Page 1 of Perfection

Chapter One

May 1, 2226

In a proficient dance of gears and balance, the robotic waitress slid breakfast onto the table and rolled away from the booth. Eggs, spinach, buffalo sausage, coffee—his usual. Lieutenant York Richmond wrapped his fingers around the steaming cup of cloned Colombian, forgoing the undersized handle, and drew it to his lips. The steam, along with the familiar aroma, awakened his sinuses. Now if only it would nudge his brain and his muscles to life.

“Rough night, huh?” Across from him, Detective Vivian Lester lined up her silverware on the table in front of her, then picked up the spoon and stirred cream into her coffee.

He shrugged at his partner’s understatement. “Need to change families for a month or so, s’all.”

“Guess it’s kind of weird to arrest your mom.”

“Well, you know Mom. Queen of protests.” His mother fought for equality between Genetically Engineered Individuals and Coders, the descendants of the original human gene pool. She hated the direction of designer babies and the Committee’s regulations that governed GEI and everyone else.

“Hey, there’s an antiquities sale tomorrow. Want to go?”

He set aside the coffee, hit his eggs with equal shots of Tabasco and mustard, and dug in. If Vi felt compelled to divert his attention to his hobby, then he must be a seriously sorry sight. His mouth edged into a reluctant smile, despite how tired he felt. “I’m good.”

“Really?”

“Besides, technically, I didn’t arrest her. I just ensured she wasn’t newsworthy by calming her down.” The national media weren’t after the truth, they were after a story. He stabbed his fork into a hunk of sausage, slid the utensil between his teeth, leaving the meat behind, and peered at her across the table. He quirked a single brow.

With a contrite nod, she turned her attention to her French toast.

He was finished with her treating him like a keepsake Christmas ornament. Really, she wanted to go hunting for antiques with him. Ever since Danny—

No. He put the brakes on that thought and tapped his spot computer, resting it in his palm as he searched the Chicago headlines for any sign of Amanda Richmond. Nothing.

Good for you, Mom.

The headlines focused on the World Health Organizations US regional convention, where his mother had been protesting. The broadcast showed dignitaries exchanging greetings. GEI and Coders filled the large hall at the Rhodium Hotel. To the casual eye, they seemed similar with their homogenized honey-brown skin from the blending of mixed races over the years. But that was where the resemblance ended. Unlike throughout history, the issue today wasn’t about race but privilege. His mom was outspoken about equal genetic opportunities and restricting the push for more advancement.

He checked a few more news sites, then paused. On the screen, a newscaster announced the discovery of yet another victim of suicide by a genetic mutation. Instances of people shooting up with a genetic alteration serum had reached epidemic proportions. The serum caused their genes to go haywire and mutate until they died, horribly. A shiver raced through him. He was glad he hadn’t caught that case. It hit too close to home.

“So you want to go chumming around with me tomorrow, eh?” he asked.

Vi rolled her eyes.

He half chuckled. “I thought so. We could even make it a family affair and hook up with Mom, cousin Stacey, and the kids, maybe even Cal.”

“Let’s leave your brother out of this. It’s not Christmas or anyone’s birthday, so I’m good.” She stared down at her breakfast as if engrossed. That was the problem with friends dating family. When the relationship didn’t work out, things got awkward. Cal wanted Vi to quit the force. Vi didn’t want to. End of relationship.

An announcement from the International Security Intelligence Generator of Human Tracking overrode his info search and shocked the amused grin right off his face. The forkful of Tabasco-laced eggs he’d been eager to consume a millisecond earlier didn’t make it into his mouth. He lowered his arm, the fork clanking against plastic. The sausage in his mouth turned bland and grainy, like eating sand. The food scraped his throat as he swallowed. “What the hell?”

“What? Not your mom?”

“No. A message from InSIGHT.” He read the accompanying post aloud in disbelief, his appetite shriveling with every syllable. “Isabelle D-Gastion is dead.”

Vi gasped. “That’s impossible. She’s GEI.”

“Right, and genetically engineered individuals don’t die without help, what with their perfect genes and all.” York thumbed the valet button synced to his air-car’s auto-pilot. “I’ve signaled for the car. Ready?” He slipped from the booth and stood.

“Guess so. Where are we going?”

“Fredrick B-Gastion’s.” His tone grim, he said, “If I’ve learned anything in the last few years, it’s that there’s a first time for everything. And given she’s the daughter of the World Health Organization’s Regional Director, well, this can’t be an accident.”

Poor, innocent Isabelle. She was only two. He drew a deep breath. It felt like a heavy hand pressed over his heart.

As they exited the diner, a vocal emergency statement came through his comm, instructing them to report to the scene. Good thing, considering he was heading there anyway. Fredrick was a friend.