This is a rather dark and disturbing sci-fi story about something that seems indeed possible and quite unethical and disturbing to some, but to others it may be a deep realization, a leap forward for mankind. It's up to you to decide. Now, read on, and learn about this.
Ryan Newton is a seventh grader living in New England (details are secret beause he's less than twenty miles from my real home) in the year 2020. He's an average kid, he even has a crush on a girl, and he is a smart kid who gets all A's in school, but he isn't a nerd or geek. When he begins his seventh grade year, he is immediately confronted with the fact that his best friend, Shane, is moving away. Fortunately for him, the girl he has a crush on, Celeste Beaumont, decides to 'go out with him' as my peers say.
Ryan does have his issues with one of his teachers, Ms. James (she has been renamed for this page because she is a real person), because he thinks she is too nosy. At the height of this conflict, he goes to a movie theater with Celeste only to see his teacher with her husband, also named Ryan (this is also a real person, real name, and Ryan Newton is named for him) who's true last name is never revealed (for his protection). Then she decides to assign a writing assignment to Ryan's classes. Here is the excerpt:
�Okay, guys, I don't know if you remember this, but in elementary school, you used to write short stories a lot. Now, we have done that only once this year, and it wasn't much of an original story. It was just an epilogue that was pretty much the same for everybody. This story is going to be based upon a recent experience of mine,� Ms. James said to her G block class, looking meaningfully at Ryan and Celeste. They almost started to tremble in fear, but they pretended to be as unaware as everyone else. �Imagine you're out with your friends, going somewhere nice, and then all of a sudden, your teacher pops up. It can be any teacher, from any grade, as long as they were once your teacher. They have someone with them. Make them up. I encourage you to make this a silly story, and try to make as many jokes as possible. I want to see what sense of humor you guys have. Remember to keep your language and violence in the story down to PG-13, and remember that you cannot kill or permanently injure any teachers in your story, because that will be taken as a real threat. I'm sure you've all heard of Virginia Tech and Columbine. If you haven't, ask your parents.
�So be nice to real people in your story, or if you can't be nice, they have to all come back to life at the end of your story and be in perfect health. Imaginary people, you can do whatever to them. We're going to work on this in class today, and it's due on Thursday next week. Got it?� She looked over the small sea of faces in the room, and when no one asked a question, she slid off her desk and sat at her computer, knowing that everyone would find paper if they needed it, and if someone had a question, they would come up to her.
Ryan bit his pencil in thought. What do you write when this happens? The truth? He looked at Celeste, who was looking his way, and asked with his eyes what to do. She shook her head as if to say, I have no idea. Ryan sighed and made up a story about being at a playground and a first grade teacher coming, but to show his feelings for Ms. James, he made up a husband for that teacher named Jonathan Cuccoobyrd, who was called Jo-Jo, and ended up in a mental hospital with a case of Narcissism, multiple personalities, and also a phobia of getting slapped. One of the personalities had an incredibly squeaky, high pitched voice and was a wimp trying to be cool.
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As you can see, Ryan has a good sense of humor.
Where's the sci-fi in the story, you ask? I understand your question. This is more of an interesting drama than a sci-fi, but I assure you, it has quite a bit to do with science. Ryan has a very interesting experience in his Science class, as you will read in these selections...
And it became even more fascinating on November 18, when Mr. Rodriguez assigned a weird project. �I know that this project will be a little hard to handle maturely, but it's something that you should do to understand genetics better. The project will take about one week to complete, so I want each of you to choose partners that you can work with for that long. I'm afraid boys have to be paired up with girls for this project. Go choose seats.�
Ryan and Celeste watched a replay of the first day of school when the girls had to choose boys to sit with. They stuck together, as they always did, and listened to Mr. Rodriguez giving out more instructions.
�Now, you've all chosen partners. I hate to break it to you, but you've all just gotten married.� Ryan and Celeste exchanged looks and laughed nervously, while most of the other students said �Gross!� They weren't expecting that. Then Mr. Rodriguez continued, smiling. �Now, as most married people do, you're going to have kids. For homework, all of you are going to write your traits and your parents' visible traits, that is, the phenotypes, and from that, extrapolate your genotype. You know how to do that, and you should be able to tell if you are homozygous and heterozygous, and that stuff. Tomorrow, you are going to compare your results and start on making kids. You're going to do coin tosses to determine what your kids are going to look like. You're gonna have one kid, and after you determine their gender and genotype, you have to figure out their phenotype and draw him or her. Then you have to write a one paragraph summary and conclusion for the lab. I'm going to pass out a sheet to list your phenotypes and your parents' phenotypes on, as well as the genotypes. Any questions?�
There were a few concerns, especially from the two pairs of boys who didn't know how they would have kids. Mr. Rodriguez made the mistake of saying, �Use your imagination,� which cracked up the half of the class who had been using their imagination. Ryan and Celeste glanced at each other and said at the same time, �I don't want to have kids.�
�I guess we can't do anything about that now,� Celeste said. �So, let's start on homework. I have black hair and I guess brown eyes. Are my eyes brown, Ryan?�
Ryan shyly looked into her eyes. They were very pretty; deep and thoughtful. They were nicer than his, he thought, so much darker than his plain brown eyes.
