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"Bovine Parents"

CHAPTER 2

The pale blue sedan barrelled down the country road, keeping its occupants on edge as the surface became rougher and rougher the further from 'civilisation' they got. One driver, one passenger. On a mission of dubious morality.

"Jesus Carl," Lacey sniped, "can you be any more of a road hog?"

"Listen Ms. Cain," came the driver's reply, "we're already running late, do you want to have to tell the board of directors the programme fell through because we had a one-hundred-percent failure rate on conversion?"

"No, I--"

"Or that after sinking a fuck-ton of cash into this little venture, we still have nothing to show for ourselves. Think about that, hmm? All that security and research -- all very expensive and hush-hush -- gone...poof...completely pointless! None of the higher-ups are going to take that as anything short of a direct insult." He was right, much as she hated to admit. Her division had already lost most of its funding and personnel during company reshuffles, the project was just running on fumes now. She'd staked her reputation on the programme being a success and had spent a lot of time currying favour with upper management. They'd decided to put their faith in her. She needed results.

"I know how deep were in Carl, just stop with the boy racer act, please."

"Coming to your senses yet?"

"You're my driver, I don't pay you for career advice."

"You should. I'm the only one looking out for our skins at the moment. Been shouldering more and more of the burden as folks jumped ship."

Carl -- in a moment of consideration -- slowed his driving down to an acceptable speed. Lacey gave an exasperated sigh as she stared out of the passenger window. It was raining.Great, she thought, even the weather's turned its back on us. She returned her gaze to the pile of bound papers resting on her lap; the purpose of today's excursion. She rifled through them as she'd done many times already during the drive. It helped keep her focused on work, and not her impending career implosion. Steadying any loose pages that were beginning to move around as Carl continued his subdued - but nonetheless reckless - driving, Lacey's view intensified on the printed characters before her:

REIMOND, ERIC

(first signatory)

REIMOND, SANDRA

(spouse, second signatory)

22. Outer Corell,

Canassia Wilds,

Barson State,

Unimerica.

"Worried about that lot?" Carl asked.

"No," she lied, "I have a good feeling about this..." she lied again. Carl hopefully wasn't paying too much attention to her as she was terrible at hiding her emotions from him. He was freakishly good at sussing people out. Good enough that she wondered why he'd stuck with being a chauffeur-cum-handyman at all. Surely there were better jobs out there for...well..mind-readers.Then again, she thought,if he paid half as much attention to the road as he did to peoples' faces...

"Don't be," Carl interrupted her train of thought, "from you've told me this Reimond family, Edric and Sarah--"

"Eric and Sandra," she corrected.

"Sure, they seem like good sorts. Just having a shit time of late."

"I suppose so. It never feels good to be the ones taking advantage of their shit time though."

"Eh, matter of perspective, Still, heck of a lot better now you're taking charge of this recruitment. You're a much nicer person than the usual con-men we had out hunting for_marks_ -- I mean -- willing volunteers..."

She couldn't argue that point. The Reimonds were her last hope of ever proving this genetic technology profitable. They'd already been in touch but been given the run-around by one of her so-called con-men. Lacey had once and for all decided to get personally involved in the nitty-gritty of the programme she had so adamantly pushed for. Obviously that required selecting the experimental subjects and meeting them in person. Mr. and Mrs. Reimond came across as quite amicable once the initial shock and confusion subsided.

Her first meeting was promising enough, now she just had to make the damn thing work. Of the seven tests already performed, there were no survivors. The company had of course 'removed' the evidence and bribed their way out of any tricky investigations. That was the benefit of using only poor nobodies as test subjects, they were poor nobodies! However, all the dead peasants in the world wouldn't save her if she didn't get those results.

The Bovinex corporation loved covering for her fuck-ups. Her boss told her so. Granted, he was speaking much more sarcastically than usual when he did.

"So," Carl began, "tell us about our lovely couple."

