The world wasn't quite ready for the science of gene editing. At least, that's what all the opinion pieces said after the dust had settled.
The cautious reports coming out of competing laboratories in the US and China started out fairly tame. They described new types of gene therapy that could literally rewrite genetic code. The cutting edge new tech might mean cures for congenital diseases, said scientific journals approvingly.
But things swiftly picked up steam from there. A major pharmaceutical company announced that they had successfully changed the fur color of mice using the experimental new technology. Then tail length. Then one America lab made a rat with six legs, seemingly without side effects. China wasn't far behind, quickly approving human trials, which proved just as safe and effective as animal testing.
The world seemed poised on the edge of a revolution. People would be able to change their bodies with a simple outpatient procedure. Changes in height, weight, eye color... almost anything was on the table. Even changes to brain chemistry and structure were promised that could improve intelligence and learning ability.
For a few heady months, the media buzzed about the endless possibilities of the new gene editing technology. Some speculated that by the end of the year, the world would be filled with tall, beautiful, intelligent supermen.
But then doubts began to seep in. What else could this technology be used for? Could a simple gene editing treatment be used to give an enemy a deadly genetic disease? Had adequate testing been done on what would happen if gene-edited people had children? What kind of power would the holders of this technology have?
In a wave of suspicion and pessimism, development of the technology came to a screeching halt, frozen by new strangling government regulations.
The technology faded from the news as development shifted to carefully controlled government laboratories, and everyone forgot about it.
Well, almost everyone.
...
Sid Donner watched dully as the breakroom vending machine whirred, then failed to dispense the candy bar he had paid for.
Great. Awesome. Just another perfect day in his perfect fucking life. Sid let his head slump forward, his thick coke-bottle glasses clicking against the glass of the vending machine at the same time his forehead bumped against it. He had been half hoping that the nudge would dislodge the candy bar he had paid for, but no such luck.
He turned with a sigh and made his way toward an empty table, carefully keeping a wide berth from the loudly chattering group at the table in the center of the room. It would be best not to catch his coworkers' attention... Sid had become a bit of a persona non grata around the lab during the past few months, and if they noticed him, those fucking assholes wouldn't hesitate to give him a hard time.
Sid had never fit in particularly well at Excellular Labs. It was sort of the nature of his job: while all of the fancy-pants PHDs worked on cutting-edge research, he was just the IT guy making sure their computer systems were running smoothly. So it was hard to mix socially with his coworkers.
Sid had to watch every female employee from the cleaners all the way up to the research heads flirt with the hunky male scientists on a daily basis while barely acknowledging that he existed.
So was it any wonder that he had tried to use every advantage available to him to get a leg up?
Sid was absolutely certain that if he was better looking and better paid, what he had done would have been considered cute and romantic. Instead, when he had done some light snooping in a cute lab tech's emails to find out where she liked to go for coffee and what her favorite flowers were, then showed up with a bouquet, she had loudly accused him of being a "creepy stalker".
Sid still seethed with anger remembering when his boss Clark, the biggest, bro-iest scientist of them all, had called him into his office and laid into him, calling him "unprofessional" and "predatory". Clark also for some reason brought up the time Sid had accidentally tripped near one of the secretaries and touched her chest. As if that had anything to do with the matter at hand. Clark had made his position clear: he wanted Sid to be fired, but the higher-ups said there wasn't enough proof of wrongdoing. After all, Sid stuck steadfastly to his story that he had simply made some lucky guesses.
But despite the fact he had escaped being canned, when word got around about Sid's alleged "creepiness" it caused pretty strong reactions from the other smug scientists on staff. Sid got dirty looks and disparaging comments everywhere he went these days.
Luckily, the group at the central table seemed too deep in a discussion to notice him today. Sid collapsed into a chair and buried his head in his arms. He was so fucking tired. It seemed like lately he felt worn out no matter how much he slept. But he wasn't too tired to catch the next part of the conversation from the table in the center of the room.
