Work Text:
Future Thoughts
by IrenaAdler
"I really think you should consider this, Charlie," Millie said earnestly. "It's a great honor and, well, it would be a shame if the world lost the potential of your genes."
Charlie stared at the letter that Millie had handed him. The letterhead said, in restrained formal type, `Repository for Genitive Diversity.' "Why aren't they asking for egg donations from Amita or Dr. Barbera?"
"Egg donation is a lot more complicated and debilitating. Guys just take a few minutes with some porn magazines and, badabing."
Charlie winced at Millie's phrasing and frowned back at the letter. It was a request for his `germinal DNA,' i.e. his sperm. "They aren't trying to create a master race or anything, are they?"
Millie smiled wryly. "I checked up on them before passing this on to you. They are a research institution who is collecting sperm from people who excel in any field – artistic, intellectual, leadership, sports …"
"Math," Charlie added.
"Right, and they are cataloging the DNA with the characteristics of the donor. A woman who wants a sperm donor can't request a `recipe' for a music genius or anything. They get a random anonymous donor and then the child is studied at age five, fifteen, and twenty-five to see if certain kinds of talents are transmitted genetically."
"Still sounds kind of creepy."
Millie shrugged. "A little. But they're also creating a library of quality DNA. There is a lot of evidence that toxins in our modern environment are degrading fertility, and some day we may have to turn to advanced methods to just have a healthy child."
"Still …" Charlie said uneasily.
"Take your time, Charlie," Millie said gently. "I don't want you to do this unless you're comfortable with it. But I also don't want you to reject it out of hand. Especially since it looks like you won't be adding to the gene pool in the usual way …"
Charlie gave her a wry smile. As much as he might think of Nena as his little girl, genetically she wasn't. Unless he'd inadvertently fathered some child in his past, and he'd always been careful, this was the only way his genes would go to another generation. Even he wasn't exempt from that primal, fundamental drive to transmit one's genetic material. He folded up the letter then slid it into his briefcase. Millie nodded and began talking about the next curriculum meeting.
At supper that night, Charlie showed Alan and Colby the letter.
Alan's eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious about this?"
"I don't know," Charlie said, stirring his pasta around his plate. "Millie had some good arguments."
Alan gave a sympathetic chuckle. "She usually does."
"What do you think?" Charlie asked Colby.
"Well," Colby said slowly, "That's a tough one. On one hand, I wouldn't want to have kids I didn't know about walking around in the world."
"Yeah, maybe I shouldn't—"
"On the other hand," Colby continued. "I may be biased, but I think you're pretty special and saving even a piece of you for generations to come seems like a good idea."
Charlie smiled at Colby, pleased at the unusually open praise.
"Colby has some good arguments too," Alan said wryly.
"Yeah," Charlie said and stared off into space. Alan and Colby waited for Charlie to say something more, and when he didn't they took this as a sign he didn't want to talk about it more and started discussion Nena's upcoming visit.
Nena… Charlie thought warmly. She was one of the big surprises in his life, how much he enjoyed having her around, how much he cared about the little imp. What would it be like to have a little brown-eyed, black-curled girl? Would she like math? Or would she be musical, like his mother?
Charlie shook himself and reminded himself firmly that kids didn't come out 5-years-old, but as babies, frightening alien creatures. He wasn't in any position to be thinking about babies. Nena was enough work for anyone.
Still … he liked the idea that somewhere out in the world someday might be that little girl – with her grandfather's mind for engineering and her grandmother's talent for public speaking. He hoped she wouldn't get an Eppes nose.
More than anything that anyone had said about passing on the Charlie Eppes genes, what Charlie really wanted was a chance to gift the world with another Alan Eppes or Margaret Mann. Don wasn't going to have kids so this might be the one chance.
He took the letter and placed it back in his briefcase. Tomorrow he'd talk to Millie about how to go about donating his sperm. Yeah, maybe I can do something for future generations, after all.
end