Lacey reviewed the Reimond family files, filling her driver in on the remaining details. "Farmers. Sorry, former farmers...large debts accrued as the industry collapsed, unable to pay...one son, fifteen, decent schooling. Not part of the programme mind you, just mom and dad. No major health issues...dirt poor right now..."

"Sounds like everyone's life story these days. Who owes what and how much."

"Yep, and in swoops us to the rescue."

Genetic hybridisation, transmogrification...call it what you will, it was basically magic. The science was relatively new and a closely-guarded secret of a number of genetics firms, including her employers. It was her (brilliant/horrifying -- depending on your point of view) idea to graft traits of other animals onto humans for the purpose of creating better workers in their respective fields, at least in the agricultural sphere. She wasn't aware of what other companies were currently experimenting with -- nor did she want to care. What was on her plate alone was enough.

"How much longer?"

"Twenty minutes, chief." Carl was beginning to speed up again. Although it unnerved Lacey -- who never hand much of a thing for high speeds -- there were at least no other vehicles on the road. And she could understand how anxious he probably was to keep his job.

This would be the most extreme form of the programme yet. Taking not just a few select traits and peppering them into the human genome, but full hybridisation. Their lead scientist claimed this would not be like previous failures. He'd assured her the reason they failed before was because they were being too careful, too limited in what they were changing. You needed to go full throttle on the gene modification. Eric and Sandra Reimond would be the guinea pigs for this theory.

In order to facilitate their drastic changes, Lacey needed to make sure they ware away from prying eyes and that her remaining staff were able to secure a test location. If she found that the Reimond family home satisfied both concerns they could begin the alteration procedures within the next week. Her bundle of documents contained numerous contracts for all sorts of legal (read: unethical but allowed) arrangements to be made with their new subjects. They needed money, she could provide that in exchange for unfettered control over their bodies, their lives even.

Some of the original test subjects had been of a less-than-savoury character, provided to her by the oh-so-generous operators of the county prison. They generally had...other life plans that didn't involve their genes being tampered with, and as such were violent and prone to escape attempts. She knew that this could only work if she could get people willingly and have them survive the process.

They'd tried the stick, now it was the carrot's turn. If only she could ensure her 'volunteers' lived long enough to make use of said carrot.Speaking of...I wonder if there's a use for rabbit DNA...

* * *

Tommy watched Lacey's car pull into their driveway, putting a definitive end to the notion that he might be dreaming right now. This was absolutely, without a doubt happening. His parents were going to be in some weird experiment that an imposing agri-genetics corporation was paying big bucks for. He kept himself behind the blinds and observed from the window as the chauffeur opened the passenger door.

Out stepped the middle-aged woman his parents had mentioned. She wore a fairly normal suit-dress, black with heels, and carried an armful of papers. She strode confidently towards their front door -- though she did look a little unready as the doorbell rang. Tommy heard his father answer.

"Good evening. Ms. Cain wasn't it?"

"Yes that's correct," he parents were right, the woman did have a reassuring tone, "could I step inside? The weather is quite dreadful!"

"Of course, come on in. My wife is waiting to talk in the dining room." The sound of Eric's and Ms. Cain's footsteps echoed up the stairs to Tommy's room, where he finally came away from the window. He sat there in silence for a number of minutes. God only knows what was being discussed below.

He decided to go downstairs shortly thereafter, to sate his morbid curiosity. As he entered the kitchen he saw the woman lay our a plethora of thick, hard-bound contracts. He kept moving closer to get a better look at the proceedings between his parents and their new...employer? Owner?

In no time he was noticed, and his parents beckoned him over to the dining room as their guest turned to face him.

"Ms. Cain, this is our son Thomas; or Tommy as he likes to be called."

The woman extended her arm, accompanied by a warm smile. "Hello Tommy. You can call me Lacey. I'm here to help your parents out with their financial problems. Are you aware of what the Bovinex corporation does?"