Free Frameshift by Robert J. Sawyer Page B

dressed differently when going to see a prospective male customer than she did when the customer was female.
    “I’m sorry I’m late,” said Tiffany. “Traffic was murder coming across the bridge.” She handed him a yellow-and-black business card, then looked appreciatively around the lab. “You’re obviously a scientist.”
    Pierre nodded. “I’m a molecular biologist, working on the Human Genome Project.”
    “Really?” said Tiffany. “What a fascinating area!”
    “You know about it?”
    “Sure. We’ve had some great lectures on it at work.” She smiled.
    “Anyway, I understand you’re interested in talking about insurance options.”
    Pierre motioned for Tiffany to take a seat. “That’s right,” he said. “I’m from Canada, so I’ve never bought health insurance before. For a little while longer I’ll still meet the Quebec residency test, but—”
    Tiffany shook her head. “I’ve helped several Canadians over the years.
    Your provincial health plans cover you only to the dollar value that the same services would cost in Canada, where prices for medical services are set by the government. Here, there are no price controls. You’ll find that most procedures are more expensive, and your Quebec plan won’t cover the extra. Plus, the provincial plans provide for medical treatments, but not such things as private hospital rooms.” She paused. “Do you have any insurance under the faculty-association plan?”
    Pierre shook his head. “I’m not faculty. I’m just a visiting researcher.”
    She moved her attache case up onto the lab bench and opened it. “Well, then you’ll need a comprehensive package. We offer what we call our Gold Plan, which provides for one hundred percent of all your emergency hospital bills, including ambulance transfers, and anything else you might need, such as wheelchairs or crutches. Plus, it also covers all your routine medical needs, such as annual physical checkups, prescriptions, and so on.” She handed him a gold-embossed trifold brochure.
    Pierre took it and browsed through it. Huntington’s patients usually ended their lives with a protracted hospital stay. If it turned out he had the disease, he’d certainly want a private room for that, and — ah, good.
    This package also covered at-home nursing services and even experimental drug treatments. “Looks good,” said Pierre. “How much are the premiums?”
    “They’re on a sliding scale.” She pulled a yellow-and-black binder out of her attache case. “May I ask how old you are?”
    “Thirty-two.”
    “Do you smoke?”
    “No.”
    “And you don’t currently have any medical condition, like diabetes, AIDS, or a heart murmur?”
    “Right.”
    “Are your parents still alive?”
    “My mother is.”
    “What did your father die of?”
    “Umm, you mean my biological father, right?”
    Tiffany blinked. “Yes.”
    Henry Spade had passed away four years ago; Pierre had gone to Toronto for the funeral. “Complications from Huntington’s disease.”
    Tiffany closed the binder. “Oh.” She looked at Pierre for a moment.
    “That makes things rather complex. Do
you
have Huntington’s?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “You have no symptoms?”
    “None.”
    “Huntington’s is carried on a dominant gene, right? So you’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of having inherited the gene.”
    “That’s right.”
    “But you haven’t taken the genetic test for it?”
    “No.”
    She sighed. “This is very awkward, Pierre. I don’t make the decisions about who gets covered and who doesn’t, but I can tell you what’s going to happen if we put your application in now: you’ll be rejected on the basis of family history.”
    “Really? I guess I should have kept my mouth shut.”
    “That wouldn’t have done you any good in the long run; if you ever submitted a claim related to your Huntington’s, we’d investigate. If we found that you’d been aware of your family history at the time you applied for