Free Species by Yvonne Navarro

technician; the man pressed a button and the panorama of Arecibo was replaced by laboratory film, less scenic images of microscope slides on a grid marked with three-letter codes. A motorized syringe began moving across the grid, following a preset computer program as it injected the untried DNA into the waiting ova, its maneuvers accompanied by the low hum of motors as the technician at the console punched a few keys and added sound. Each injection generated a tiny flow of iridescent color in the receiving dish. A message typed itself across the bottom of the screen: 93% FAILURE RATE; SEVEN DIVISIONS; TWO ASSIGNED TO LIQUID NITROGEN STORAGE.
    “Four of the remaining five divisions deteriorated and were disposed of,” Fitch stated, “and we allowed one to grow. Watch very carefully now.” On the screen, time-lapse photography showed the minuscule life-form in the dish expanding rapidly. Type ran briefly across the screen: CODE NAME: SIL.
    The image flashed and began with a glass container filled with fluid. The mass of tissue was growing incredibly fast, and in only a few breathtaking moments it became recognizable as a human fetus. Even Press leaned forward to watch as Dr. Fitch began a countdown to go with the illustrations, pointing with his finger to make sure they knew which number went with which picture.
    “After two hours,” he observed. “Now after two days.” A newborn floated in the container, and Dan jumped visibly when the infant opened its eyes. Offscreen, somebody lifted the infant gingerly from the fluid and placed it in a waiting bassinet. The person doing it was wearing bulky rubber gloves and a reinforced suit that looked like it belonged on an astronaut.
    “My God!” Stephen’s mouth dropped open.
    Laura sat up straight, her eyes fixed on the screen. “This timetable can’t be accurate—the growth is amazing!”
    “It’s the actual time frame, all right.” Fitch sounded grim. “I was there and witnessed it, supervised this footage myself.” The image on the screen flicked again, and there was project SIL, now about four years old. “A week,” he said flatly.
    “It’s a girl,” Dan said softly. “A miracle.”
    “Yes,” Dr. Fitch agreed. “We decided to make it a girl so it would be more docile and controllable.”
    This time a glance passed between Laura and Press. She rolled her eyes and Press looked disgusted as he sneered, “More docile and controllable? You guys don’t get out much, do you?”
    “You kept her caged like that?” Laura demanded. “The whole time? No socialization or interaction with a maternal figure?”
    Fitch seemed startled by the question. “Outside of the workers, no. Of course we kept her secluded. We didn’t know what we were dealing with here, so we agreed it would be safer to keep her in isolation for two weeks. Our initial assumption was that we were building a creature with which we could communicate, from which we could learn. Because of her half-human lineage, we assumed she would be able to talk to us. Unfortunately, we were not able to convince her to do so.” Another image flashed on the screen and the group saw a more mature young girl in a large glass enclosure, Sil at twelve years old. Technicians moved around her, filling out charts and adjusting the dials on the medical monitors scattered around the cage, while guards watched the whole procedure, their expressions mirroring the mistrust on the faces of their white-coated coworkers.
    Stephen watched her movements speculatively. “Not much warmth or interaction,” he said, “but she can talk, all right.”
    Laura’s forehead creased. “How do you know that? She hasn’t said anything. What’s to say she understands?”
    “Here.” The professor leaned toward one of the monitors, paused a second, then tapped the screen. “And . . . here. Watch her eyes. They move from person to person—she’s reading their lips.”
    “Fascinating,” Laura breathed. “And in only two