THE BETRAYAL

At the end of the day, Tempéra remains in the laboratory to gather his belongings after everyone has left. He has copied the entire file as usual for each contract. The Karims are sitting in front of the tube with the same meditative silence.

'Well, thank you for your excellent cooperation, Professor Akheeli,' the couple say, holding out their hands almost simultaneously to him.

Tempéra finds the statement an insult to his work. He has participated in this experiment as a guinea pig and he now has to leave without an answer.

'You'll see me again in eight months as planned,' he says coldly as he shakes their hands respectively.

'Everything should be fine,' Mrs. Karim says with a smile.

Tempéra briefly gazes at the fetus in the tube before walking away. For the first time, he finds his work unfinished and his talent abused for a purpose whose values ​​he doesn't share. As absurd as it may seem to him, he is forced to admit that he has no control over what he does: his experiments, his research, his entire work depends on rich and capricious people. As for him, he is just a toy in their iron hands.

***

A woman in her 40's anxiously looks for a flight number on the giant screen above her as the little girl she holds by her hand jumps excitedly. They both have the same dark skin and mysterious mauve-brown eyes. The woman sighs with relief when she sees that there have been no delays. She isn't impatient to see her husband. Whether he is home or not makes no difference. Barely a few cordial words exchanged between two bites during their daily meal, a question here and there when something cannot be found, they live with each other on their own side only for their work and their daughter's sake with no middle ground for them to meet. She wonders how the gap between them has widened to finally become a huge cliff.

Tempéra has barely left customs when he already sees his wife and daughter. The latter gives him a big smile while waving at him. She lets go of her mother's hand to run towards him, holding out her arms. Suddenly, her silhouette disappears for a fraction of a second behind a passer-by. That's when he notices the three policemen walking towards him, or maybe they are walking towards the man next to him. He has a doubt. He knows he should act like he has nothing to feel guilty about, but today, after the events of the last few days, he freaks out. He stops for a moment, his heart pounding, he watches the people around him then again the policemen walking toward him, determined. It is him that they aim for; he is sure now. They stare at him straight in the eyes, their faces stern, one hand on the weapon at their side.

'Professor Akheeli Tempéra,' one of the policemen calls out, stopping in front of Tempéra as if to block his way.

Tempéra doesn't move, frozen by fear. He gasps and can barely answer, so he just nods.

'You are under arrest for....'

Tempéra doesn't hear anything anymore. Everything comes to life in slow motion around him. The lips of the policeman in front of him keep moving silently. He sees the two other police officers surround him and handcuff his hands behind his back. He sees his wife completely dazed by the scene as their daughter hangs from her arm in tears. Of course, it must only be a dream, he is bound to wake up at any moment ...

'Do you have any idea who the source of the authorities might be?' the man dressed elegantly asks Tempéra sitting in front of him.

'One of my clients, who else?!' Tempéra replies with a smirk.

'Certainly, but any idea of ​​which one?'

The first face that comes to mind to Tempéra is that of the Karim couple. They are the only ones who would have a good reason to do that to him. After all, their team of scientists unknowingly worked on artificially implanting the Babel gene into an embryo through artificial birth. It was thanks to his intervention during the experiment that they succeeded, but without keeping him informed. Maybe, they hoped he wouldn't have noticed. They have used him and now they want to silence him to make sure he doesn't advance in his research for the benefit of other clients. Because there must be only one saviour.

'Maybe,' Tempéra sighs in a barely audible voice, exhausted by his pain and anger, 'They're not even in Africa, none of my clients are,' he adds with lowered shoulders.

'African justice isn't lenient when it comes to genetic engineering, I guess you may know that,' the lawyer says in a clear and calm voice, 'I'm already surprised that the authorities placed a bail on your case. If we could negotiate with those who resent you, you'll certainly get a better outcome that way.' The lawyer thinks for a short moment as he looks intently at his client.

'Otherwise, you could risk life imprisonment,' he says.

As soon as the lawyer leaves, Tempéra starts pacing up and down in his cell. He has just given his lawyer the contact details of the Karim couple so that the latter can contact them. It is late in India. If they answer, it will most likely be tomorrow.

And what if it wasn't them? What would become of him here in prison?

Tempéra stops abruptly to sit on the only chair in her cell. He crosses his arms over his chest, his head lowered, he stares intently at his shoes without seeing them. He no longer knows what worries him the most: staying here without ever discovering how the Babel gene was implanted in the Karims' child or leaving here without ever continuing his research. The professor smiled at the aberration of his questioning. In a way, he feels much more attached to his research than to the freedom he is about to lose. He realises that he is probably more obsessed with the Babel gene than he wants to admit. His desire to succeed in understanding the gene seems as pressing as the maternal desire or the unhealthy feminine vanity of his clients. Much more than the generous compensation they offer him, it is the excitement of the quest that has always motivated him until now, despite all the risks and consequences. He is addicted to the Babel gene like some people are addicted to addictive substances. He bursts out laughing, shaking his head at this revelation.