Page 5 - Tales Apocalyptic and Dystopian

The Spark of Life

She sat on the edge of her chair, fidgeting while Johnson
scanned the text for the key phrase. Yes, there it was: the entire
estate in trust, hundreds of millions, to benefit the Church in
perpetuity—unless his daughter produced grandchildren, in which
case the proceeds were to be divided equally among them. The
income had swollen the UCA’s coffers for decades, and the world
had forgotten about the terms of the endowment. Had Mrs.
Everly forgotten?—or her husband? The right reverend lightly
tapped a few keys and glanced quickly at the dossier of Anthony
Everly, journeyman electrician. The couple’s participation in UCA
activities was lukewarm at best, and any occupation requiring
technical expertise offered opportunities for unwarranted and
blasphemous inferences concerning the origins and functions of
natural phenomena.
Johnson was on the horns of a dilemma. If he denied the
Everlys’ application for implantation, he would have to provide
them with some justification beyond the bounds of his constituted
authority. It was obvious to him that the woman’s desire, when
thwarted, would turn to an unquenchable thirst for vindication
and revenge. On the other hand, granting her wish would deprive
the UCA of considerable future gain. Either way, his cabinet
position was jeopardized. But he had studied enough history to
know what course of action to take.
He smiled.
“Yes. I see no complications with your request. I have approved
it. Please make an appointment with the medical officer for the
procedure to be implemented next week.”
Her relief was palpable.
“Oh, thank you, reverend. This is the happiest day of my life.
This means so much to me and my husband. I can’t tell you—”
He raised his palm.
“Thank you, my good woman. And God bless you. Now I must
attend to other matters. Good day.”
She gathered her things and departed. Johnson returned to his
screen. It was unfortunate, but a power failure would have to
occur in synkaryon unit thirty-seven over the week end, sending
several hundred egg-bound souls back to their Maker. Perhaps an
electrician could be blamed, casting aspersion on Mr. Everly’s

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