Chapter Text
Jonah hadn’t expected to land the coveted internship position at IOBA’s central office on Capital Block even in his wildest dreams. The majority of his graduating class had applied to the single opening, some with significantly better aptitude scores and credentials, but the Intelligent Organism Biodiversity Agency was known for its unpredictable taste in applicants. The only people more surprised than him were his classmates. No one had even considered they would select a human for the position, given the species’ well-deserved reputation in the United Coalition.
The UC prided itself on having the most diverse population of intelligent species in the known galaxy. Each separate alien species was encouraged to integrate into their largely peaceful society. What had begun as an unheard-of fantasy had morphed into a playground for some of the most high-tech cities of the modern era, fostering an incredible array of scientific discoveries and innovative solutions for its citizens to enjoy. Its sky towers gleamed above the horizon as impressive displays of architecture, complete with aquaponic integration systems and aesthetics primarily inspired by the archaic cyberpunk motifs that past generations had written about in old fictitious texts.
The founding of the UC was framed as a triumph of creation that had reshaped the galaxy’s idea of a successful future, but there was one hiccup in the UC’s past that most biographical texts grazed over. Several dozen generations ago, the planet that the UC was built upon had been known by its single intelligent, ruling species as Earth. Humans had found themselves on the brink of environmental collapse when the first extraterrestrials contacted one of their many opposing governments, and the result had been instantaneously explosive. Despite their relatively young age, humans proved to be a vicious species largely unwilling to consider the idea of intergalactic cooperation even if the incentive to that union was the assured survival of their planet.
The extraterrestrials who made first contact were none other than the founding species of the UC. They had begun the pursuit of a perfect foundation for their early concept of a utopian, biodiverse society. They recognized that the planet called Earth had good bones. Its ecosystem was naturally varied and temperate the way few astral bodies were. The environment was in desperate need of repair, but other civilizations had already developed ozone clearing technology to tame uninhabitable moons.
Humans fought the integration every step of the way, even as their home planet began to heal around them. They sparked violence whenever possible and were seemingly never dissuaded by the massive casualties these conflicts created on their side. It wasn’t that they lacked intellect as a species, but rather that they had a deficit in experience. Their weapons were outmatched at the highest level, and their understanding of the importance of cross-planetary diplomacy was non-existent.
After the proverbial dust had cleared with the United Coalition standing as the obvious victor, only a handful of humans remained, seeing no other option besides total cooperation. The UC claimed they had never intended to be cruel and immediately began integrating humans the same way they treated other species who were slowly lining up to be included in the prospective society, but their image was forever tarnished. As the generations passed, human numbers dwindled, bobbing up and down somewhere in the vulnerable conservation status. Still, stories of their ancestors' senseless rebellion stayed with them, an unshakable stain on their name.
A month into his six-month internship with IOBA, Jonah still felt in over his head. Most of the staff he interacted with just viewed him as an automated paper filer at best and a personal barista at worst. He could feel how people looked at him, xenomorphic eyes towering over him glazed dark with dismissal. He was always treated civilly; humans typically were in the UC despite their reputation as discrimination was largely against the founding platform of the UC and the moral compass of most who choose to reside there. But there was something passive-aggressive in the way people simply didn’t expect him to be there. If he was being honest, his personal appearance was likely a significant factor there; round, freckled cheeks and a soft jaw framed by light, curly hair made him look a few years younger than he was. Unless they knew him personally, most other staff he interacted with probably didn’t even know he was a graduate of three higher education programs.
On the rare occasion he was assigned a task of more consequence, the sheer amount of new information stuffed into every text size eight e-file gave him a tension headache after a few measly pages. There were so many administrative odds and ends the IOBA monitored concerning the maintenance of sentient biodiversity across the continent that he hadn’t been aware of. He’d studied the company in-depth as part of his program, but many of the nuts and bolts of their operations remained confidential even to academic programs.
