Orphans of Apollo - S2 E2
November 2021
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From the ashes of forgotten space dreams, a new era of exploration begins.
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Previously: Damian returned from his morning run to find out the UK had finally been put into lockdown. His lack of progress in finding a job finally elicited an ultimatum from his father. On opening his laptop, Damian ends up falling down a Twitter rabbit hole engaging with a group called True Genesis whist at the same time being hounded by Isaac, one of his former research colleagues.
There were only a few people ahead of Damian Osbourne in the non-US citizens line at Baltimore/Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport. The flight from London Heathrow had only been around half full. With travel restrictions just lifting, people had not yet gone back to their old ways, and many were still too nervous to travel. Damian actually wished there had been more people ahead of him, to give him a chance to settle his nerves. He drummed his fingers on his passport.
“Next please.” The customs agent motioned him forward with a practiced efficiency.
Damian forced himself to walk naturally to her booth, willing his legs not to betray his anxiety. He handed over his passport and the carefully prepared stack of documentation, his hand steady despite his racing heart.
“Purpose of your visit to the United States?” she asked, without looking up as she began scanning his documents.
“I have a position at Johns Hopkins,” Damian replied, proud that his voice remained level. “Research fellowship.”
This caught her attention and she looked up, her expression warming. “Oh really? What field?”
“Biochemistry,” he said, then immediately wondered if he should have been more specific. Would a real researcher have quoted their exact specialisation?
“That’s fascinating,” she said, seeming genuinely interested as she examined his visa. “We get quite a few Hopkins people through here. Great institution.”
Her friendliness only made him more nervous. Each follow-up question felt like it could be the one to unravel everything. But how could she know? The visa was real, even if the position wasn’t.
Could he really trust William Ashworth? He had never met him in real life. Conscious of all the stories of people meeting online and being conned somehow, or worse. And yet here he was, having flown to a foreign country to take up a phoney position, created by someone he had met online.
“Well, it seems the world needs people like you,” she said as she stamped his passport.
“Thank you,” he managed, as she handed it back to him.
“Welcome to the United States, Dr Osbourne.”
“Oh, I’m not Dr—” He caught himself. Although she had read the documentation, from the conversation she obviously assumed he was a Ph.D.
She looked a little confused.
“It’s ok, never mind. It was a long flight. My brain is still a bit scrambled.”
He walked through the final barrier, expecting at any moment someone to call him back. He fought the urge to look back over his shoulder. A few seconds later, he emerged into the arrivals area, a wave of relief washing over him. The crowd of people greeting arriving passengers was smaller than he had expected. Damian scanned the faces, looking for the man he’d only seen in video calls and the occasional piece in the media.
“Damian!”
He turned to see a tall man in his late forties approaching, dressed in a tweed jacket that seemed more suited to a Cambridge common room than an American airport. His appearance couldn’t have been anymore cliche if he had tried.
“Dr Ashworth,” Damian said, suddenly unsure of the proper greeting. He had spoken to William Ashworth many times via video call, and he had always insisted on William. Damian, conscious that he could be being watched, thought a more formal greeting seemed appropriate. Should he shake hands? Was that even allowed under current restrictions?
“William, please,” Ashworth said warmly, solving the handshake dilemma with a gentle pat on Damian’s shoulder. “May I?” he said, reaching for the handle of Damian’s bag.
“Oh, it’s ok,” said Damian, a little awkwardly.
“You made it, you’re finally here. You can relax now Damian.”
He looked unsure.
Ashworth smiled. “Come on, the car is this way.”
They walked in silence out of the terminal and into the car park. It was the first time Damian had been to the United States. Everywhere he looked, he noticed the differences. The obvious ones like driving on the other side of the road but also the sheer width of the roads and parking spaces, the oversized pickup trucks towering over what he would consider normal cars. The familiar words spelled differently on signs - “Center” not “Centre,” “Parking” not “Car Park” - made him feel like he was in some parallel universe where everything was just slightly off.
They reached Ashworth’s car, a modest silver Volvo station wagon. He loaded Damian’s bag in the trunk and closed it. Damian stood gazing into the middle distance.
“It’s probably hard to believe right now, but you really can relax,” said Ashworth as he motioned for Damian to get in. “Everything is in order. The position at Hopkins exists, at least on paper. The documentation is perfect.”
“What if someone checks?”
“They won’t. Academia is full of temporary research positions that come and go. Nobody questions it.”
Once they were in the vehicle, Ashworth turned to Damian. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in. You’ve taken an enormous leap of faith here. And for that, I am incredibly grateful.”
Damian stayed quiet while Ashworth negotiated his way out of the airport complex. After a few minutes, they were on the freeway.
“So,” Ashworth began, keeping his eyes on the road, “you’ve probably got questions about what happens next.”
“Yes, I guess I do.”
“We need to give what we are doing a formal structure. Up to now, it’s just been a collection of people online who share the same concerns. But after what happened with those girls in China...”
“Lulu and Nana,” said Damian.
“Yes. That was the wake up call for me. The genie is out of the bottle now, and we need to do something about it.” Ashworth gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “This should have happened sooner, but with all this disruption due to COVID it hasn’t been possible. We need to become a proper organisation, one that can influence policy and regulation.”
“Like a protest group?”