"I swear to fucking God," said a tall, sandy-haired lab tech. Sid thought his name was "Dave", or something close to that. "The whole industry is buzzing about it online. Someone high-up in the initial gene editing research took some key equipment with them when they got shut down." Sid's ears perked up, and he raised his head from where he had buried it in his arms.
"And now they're selling gene therapy by mail?" said a dark-haired female scientist in glasses, her voice heavy with skepticism. "Come on, Dale. You know how illegal that is. The feds would be all over them within a week." Sid's eyes flickered automatically over the woman's body. Too skinny for his tastes. His eyes darted away.
Dale shrugged. "Hey, I'm just telling you what I heard. I even emailed the address that people say you need to contact to set up the services, and I got a response. Who knows? Maybe this rogue scientist is dumb enough to think they can get away with it."
Another male scientist scoffed in disbelief. "You EMAILED them? You're going to try out a shady gene-editing-by-mail operation?"
Dale laughed. "Fuck no! I'm not that dumb. I just wanted to see if the email had someone on the other end." The cheerful group moved on to other topics, but Sid stopped listening. Gene editing... Sid had followed the news religiously during the intense coverage of the new science a few years back. It had felt like a lifeline to a new, better existence for a short, scrawny man like him. His disappointment had been crushing when the research progress had been forcibly halted.
... But it looked like maybe that hope hadn't been completely extinguished after all.
That afternoon, Sid did a little more light email snooping, this time, in Dale's account. Luckily, the lab tech had been dumb enough to do his little email experiment on his work account. Getting the email of the mysterious gene editor was simple. Now all Sid had to do was send an email of his own.
Just to sound things out of course. Sid would definitely do his research first before trusting some stranger on the internet.
...
A few weeks later.
Sid's heart pounded as he ripped open the small box that was waiting for him in his mailbox when he got home from work.
The contents weren't anything fancy: just two glass vials of clear amber liquid, a small note, and enough foam padding to ensure safe delivery. Both vials were labeled with a firm, legible hand. One read "Eyesight" and the other "Energy". The small note read "Take before bed mixed with hot liquid. You may experience some side effects while genetic changes are taking place."
Well... here they were. He was really doing this. Sid had settled on two initial changes: perfect eyesight and a cure for his issues with fatigue. Even as eager as he was, Sid had done his homework. In his correspondence with the anonymous scientist, Sid insisted that the mystery man explain exactly how the process worked and what changes he would be making.
The response he got to his questions went way over his head of course. Just a jumble of science jargon and long strings of genetic code. But Sid was careful. He brought in some of the genetic code from the email and asked his boss Clark if he knew what it meant.
Clark didn't like Sid, but he was the sort of pompous ass that couldn't help but explain something if he thought he had a captive audience. Although he had to sit through a long-winded explanation from his stupid, tall boss, Sid got the information he needed. Clark said the genetic code sent to Sid was an example of the genes for the formation of the ocular lens.
That was good enough for Sid. Clark had no reason to lie. The mystery gene editor was legit. All it took at that point was sending in a genetic sample and a fair chunk of money to the address provided, and here, just two weeks later, Sid had the life-changing therapy in his hands.
The note said to wait until bedtime, but fuck it, Sid had waited long enough. He made himself some mint tea, unscrewed the vials, dumped them into the mug, and then downed it in one long chug.
It tasted foul. Chemical. No doubt the bits of genetic code had been suspended in some sort of preservative. For a few minutes, nothing happened as the concoction made its way slowly into his bloodstream. Then, little by little, Sid's eyes began to feel itchy. At first, he thought he might just be imagining it, but the sensation grew until it was impossible to ignore. Sid rubbed his eyes as his vision began to blur. The note had said something about "side effects"... Was this itching feeling normal, or had something gone wrong? He was just starting to feel an edge of panic when a massive wave of fatigue seemed to crash over him all at once.
It was like nothing he had ever felt. Sid had been dealing with nagging fatigue for months, but this feeling almost made him want to collapse right there at the table and sleep for hours. Suddenly the intense itchiness of his eyes seemed like a distant concern.
It was all Sid could do to stumble to bed and tear off his clothes before he was out like a light.
...
