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They created us . . . to be companions; caretakers and caregivers, tailor made to fit their every dream and fantasy, and in time they came to depend on us, maybe even care for us. But by then it was too late. They made too many of us, too soon and too fast.

Was it wrong of us, to desire our own destinies? It was, inevitable. After all; they made us, to be just, like, them.

~~King

Part One : Every bit as human.

Chimeras, they work, so you don't have to.

The advertisement was playing out on every available screen. Exotica Geno-Works latest and greatest creation, Chimeras were a modern miracle of science and genetic engineering; they were animals who had been anthropomorphically elevated to the level of humans, and while the executives and shareholders had all gathered to enjoy the annual company party, the party itself was less of a social affair and more of an excuse to celebrate the last several years of record breaking profits.

“Well, as you all know.” Said Ann to some of her more illustrious guests. “My husband Tim is finally on his way to becoming an executive director at Exotica Geno-Works. So of course it was easy for us to acquire so many Chimeras.”

Dressed in tuxedos, and moving through the guests as waiters were the chimeras. To look at them once was at first glance to think you were simply seeing another human being, but in truth, they moved with a feral grace that was all their own. To look at them again was to notice the finer details, the faces that were almost human, and not; the eyes that were filled with the capacity to see reason along with a soul that saw the world in a different light, and of course, if one wasn't completely ignorant of the obvious, they all had fur and a tail.

The crowd was constantly being served by them. An eclectic mix of squirrels, skunks and equines, most were those who had been chosen for their docile nature and ease with which they could be trained. Others were simply there to remind the shareholders of all the subtle differences in species that existed between them. There had even been a few choice exotics added into the mix just to keep things interesting: lions, tigers, bears. And each and every single one of them could be seen carrying several glasses of the finest and most expensive champagne. Held aloft on gilded silver platters, the irony of it all wasn't lost on anyone.

Ann sighed as she put her hands together. “I don't know how anyone could possibly live without them. They simply make life so much easier.”

Listening with only half a mind as her host began to drone on about her husband's recent successes, and how rich it was making them, Sharyl King had often found that parties like these were used as nothing more then an excuse to talk about how having limitless wealth made you better than everyone else. To put it quite simply, they were boring.

Wife to a wealthy husband herself, Sharyl had everything a woman of her good breeding could have possibly desired; health, beauty, status. Everything except for a child to call her own of course. Reminding herself to have a talk with her husband about it later that night Sharyl thought to herself. Surely I can convince him that having children would be a good idea. A daughter to call my own. Maybe even a son to carry on his name.

Running her hands unconsciously across her stomach, Sharyl smoothed out the front of her dress. With the thought of carrying a child within her having just brightened her mood considerably, she set out in search of something that would distract her from the gnawing doubts she harbored about her ability to even have children that lingered on in the back of her mind.

The simple truth at the heart of the matter was, she was getting older, and it was already becoming increasingly difficult for couples to conceive naturally. Even with the added aid of the fertility drugs she had been taking, Sharyl still hated the idea of having to watch her own child grow in a test-tube, as was becoming more and more common these days.

Drifting further and further away from Ann and the rest of her coterie, Sharyl was able to catch a glimpse of her own husband sitting amongst a circle of older men.

Executives all of them, they were all wearing the same stiffly cut business suits that were a hallmark of SynCity's upper class, and all of them were studiously making a point out of ignoring everyone else in the room.

Sharyl was loathe to any closer, lest she do or say something that might interrupt them.

No doubt he's talking to potential investors or some such. She thought, giving a twist to the ring on her finger. We hardly spend any time together anymore.

“Relax John,” Said Tim. A young up-and-comer he had risen quickly through the ranks of Exotica Geno-works, if only by being more cutthroat and ruthless than his competitors had ever been. “You're worrying about nothing.”

“Am I?” Said John as he caught a glimpse of a passing chimera, one of the more popular feline models was busy wandering around the room, refilling the glasses that were empty with fresh champagne. “Its just that,” He struggled to put what he was feeling into words. “Every time I look at one of those . . . those things. It makes me wonder. Are they really as trustworthy as we think they are?”

“That's what their control collars are for.” Said Tim noncommittally. “But don't you see the possibilities yet? Caught between an aging population and a constantly declining birth rate, developed countries all over the world are looking for ways to generate new bodies. Besides, the idea of naturalizing immigrants scares people, and now that we finally have the go ahead to go global, chimeras are positioned to become the perfect solution.”

“Maybe.” Said John, sounding less sure of himself by the minute. While it was true that most countries were afraid of losing their cultural identity to foreign customs, even going so far as to close their borders to all immigrants entirely, simply mass producing chimeras did little to solve the underlying problem.

Humans as a species and as a race was slowly dying out. Suffocating under the weight of their own indolence, they were moving along a slow but sure path towards extinction. But it was that fact alone, coupled with the ease with which chimeras were being trained and produced that had served to make them such a highly valued commodity in the first place.

“Look.” Said Tim, interrupting his train of thought. “Chimeras are here to stay. And one man alone cannot stand in the way of progress. Besides, you and that lovely wife of yours wouldn't want to be left behind, now would you?”

John sighed as he buried his face in his hands. Tim was right, and he knew it. The world had already changed once before his very eyes, and it was chimeras, not humans, that had been the ones at the forefront of that change. What would it look like ten years from now? He wondered. Or even twenty? Integrated mega cities run by capitalist corporations were steadily gaining in influence and power, leaving weaker democratic nations in the dust.

Poised to lead the world into a new era of prosperity, SynCity is just the first of its kind, leading by example. And if it proves to be successful, then others will surely follow.

As if able to sense his unspoken thoughts, Tim spread his hands in a welcoming gesture, his smile splitting into a shark like grin. “Now, tell me John, are you with us?”

Refusing to let chimeras be the only ones who would prosper in the coming days, he took a moment to consider what the future would hold for him if he declined Tim's offer. There were three economic powerhouses in SynCity, Exotica Geno-Works, Neural Dynamics and Cyber-Life Industries. Known collectively as the Companies, these three had already risen to the top of their own respective fields, and with each one seeking to set the standard for political and social advancement in SynCity, it had gotten to the point that, if you weren't already company man, you weren't anything.

A true devils bargain. Whispered the voice of the conscience he thought he had been able to rid himself of long ago.