“No, well, not exactly. Environmental groups and anti-nuclear protesters are easily dismissed as cranks. We need to be different.” He glanced across at Damian. “That’s where people like you and me come in. We’ve been on the inside. We understand the science and technology. We can speak their language.”
“And be taken seriously.”
“Exactly. We can engage with lawmakers on their level. Point out the flaws in their arguments from a position of knowledge.”
They drove in silence while Damian processed this. Although they had discussed this online, now it felt real.
“There are others like us you know,” continued Ashworth. “Scientists who have become disillusioned. This technology was supposed to cure disease, solve world hunger. Instead, it’s being used to try and create a superior race.”
“Do you really think that’s where it is heading?”
“Maybe not consciously, not yet anyway. But that’s where it will lead. Look at what happened in China. They said it was to prevent HIV infection but really it was a proof of concept. The next step is designer babies for the wealthy. After that, who knows?”
“That is what regulation is supposed to be for?” said Damian.
“And did that stop your colleagues at Newcastle University?”
Damian said nothing, but gave Ashworth a knowing look.
“The regulations we have now are not enough. They need to be stronger, and that’s what we are going to do.” Ashworth paused. “Through legitimate channels, of course.”
“What sort of channels?”
“Well, we’ve already made some good connections in Congress.” Ashworth turned the car onto another street. “We can provide expert testimony at congressional hearings, draft policy papers, lobby for stricter oversight of research facilities.”
“And they’ll listen to us?”
“Money talks in Washington, and I’ve got some significant potential donors in mind who share our concerns. Mostly from the medical research community.” He glanced at Damian. “We can channel funds to political campaigns, set up action committees. All perfectly legal and above board.”
“I’ve never really understood American politics.”
“You will. The system here actually makes it quite easy for focused interest groups to have real influence. Especially if they have the right credentials behind them.” Ashworth smiled. “That’s where people like us come in. We’re not wild-eyed protesters. We’re respected scientists who’ve seen firsthand where this technology could lead.”
They turned into a tree-lined street of colonial-style houses. “Roland Park,” said Ashworth, sensing Damian’s curiosity. “It’s one of Baltimore’s first planned suburbs. Lots of academics live around here - close enough to Hopkins but far enough to forget about work sometimes.”
He pulled into the driveway of a Victorian-style house with distinctive cedar shake siding in a warm tan colour. A striking square tower with a steep pyramidal roof dominated one corner of the front facade. Well-maintained privet hedges lined the stone steps that led up from the sidewalk to a wraparound porch supported by classical white columns.
“Home sweet home,” said Ashworth, killing the engine. “The guest room is all made up for you. Beth insisted.”
As if on cue, the front door opened and a woman in her early forties appeared on the porch. She had shoulder-length brown hair and wore a casual dress with an apron over it.
“You must be Damian,” she called down from between the white porch railings. “Come in, come in. I’ve got a pot roast that’s just about ready.”
The interior of the house was exactly what Damian would have expected from a pair of academics - walls lined with bookshelves, comfortable but well-worn furniture, and various artefacts that looked like they’d been collected during travels abroad.
“How was your flight?”
“Long,” said Damian, still taking in his new surroundings. He instantly felt embarrassed by his curtness. “I think it’s the longest flight I’ve been on. I’m not really used to long distance travel.”
Beth looked at him warmly, then turned to William. “Why don’t you show Damian up to the guest room while I finish up dinner?”
The guest room was at the top of the house, in what must have originally been part of the attic. Ashworth opened a door, revealing a simply furnished space with sloping ceilings and dormer windows. A desk sat beneath one of the windows, looking out over the tree-lined street.
“Bathroom’s just at the bottom of these stairs,” said Ashworth. “Beth’s put fresh towels out.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
“Don’t mention it.” Ashworth looked at his watch. “Make yourself at home and freshen up. We’ll have dinner at six.”
Damian walked to the window and looked out at the darkening street. The houses opposite were starting to light up, warm glows appearing in windows, families settling in for the evening. Normal people living normal lives. Twenty-four hours ago he had been in his childhood bedroom in Willington, and now here he was, in a stranger’s house on the other side of the Atlantic.
From his vantage point Damian could see the skyline of Baltimore stretching away into the gathering dusk. Somewhere out there was Johns Hopkins, where a position had been fabricated for him. A position that would give him legitimacy while they built their movement. Everything Ashworth had said about influencing policy and working through proper channels made sense, but there was still something that didn’t sit right. Maybe it was just that there was no going back now.
He thought about what he had seen at Newcastle, what they were planning to do. The casual way they had discussed altering human embryos, as if they were merely adjusting lines of computer code. No, he couldn’t have stayed silent.
This was the only way forward, even if forward meant leaving everything and everyone he knew behind.
If you know someone you think would enjoy “Orphans of Apollo” or any of the other writing in “Explorations” please share this publication with them.
I hope you enjoyed season 2 episode 2. As I mentioned last week I first started writing Orphans of Apollo before the COVID pandemic. As I have gone back and edited it I have adapted or added scenes which include reference to the pandemic. Now that for the most part everyday life has returned to normal, those crazy times of travel restrictions and lockdowns seem almost like they were a bad dream. Unfortunately, they were very real. Going through these scenes has been a little surreal.
On a happier note next week is Christmas, so Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it. I must get on as those presents will not wrap themselves.
Thanks for reading,
Alex