"Kathleen Ann Goonan - The Bones of Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goose Mother)

research, she had lately filed many experimental conclusions away
without publishing. Sometimes she despised herself for sticking her
head in the sand, but really, what could one person do?
 Nothing, she told herself.
But was that really true?
Her field was fairly new and covetously administered by the
genetic engineering department at the University of Hawaii, for all
intents and purposes a branch of Interspace. Her thesis was an
exploration of the physiology of intelligence—whatever that
was—and what that might mean in regard to future space
exploration. One had to have an IS bias here; it was inescapable. It
was impossible to earn a degree at UH without it.
Child development had come a long way since the gender-biased
educational systems of the late twentieth century had been forcibly
dismantled, administrators and teachers kicking and screaming.
But in Lynn’s opinion, worse things were afoot. While investigating
schools for Masa, she had found that discreet inquiries were made
concerning the addition of Strand X to her fetus’s genetic code.
Called bionan, the manipulation of minute sequences in the
genetic code was being fiercely litigated in many forms worldwide.
If parents chose to bear a child whose physiology would manifest
mentally or physically crippling traits that could be easily corrected,
was that child abuse? Was it the state’s responsibility to pay for any
extraordinary care or education such children might require?
But for other children the definition of normality was becoming
ever more finely shaded, as Lynn had found.
There was nothing written—of course not; but in the interview the
administrator, sitting behind a desk made of opalescent material
that Lynn recognized as the latest space-age breakthrough, said, “Of
course, she’s going to be a happy child?” Her tone of voice gave the
phrase brand-name status.
“What?” asked Lynn. “I—”
“Oh,” said the woman, whose myriad degrees and certifications
caught the light behind her on the sun-dappled wall. “I’m sorry, I
forgot if it’s a boy or a—”
Lynn could forgive her that. But—“I don’t understand. Happy? I
hope so…” Then it dawned on her. “Oh! You mean—”
“Yes,” said the woman. “I can give you a list of labs that are
qualified to perform—”
Lynn had stood up, shaking. “That’s completely illegal,” she said.
“Oh,” said the woman brightly. “Don’t worry—we have close
connections with the state legislature. I have it on the highest
authority that it will be perfectly legal before the year is out.” She
whirled a screen toward Lynn, began punching buttons. “And then
you’ll be glad we insisted that your child got a head start.
Look—you’ll be so pleased with the results. Happy children are able
to learn so much more quickly without all those ridiculous
tantrums. Wait!”
Lynn had slammed out of the door, out of the school. She strode
across the busy street to a cool, tree-filled park and curled up on a