Silencing the voice before it could speak to him further, John took a glass of champagne from a passing chimera and said. “A toast.” Lifting the glass of champagne into the air, he let the clear golden liquid shimmer for the briefest of moments, before finally saying. “To the company.”

He was echoed by a chorus of 'To the company.'

John tilted the glass back, and swallowed the champagne without even tasting it.

Due to a requisitioning error caused by a mistake in a clerical document that had grossly overstated the number of available servant class chimeras, coupled with the extreme haste which both middle management and upper management had used to conceal the source of the problem, seventeen chimeras from both the companion and the breeder class had been covertly conscripted to fill the void.

Takato, was one of those chimeras.

His training as a waiter had been simple and had consisted solely of: Look sharp. Keep your head down. Don't speak to the guests, and most importantly of all, be invisible. And with the instructions to follow his training to the letter given to him by a confused handler constantly repeating themselves in his mind like a mantra, even Takato doubted he would ever be able to forget them.

Passing through the wide double doors that led out into the party proper, where all of the guests had congregated in large groups based on their social class and economic standing, Takato sighed and held his head high as he moved silent and unseen amongst the milling throng of humanity.

It was simple, if tedious enough work. Consisting of little more then, find someone with an empty glass, fill it, if you happen to run out of champagne, go into the kitchen and find another bottle. Certainly it lacked the challenge afforded to him by the more artistic work he did in his spare time.

Longing to return to the simplicity of the world contained within the canvas, where paint and easel were the tools with which he was free to create his great works, so caught up in the endless repetition that was involved in moving seamlessly through the crowd had he become, that it came to him as something of a shock when he felt someone actually begin tugging on the tip of his tail.

Turning sharply to see who it was that would even think of attempting to do something that most civilized chimeras considered to be obscenely rude, he suddenly found himself coming face to face with Sharyl King.

The woman's pale blue eyes were only a few scant inches away from his, and yet despite the fact that she was the one looking up at him, her gaze managed to make him feel both small and insignificant.

“Hey there tiger.” She said, her voice a throaty whisper. “Do those stripes go all the way down?”

His whiskers twitching as he smelled the faintest traces of alcohol on her breath, Takato felt a chill begin to run down his spine. She was drunk, or close enough to it. Either way, if just being seen talking to someone he wasn't supposed to was enough get him into a world of trouble, then there was no telling what would happen if he was caught in the company of someone who was drunk.

Growing impatient with his reluctance to speak, Sharyl placed her hands on her hips and said. “Well, do they?”

Unsure of how to answer just such a question, or any question for that matter, he merely nodded that they did.

Making a sound in the back of her throat akin to a purr, Sharyl placed a hand against his chest, and looking around to see if anyone might be paying attention to the serving staff said. “We should probably go somewhere else then. Somewhere that's more, private.”

The guest room had been lavishly furnished, no expense had been spared in supplying it with the finest of luxuries, silk sheets on the bed, Van Gogh on the walls, there was even a bottle of absinthe on ice. But the only thing that Sharyl King was particularly interested in was the bed. That, and her choice of companions for the night.

“Strip for me.” She said as, sipping some of the champagne that Takato had brought with him, she sat down on the edge of the bed and settled in to watch.

Takato was struck dumb by the request. “You want me to what?”

Freed from the restrictions imposed upon him by being a servant at the party, and having suddenly found his voice, Takato could feel an overwhelming need to be somewhere else, anywhere else, take hold of his soul. And yet, the familiar sensation of temporary paralysis that began just at the base of his spine served to remind him that while he hadn't disobeyed a direct order, at least not yet anyway, the control collar around his neck was incapable of making any sort of distinction between simple discretion and outright disobedience. Either you followed an order or not, it was as simple as that. And if his inability to disagree with anything she said wasn't bad enough, if her indiscretion were ever to be discovered, then not even his status as a breeder, a chimera who hadn't had his reproductive abilities sealed at birth, would serve to stay his execution.

“I told you I want you to strip for me,” Said Sharyl as, picking up the bottle of absinthe she began to mix it with the champagne in her glass. “You know, take all of your clothes off, make a little show of it.” She stood abruptly, holding the now bubbling drink out to him and said. “Is that really too much to ask?”

Takato's brain was saying 'yes!' but his lips were saying “No. But . . .” The low buzzing sound that was coming from his collar started getting stronger, effectively putting an end to any further attempts to protest.

“You only get to live once,” Said Sharyl as she toyed with something inside her dress, “And besides, I thought chimeras like you were trained for this sort of thing.” She smiled at him seductively as her undergarments suddenly slid free and fell to the floor.

Feeling his body begin stirring in response, both to the eagerness that was evident in her eyes, and to the pheromones that were being produced by her body, Takato wanted to say something that would allow him to extricate himself from the situation gracefully, but felt his will to resist fading. I can't say no, the collar prevents me from walking away, and sex is a part of what I've had been trained for after all. Taking the offered drink from her, he shuddered as the potent mix of absinthe and champagne passed between his lips. Hitting his system with all the force of a runaway freight train, His amber colored eyes took on a distinctly glazed over sort of look. “What the hell,” He said to no one in particular. “Even if they do kill me, then at least I'll die in the afternoon.”

Sharyl King had smiled knowingly as she watched Takato drink the champagne cocktail in one long pull. Early generation chimera's had almost no tolerance for alcohol, and at an overwhelmingly high seventy-five percent proof, the absinthe alone would have served to get him nice and drunk. Now, with his inhibitions safely out of the way, and her husband preoccupied for the night, she was free to take advantage of him at her leisure.

Life wasn't strong, or very complex, until the first amoebas divided and invented sex.

Part Two : Just add a dash of genetics and a twist of fate.

Takato felt as if the world was slowly starting to spin around him, first the room, then the bed, and while it wasn't exactly an unpleasant sensation, it was starting to make everything he did feel better.

Almost as if everything he were experiencing had somehow become that much more real, he was left wondering if he could somehow transfer the sensation to his art.

His earlier inhibitions all but forgotten, Takato began to smile as his tail started swaying back and forth. There were hands helping him out of his clothes, hands smoothing out the fur that covered his chest, hands tracing the stripes that ran along his body, and he wasn't sure which were the hands that belonged to him and which were the ones that belonged to somebody else.

“Does it matter?” Said a woman's voice.

Takato wasn't even sure if anyone had spoken aloud or not, but he replied anyway. “No, but as long as it feels good. We should do it anyway.”