As a government branch, the IOBA was considered a cornerstone of the United Coalition. Their key mission, above all else, was to monitor and maintain the biodiversity of sentient species in the UC. Jonah quickly learned that the ‘monitor’ and the ‘maintain’ part of their mission were separate departments in every way but title. Half of the IOBA was dedicated to tracking population numbers; birth-death ratios, rate of immigration and emigration, any rare instances of cross-species integration, and statistics of injury and disease. It was essentially terabytes and terabytes of numeric data with the occasional trend analysis graph.
The first project the analytics department assigned him kept him up so late sorting data that when he tried to go to bed that night in his 150 square foot micro-apartment, strings of numbers swam behind his eyes as if they had been burned into his subconscious. He’d nearly passed out against a stranger’s back while riding the light rail on his way to work, only jolted out of his stupor by a noisy family of exopods just in time to catch his transfer station.
About a week later, when the opportunity to assist in a new maintenance-related project came across his desk, he snapped it up without even bothering to read the description. He’d take anything as long as he never had to spend an entire 12-hour day creating visuals to display the slight increase in Luxtarian hovercraft death over the last decade.
He swiftly learned the maintenance department’s projects were much more varied, bordering on the abstract at times. After analytics identified a problem in the population, it was whisked off to a meeting room full of off-beat scientists and researchers who lived for problem-solving. They reminded him uncannily of his old classmates, academics wholly dedicated to their niche fields of study. His workplace conversations became more lively as the scientists who saw him flitting around their labs checking equipment for overuse began to learn his face. He graduated from being a piece of office equipment to a sounding board for a cast of colorful staff eager to share the details of their projects with anyone who would spare a moment to listen.
He hadn’t considered the increase in camaraderie would come with an equally increased proximity to potentially sensitive projects until one of the site supervisors called him into a private meeting. He inadvertently picked at his nails during the short walk over to her office, glancing tepidly at the smooth, carbon fiber panel door. Miss Gaiacothica had exchanged a handful of words with him in passing, mostly amicable greetings when they happened across each other. However, he’d never been called into a one-on-one conversation with her before. She seemed friendly enough, past her spindly, spider-like exterior. Jonah had seen enough Araniaks during his time in the Capital Block that the crown of eyes encircling their heads barely registered to him.
“Jonah,” Miss Gaiacothica began as he reached down to lower the stool across her smooth steel work desk until the seat was low enough for him to clamber onto it with some semblance of grace. He’d been considered somewhat tall in his primarily human town, but here in the Capital, he found himself dwarfed by most species. “You’ve made a great addition to our department since you were transferred onto our equipment upkeep project. Not only have we seen an even greater decrease in avoidable equipment damage than we expected, but the other staff have expressed to me that they quite genuinely enjoy having you around. You get along fantastically with everyone, and heaven knows the researchers love having someone to prattle to about their passion projects.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Jonah replied after she paused, nodding his head gratefully. “But I feel like it’s not likely you called me to your office just to praise my performance, as much as I appreciate it.”
“No, you’re right,” the Araniaks sighed, “I just wanted to make sure you know that we really do like having you here before I told you about the project.” She leaned over her desk, one set of hands fiddling with the button on her lab coat before sitting back in her chair heavily, a loose bolt squeaking in protest.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. The project?” Joah prompted.
“My apologies. I don’t mean to be vague,” she explained, “I’m trying to think of the right words.” She turned towards her computer screen, pecking a rapid series of numbers on a keypad built into her desk to unlock the console. “There’s an ongoing project that we’ve kept purposefully secret from you. It’s not anything unethical, of course, just a bit… sensitive regarding the subject matter. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but we don’t have any other humans on staff. It’s not something we’ve done on purpose. Our staff is quite small. Few species are represented in our office because of numbers alone. Honestly, I should’ve considered how to approach a human joining our staff vis-a-vis this project earlier.”
The wheels in Jonah’s head started turning at an exponential speed as he began to speculate which project she could be referencing, but he came up with nothing.
