Essentially an exploration of life, character and the idea of fate, with arguments for both sides of the nature/nurture debate. And science.

Chapter 1
Letters To Eve

E-mail 1
To: Eve Niels
From: Leicester Niels, Genero Facility, England
January 11th 2051

My dearest Eve,
 I feel compelled to apologise for our less-than-frequent correspondence, but I have faith that you will forgive me and be understanding when I tell you that I’ve been undeniably busy.
 It is not only my own toils that drain my time and energy. Without seeming self-righteous, I do believe the fate of the world is currently on my shoulders. The actions of the United Kingdom are under scrutiny at present - and for good reason, I humbly admit that.
You see, my dear sister, the unforgivable mistakes of one man have plunged us all in to dire straits, we are a nation on the brink of Armageddon. That one man - that one, foolish man - is no other than my oldest friend and once one of my dearest colleagues.
You recall me telling you of Martin Yeoung, I presume? Yes, that young man whom I considered my only academic competition at Oxford is almost solely responsible for the inevitable destruction of His Majesty’s Kingdom. Hard to believe? Allow me to elaborate, my Eve:
The recent advances in both therapeutic and reproductive cloning have been marvellous, as you know. We have come a long way since Dolly the sheep indeed, yet genuine human cloning has not yet been attempted officially. Personally, I believe we have been ready for quite some time. We are able to replicate every organ in the human body, injured soldiers and amputees can be given a second chance at life with new limbs cloned from their own DNA, cancer survival rates have improved dramatically as infected organs can be removed and replaced if doctors are fast enough. There is a major roadblock in the way of our success though, and that is time. All of these things take time. A thirty-year-old cancer patient cannot be given a one-year-old organ, yet this person cannot wait thirty years for the organ to age appropriately either. For years, we have been limited to the reserves of organs we are able to keep until such a time as they are needed, and that is not many.
This is where my tale begins. You know how hard Yeoung and I have been striving for a means to combat the problems that time creates for us. Well, sister, we are on the verge of the solution.
‘Protegasis.’ That is the name given to both the saviour and the scourge of humanity. It is what I have been working on for years now, and what Yeoung so carelessly unleashed upon the nation in a manner that I could never have imagined.
Protegasis began life as a formula designed to be injected in to organs to accelerate growth, thus, with careful and controlled doses, sparing the lives of many who could not wait for a cloned transplant organ to grow. We were almost ready for it to be used in medicine. I’ll not bore you with the science, dear sister - I know you were always more practical than I - but I insisted that more tests be carried out in order to be certain we knew exactly what we were giving to our nation, and possibly the world.
And Yeoung fucked up. (I’m am sorry for my language, but I find it difficult to control my anger on this subject.) I trusted him with one of my greatest accomplishments and he ruined

it. However, it is not only my head on the chopping block. In his lackadaisical attitude and clumsy handling of the experiment he managed to stab himself with the syringe containing a significant measure of Protegasis. Angry as I was, I was still horrified that I would lose my old friend. I took solace in the thought that only he would be infected, allowing our team to learn from his fatal mistake and better my research. Tragically this was not the case.
We did all we could for Martin, I myself worked fervently to slow down Protegasis as it accelerated the ageing of his organs. It was harrowing to watch him transform from a vibrant, brilliant man in to a frail and shrivelled husk within a matter of months. Even harder was the discovery that Protegasis had mutated with a common cold passed from a junior member of the research team to Yeoung, and become a deadly airborne virus.
Protegasis, now a virus rather than a life-saving formula, began to spread among the staff at The Genero Facility and was transferred in turn to their families and friends outside of our laboratories before we knew it had happened. By the time we realised what was happening and quarantined the infected, it was too late; the virus had spread throughout the country.
I am meeting with the Prime Minister in the morning. Perhaps the sheer audacity of what I plan to propose will prevent the Genero Facility from being shut down completely. If not, I am honestly at a loss for alternate suggestions on combating this reincarnation of the Black Death.
I must take my leave, for I am running out of time. I bid you goodnight, my dearest Eve, and wish you the sweetest of dreams. I do miss you.
Leicester x

The End

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