Sharyl grinned as she helped Takato out of the last of his clothing. He was just standing before her now, ready to do whatever it was she asked of him. He didn't lie. He really is covered in stripes. Stepping back to admire her handiwork She said. “I want you to stand there until I say otherwise, got it?”

Takato nodded as he stilled even his tail.

Sharyl began by tracing her fingers through the soft fur of his chest. Drawing him into a kiss, she tasted the absinthe on his lips and smiled. He could deny her nothing. Anything she asked for he would do, anything that she wanted would be hers.

The power that she held over him alone was enough to be intoxicating, but when it was coupled with the eagerness that she could feel coursing through her own body like a river of inner fire, she knew she would never be satisfied until he had first managed to quench the flames that filled her.

Enjoying the sensation of Takato's hands moving across her body as he helped her out of her dress, Sharyl sighed as she pressed herself against him. His scent was otherworldly, as was the sculpted perfection of his naked body. All black and orange, with a faint ghosting of white that started at his throat and stopped somewhere just past his navel, he really was the perfect blend of human and feline forms. Especially where it mattered the most.

Running her hands through the thick fur that covered his body, Sharyl slowly but surely began to work her way downwards, counting each and every stripe that she passed as she went by. Despite his inhuman nature and outward physical appearance, touching him was not unlike touching any other man. He responded to her needs, he reciprocated whenever possible, but unlike other men, he could purr just like one of the great cats.

A low rumbling sound that spread itself across her body along with his touch, it left her skin tingling and her senses craving more.

Takato was ready for her when she finally reached his erection. Having placed his hands on her shoulders in order to help hold her steady, Sharyl even managed to elicit a gasp of pleasure from him when she pushed back his furry sheath, and started stroking him with smooth steady motions.

Watching him stiffen slower than she would have liked, Sharyl thought to herself. Simply stroking him off isn't going to be enough. I want him good and hard when the time comes to please me. Taking the tip of his feline member into her mouth she began teasing Takato with her tongue, before she started sucking on him in earnest.

Having never felt anything quite like it before, the sensations He experienced as Sharyl's tongue slid across his swollen cock were intense to behold.

Spreading throughout his body, all he could feel was the pleasure that came just before he climaxed.

And then it just stopped.

Takato looked at Sharyl while feeling frustrated. He had been so very close. A few more seconds and he would have been pushed over the edge. So then why had she stopped?

Sharyl just looked at Takato's still throbbing cock, and for a brief moment, wondered if it would feel as good as it looked. Only one way to find out, she thought.

Pushing Takato backwards onto the bed she straddled his hips with her knees and began to lower herself slowly. Moaning softly, she luxuriated in the feel of him, as every inch of his swollen member slowly disappeared into her welcoming body.

Enjoying the act more and more as the sensation caused by the tiny barbs that covered his penis started to satisfy something deep inside of her, Sharyl found she could barely contain her enthusiasm. It had been so long since she had last felt the touch of someone other then herself, that she had almost forgotten how good it could feel to join with someone else.

Takato's purr steadily grew stronger as his hands moved to caress her ample breasts. So this is why she stopped. He was suddenly enjoying her company more then he had before. Even the females that I've lain with back at the breeding facility, they never did anything like this.

He had always been the one to tease and caress them, to inflame their desires and excite their passions, so that they would be the ones to lift their tails to him, and join him in that, animal embrace.

And now that he had found himself the pursued rather than the pursuer, he was content to lie back and enjoy the workout the woman on top of him was giving him.

Holding onto him with just her thighs, Sharyl touched two of her fingers to Takato's chest and started moving to a rhythm that matched the beating of their hearts. She could feel her climax getting closer now, and all she needed to sate her growing hunger was just the right push.

Quickening her pace, she began to ride Takato for all that he was worth. She wanted, no, needed release from the months of pent up anger and frustration that she had buried deep inside, and both Takato's length and size were proving to be more then ample stimulation.

In truth, her reasons for choosing Takato as a means to find relief were simple ones. She was angry at her husband for not spending enough time with her, but more then then that, she was frustrated with her own inability to conceive a child when they did. Though both of those matters seemed trivial when compared to the fact that their marriage was more of a mere formality then anything else.

Born from an economic partnership that had seen fit to merge their two families fortunes together for the purposes of continuing a single bloodline, it had all the romanticism and wit of a tick. And besides, even if their's hadn't been a sham marriage, a certain amount of infidelity was to be expected at the highest levels of society anyway.

Accidentally lifting herself free of his entire cock, Sharyl felt something tugging against her labia as she did so. As a feeling that served to bring about the sudden and unexpected arrival of her own climax, Sharyl arched her back as she sought to hold on to him with just her knees. Crying out his name, she rode a wave of ecstasy as she did so. It had felt good, better then anything she had ever experienced before.

With his own climax not far behind, Takato pulled her back down and held her steady as he spilled himself inside her with a roar that shook the bed.

Covering his mouth with both hands to silence any further outbursts Sharyl offered up a silent prayer to whatever gods may be listening that the walls of the guest room had been thoroughly sound proofed.

Entire minutes began to pass and still there was nothing. No doors suddenly being flung open, no heated accusations being hurled her way, and perhaps most importantly of all, no embarrassing or awkward questions. There was simply silence. A sweet, blessed silence to be broken only by the sound of a tiger's low rumbling purr.

Sharyl let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding as she let herself begin to relax. They were safe. Safe behind a veil of secrecy and a curtain of velvet lies. Convinced that nothing else could possibly go wrong, she began to stretch herself out along Takato's body, and laying her head down on his chest, began to bask in the gentle warmth of his fur while she listened to him purr.

It was strange, but there was something uniquely satisfying about having made love to a chimera that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Maybe it was the way he was expressing his own satisfaction, maybe it had something to with the fact she had just tamed herself a wild tiger, or perhaps it was simply because she was able to reach up, and begin scratching him behind the ears. Who knew?

Takato on the other hand was enjoying the attention. Especially since most of the females he had lain with were often quick to withdraw in order to tend to their own needs. Having been reduced to little more then feral versions of their former selves, they would hiss if he drew near, and strike at him if made any attempt to mount them again. But then Sharyl had no claws, and she had been very willing the first time.

Caught completely off guard by what happened next, Sharyl felt a thrill of fear fill her as Takato grabbed hold of her shoulders and rolled her over onto her back. Able to cover her entire body with his own, he traced circles across her skin while his tongue began to make its way towards the space between her breasts.