“So, I’m sure you’re aware that our department’s biggest concern is the species on our critically endangered list, yes?” She waited for Jonah to nod before she continued. “Over the past few decades, we’ve become known as a refuge for those who had to seek asylum due to planetary destruction, which is exactly the sort of thing the United Confederation was founded for. But the majority of our attempts to assist these species in their repopulation efforts have failed. Perfect breeding pairs are rarely as simple as one fertile male and one fertile female as it is in your species, mine as well, for that matter. Artificially simulating breeding environments in a lab setting has resulted in minimal success. A few species have already been lost to time forever by our failures.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jonah sympathized, hearing the genuine upset in her voice. “But very little of this is new information to me. I haven’t heard many details about the critically endangered projects, but I assumed that was because not much progress was being made presently… not that that’s anything to be ashamed of!” he added hastily, “Scientific progress is rarely linear.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you there, but about half a year ago, we had a breakthrough with HARP.” Miss Gaiacothica explained, sliding a single whip-thin finger across her trackpad as she moused through the folders labeled by serial number. “The Human Assisted Reproduction Project.”
“What?” Jonah questioned, momentarily distracted from his usual professionalism, “That- how have I never heard of this if it was such a big breakthrough?”
“It was kept from you deliberately,” she sighed, “I apologize for the lack of transparency. Interns usually just come and go without much consequence. We just hadn’t anticipated you’d become such a valued member of this office.”
“That’s understandable, I suppose,” Jonah conceded, “but you’ve yet to explain the contents of the project.”
“We stumbled into it somewhat by accident, if I’m being honest. Wan-Kitku was looking into the possibility of certain species being able to act as surrogates for species that lacked a breeding pair since our attempts at artificially simulated environments had gone so poorly. We weren’t expecting much of an outcome, but we didn’t want to leave any avenue unexplored. That was when he discovered that certain humans possessed the ideal physiology for incubation, not for just one species, but all intelligent species currently recognized by the UC.”
“All intelligent species?” Jonah parroted, brows drawn together in disbelief. “That’s- that’s scientifically unheard of.”
“That was my reaction when Wan-Kitku presented his findings, but the results don’t lie,” the Araniaks responded as she opened a sub-folder on the screen. “We’ve seen more success with HARP than all other attempts combined. It’s been slow going in certain ways. We’ve discovered that not every human possesses the universal breeder trait, and even among those who do, biological compatibility with individuals of a species varies. Beyond that, we’re not in the interest of sexual slavery. Every human in our program is a consenting adult here of their own volition, and all of our participants are being compensated handsomely. It was easy to request a funding increase after the success of HARP.”
Jonah’s eyes wandered to a point behind Miss Gaiacothica’s multi-eyed head as he tried to process the information being thrown at him. “So,” he paused, unsure of where to start. “How many participants do you have?”
“Presently? Two,” she answered, “Our biggest hurdle has been finding subjects who both fit the biological profile and wish to participate. As it turns out, that is a very small demographic of individuals, which I can’t blame them for. I’m not sure if I’d be able to participate in a project like this personally should the hypothetical situation arise. We’ve gradually increased the compensation amount, which has helped, but only slightly. HARP has single-handed stopped the extinction of nearly a dozen species already, but from a net value perspective, we’re still in the red.” She explained as she highlighted all of the files in a folder before entering a command on the keypad. “I’m sending you a document that explains the basics of the program just to ease your mind about the project, but if you have any more questions, please don’t hesitate to ask me. If you’d like to request a transfer after this, I understand and assure you no one will take it personally, but we’d really like it if you stayed.”
“Honestly, you could be committing war crimes, and I’d still rather stay here than do another analytics project,” Jonah signed, “I just- I’m curious who’s spearheading the project. It’s… odd to know that I’ve been talking to all the people working on this project all this time without knowing.”
“Understandable,” Miss Gaiacothica said, nodding slightly, her eyes blinking open and closed in a staggered rhythm. “Wan-Kitku is the lead on biological profiling. He’s been working closely with Rizo to develop non-invasive diagnostic equipment. Mi’anna has been handling the technicalities related directly to interspecies intercourse. And I’ve been handling cross-department communication; marketing, community outreach, et cetera.”
