberg's methods were more efficient, even if they were more time-consuming. Of course, even her methods weren't perfect. The fact that Neva was missing one of her senses and her elemental abilities told them both that.

"Why are you bringing this up?" Neva asked her, when Dr. Rosenberg's hands lowered and she started staring into space.

Dr. Rosenberg hesitated, then signed, "You know we use surrogates here, right?"

"Yes." It was faster and more cost-effective than using the tanks for every pokémon the lab produced. The cultivation tanks were mostly used on the expensive investments, which needed to be monitored constantly. Neva and her sister had been grown that way. Morgan had been proud of being special like that. Neva had been pleased too, but had wondered if Dr. Woodworth had thought her worth the money he'd spent, considering her shortcomings.

"Dr. Woodworth is thinking about making you a surrogate," Dr. Rosenberg signed, her expression growing stricken.

Neva stared at her. "He wants me to carry babies? Why?"

"He wants to make more pokémon like you and your sister," Dr. Rosenberg explained.

"But I am—flawed—aren't I?" Neva asked.

"They wouldn't be yours," Dr. Rosenberg signed. "They would be your sister's. He didn't want to have to make her stop battling for several months because she was pregnant. And he thinks you'll be more valuable to our investors this way."

"But…." Neva could feel her hands trembling. "Isn't pregnancy hard?"

"It can be," Dr. Rosenberg admitted. "I believe it will be easier for you than it is for most humans. Our pregnancies are very aggressive."

"But don't some pokémon still get sick and die from this?" Neva asked, remembering how one of the surrogate miltanks had died in labor because one of her babies hadn't been coming out right. For a few horrifying seconds, she imagined herself in that miltank's place, with Dr. Woodworth cutting her open to get to the babies. She had only glimpsed the situation when Dr. Rosenberg had been leading her to her checkup, but it had been enough to give her nightmares for weeks.

"That is very rare," Dr. Rosenberg assured her. "And we'll be taking care of you the whole time. That won't happen to you."

"But why me? Why not use someone who's done this successfully before?" Carrying and giving birth was easier for the veteran surrogates than the new ones. Dr. Rosenberg had explained that to her after the incident with the miltank, when she'd had so many questions.

"Because we don't want to risk the babies being rejected by the surrogate's immune system. In theory, yours will be more hospitable, since you're the same species as them," Dr. Rosenberg signed. She started explaining that this normally wasn't a problem for other pokémon, since their breeding groups contained many different pokémon species, so carrying mixed-breed children was easier for them. Since Neva and her sister were much rarer in type, though, Dr. Woodworth didn't know if that would be the case for them. He also didn't want to waste resources testing that theory when there was a more reliable option available.

Neva considered that, then signed, "Dr. Woodworth didn't ask me if I was okay with this."

Dr. Rosenberg looked very sad at that. "I'm afraid he doesn't think he has to."

"But what if I don't want to?" Neva asked.

Dr. Rosenberg hugged her, which gave Neva her answer, even before Dr. Rosenberg signed it. She didn't have a choice. She was going to have to do this for Dr. Woodworth and the others.

Neva stared up at the ceiling of her room that night, chilled by the thought. But maybe Dr. Rosenberg would be right. Maybe it would be fine. Maybe this would help repay Dr. Woodworth for making her. Maybe she'd even be able to keep helping out at the garden, before she got too big. Neva comforted herself with that thought—that maybe her life wouldn't have to change that much. Dr. Rosenberg said that she wouldn't even have to take care of the babies afterwards, if she wasn't comfortable with it. This didn't have to change things for her.

But it would. Neva knew that it would, no matter how much she tried to deny it. Over the next month, she took the medicine that Dr. Rosenberg gave her, which unsettled her stomach and made her chest sore. She went into the operation and came out of it aching, though Dr. Rosenberg had guided her through it and had been as careful as she could be. In the months that followed, Neva's stomach became even more rebellious. She spent hours sitting in the gardens, concentrating on keeping her meals down. She didn't have nearly as much time to take care of the flowers like she wished to.

In the end, the experiment did not go as planned. Far too early, Neva started bleeding in the garden, dripping blood into the dirt. In the hours that followed, the creatures they pulled from her were small and still and misshapen, their heads too big and their bodies too shrunken. As Neva watched them emerge through a haze of fever and pain and sedatives, she looked at Dr. Woodworth and wondered: Do you still think this was worth it?

But he didn't look at her. He was too transfixed by the dead things on the gurney. And that was all the answer that Neva needed.