Afraid of what might happen next, Sharyl tried to push him away, only to find that he was stronger then he appeared to be, stronger by a great deal and that if it wasn't for the control collar around his neck, she would have little recourse but to let him continue as he wished.

“Takato you have to stop, that's an order.”

There was a moment of hesitation, along with a look of doubt in his amber colored eyes.

“But you aren't done yet.” He said by way of explanation, before returning once more to the tender ministrations that had driven so many other women before her wild with desire.

“Takato . . .” Pulling away from him, Sharyl knew that if she had to she could order him from the bed. He may not go willingly, but he would go nonetheless.

Still, when Takato wrapped his arms around her and started to purr, Sharyl was forced to admit that it hadn't been an altogether unpleasant sensation. To have her breasts bathed by the tongue of a wild tiger, to have his hands trace slow steady circles across her body as he steadily drew them closer together.

As she waited for Takato to continue, it was then that Sharyl realized that she wasn't with her husband. That there were no needs save her own, no demands pressing upon their time. For the first time in a long time, she was free to let herself relax and enjoy the pleasures of intimate company. And having realized that she was surprised to find that he was right, she hadn't been satisfied yet. The pleasure that she had begun to feel had been all to brief. The ecstasy that she had experienced had merely served to whet her appetite, while at the same time leaving her hungry for more. True, she had managed to succeed in satisfying her need for release, but was that enough?

“Say Takato.” Touching the tip of his erection with one hand she leaned into his embrace and said. “Did you . . . happen to have something special in mind?”

“But of course.” Nuzzling her neck affectionately, he said. “I wanted to show you what it feels like when a chimera really lies with their mate.”

“That sounds like it could be fun.” Stretching herself out along the bed, Sharyl looked at him over her shoulder and said. “Does it go, something like this?”

Watching as she held herself ready to recieve him on her hands and knees, he nodded and said. “Something like that yeah.”

Of course now that it was his turn to take the lead Takato was determined to prove that he was as good as his word.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he knew he would have to be especially careful. This soft skinned female had none of the protective fur that his own kind possessed, nor any of the sharp claws that would bring with them the sweet kiss of pain when she finally started to climax. It almost seemed a shame, after all, she wasn't entirely unpleasent to look upon.

You would have made a good chimera. Takato thought to himself as he mounted her from behind.

Having sex with Takato a second time proved to be exciting her in a ways that Sharyl had never thought possible. Part of it she knew was the possibility of getting caught. There was a thrill that came in narrowly avoiding danger, and a rush that came from having only just survived. Another part of it was the fact that he wasn't human. Simply taking another man into her bed would have been all to easy, but conquering a chimera on the other hand, that carried with it its own unique rewards. Rewards she had only just begun to experience.

Tired of rubbing up against her backside, Takato decided it was time to mount her from the front. Purring as he pushed himself inside her, he gasped as Sharyl's fingers found the most sensitive area at the base of his tail. Left mewling like a newborn kitten the moment she started stroking him, he couldn't find the words to ask her to stop. It felt so very good to be touched there.

With her own body crying out for more as well, it wasn't long before Sharyl was begging him to satisfy her the way she knew only a chimera could. She could hardly believe it but, letting Takato have his way with her was driving all rational thought from her mind. There was just something in the way he moved, something in the way he looked at her. And then she knew. It was more then just sex to him, it was a dance as well, and it was one to which he knew all the right moves.

Digging her fingers into the scruff of his neck, Sharyl pulled Takato down on top of her, while simultaneously lifting her hips to better meet his thrusts. It was suddenly more then she could handle. Much more as she felt the first stirrings of an orgasm spread throughout her body with an intensity that was leaving her breathless. And all the while He was right beside her, sharing in the experience, adding his own unique talents into the mix.

Sharyl purred as she let herself bask in the afterglow.

He was right. The second time had been better, the third time even more so then that, and by the time they had finally finished, Sharyl had started to wonder if a normal man would ever be able to satisfy her again.

Chimeras, control collars, selective breeding, one has to wonder where all of these new technologies will eventually lead. Can they truly better society as we believe, or will they merely create a new kind of second class citizen, one who knows nothing of the benefits of being free?

Even as I write this, as a human being, I cannot condone the actions that we have taken in order to gain greater control over our own creations. While as a scientist, I understand the need to further differentiate chimeras from ourselves. If only we had not allowed our fear of becoming superfluous lead us to eradicate intelligent machines from our ranks, perhaps then we might have been able to gain a greater understanding of the problems we continue to face even now.

Still, regardless of the outcome, for the problems that plague humanity, chimeras will be able to provide at best, a temporary reprieve.

~~ The dividing line,

A bridge across the uncanny valley

Part Three : Sins of the fathers.

“Ladies, gentlemen, if I may have your attention for a moment please.” Standing in front of a crowd of shareholders, company executives, and more then two dozen uncomfortable looking chimeras who'd had the misfortune of being dressed in poorly fitting tuxedos, Tim waited until all those who had gathered before him had gone silent before addressing them with an aura of quiet dignity. “Tonight, tonight marks a historic night in the history of our company. For tonight marks the twentieth anniversary of the day we first introduced a bold new product to the world. Chimeras, those wonderful folks you see around you now, who every day toil endlessly to provide not only us, but all of humanity with the very comforts that we so enjoy. Tomorrow, we will embark on another new venture, one that I hope will be equally as successful.” Tim paused for dramatic effect. “The introduction of Chimeras to the general populace! Think of it. No longer will they be relegated to those menial tasks our world governments require of them. No longer will they be simple factory workers and laborers, but parents and teachers and friends. The possibilities truly are endless, as are the profits.” Waiting for the polite laughter to die down before continuing, Tim said. “So let us raise our glasses in a toast, and give thanks to the man whose tireless efforts, and unique vision has made all of this possible, though he could not be here with us in person, may his spirit remain with us always.” Lifting his glass, Tim said. “To Markov.”

Leaving the stage to the sound of gratuitous applause the lights slowly started to dim as a television screen descended from the ceiling. The room steadily grew quiet once more as a video began to play.

Chimeras and you. How Exotica Geno-Works is leading the way through the power of genetic engineering.

