CHAPTER 9: Three Years Ago…

The press corps that had gathered outside Amherst College was unlike anything the school’s President had ever seen up close and in person before. Victoria Werther had done some speeches in her day while in charge of the school, but she mostly spoke before a sparse arrangement of local C-team crews. Four cameras, bored reporters—if they were even sent with the camera operators at all—and all for maybe a minute at the end of the five o’clock news. Not much need for coverage of Hall dedications or changes to school policy for freshmen. 

What she saw that day made those previous events seem like playground ribbon-cutting ceremonies. She wished the throng wasn’t there; she wished there was anything else for them to be covering that day. The speech she was about to give—the concession she was about to offer in  surrender—was not the kind of thing she had wanted living on in digital recordings and regular re-airings across the major cable news networks. 

She stepped out to the podium without any papers, not even a notecard. She had tried preparing a speech every night after dinner for the past week, but everything came out so… angry. Bitter. She decided to go in without anything pre-written and just hope for the best, even as she knew the decision was likely a terrible one. If she couldn’t remain sensible in prepared writing, how would she fare off-the-cuff?

Flashbulbs went off and cameramen aimed their devices at her. She felt sweat forming under her arms despite the ungodly amount of antiperspirant she had applied just an hour before. She glanced back at Cohan Hall, then closed her eyes. She counted just to five in her head, letting herself drown out the buzz of the media for a moment, but so much as to appear odd. When she turned her head back to them, she felt ready. Or, failing that, she felt bold.

“As you know—as has been well, well reported by many of the outlets stretched out before me here and capturing this moment—Amherst College has refused to fall in line with the rest of the country and the overwhelming majority of other colleges, universities, and institutions of higher learning when it comes to the admission of open Genetically Altered Persons. Our policy has been to review all qualifying students and accept them on the basis of who they are as human beings who have strived to meet our strict standards of greatness. 

“As other institutions across this country have seen fit to close their doors to these individuals, whether completely voluntarily or as a submission to outside pressure, Amherst has led the fight for freedom and liberty against what we see as tyranny and bigotry. We have carefully weighed the rationale of both sides, and when the issue was strictly one of what is right to do versus what is wrong to do, it was easy enough to leave our halls open for all of the most top qualified individuals.”

She inhaled deeply; it felt like an angry breath filling her up, so she took just a second to hold it, calm herself down, cool it off. Then she expelled it quietly. 

“Until now. As of midnight tonight, Amherst will no longer be accepting the applications from such prospective students. Any applications received will be discarded, and existing Genetically Altered Person students will be reviewed on a case-by-case basis to examine the amount of credits needed to graduate, their scholastic record, and other mitigating factors. From there, determinations will be made on any allowances given to them to finish out their terms as students and finalize their degrees.”

She felt the media presence starting to buzz, but she refused to relent or let them interrupt her. She knew what she needed to say. What she needed to admit.

“I want to be as clear as I possibly can be: Amherst College is doing this not because it is right. We are not enacting this decision because of the fear-mongering position so many have taken up. We are not doing this because we think these children will not have earned their place here. We do this because our school has been threatened. Threatened both indirectly and very, very directly by outside forces from our state and federal governments. Threats to remove funding. Threats to have our accreditation reviewed. Threats against our property and our right to govern ourselves. Threats against the future validity of Amherst degrees. We have expressly been told this decision means the future of our school, one way or another. And so, this is the decision we have come to. The decision we have been forced to come to.

“In the hopefully not-too-distant future, when the book is written on this era and history judges all of us for how we acted in the face of the G.A.P. era, make no mistake, this decision will mark us here at Amherst as villains. We had a chance to stare inequity in the face and stand our ground, but instead, here we are. Blinking. Acquiescing. The very ideals we strive to impart in our young men and women, and we are abandoning them. And we know what that means for us.”

She felt herself shaking her head and ignoring the crowd before her. “We make this decision out of the respect we have for our student body. We make this decision in the hopes that they will be able to finish with the prestigious degree they came here for. We make this decision so we can continue to offer the level of education they have expected of us for centuries now. Yes, we do it for that. But we also do it so they can see what cowardice is and realize that’s not what they want for themselves. We are protecting them so they can grow into something bigger than themselves, and certainly bigger than ourselves. 

“So I say to President Yannick Green and to all of you who put our institution into this position: you have won today. As of today, you have used your power to put our little school under your oppressive thumbs, and you have won what I am sure you consider just a small victory. But in doing so, I can only hope you have fostered a future generation with far more backbone than I have. A generation who will stand up to you and say ‘no’ the next time you try to manipulate their futures.”

A voice called out from her right. “Ms. Werther, are you advocating retaliation from G.A.P. individuals and your students against the government?”

She shook her head and refused to look towards the voice authoring the asinine question. “Obviously not, and at no point did I say that.”

“President Werther, what will be the guidelines by which you judge current G.A.P. students enrolled at Amherst College?”

Victoria let out a breath. “That’s not for me to decide alone, but we still have time to figure that out. Luckily such restrictions weren’t part of the threats against our school.” She shook her head. “Yet.”

“Ms. Werther, where will you and your platitudes be the next time a GAP blows up a nightclub or hijacks an airplane or unfairly becomes valedictorian of your school?”

She immediately recognized the voice of Andrew Smith even though she has never met him. He had lost his daughter, Kylie, seven years prior in the Miami L Explosion. In the years since then, he had gotten a job working for TCN as a correspondent first, and then as a political commentator in their evening lineup. 

Smith started as a very sympathetic figure, obviously enough. But she recalled how his demands for safety for children across the country became more and more twisted. Many felt his rhetoric had long dropped any real pretense of public safety as it tilted towards strict condemnation of all Genetically Altered Persons.

“Mr. Smith, I want to first say that you and I have never spoken before, and the first thing I’d want to tell you is that I’m very sorry about your loss—“

“I don’t need your sympathy, Ms. Werther, and it won’t help Kylie now regardless. What I want to know is how you feel knowing that, even if you deny it, you are advocating violence against—”

“I’m not…“

“—our government and President Green in particular, while—“

“Mr. Smith, I’m absolutely and categorically—“

“—you can’t even keep your own house clean—“

“—not advocating any such thing; I merely—“

“—and tell us how you plan to protect the students already enrolled with others who can kill them with a thought over a bad grade on a report—“

“Mr. Smith!” Victoria asserted herself, refusing to allow him to pontificate over her voice any further. “No such thing has happened at Amherst College, and…”

“No. No, it hasn’t happened here. It hasn’t happened to your children yet. Has it?”

She felt her eyes start ever-so-slightly to narrow at him, then fought off the urge, knowing she was still on camera, still being seen by households all over America.

“Mr. Smith, I believe you’ll find the point of my speech here tonight is that I’m giving in to the demands of individuals like yourself and the other voices over at TCN. You’re getting what you want. Are you really here to be a sore winner because I’m not doing cartwheels in the process?”

“I’d like you to acknowledge the reality of the situation and not use this moment to politick to everyday Americans who want their children to be safe.”

“Are there any other questions?” Victoria shut herself off from responding further and turning this conference into a circus. Dozens of voices called out for attention. It was going to be a long afternoon.