“Alright, OK,” Jonah replied, letting out a breath, “I appreciate your transparency, and I understand why it was kept from me until now. It’s a lot to process, but I’m not upset. It sounds like you’re approaching everything ethically, and I can’t deny the massive potential this project has for conservation.” he concluded as he slid off of the stool, the heels of his shoes landing solidly on the smooth tile floor as he stood, brushing an invisible speck of dust off the front of his slacks. As he began to step towards the door, he paused, turning back to Miss Gaiacothica “Does everyone know that I’ve been told?”
“It was discussed, yes,” she answered, “Although whether or not everyone remembered that was happening today, I couldn’t tell you.”
“Ah, fair enough. Well, again, thank you for your transparency. I’ll take a look at that file and let you know if I have any follow-up questions.” he said with a curt bow as Miss Gaiacothica bid him a goodbye over her shoulder, already occupied with another project. He schooled his pace until the heavy office door slid shut behind him. As soon as the tell-tale hydraulic hiss stopped, he whipped around on one heel and began striding towards the central lab, wrestling his datapad out of his bag as he walked. A preliminary scan of the document his supervisor sent him showed little of interest outside of what he had already been told, but he’d only gotten the chance to scroll through the first few pages before the frosted glass wall of the lab came into sight at the end of the hallway.
He slipped his datapad back into his company-branded shoulder bag as the automatic doors slid open, unlocking with a heavy click as it sensed the RFID in his badge. Mi’anna’s head snapped up when he entered, her ruddy armored skin shining under the lab’s LED lightning. She didn’t have eyes to read, but he could tell by the way her tail twitched sharply with agitation that she was fully aware of the conversation he was coming from. Rizo was hunched over a centrifuge on the other side of the lab, the feather-like structures on her arms undulating rhythmically as she taped away at something on her datapad seemingly unaware of Jonah’s presence.
“Jonah!” Mi’anna greeted him, the nervousness filtering out of her body language as she sensed his steady heartbeat. “I’m going to take it as a good sign that you’re still here.”
“I’m not planning on going anywhere, no,” Jonah replied, “But I have a couple of questions about HARP.”
At that, Rizo’s gaze whipped up to meet his, large pupils shrinking slightly as a nictating membrane flickered in and out. “Oh shit, that was today?”
“It was,” Jonah answered as he stopped next to a somewhat clear countertop a few feet away from her.
“Oh, thank god,” she exclaimed, discarding her datapad on the nearest uncluttered vertical surface. “Keeping that from you was the hardest thing I’ve done in my life! Every time we talked, I just wanted to blurt it out so bad, but if I did, Miss Gaiacothica would’ve had my head.” Her clawed hands waved animatedly as she talked, forcing Jonah to lean back as she approached to avoid getting cuffed across the head. A binder balanced precariously on an upper shelf took the brunt instead, tumbling to the floor in a flurry of archival papers. “Shit,” she swore, snatching the binder from the air with a predator-like strike. “Anyway, I knew you wouldn’t mind. I mean, yeah, sure, it’s probably kind of weird to think about, but you’re a scientist just like us! You understand the greater implications this project has. And it’s not like we’re doing anything wrong anyway. I’ve met all the participants, and they’re lovely. Oh! You should start joining me to do scans! It’d be so nice to have another human there, wouldn’t it?”
“Slow down, Rizo. I can barely understand you,” he held up a palm, letting out a soft chuckle. Rizo’s excitement was infectious, if not a bit overwhelming. “I’d be open to coming with you to scan participants if Miss Gaiacothica approves. It probably would be reassuring to have another human there. But, speaking of the diagnostic process, what is that like? Miss Gaiacothica mentioned you were trying to make it noninvasive, so I’m just curious what you’ve come up with. Are you able to do it without taking blood?”
“No blood, no needles, not even a hospital gown,” she confirmed, her voice swelling with pride. “This scanner is one of the most successful medical devices I’ve ever made by far. Its uses are a little niche, sure, but I’m working on that.” She bounded across the room in a few strides, waving her keycard against the sensor panel of a featureless black cabinet in the corner Jonah had never paid any mind to. “Ta-da!” she exclaimed, holding up an angular device about the size and shape of a hair dryer. The far end was covered by a smooth, carbon black panel that reminded Jonah of a hospital defibrillator.