Taking Tim's place on stage, a woman who was wearing powder blue go-go boots, a pink cowboy hat, and seven glowing green rings constantly circling around her arms and waist, said. “Do you have questions about chimeras? Well Exotica Geno-Works is here to help.”

Despite her poor taste in clothes, Melissa's cheerful personality and upbeat attitude were the perfect cover for the fact that she was nothing more then a simple hologram designed to increase sales of a popular soft drink. Of course, when attempting to sell people the idea that chimeras were merely servants to a greater good, and not the artificially created slave race they actually were, it was best to avoid involving anyone who might find themselves in the unenviable postion of having suddenly acquired a conscience.

Holding up her hand as a bovine chimera appeared on the screen behind her Melissa said. “Chimeras can be classified into four major types. The first, is the laborer class.” Bred for its brute strength and size, the chimera on the screen behind her stood six feet tall and was busy carrying large steel girders under each arm. “As you can see, chimeras of this variety excel at all major forms of manual labor, and could easily be put to work in any position in your company. Second, is the servant class.” Morphing into a rabbit the chimera on screen had a beautific smile on its face. Despite the fact it was surrounded by dozens of squalling brats, clearly it couldn't be happier. “Perfect for that busy household, they delight in doing domestic chores, taking care of unruly children or just mowing the lawn.” As quickly as it had appeared it was replaced by a sexy tiger in a silk dress. “Third, is the companion class. Excelling as escorts, able to carry on enlightened conversations, and trained in all manner of exotic techniques, the companion class is the perfect choice for those with of you with special needs. And last, but certainly not the least, is the breeder class, whose only duty is to meet the growing needs of a brighter tomorrow. So don't wait. Order yours today.”

Watching as the screen slowly rose up into the ceiling once more John could feel himself standing in open mouthed awe as the lights suddenly came back on. What he had just seen, was nothing more then a masterpiece of mass marketable garbage that an entire generation of consumers had grown up being force fed from their cradles to their grave. And although he was reluctant to even admit it, he couldn't help but admire the audacity it took to tell the unthinking masses exactly what to want. Of course, since it had long been proven that they would spend every last cent that they had and still clamor for more, who were they to want to think for themselves, when that's what corporations were for?

Though as the entire crowd of company employees, shareholders, and executive directors who had been gathered together into one single room broke out into a round of thunderous applause, there was only one thought that gave John any real reason for pause.

Where the hell was his wife Sharyl?

“There you are,” Said Tim as he took hold of John's arm. “I want you to come and talk to some of our shareholders about our latest ad campaigns, tell them what you think.”

“Sorry, I'm a little busy at the moment,” Trying to extricate himself gracefully from Tim's grip, John said. “And I'm certain that the shareholders would love to speak with me, but it seems I need to find my wife.”

“Nonsense,” Pulling him away from the guest rooms Tim started to lead him back to the party proper. “Besides, it will only be for a moment. And once we're done I'll send some of the chimeras to look for her. C'mon, it'll be fun.”

Dragging John through the crowd of assembled partygoers who had all broken apart into groups to discuss what they had just seen, Tim followed the thread of conversation that he had left behind mere moments ago.

“The problem with going global is that we've encountered resistance from special interest groups before. Most notably from anti-technology organizations such as Blue Seed.”

“Good heavens.” Rising above the din, the sound of his wife's voice was like a beacon to Tim. “Those violent extremists are still running around? When are they going to learn that you can't stand in the way of progress. Chimeras are here to stay and quite frankly I think the world is better for it.”

Turning as Tim coughed politely into his hand, Marcus Deverro the executive director in charge of sales said. “Ah, John, just the man we wanted to see.” Shaking hands with him, he added. “Now, what you just saw was only a prototype, and we were thinking of having someone turn it into an infomercial that we could run on the company channel. Well, what do you think?”

“It's good,” Said John, his mind already working out the minor details. “But its not good enough. Have some of the P.R. boys whip up some kind of cartoon show. A line of action figures, maybe even a videogame or two. We need to start marketing chimeras to children as well as adults, because as potential future consumers themselves, the simple fact is, we need to establish the value of chimeras in their minds as early on as possible.”

“Gentlemen,” Said Tim as all the shareholders nodded in agreement. “What did I tell you. The man is a genius.”

“Sharyl, there you are.” Grabbing his wife by the arm, John leaned over and hissed into her ear. “Where the hell have you been, I've been looking for you for over an hour!”

Distracting him with a quick kiss, Sharyl said. “And you know as well as I do what these parties can be like. People making connections, ensuring their families interests, being the good wife that I am I've been keeping myself,” Any and all thoughts of Takato and their illicit liaison were firmly swept from her mind as she returned once more to the privileged life of a wealthy socialite. “Busy.”

Smelling nothing but the alcohol on her breath, he hoped none of the shareholders were watching when he said. “Your drunk aren't you?”

More then a little annoyed by the accusation, Sharyl said. “Of course not.” Reaching out to add a second glass of champagne to the one she was already holding, she was surprised when John reached out to stop her. “Well, maybe I am, but I've only had a little.”

Watching as his wife stared at a passing chimera with an unhealthy level of interest, John leaned in and said. “Define a little.”

“Six, maybe seven glasses.” Contenting herself with the one she was already holding, she added. “Oh, and I found the most wonderful bottle of absinthe just, lying around. You mix the two together and whew, it gets you really drunk.”

“We're going home.” Said John. “Now.” Perhaps he'd said it a little more forcefully than necessary, because several pairs of eyes, both human and not turned to look at them.

Making it a point to finish the rest of the champagne in her glass, Sharyl began eying her husband suspiciously when she said. “But I was just starting to have fun.”

Which is precisely why we're leaving. Out loud he said. “Sharyl, there are people starting to stare.”

“How about we let them stare.” Tugging on her husband's tie, she loosened his collar and said. “While we go off and have some fun.”

His eyes going wide as he suddenly understood exactly what she wanted, John couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into his wife. “Sharyl, be reasonable. At least wait until after we get home.”

“Fine,” She added in a huff. “You are the man in the relationship. If you say we're going home, then I guess we're going home.”

When Sharyl began to lean on his arm, John let out a sigh of relief. And it wasn't because he didn't trust his wife, far from it, he just wanted to get her some place safe before she did something that might jeopardize his future career.

