THE QUESTIONS

Tempéra decides to wait for the couple to get up. Without a word, he rushes towards them to stop them with a hand wave. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts then asks them in a stern tone:

'Can I talk to you for a moment?'

'Of course, Professor Akheeli,' Mrs Karim replies with a smile.

They go and sit in the same room with the blue door as on the day of his arrival. Tempéra tries to calm down, searching for his words. Why would they sabotage his work?

'What are you doing to this child?' he finally asks.

'I thought you never asked questions, Professor Akheeli,' the woman says with a smirk, which immediately irritates Tempéra.

'When my work is at stake, then yes only have I to ask questions,' he retorts, challenging her with a glare.

'This may take a while,' the husband says, 'Would you like something to drink?'

'No, thanks. I just want the answer to my question,' Tempéra snaps.

'Are you even ready to hear it?' the wife asks.

'I'm listening,' he replies.

'A higher being is about to come into this world thanks to you professor,' Mrs Karim exclaims as her face lights up with joy.

Tempéra frowns while remaining silent to let her continue.

'Men have always believed that God and science were going in two opposite directions, but they've never been so far from the truth.'

'Any form of belief or religion has been banned for years, Madam,' he says.

'Just like artificial birth Professor Akheeli,' his client retorts, 'Men always do whatever they want no matter what, we both know that.'

'What did you do to that child?' he asks without further comment.

'Matter can be modified in many ways, Professor Akheeli: by matter and by thought.'

He lets out a mocking smile, but he remains silent for a long moment, staring at the woman sitting across from him. She is still smiling.

'Why did you call on me if you could do the job yourself... by thought?' he asks, amused.

'Precisely, we couldn't conceive a pure child without artificial birth,'

He can't stop a burst of laughter. He shakes his head for a few seconds as if to chase away the incoherent ideas that come to his mind. He has heard in the media of religious groups, cults and sects of all kinds that each year predict an imminent end of the world, an unborn saviour, and a resurrection for the lucky believers. Although there are many of those movements around, they know how to use discretion to go completely unnoticed in a world too busy to listen to the disarray of people in search of hope. For someone like Tempéra who believes in almost nothing, it is difficult to relate with the very people who believe in everything and anything. In spite of the conflicts and wars which didn't cease until the prohibition of all religions, he found these organisations quite harmless until now. Ever since the Treaty on Global Secularism, outlandish religious ideas only hurt those who get too close to them.

'Professor Akheeli, you don't believe in purity, do you?' the woman asks, interrupting the long silence.

'Have you looked at my face?' he says, giggling.

'I'm not talking about the purity of race, Professor Akheeli,' his client retorts.

'Listen Madam,' he says, standing up in exasperation, 'Believe whatever you want and do what you want with this child, I got your answer to my question, and I've heard enough. Now, if you'll excuse me,' he retorts as he heads for the door.

'Professor Akheeli,' calls the woman. She stands up and looks at him intently, 'What are you going to cling to when you've lost everything? Nothingness is much vaster than we think.'

He stops short, he turns to stare at his client. She doesn't look disillusioned or crazy, on the contrary. She has the shining and questioning eyes of intelligent women. She is quite simply convinced that she knows the secrets of the world just as he is convinced that he knows those of the incubator tube. The professor answers the woman with a smile before leaving the room without a word. Tempéra wonders by what miracle he hasn't come across more of those people in his career.