“How do you use it?” he questioned as Rizo walked back with the scanner. “Is it a contact thing, or does it read more like a heat gun?”
“Very similar to a heat gun, actually. Just think of it as an endocrine heat gun. It couldn’t be an easier process. For example,” she explained, flipping the gun around to face her chest as she held down a switch on the handle. It let out a series of beeps at varying frequencies before emitting a harsh error sound. “The screen displays a simple reading, but it sends a slightly more complex report to my datapad. See?” she motioned at the small screen embedded in the top of the machine, which displayed a gradient bar on the bottom with a red side and a green side. A small pointer sat stationary on the red side beneath a large number two flashing on the screen. “Every non-human species we’ve scanned reads somewhere between zero and ten. The majority of humans, a little over 90%, read between fifteen and twenty. The highest we’ve seen is sixty-five, but only a forty percent compatibility is needed to qualify as a candidate. Individuals have such a high degree of variability, so the numbers seem low.”
“Huh, so what would you say is the margin of error?” Jonah questioned, tilting his head to the side as he tried to think of what wavelength it was operating with to get those readings.
“From what we’ve seen so far? Less and 1%!” Rizo exclaimed, “Let’s see what you’re at. You’ll definitely beat my two percent, but the highest we’ve had a human male score is seventeen.” He held still reflexively as the gun emitted the same sequence of electric tones before letting out a rapid series of dings, far different from the harsh buzz it made after Rizo’s scan. “What?” Rizo exclaimed loud enough that a few lab techs quizzically looked up from their desks. “That’s not right.”
“What’s not right? What does it say?” Jonah rushed to ask, moving forward to try and peer at the screen.
“Nothing, nothing, let me just try again,” she said, stepping back with a palm secured protectively over the screen. “Hold still. It probably caught you moving or something.”
Joah halted in his tracks, follow-up question dying in his throat as he held his breath, heart beating in his stomach as he focused on staying as still as possible. It repeated the same series of noises, a few beeps as it took a reading, followed by a rapid succession of tinny, mechanical dings.
“No fucking way. This must be broken,” Rizo shook her head as she looked at the screen for a long moment before she rushed past Jonah to the counter she’d discarded her datapad on, the scanner still in hand.
“What is it saying?” Jonah repeated, voice tense as he emphasized the words. He tried to peer down at the screen, only to be blocked again as Rizo moved it around to the other side of her body.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rizo replied absently as she focused on pecking rapidly at the screen of her datapad. “It’s an error. 100% an error. I’m just trying to figure out why.”
“I thought you said it had a margin error of less than 1%?” Jonah questioned, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Well yeah, but that doesn’t mean it can’t make an error,” she replied dismissively, stopping to look at something on her datapad. Jonah watched as her avian pupils widened just a fraction, body completely still for a moment before she began tapping away at the screen again. “Alright, I’m just gonna get Wan-Kitku over here, and he’ll know what the deal is. I made the machine, but he engineered the program, so I’m sure he’ll know.”
“What’s going on?” Mi’anna questioned, multi-tonal voice pitched up with curiosity as she walked up to them.
Jonah craned his head up to look at her with a sharp huff. “Rizo scanned me with the HARP scanner, and apparently, it errored, but she won’t tell me how.”
“It errored?” she parrotted, the disbelief evident in her voice. “What kind of error code did it display?”
“It didn’t display an error code,” Rizo explained, taloned foot tapping audibly on the tile floor. “It displayed a false reading.”
“The same false reading twice, presumably,” Jonah added crossly. “Not that I would know since you refuse to show me for some reason. I really don’t care what the number is if you’re sure it’s an error.”
“Oh, I’m positive it’s an error,” Rizo shot back as the central lab doors slid open. “Which I’m sure Wan-Kitku will confirm right now. Wan! Your code is running an error, and I can’t figure out why.” She shouted across the lab, uncaring of the number of lab techs that turned towards them, looking somewhere between curious and irritated.
“My code would never be running an error post-trial phase,” Wan-Kitku answered cooly as he delicately stepped over the pile of papers still scattered across the floor. The long blue tendrils on the back of his head flicked across Jonah’s back as he shouldered his way towards Rizo’s datapad. “Especially not my HARP code. Oh, hello Jonah,” he added on, blinking down at the more petite man as if he’d just seen him, “I take it you didn’t find the news about HARP too disconcerting?”