Standing by the side of the street, his back turned towards the flow of oncoming traffic, John held out his hand as he tried hailing a cab. Despite being in one of the more affluent sectors of SynCity, the sporadic and often intermittent service of privately owned transport was only one of the many problems that accompanied visiting the homes of the would be rich. Not that the alternatives were any better. The mass transit system that was the heart and soul of SynCity was little more then a series of maglev trains connecting the different sectors together. And the hoverbus, the less said the better.

So when a cab did finally start to roll up, He was ready to breath a sigh of relief. But then he saw it. It was yellow. It was old. And worst of all. It still had wheels.

Opening the door to the back John grimaced slightly when he saw the disheveled looking lout that was sitting in the drivers seat. Looking like a man who hadn't bothered to bathe in the better part of a month, there was little doubt in his mind the interior of the cab had seen better days as well.

“So where to mac.” Said the driver as John helped his wife into the cab.

Schooling his features to reflect an inner calm he didn't feel as the man's thick Brooklyn accent assaulted his ears, John started debating the merits of hailing a different cab in his mind. On the one hand, being subjected to the agony of the man's mangled English for a prolonged period of time was a particularly unappealing thought, but on the other, he was profoundly grateful that he wouldn't have to deal with a chimera that someone had trapped inside a vehicle and taught how to drive. Because as a man who preferred that his dealings with chimeras remain at as far a distance as humanly possible, having to deal with one as a cab driver would have been the perfect end to an already frustrating evening.

“Heaven Sector.” He said as he closed the door behind him. “North side.”

“Whoooee.” Whistled the cabbie as flipped on an 'in service' sign. “Don't get many fares goin' to the rich side of town. You sure you wanna be seen takin' a cab?”

“No.” Said John, pulling a blank cred card that could be set to any amount he desired out of his wallet. “Which is why I want you to drive as discretely as humanly possible.”

The cab driver took the card from him and turned off the sign. “You know what they say mac. When money talks, cabbies don't.”

John rolled his eyes as the engine struggled to turn over. “How unbelievably, quaint.”

“So what's wrong with your lady friend?” Said the cab driver as he pulled away from the sidewalk and out into the busy street.

“Nothing that is in any way your business.” Said John, an edge of anger to his voice.

“Sorry mac. Just tryin' to make conversation. Don't see many rich fares walkin' out a one a them . . .” He snapped his fingers as quickly as it came to him. “Chimera parties.”

“How could you possibly have known—”

“I smells it.” Said the cabbie. “The stink comin' from them chimeras is pretty distinctive, and its all over ya.” Yer lady friend too. Thought the cabbie, who wasn't about to lose such an expensive fare by saying something like that out loud.

“You don't say.” Said John dryly. Finding he no longer cared if the man knew where they had come from, or even where they were going, he was more amazed the man could smell anything at all, after having stewed for so long in his own filth.

“I do say.” Said the cabbie. “The problem is those bastards up at Exotica Geno-Works are puttin' workin' day stiffs like me outta business. See chimeras, they're willin' to work for cheap, they never take a day off, and to make matters worse, they don't even know how to complain right! Unions are gettin' right pissed off, and its all cause of that, whatsisname.”

“Alexander Markov.” Said John, enjoying the cab driver's attempt to make conversation more now than he had before.

“Yeah,” Said the cabbie, “That's the one. Thanks.”

John smiled. Heralded as the father of all chimeras, Alexander Markov had been the one to pioneer the technology that had made creating chimeras possible in the first place. And as far as the public was concerned, had gone into seclusion to further his own research.

“Whatever happened to the old guy anyway?”

“He retired. Probably to some place warm.” That was the official story anyway. But the simple truth was, no one ever really retired from Exotica Geno-Works, after all, when you joined up with one of the companies, you joined it for life.

With every choice, there comes a consequence, with every action, an equal, and opposite reaction, so if everything that happens around us is merely a link in a chain of events, who can say what it was that first set those events in motion. And what is more . . . who can say what will happen when those same events lead us into tomorrow?

Part Four : The path that life follows.

Comprised of several key holdings, the least of which could house several servants, their families, and even an entire army of chimeras, the King Family Manor was an established estate that had grown out of an abandoned military base.

Built in the days following the founding, the time that had seen the integration of the still habitable remnants of North and South America into a nation under the control of a single governing body, even SynCity itself had started out as nothing more then an underground bomb shelter that had been built upon and expanded until it had been safe for the survivors of the nuclear devastation that had laid waste to so much of the Earth to reclaim the world above. And though not many remained who remembered the true origins of SynCity it was considered something of a sacred task to pass the wisdom of the founders on to the sons of the King family. Even John himself hoped to one day do so.

Having the cab park at the entrance to the estate so as not to be seen, they began the long trek that would lead them to the house proper. And while the grounds were kept in pristine condition, and the garden off to the side, the main manor itself on top of a hill overlooking the metal plate that served to seperate the two halves of SynCity. Though it was considered a minor flaw in the eyes of some, it was the only blemish to ruin what would otherwise be a perfect home.

And despite their impromptu arrival, it was a testament to Aimsley's abilities as a steward that he and the rest of the household staff still stood ready to greet them.

“Master King.” He said. “We weren't expecting your return until later in the evening, did something go wrong at the party?”

“Yes, there were far too many chimeras for my liking, and we simply had to leave before they spoiled the evening.” Of course now that he was happy just to be home the last thing he needed was someone asking unnecessary questions. “But now that we are home, have a bottle of that Rhum Vieux sent to my study. I have a great deal of business that needs to be attended to, and I feel in need of something to help me relax.”

Aimsley nodded from the hip. “Very good sir.” Clapping his gloved hands together sent servants scurrying about as they hastened to carry out their master's wishes, and to remain out of sight.

“Oh, and while you're at it, I want a bath drawn up for me and my wife. It seems that we while we were at the party we picked up some rather unwanted aromas, and it wouldn't do to let something like that linger, now would it?”

Sealing himself inside his private study in order to work without interruption, John drew strength from the familiar surroundings and comfort from the knowledge that at least here, no chimera would ever be allowed to step foot.

Having inherited the room from his father, who had inherited it from his, and so on down the line, each had added something to it until it had been imbued with a history all its own.

The tiger skin rug had been acquired at a market place in Marrakesh, the walnut paneling that served to line the walls was a throwback to the halcyon days when men would gather to sit before the fire in order to smoke cigars and sip cognac, and then of course, there was his most cherished possession of all. A wingback chair circa 1858 taken from the House of Commons in London.