�You have beautiful brown eyes, I mean, you have dark brown eyes.� Ryan was embarrassed that he had said that to Celeste, but it was too late now. She raised her eyebrows in concern.
�Uh, thanks. Are you okay?� she asked. �You don't usually say things like that.� She went back to writing down her traits, but glanced at Ryan concernedly once in a while. Ryan looked at his paper in an effort to not have to explain himself. There were a lot of traits, Eye Color, Hair, Freckles, Skin Tone, Tongue Rolling, Nose Shape, wait, Tongue Rolling?
�Mr. Rodriguez, what's tongue rolling?�
The teacher raised his eyebrows. �You don't know?� He opened his mouth and rolled his tongue in a way so that it looked a little like a cone or open cylinder.
Ryan tried it, and found that he could do it.
�Cool!�
Ryan and Celeste finished their papers as much as they could before the bell rang. Ryan's paper was nice and neat, although most of his parents' traits, he didn't know. He thought it was neat how his parents looked similar, but he was different. Genetics were awesome, he decided.
That night, Ryan and his parents sat down and filled out the rest of the paper...
Ryan was confused about it. As far as he knew, two homozygous recessives can never make a heterozygous or a homozygous dominant. He figured that Mr. Rodriguez would know how it happened. It was probably just really advanced genetics that they weren't supposed to know yet. He was confident that it would all be explained the next day.
�I don't understand it. Are you sure you filled it out right? If you made a mistake, that could be the whole thing,� Mr. Rodriguez said, scratching his head. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as convince Ryan.
�But I know it's right. I put all of my mom's stuff in this column, and my dad's traits in this column, and I guessed at the genotypes, but you're gonna fix them, right?� Ryan pleaded. He knew he was right. He just didn't know why he was genetically impossible.
�I trust you did it right. Well, you are what you are. And as long as you have your correct genotype, it's okay.� Mr. Rodriguez finished checking off the other students, and then went to the front of the room.
In Science class, Mr. Rodriguez kept working on a solution to the problem/fact that Ryan was genetically impossible if he was indeed Adam and Heather Newton's son. Which of course he was.
�I really don't understand it, Ryan, I've checked everywhere on the Internet, and you know how advanced search engines have become. Ten years ago, all I could do is type in 'genetics' or something, now I can hook it up to me so it knows what it should search for. So if it was possible, I would have found something and found out why you have some dominant traits where your parents have recessive traits. I would have found it, I guarantee it. But it's not there,� Mr. Rodriguez sighed, �You are impossible, Ryan.�
�Impossible?�
�It seems that way. Ryan, you should bring some pictures of your parents, and I'll look at them. You should find some baby pictures of yourself, too. Sometimes your hair and eyes change as you age, so maybe this is just a matter of that happening.�
�I'll do it.�
�Ryan, also, you should decide whether you're going to tell your parents about this. They may not want me poking into your life to satisfy curiosity, and I know lots of kids leave their parents in the dark as to what's up in their live. Okay?�
�Okay, Mr. Rodriguez.�
�Ouch!�
�You okay, li'l bro?�
�I think,� Ryan moaned, rubbing his head. He had hit it on a rafter in the attic. He had told Matt what was going on, and Matt had volunteered to help find baby pictures. After leafing through three photo albums with captions, all of which were for Matt or Ryan's birthdays and events after his third birthday, they decided to look in the attic. It was dusty, so one of them sneezed every few seconds. Finally, Matt found a box labeled 'Ryan's Early Years.' �That's exactly what I need,� Ryan sneezed as they moved the box to his room. They opened the box and pulled out a few looseleaf binders with titles such as �Early Problems� and �Pictures.� Ryan eagerly opened that, but later he wished he hadn't. There were a lot of x-rays, ultrasounds, and four photographs. The photos made chills run up and down Ryan's spine. The first picture must have been taken immediately after he was born, because he was swaddled in a cloth, covered in blood, and so tiny.
�Ryan, this is creeping me out,� Matt whispered. Then Ryan was really scared, because nothing ever fazed Matt. They looked at the next picture. It was of Ryan, but he was in a tiny hospital bed, with an IV and other things hooked up to him. It scared him to see himself, with things sticking into him. Matt whistled in awe. �That's horrible. Ryan, you know how Mom and Dad are always taking pictures of Gloria? If they can glue a camera to her, they would've been taking pictures and videos of you. These can't be it. They're all from your first days in a hospital. You must have been premature or something. It doesn't make sense, though. I was five when you were born, and I remember them being concerned about a baby being late.�
�Matt, do you think I'm really your brother?� Ryan asked quietly.