“Hello, Wan. And no, the main thing I’m finding disconcerting is the fact that Rizo won’t share the details of this error with me, considering it was on my reading.”
“Why were you scanned?” Wan-Kitku asked, thick brow ridge pinching together quizzically.
“I was just showing him how it worked!” Rizo hurried to explain, “So, of course, that’s the one moment it doesn’t. Just take a look at this.” She thrust the datapad into Wan’s hands. His fingers grazed along the thin edges gingerly as he regarded the screen for a moment before looking back up at Rizo, mouth turned down slightly at the edges as if he’d just tasted something sour.
“These results are certainly… unexpected, to put it mildly,” he began, “but what makes you so sure they are erroneous? Nothing is loading improperly, and there are no contradictory values.”
“No, there’s no way this is a real result, right?” Rizo looked down at the datapad again, muttering something under her breath.
“OK, seriously, please tell me what’s going on here,” Jonah pleaded, squeezing his arms tighter across his chest as he looked up at Rizo.
Wan reached down to brush a hand across his shoulder and met his exasperated gaze, saving Rizo from having to reply. “I will go with you to the testing room and perform the scan a third time to assure that there are no external factors affecting the outcome then I will share the result with you. You have my word.”
“Fine, fine, that’s fair,” Jonah agreed curtly. “Lead the way.”
The testing room Wan-Kitku brought him to was behind a locked door he had presumed was an unused office and down an elevator that led to a hallway entirely dedicated to HARP, complete with a waiting area for prospective participants and a separate color scheme comprised of calming light blues and grays with a pop of deep red.
“Oh my god, has this been here the whole time?” Jonah asked, staring wide-eyed at the unidentifiable aesthetics. “Are we even in the same building?”
“Technically speaking, yes, but we have gone down several floors. This wing sits under the IOBA conference center at the same level as the aquaponics lab. It has a separate entrance near parking lot four for the convenience of the participants. Not that we have had many to speak of.” Wan explained clearly as he used his key card to open a door adjacent to the designated waiting room area. “For the highest degree of accuracy, you should empty your pockets and remove your jacket. Feel free to set anything you’d like on the table here. Normally, none of those things would affect the scan result, but we’re treating this case as an outlier.”
“Right. Removing as many external factors just in case. I understand,” Jonah replied as he shrugged off his slim, piped overcoat, laying it neatly on the small table along with his bag. His pockets were practically empty to begin with, but he deposited the tiny bundle of trash and a single hair tie on top of his coat anyway. The testing room was mostly bare, with three walls painted the same shade of cornflower blue and the wall to the right of the door painted gray. A small table rested against the far wall, and a canvas chair sat in one corner, but no other furniture to speak of.
He stood in the center of the gray wall and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as Wan-Kitku moved to stand in front of him. The machine seemed to calibrate for an eternity before that familiar dinging radiated through the deathly silent room. Jonah opened his eyes, watching how Wan’s brow lowered for just a moment before he strode forward.
“Alright, what does that mean? What’s the reading?” he demanded as he tried to peer at the screen. Wan didn’t make him work for it, simply lowering the screen until it was level with Jonah’s eye line.
“Ninety-seven percent,” he responded as Jonah’s gaze landed on the flashing digit. His mouth parted in surprise as he watched the number blink one, two, and three times before looking up at Wan’s glassy yellow eyes.
“I- Rizo told me the highest score was in the sixties,” he said dumbly.
“She was correct, until now, that is,” Wan replied, releasing the scanner as Jonah grabbed the handle with both hands, staring closely at the number as if it would change the moment he looked away. “Please do not feel pressured to do anything you do not wish to do, but you understand that we must have a meeting to discuss this reading. If you are amenable to it, I’d also like to run some additional tests to narrow down exactly what in your biology is causing your reading to be so high.”
“Right, yeah,” Jonah answered, only half listening to him as the gears in his head turned and stuttered rapidly, trying to digest the situation.