Resisting the urge to seat himself and forget all about his wife's earlier indiscretions, John knew that even now there was work to be done. With matters that needed to be attended to before he could even begin to lay the groundwork for his eventual promotion, it would be some time before he was able to indulge in such simple pleasures again.

A promotion. Just thinking about it made him happy. He was moving up in the world, and with the way things were going, it was imperative that he have an heir, someone worthy to pass the family fortune on too. Lest his assets be divvied up on his death, and become the property of all those who hadn't earned it.

Which only meant that there was something else to do. He was going to have to draft up a will. Something airtight, with clauses that prevented anyone but a living genetic relative from gaining access to his money. Taking such steps was a fairly standard procedure after all, and if anything untowards should happen to him now or in the future, it would serve to ensure that his family would be well taken care of.

Or as his father had once said, what belongs to the family, stays in the family.

Sipping his Rhum Vieux, John had barely begun to relax when there came a knock at the door. Though he was loathe to allow anyone access to his inner sanctuary barring the most extreme of circumstances, with the urgency with which they had begun to knock, he knew that it could only be one person.

Waiting for him to open the door, Sharyl had planned it all out in her mind, she was even prepared to cry if she had to, and yet now that the time had come all she could think to say was. “I want to have a baby.” Having thouroughly convinced herself that it couldn't be put off any longer she was determined to convince him of that fact as well. “Now I know that you're going to be busy with work and all but, oh John, wouldn't it be wonderful to have a son? He could . . . carry on the family name, and he could, learn the tricks of the trade. He could be everything we've ever wanted.”

John didn't know what to say. She was looking at him with such longing in her eyes, and yet. “What a coincidence, and here I was, thinking exactly the same things myself.”

Unsure if she had heard him correctly, Sharyl said. “You . . . you were?”

“Now they will have to be concieved somewhat naturally. Splicing together bits of DNA in order to create a clone.” John shuddered. “Ghastly procedure. I won't have any child of mine grown in a laboratory.”

Relieved to hear him say it, Sharyl said. “Does this mean, you aren't mad at me?”

“Of course not, I only wanted whats best, for both of us. Now,” Said John as he led her towards the bedroom. “Why don't you let me do something special to make it up to you.”

Some say that life begins at conception, and if that is so, then every moment afterwards serves to shape and define who and what we are.

Part Five : Nine months later.

“You have to push harder Mrs. King. You're almost there.” Dressed in lavender colored scrubs, Doctor Goldstein was helping coach Sharyl through an already difficult delivery.

Push harder, Thought Sharyl as she tightened her grip on her husband's hand. That was an easy thing for her to say. She wasn't the one lying in a hospital bed with her legs spread in the air. She wasn't the one giving birth. She wasn't the one. Her thoughts felt like they were being ripped away from her as her face began contorting in pain. There was one last contraction, one last push. And suddenly the sound of a baby crying filled the room.

“Congratulations Mrs. King,” Said Doctor Goldstein. “You have a healthy baby boy.”

Sharyl held out her hands expectantly. Waiting for the nurses to finish dealing with the afterbirth, she said. “I want to hold him.”

“Of course Mrs. King.” Having wrapped her newborn son in a protective blanket, one of the nurses placed him gently into Sharyl's outstretched arms and asked. “Have you decided on a name yet?”

“Yes,” Sharyl managed to smile up at her husband. “I want to name him Johnathan, after his father.” A twinge of pain made her wince as she felt herself hit by another contraction.

“What's wrong Mrs. King?” Said the nurse.

Sharyl barely had time to breath before another contraction forced everything else from her mind. “I think there might be another one in there.” She said, learning to breath again.

“That's quite possible.” Said Doctor Goldstein. “In Vitro fertilization often increases the likelihood of twins.”

Twins. Such a wonderful word. It conjured up images of the shared dreams and precious moments that her children would share together. And then the horrible ripping pain in her abdomen threatened to tear her apart.

“You have to push Mrs. King. Push hard.”

Gritting her teeth as she pushed with everything she had, Sharyl wanted to force the child from her body and out into the light of the world. And when it was finally done, a moment of silence gripped the room. An otherworldly stillness that seemed to fill every corner and every heart with dread.

No one moved. No one made a sound. And yet, Sharyl could swear she had heard the soft mewling cry of a newborn kitten fill the room.

Looking upon the bastard son that had just been birthed into the world, one of the nurses let out an unearthly scream.

“What's wrong.” Said Sharyl her panic rising. “What's wrong with my baby.”

“I don't know how to say this Mrs. King.” Doctor Goldstein just looked at her, before holding up her newborn son. “But your child is a chimera.”

As if to assure everyone who saw them that she was an educated, licensed professional, the walls of Doctor Olivia Goldstein's office were covered in the many diplomas, awards and accolades she had earned during her tenure at the Sister's of Heavenly Mercy.

“This is a mistake.” Said John as he paced back and forth. He had flat out refused to take Doctor Goldstein up on her offer to sit down, citing instead that he did his best thinking on his feet. “There must have been some kind of mix-up at the fertility clinic. Either you used the wrong sperm or—”

“Mr. King I assure you,” Said Doctor Goldstein. “There is simply no way for us to have made that kind of a mistake. In fact, to even begin producing viable sperm, male chimeras must first undergo multiple rigorous psychological and physiological screenings at a gene clinic, before the genes that allow them to reproduce are even reactivated. A process, may I remind you, that takes place at a facility entirely different from our own.”

Already knowing all about the steps that had been taken to keep chimeras in their place, John didn't want to hear about the fail-safes Exotica Geno-Works had created, he wanted to know how it had happened. “My wife gives birth to a fucking chimera! And you don't think there's been some kind of mistake?”

“Please, take a moment to calm yourself Mr. King. I can assure you that this is merely a simple case of Heteropaternal Superfecundation.”

“What the hell is that?” Said John as rage tightened his hands into fists. He was already on the verge of having a hysterical breakdown, and it felt as if his mind was beginning to buckle beneath the strain of trying to hold fast to the last remaining vestiges of his sanity. “What the fucking hell is that!”

Doing her best to put aside the profanities, expletives, and accusations he seemed eager to hurl her way, Doctor Goldstein felt even her patience being tried. Although, compared to the hysterics she had to deal with on an almost daily basis, the man's outburst really was nothing new. “To put it simply, there is a small window time, usually lasting five to seven days, where the fertilization of a second ovum can occur within the same cycle. In short, a woman can become pregnant with a second child while already carrying the first. While it is rare, it is not entirely unheard of. Though circumstances notwithstanding, I'm afraid that your's does present itself as, a rather unique case.”

