“Okay,” sê Dick. Hy verstaan nou vir wat Salt nie sy sit kan kry nie. “What type of gene loss?”
“The hush-hush, if-the-people-find-out-we’re-in-deep-dust kind.”
Dick se gesig voel onbeweegbaar. Ná al hierdie jare.
Dwayne se arms begin weer beduie. “The corn has been affected most. The –”
Dick staan op. Dwayne bly stil.
“How did it happen?” vra Dick. “How could it happen? We – destroyed – every – last – SeedSci – specimen. We –”
“There was that GM cornfield at Godsakker,” sê Salt.
“I was there myself when it was being destroyed,” sê Dick. “No sign of pollen yet.”
Dwayne lig sy skouers.
“It could be sabotage. Somehow. Those Godsakker people were befok with us. They could have –”
“I doubt it. I doubt they have the know-how,” sê Dick. “But we might have to ask the Sec Centre to start an investigation.”
Salt snork. “Since when do you pass things to the Sec Centre?”
“We have to focus on the seed. The saboteurs are a distraction.”
“Daar was ’n tyd wat jy al twee ondersoeke lag-lag –”
“Seriously?” val Dick hom in die rede.
“Sorry. That was cheap.”
Khanyi lag.
“What about the other grains?” vra Dick.
“The spelt and the buckwheat have a similar problem. Fifteen and twelve percent gene loss respectively. The others have been stable in terms of … that type of thing.”
“So jy sien,” sê Salt, “we need a serious plan of action.”
“That incest trial was today. Divusity is basking in the outcome. If they get wind of this, Celebrate 20 might turn into some kind of … homogeneity witch hunt,” sê Khanyi.
“You don’t think …” begin Dick. “If Divusity ever did want to gain more power, such a seed scandal would create the perfect platform.”
“Let’s not go there yet,” sê Salt. “But keep this from the Sec Centre. Divus has got a lot of pull in that place.”
Dwayne sit vorentoe in sy stoel. “I’ve been reading up.” Hy vryf sy hande teen mekaar. “Finger millet is the answer. Never a GM variety …”
“We know,” sê Salt.
“Oh.” Dwayne lyk teleurgesteld.
“We had seeds,” begin Salt. “But we were overeager. We planted when the laserkappers hadn’t been installed.” Hy bly stil.
“What happened?” vra Dwayne.
“Queleas happened. After that, our supply dwindled and …” Salt skiet sy vingers in die lug op.
“There has to be more seed somewhere. We just need to find it,” sê Dick.
“Skot Smal was in Kylemor yesterday, but I doubt whether he would’ve got anything out of the Jafta woman.” Salt kyk op sy Pulse. “I don’t have an update from him yet.”
“Maybe it’s not necessary. Maybe the Specimen contestant slash spy found something to force their hand.” Dick staan op en kyk na Salt. “En ek sal uitkyk vir saboteurs.”
* * *
Die suidooster pomp. Vlaag op vlaag stof bombard die mense op die oopte tussen die Kweekhuis en BioG:E. Omtrent die helfte van die mensgros – meestal Gais – sit kruisbeen in rye op die grond.
’n Divusite staan op die Atremstasie se platform en praat oor sy Pulse se voice enhancer: “Fellow Meconites, we have always rejected the idea of purebred animals. In fact, it has always been clear that it goes against the guiding principle of our enclave: protecting and restoring diversity. But until recently, we have been blind to the sinfulness and threat of inbreeding. In a small community such as ours it is a real danger to the stronghold of our gene pool. Thank Divus that the undermining actions of this young offender was brought to our attention and that today an example can be set as to how this type of behaviour will be dealt with.”
Twee MecSecs maak Julie om haar middel aan die paal vas. Die stof maak dit onmoontlik om details uit te maak, maar Foos weet daar is net ’n langmoujurk tussen haar en die stof. Hulle sou seker gemaak het sy’t nie MecBreaths of plaklense in nie.
’n Ander Divusite praat van die BioG:E se dak af. “We place these dead snakes at the feet of the offender” – sy en nog ’n persoon lig twee slange op – “to remind ourselves of the importance of this brave and noble mythical animal: Not only did it open the tree of differentiation and naming to the human mind, it also opened up paradise to include not only Eden, but also the deserts, the oceans, the mountains, the valleys.”
Hulle sit die slange neer en iemand begin skree. “In the name of Diversity! Ekungafanini kwethu! In die naam van diversiteit!” Die frases word harder en mense rits hulle weather hoods oop en vat happe stof om daaraan volume te gee.
Na ’n ruk gaan soek baie van die Divusites skuiling in Portions B. Foos sit weer langs Joni, sy kamermaat van die afgelope agt jaar. Behalwe vir Julie is Joni sy enigste close vriend. Hy’t albei sy ouers aan Dikvel afgestaan toe hy twaalf jaar oud was. Amehlo amnyama, sê ’n mixer by MecShack wat vir Joni beoog. Meestal is Foos bly hy’t nie die intense gemis waarvan Joni soms praat nie: ’n spesifieke gebaar of aanraking of atmosfeer. Maar soms wens hy dat sy eie ouers meer was as ’n foto en ’n tattoo. Hy vryf oor die meerkat wat oor sy pols strek.
Hy pulsepost vir Joni. Celebrate 20 is ’n siek grap.
Sibhiyozela intoni? kom die antwoord.
Foos knik. Hier’s niks om te vier nie.
Toe die twee uur verby is, help hy en Joni vir Julie se ma en nog ’n huisvriend om Julie hospitaal toe te dra.
* * *
Die skimmer strek al ver; dit sit saam met die onwinter in Dick se hande. Die boute begin tussen sy donnerse vingers bewe. Bo die Herwinaanleg kom en gaan die Atrem parties. Dit het pas begin en dit knaag klaar aan hom. As Sias Smous net wil laat weet of hy die oorspronklike stuurwiel kon kry.
Sy Pulse vibreer. Dis die MecSec wat in Close Enough patrol.
Sias nie terug. By bar sê hulle hulle wag hom vanaand of môre.
Dan is daar nog die hoop dat hy iets saambring. Dick kyk na die Ford Capri, vryf oor die bakwerk. As hy ’n laaste trip met sy oupa se Beauty kan maak …
“What’s the rush? Don’t I deserve a few nights off? I worked for forty straight.”
Dick se rug ruk styf. Fok. Hy’s nie meer lus vir sulke ontsenuende mense nie.
“Wakinyan,” sê hy. “Welkom terug.”
Die jonger man staan arms gevou teen ’n tafel waarop elektriese kabels gesorteer lê.
“Ons moet so gou moontlik debrief en môre is my skedule vol.”
“With what? Gholf and wheels?”
Die jong man kom nader gestap. “Where did you find this thing?” Hy wys na die motor. “It’s kief.”
Toe die kind die syspieël oplig en kyk of sy tande skoon is, voel Dick verlig hoe die hardheid in hom kom lê. Vir dié fokker vertel hy nie hoe hy Saterdae saam met sy oupa deur Wellington gecruise het in die Ford nie. Hoe hulle vakansies in die veertig grade Celsius-garage gewerk het en blinkgevryf en bewonder