“Before we leave this room, there is something I’d like to ask you in confidence,” Wan started, placing a gentle palm on Jonah’s shoulder, prompting him to look up from the device, “We’ve seen a consistent deviation in readings from humans with primarily male reproductive organs and ones with primarily female reproductive organs. To date, you are the first male to display a qualifying number, but certain values on your scan are more representative of a human female reproductive system. While I understand that you are a male of your species, I thought I’d take this time before you are being quizzed by multiple individuals to ask if you know of any anatomic deviation in your physiology regarding your reproductive system?”
Jonah sighed as he dropped the device down to his side. “Yes,” he answered, his tone completely flat. “Medically speaking, I’m intersex, meaning I possess elements of both typical human male and female physiology.”
Wan-Kitku nodded, “yes, I’m familiar with that term; however, I was unaware that it occurred in humans. It’s a relatively common phenomenon in many species, including my own, but none of the human scientists I’ve referred to have mentioned it.”
“Humans still have some odd hang-ups around sex and gender,” Jonah explained with a grimace. “Intersexuality occurs in about 1% of humans, but it’s rarely discussed.”
“That is strange and unfortunate,” Wan said as his wide nose bridge scrunched up in distaste. “I apologize if this is a sensitive topic. Do you know specifically which ways your physiology deviates? There are some test panels I may be able to omit.”
“I have a traditionally female vagina, cervix, and uterus, but no ovaries. My hormonal levels fall somewhere between male and female levels across the board, so many of my secondary sex characteristics read male,” he replied, prattling off medical terms as if he were reading them out of a textbook.
Wan nodded as he spoke, head tipped to one side. “If I am not misunderstanding then, you are entirely infertile?”
Jonah’s brow lowered as he answered, mouth twinging to the side. “A little forward, but yes. Why do you ask?”
“Ah, apologizes. I did not phrase that question gently,” Wan replied as he began to walk towards the door, hand slipping from Jonah’s shoulder. “I only bring it up because several of our previous theories surrounding why certain humans were more compatible than others centered around fertility levels, but your test shows that is unlikely.”
Jonah hummed curiously as they exited the room, his mind switching into problem-solving mode like a valve opening a new direction on a pipe, suddenly flooding all of his nervous energy towards another task. “If anything, I would assume that the bodies of humans who are more biologically capable of rearing their own children would be less likely to take on an extraterrestrial surrogate.”
Wan-kitku nodded thoughtfully as he called the elevator back to the lab. “There may be truth to your theory. I’m unsure if we’ve investigated a negative correlation, but I will be sure to look into it.” The elevator doors slid open with a hiss relieving the familiar off-white and black tones of the lab floor. As they stepped in, Wan spoke again, “I suggest you use this moment to compose yourself. I suspect the few days will be something of a whirlwind for you, but just remember, at no point should you feel pressured to do anything you do not wish to do.”
“Thanks, Wan,” Jonah replied, letting out a long steady breath as he watched the numbers above the door count up. “I’ll remember that.”
Wan-kitku’s prediction turned out to be entirely correct as Jonah spent the next few days being herded from room to room. He snapped at several phlebotomists before declaring that he would either strangle someone or pass out if his blood was taken one more time. Despite the mind-numbing amount of time some took, the additional scans didn't bother him. What did annoy him was the look of confusion he saw across every other radiology assistant’s face, followed by the sheepish downturned gaze when he told them that ‘yes he was, in fact, a man’ and ‘yes, that was, in fact, a uterus.’
After two and a half full days of tests, he found himself sitting at a modest table in an intimate conference room looking at an exhausted Miss Gaiacothica. Wan-Kitku sat on her right, while a taller gentleman with a square jaw and a mossy complexion sat on her other side with a datapad in his hands. Jonah didn’t know his name, but he’d seen the man before in passing, often rushing down from the finance office muttering about investors and department spending.