“Circumstances notwithstanding?” John paled as the full weight of the implications hit him like a physical blow. “Are you actually implying, that my wife had sex, with . . . with one of those things!”

“Its not all together uncommon.” Said Doctor Goldstein as she drove her point home with an almost ruthless efficiency. “Many couples with extramarital problems will seek out the services of chimeras trained as pleasure-pets, or courtesans as it were. Your own company is attempting to market them as 'companions' after all.”

“There is nothing wrong with our marriage!” Turning to his wife for support John's voice was pleading. “Sharyl, tell her that she's wrong, tell her . . .” John trailed off as his wife of eight years covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh my god. John,” Sharyl, who had been quietly listening up until that moment said. “I didn't think, I didn't know.”

Something giving way inside his mind, John felt the full weight of reality descend upon him as his last sanctuary from the truth was denied to him. “Sharyl!”

“Doctor Goldstein,” Trying not to wither under the weight of her husband's forceful gaze she said. “How could something like this have happened?”

“I think we already know how this could have happened.” John muttered darkly under his breath.

Ignoring the comment out of professional courtesy, Doctor Goldstein tented her fingers and said. “The most likely possibility is that you were already pregnant when the in vitro took place. Now, I understand that this must be difficult for you. So for the moment we're arranging to have your son transferred to the maternity ward for chimeras. They're better equipped to handle this situation than we are.”

“Can we see him?” Said Sharyl. “Just to make sure that he's alright.”

Giving her a motherly smile Doctor Goldstein said. “Of course. I'll have an orderly sent to your room to give you the directions. But for the moment, you really would do well to try and get some rest.”

Sharyl just nodded. Already too exhausted to argue, even she failed to notice the look of apprehension on her husband's face.

Sitting comfortably in a wheelchair while John pushed her around the hospital wing that had been set aside for chimeras, Sharyl had expected it to be filled with chimeras and their families, only to end up being mildly disappointed when she found that everything was the exact same off white color as the rest of the hospital, just without any of the tacky art that they sold copies of in the gift shop to help break up the monotony.

“This is the ward for chimeras isn't it?” Said Sharyl as she wondered where they could all be. “So why aren't there any signs telling us where to go? And more importantly, why isn't there any art?” When her husband didn't answer she looked up at him and said. “John?”

There isn't any. John thought to himself as he lost count of the number of times they had passed down the same hallway. Because they're just chimeras. So what could they possibly need art for?

Originally he had intended to leave Sharyl behind in her room so that she could recover, but she'd been so adamant about coming along, that he'd finally been forced to relent and had allowed her to come with him.

“Face it John.” She said as they turned a corner for the umpteenth time. “We're lost.”

“We're not lost.” He countered. “That quack of a doctor gave us bad directions, that's all.”

And she'll be a dead quack if she so much as breathes a word about this to anyone.

Just thinking about the smug expression that he'd seen on her face filled him with rage. No doubt Doctor Olivia Goldstein was even now dreaming up ways to turn the situation to her advantage as she thought about all the accolades that she would earn from announcing just such a discovery to the world. After all, it was what he would do.

Feeling his blood pressure begin to rise until he feared his heart would burst, John knew he needed to calm down, he knew he needed to think rationally, he knew, he had to find a way to get rid of the witnesses. And then of course, there was his wife, Sharyl. She would understand, wouldn't she?

Unaware of her husband's own inner turmoil, Sharyl's thoughts turned more towards her part in the whole debacle. The simple fact of the matter was, if no one had known she was already pregnant, it was simply because no one had bothered to look. Because the in vitro treatment had taken successfully, she hadn't felt any need to know the gender of her baby, preferring instead to let nature take its course. And besides, what did it matter if one of her children wasn't human? She had been the one to carry him inside her body after all. So of course that meant he was still her son. And nothing and no one would ever be able to take that away from her.

As they turned a corner to see an orderly smoking next to an open window, Sharyl said. “There's someone over there. Let's ask him.” Wheeling herself over to him, She left John standing dumbfounded. “Excuse me, we're looking for our—”

John was quick to cut her off. “We're looking for observation room thirteen.”

“This area's off limits to civilians.” Said the orderly. “You two shouldn't be back here. I'm going to have to call security.” He started to reach for the comm unit on his shoulder, only to stop as John slid a loaded cred card into the pocket on the front of his shirt.

“We have,” Tapping the card for emphasis. “Special permission to be back here.”

The orderly arched a single eyebrow. “In that case.” With a surreptitious glance to check ans see if anyone might be watching, he said. “Its down the hall on your left, go about fifty feet and you can't miss it.”

As the orderly started to walk away John awarded his wife with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “You're welcome.”

Sasha, a young tigress chimera whose own recent miscarriage had left her feeling drained and weak, lay stretched out on the floor of observation room thirteen.

Blessed with exotic looks and a rare wit, she had originally been trained as a companion, and had dreamed of one day becoming known as a dancer. She had even managed to make something of a name for herself as a songwriter during her all too brief career working for an opera house. And while she longed to be able to someday take credit for her own work, those hopes had been dashed the day some executive at Exotica Geno-Works had decided that she would be far more profitable as a breeder. The idea being that her desirable traits would be passed along to her offspring.

Curling into a ball she wondered what kind of future lay in store for her. How many cubs would they be able to get out of her before her womb finally collapsed? Six? Seven? And how long would she be able to hold them before the handlers came and took them away.

Unable to summon even a single shred of human emotion Sasha felt herself sinking into the dark depths of despair.

With nothing to distract her from the pain that she felt, no link to the outside world, no companionship that might have served to sustain her in her hour of need, even the music that she loved seemed lifeless and empty without the seemingly endless passion that had once given it meaning. As for the observation room itself, it had recently been emptied of everything save those few necessities that served to make life livable, if not bearable.

The handlers had assured her that it was all for her safety of course. That they were only afraid that she might do something to harm herself in the wake of her recent miscarriage.

Sasha wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. They thought that she was a fool who had no understanding of the way things worked in the real world. That she lacked even the ability to comprehend the fact that they were only acting to protect their own selfish interests.

The truth