Age of Order by Julian North

Author:Julian North [North, Julian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Plebeian Media
Published: 2017-02-06T06:00:00+00:00

Dr. Willis returned before lunch. Dark circles lingered under her eyes. She brought Mateo a protein shake to drink, and nothing for me. She ordered him to sit up and finish it while she reviewed the data and did a lot of other doctor finger flicking.

“What are you doing, exactly?” I inquired, standing in the doorway.

“Making a few command adjustments to the nanites to take care of infection and other residual issues.” She sounded annoyed. “It’s a bad idea to distract me while I’m working. I’ll speak with you when I’m done.”

I sat down at the table, stewing and impatient. Dr. Willis took her time coming out. I had a hunch she did it on purpose. She closed the door of Mateo’s bedroom after she left.

“There was a sedative in the drink,” she told me. “He’ll be asleep for a couple of hours, at least. It’ll help him heal.”

“How’s he doing?” I asked.

“A lot better. He should be able to get up tomorrow. I’ve got the nanites working on closing that wound. It’ll be gone without a trace in the next two days.”

“Thanks, great. He’ll be able to leave and that will be it?”

Doc placed her hands on the table. “That’s what I want to discuss. There is no easy way to say this so I just will: He’s got a progressive genetic degeneration condition—what you call the Waste.”

I knew it. I had expected it. I still wanted to puke.

“What was that you called it?” I managed, my voice weak.

“Progressive genetic degeneration. Without burdening you with a lot of unnecessary terminology, his cells are degrading. Slow but steady. Each time a cell replaces itself, its successor is weaker.”

I shook my head, numb. “Again, please.”

“Our bodies are made up of trillions and trillions of cells: white cells, red cells, liver cells, brain cells. Almost all of them, except those in our brain and a few others, continuously die off and are replaced. Something is happening every time one of his cells gets replaced. The successor is…less…then the cell that preceded it. The damage varies by cell type, but the degradation is universal and constant.”

“Can you cure it?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. It was written on her face.

“We’re pretty certain the cause is genetic. That means it is written into who he is. This isn’t some virus to be killed, a cancer to be removed or attacked. His genes are doing this to him. To change it now, even if it were possible, would mean re-writing portions of his genetic code.”

“So you can’t cure him?” Blackness was closing in at the edge of my vision. Everything I had worked for, everything I had done—useless. I saw myself riding on his shoulders again, beginning to fall, as he did.

“I didn’t say that. I’ve told you the problem is…well, daunting. But I’m not saying nothing can be done. We have treatments for genetic issues. Good ones. We have treatments that can repair cells. And, more importantly, something caused this. That is what we need to understand, if we are to beat this Waste, as you call it.

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