To Jonah’s surprise, Wan was the first person to break the silence. “Our testing has been exceptionally consistent at pinpointing the physiological cause of your high HARP capacity score. It seems that your specific hormonal profile as it is influenced by an atypical endocrine system combined with the presence of a typical human uterus, but the lack of certain accessory structures is almost certainly the cause. The only unfortunate thing about this discovery is that it is unlikely we will be able to recreate this biological environment in any present or future HARP participants.” He ended his explanation, looking across the table at Jonah with his eyes downturned, mouth in a hard straight line. Jonah recognized the subtle expression as an apologetic one.
“Meaning I’m quite special, huh?” Jonah joked half-heartedly, fingers fiddling with the outer seam of his pant leg under the table.
“Yes, to say the least,” the stern man on Mis Gaiacothica’s left spoke up, adjusting his tie with one finger. “Your unique biology could single-handedly make HARP one of the IOBA’s most successful programs to date. HARP has already been groundbreaking, but with even a single participant capable of partnering with any species, we could save entire civilizations. I’m not sure if Miss Gaiacothica has made you aware, but there are a handful of vital species that have been consistently incompatible with previous HARP participants, and the IOBA has invested interest in quite a few of those species. To put it simply, we’re willing to go to any lengths to persuade you to participate in HARP.”
“OK, I’d prefer if we phrased it more gently than that,” Miss Gaiacothica cut in, waving a spindly hand gracefully in a placating motion. “I know it’s been a strange couple of days for you, Jonah. I urge you to consider Mr. Abhion’s offer, but please feel like you have to do something you don’t want to. It remains of the utmost importance to me that all of the participants in HARP are entirely there of their own volition.” She turned her crown of eyes down at the mossy skinned man, Mr. Abhion, with a heavy look, too fast for Jonah to properly read.
Mr. Abhion avoided Miss Gaiacothica’s weighted gaze, staring straight ahead at Jonah as the younger man fidgeted in his chair. “Let me explain the offer before I present you with the fine text,” Mr. Abhion began, unlocking the datapad with a swipe. “You’d be allotted a monthly allowance of three thousand standard units, in addition to a complimentary one-bedroom apartment located within Capital Block city center.” Jonah’s eyes widened before he could control his expression. That proposed salary was twice what he made interning at the IOBA plus an apartment in the city center, likely about equal in value. Very few could afford to live in the city, least of all interns like himself who lived in residential sky towers comprised of thousands of micro-apartments. Mr. Abhion took in his startled expression with a barely concealed smirk before he cleared his throat and continued. “We’ve also noticed in your employee file that you’re from a small human settlement in the central region. Your father must be having a hard time after leaving the AG mines, no? If it’s amenable to you, we’d be more than happy to send an additional two thousand standard units a month to your family and set the IOBA’s public outreach program on some betterment programs for the community there.”
Jonah blinked owlishly, head leaning forward in disbelief. The last thing he had expected to hear about in this meeting was his family, and their mention left him feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. Mr. Abhion was doing everything in his power to show Jonah that he held all the cards in this negotiation, and it was working.
“All that would be expected of you is your regular participation in HARP.” Mr. Abhion said with a flat smile as if he was selling Jonah a car or explaining an investment, not recruiting him into an alien sex program. “Month-to-month schedules will vary depending on the individual needs of HARP clients. I’ve drafted up a few example schedules in the contract here, but we’re requesting a certain degree of… flexibility from you. However, I can assure you now that you won’t be expected to engage with more than two separate HARP clients in a given week at the most.”
Miss Gaiacothica opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it as Mr. Abhion taped a finger sharply on the table in front of her.
“I imagine this is a lot to process, but I’ll just tell you this now,” Mr. Abhion spoke again as Jonah started and the datapad, brows furrowed low. “This is by far the best deal I’ve offered anyone. The IOBA is willing to offer you anything for your participation in this project. The contract even has entire sections dedicated to fulfilling requests you have after signing. Beyond that, you’ll single-handedly be saving entire intelligent species who are staring down the brink of extinction. Many of these species have a single generation left before they’re lost forever. But your participation in HARP will change all of that.”
Jonah let out a hard breath, heel tapping up and down on the floor as he closed his eyes, steeling his nerves, before opening them and affixing Mr. Abhion with a stern look. “Give me the contract. I’ll sign it.”