�Heck yeah! You better be! You're my favorite and only brother.� Matt looked afraid though, as if it was more than a suggestion. Ryan didn't know what to think.
The truth was out there, but where was it, and what was it?
Celeste called her parents to tell them she was going to Ryan's house, and they went on the late bus and walked to Ryan's house together. They announced their presence, and they headed upstairs under the pretense of doing homework. They snuck into the attic and Ryan found his box.
�Wow,� was all Celeste would say at first. Then she saw the pictures. �You were a cute baby.�
�What?� Ryan looked at her strangely.
�Just getting back at you for telling me I had beautiful eyes. I mean, adults say that, but not kids. It's sad how you can't say anything you want to say just because everyone else thinks it's weird or dumb,� she explained as she went back to sifting through the papers.
�Most of these are just height and weight measurements. These don't have anything to do with my real parents, or whatever really happened,� Ryan stated.
�Well, we should consider every possibility. We've figured out that you can't be related to your parents, or if you are, it's supposed to be impossible. And we've figured out that you spent most of your infant life in a hospital or something, so they were concerned about you, there was something different or wrong with you. But it was fixed, or it wasn't harmful or important. That's what we know. So we can work with that.�
�I still could have been adopted,� Ryan argued. �Do you think I should just ask my parents, I mean, the people that are supposed to be my parents?� he asked. In a way, he wanted to be adopted because that was simple and he would feel better that he had guessed it himself. He would need something to feel good about when he found out the truth.
�Why don't you? It's simple, just show them the box and ask for the truth. Also say something about the genetic impossibilities. That should stump them. They have to confess. Either that or they'll have to think up the best lie I've ever heard,� Celeste urged. �What could go wrong?�
Ryan didn't want to confront his so-called parents just yet. He wanted to get through a little more of the school year before he ruined his life. If his parents didn't know, they would treat him the same. He would have time to think. Why would anyone actually want to uproot their peaceful lives? Especially in Ryan's most exciting year yet. New school, first girlfriend, no more best friend, and now adoption? The year wasn't even over and it was the craziest year in Ryan's life.
But at the same time, why would someone want to ignore something staring him in the face. This revelation was like a wild animal in the shadows, but would Ryan dare to turn on the lights and find out what it was? It could be the Easter Bunny or it could be a bear or wolf that would devour him. The animal won't move unless the light is turned on, so why do it? But why take the chance that you could be sharing a room with a grizzly bear?
Ryan wondered if he should gamble directly, or gamble by not gambling?
�Judgment Day for parents,� Ryan said to himself one Saturday morning. He went downstairs, and stood in the kitchen doorway. His mother was making pancakes, the best he knew, and his father was squeezing oranges the old fashioned way. �Weird parents,� he muttered to himself.
No one needed to cook anymore, just get the dried food and stick it into a moisturizer, and presto, food! But Heather Newton was adamant about making real food, not the 'plastic' that they were being fed. Ryan didn't care, food was food. Today, he decided that his parents really were weird, because they were making breakfast from scratch, besides the fact that they adopted and never told the kid. The difference between what they were doing and parents from fifty years ago was probably that they had vitamin mixtures to put in, so most of the nutrients they needed for the day were in breakfast. Other than that, it could have blended in with the eighties or nineties. Sad, Ryan thought.
�Mom? Dad? Can I talk to you after breakfast?�
�Sure, honey, how about in the living room?� his mother replied.
�Okay,� Ryan agreed. �Can Matt come too?�
*****
�So, I want to know the truth,� Ryan finished, his voice trembling, �Was I adopted, or what?�
His parents looked shocked. Then his mother�or pretend mother�began to cry and his father started to comfort her.
�I'm sorry, Ryan,� she said through sobs. �We should have told you the truth. We thought you were too young to understand, but we didn't want to tell you that you were adopted.�
�So I was?� Ryan asked, deciding that everything would be alright now.
�No, Ryan,� his father put in. �You being adopted would be a lie. At least, from our perspective it would be. A scientist might say we are adoptive parents, but it's much more complex than that.�
Ryan waited, breathless. What was he, then?
�You see, Ryan, you weren't actually adopted. You weren't even a case of 'baby transplant,' when instead of abortion, the baby is transferred a woman who wants to be pregnant. You weren't conceived in a normal way. You weren't cloned, either. It's hard to explain, but your DNA, your genes, were basically constructed like Legos. You don't have parents, rather, you don't have two parents. You have hundreds, maybe thousands of parents.�
Ryan didn't say a word.
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I am not going to reveal who or what Ryan is just yet. I want you all to be in suspense. Anyone who wants to email me to talk about Ryan or even my other story, Linda's Chronicles can do so, email me at [email protected].
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