Chapter 3: The Queen's Concerns

"None of this is a joke," Head Scientist Nathan replied firmly. "We have developed the technology to create a human being through genetic engineering. Though we've yet to test our hypothesis, the success rate is estimated at around 80%. Your husband has been exploring unconventional methods for conception, which brought him to us. After all the conventional methods failed, we believe this is the solution. If you both give your consent, and sign the necessary confidentiality and liability agreements, we will provide you with a child unlike any the world has ever seen."

"Why is the success rate 77% and not 100%?" I asked, skepticism lacing my voice.

"Well, this will be our first attempt at creating a human being. While we are certain that a human will result from this process, we aren't entirely sure how they will develop. We are 100% confident that the outcome will be human, but we can't guarantee that it will develop like a typical human."

"What do you mean by 'not developing like a regular human'?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"They might lack emotions, or have very muted emotional responses. They could exhibit extreme personality traits."

"Is that all?"

"Yes," he replied. "The likelihood of the child having extreme personality traits is only about 33%."

"Just 33%..." I scoffed, my mind racing.

"Perhaps you should take some time to think it over," Nathan suggested.

"I agree," my husband chimed in.

I felt compelled to voice my thoughts. "Homunculi were once believed to be the product of alchemical processes. But once science began to evolve, they fell into the realm of myth. Yet here we are, discussing the creation of homunculi in a laboratory."

"No one expected humans to possess this technology, let alone have it by 2010," Nathan responded. "The world is not prepared for such advancements, which is why we must keep it hidden behind closed doors."

My mind whirled with questions. "Does the created being possess sentience and consciousness, and, if so, do they have moral rights and protections? What defines these states?"

"Homunculi possess sentience and consciousness, and they are entitled to the same rights as humans, as they are created from human DNA," Nathan explained.

"But won't we be playing God by manipulating the fundamental building blocks of life? There could be unforeseen consequences—disruptions to ecosystems, or harm that we can't anticipate. Are we truly prepared to take responsibility for these outcomes?" I pressed.

"Just as smartphones are built from natural resources, homunculi are created using elements that God provided, like DNA. Therefore, we don't see what we're doing as any different from what smartphone manufacturers do with the materials they have," Nathan responded.

"I find it troubling that you're comparing the creation of living beings to making a smartphone," I shot back.

"We're doing this to benefit humanity," Nathan said earnestly.

"Would a homunculus have the same rights and freedoms as a human? Should it be treated as property, a research subject, or an independent being? Who determines its fate and future?" I asked, my concerns mounting.

"Homunculi would have the same rights and freedoms as humans in most respects," he answered.

"Why not all respects?"

"Because they will be research subjects—along with their children and grandchildren. We need to study the effects of homunculi on humanity and the world. If the results are positive, we may create more homunculi and reveal their existence to the public. But if the results are negative, we will know what to do."

"Will you... kill them?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, and we will halt the creation of homunculi until we can ensure they contribute positively to society," Nathan replied coldly.

"But that's not fair!" I protested. "Humans can be negative contributors to society too—look at criminals, for instance. Yet we don't execute them. I want wicked homunculi to be judged the same way as wicked humans."

"Fair enough," he said, conceding.

"How will society react to the existence of homunculi? Will it breed divisions, discrimination, or fear? Can we ensure equal treatment and inclusion?" I asked, the weight of the situation pressing on me.

"It will certainly lead to divisions, discrimination, and fear. Ensuring equitable treatment will be impossible. However, we are developing strategies to address these challenges," Nathan admitted.

"What methods?" I asked, eager for clarification.

"If we make this technology available to infertile couples, individuals who choose not to have a spouse but still want children, or even those who seek a homunculus as a companion, spouse, or child, we can normalize homunculi in society. By fostering kinship between humans and homunculi, we can eliminate potential threats of discrimination," Nathan explained.

"Who decides who gets access to this technology? Will it be controlled by a select few, only deepening existing inequalities? Can we guarantee its responsible and ethical use?" I pressed.

"It will remain under the control of this laboratory, and we will use it exclusively to address infertility and loneliness," Nathan assured.

"So you won't use this technology for military purposes, or anything like that?" I asked, skeptical.

"Not at this point, no. But demographics may change in the future, and there could be a need for homunculi soldiers. We need to be realistic about potential outcomes," he admitted.

"What's the true purpose of creating homunculi? To serve humanity, to explore consciousness, or to fulfill personal ambitions? Could they be exploited for labor, entertainment, or military purposes?" I inquired, pushing for deeper insight.

"Homunculi are not meant to be our servants, but our partners," Nathan replied. "But yes, there is always the potential for exploitation, just like with humans. So, in that sense, there is no real difference."

"What does the creation of homunculi say about our understanding of life, death, and the meaning of existence? Does it challenge our notions of humanity and our place in the universe?" I asked, the weight of the question sinking in.

"Well, that's exactly what we're about to find out," he said thoughtfully.

My husband looked at me, a mix of admiration and intrigue in his eyes, impressed by the questions I was asking. I turned to him, surprising everyone with my next words: "Let's do it."

A wave of excitement swept over me. "It looks like I finally have the chance to have my own offspring to succeed my throne. Thank God." I felt a deep sense of elation as the reality of the decision set in.