“I know, Wahl. You don’t think you are the only one who has it, do you? Every seventh does, Wahl. Every seventh patient who has undergone the surgery. Everyone of you has the same thing.”

“What is it?” Wahl felt cold creeping through his chest. “What… what’s happening?”

“Teeth. You all have teeth cutting. My first patients already have fully grown ones.”

The world-class expert was a pitiful sight. He would not look Wahl in the eye. But Wahl… The doctor’s words were blowing his mind.

“Doctor, please, tell me more details. Why… is this happening?”

“Nobody knows. We have been through three checks. They’ve mopped us length and breadth. Both for sabotage and negligence. Negligence! Do you understand me, Wahl? They found nothing. Nothing!”

“How is that possible?” Wahl began to get the message, “I’m not a medic, Doc, but I remember what you told me. We apply tissue extracted from unaffected areas, which is structurally similar to that in the damaged area, and we do not have jaws growing on our legs, do we?! And why every seventh one?

“I have no idea. This should not have happened, no, it should not!” The doctor looked suddenly alive and he began to furiously kick the first available treatment couch. “I don’t understand. I don’t un-der-stand. Hypothetically, tiny fragments of other tissues might have gotten in there… But you remember, don’t you! The whole thing is gno-to-bi-otic. You didn’t spit on the samples, did you? Did you? Neither did I. Neither did anybody!”

The doctor’s energy expired rapidly, and he melancholically shook Wahl’s hand.

“I’m sorry. See you when they are fully erupted. And, so far, take good care and do not expose it to heat.”

…

Wahl had a case of tinnitus. He did remember how absolutely strict everything had been. All samples were selected as if Wahl was going through no less than a case of Ebola virus disease. He did remember the pink plastic strips and the doctor literally scrutinizing every single one, not letting anybody touch them. All by himself!

Wahl pulled on his sock and shoes. Now all he could do was go back home, and he’d have to forget about his job. He sniffed. Yes, indefinitely. That was the expected result. He should have chosen an artificial leg, shouldn’t he?! Why, why, why?! The treatment couch caught another shot.

– 4 —

Wahl limped along the corridor. Nothing has changed here. Except a visible decrease in the number of employees. Nobody would walk out into the corridor for a chat with an associate or a patient. During Wahl’s hospitalization, there had been much more amicability. Now all doctors were locked in and sitting still as mice, not wanting to stick their heads out.

Miss Granzer, the nurse manager, was the only one who kept her door open. Wahl remembered that battleaxe woman, whose voice was audible throughout the department. Her powerful janitor growl made everyone of the cleaning personnel jump up and mop whatever they had close at hand with twice the energy. Well, well, this one would not care a cuss.

Wahl looked briefly inside as he walked further. Then he stopped, still not realizing what it was that had caught his attention. Then he returned and peeped in again. Granzer was standing at the table and sorting a pack of pink plastic strips. One, two, three, four, five, six… The plastic wouldn’t stick to her hands. Then she licked her finger… Seven… Miss Granzer looked up.

“What is it, sweetie?” she yelled, “it’s an stocktaking day, move on, move on!”

– 1 —

There were six of them. Six young confederates ready to go on any desperate adventure to achieve their goal. Perhaps, this was the only type of behavior a nineteen-year-old could show. Fiery speeches and admiring eyes contemplating the world – they seemed to have sought rather than lived – they had sought for an idea, which was worth living for.

They disappeared in the jungle of Central Africa, leaving nothing but a small camp, which was found four hundred years later by a mere accident.

No bodies were found, but that was no great wonder. What was really curious was the order, with which their gear was arranged and packed – as if to wait for their owners who had gone on a long trip and were to come back one day. There was a stock of food that would not spoil for years, if not decades. Clothes were all new and never worn. ID cards.

Nature did eventually interfere in the order, but it was clearly observable that they had not meant to leave for good. But where did they go and why? They might have known the answer, but they were never found, not even the bones – neither then, nor after a century, nor later.

– 2 —

Three months before the group of six stepped upon the wild lands of Central Africa, a heated debate took place in a classroom of the Institute of Biology in one of the cities of Siberia.

Professor Popov was watching with delight the young men trying to stand their ground. There were a good deal of sophomore bravado, highly flown arguments and scientifically weird statements. Every time he heard yet another absurdity, he lowered his eyes, trying to conceal a smile, and would wipe his spectacles with a rag.

He did not mean to offend anyone. Neither those who were heartily fighting for their moot point, nor those parrying with hackneyed textbook clichés. Such arguments were useful even if no truth sprouted from them.

To be brutally honest, it was the group with the moot point who appealed to Popov. However, it was time to break in, because the lecture was going to be over in seven minutes, and Professor was a man of completeness.

“Dear guys, I can say you are not fully right,” he finally said after two frantic waves of his hand, calling upon the disputers to calm down and keep silent, “you are trying to prove that а man is capable of evolving…”

“He should be!” a collective response thundered. Professor drew a horizontal line with his hand in the air to signal that, first, he had understood everything and, second, he wanted the guys to let him speak.

“Yes, man can continue to evolve, because now we have an opportunity to distract a little from gaining our daily bread, so to say, and concentrate on the vector of evolution, as you have put it… the term sounds quite moot, but I’ve seized the point and I’d like to make a correction… In other words, you mean that it is possible to focus on a particular ability and develop it, say, using methods of artificial evolution.”

Popov wiped his spectacles again, fumbling for correct words that would neither offend the guys nor discourage them from directing their quest in their chosen vector.

“You have left out the fact that any evolution is a reaction to external challenges, and the key factor, which has contributed to our breaking from the evolutionary loop, is the absence of this challenge. You see that as a species, we are currently above the evolution, do you understand? We don’t need to adjust our lives to nature, and we adjust nature to our needs, which is a reverse process.”

“But we are talking about…”

Professor drew another rigorous line.

“What you are talking about is selection. It is an imitative and therefore more predictable and less stable process. Your idea sounds very interesting, but it must be applied otherwise, do you get me? Do you?”

Nobody looked up once. It’s ok, these boys are strong enough to face it, and they’ll be grateful in the end.

“So, during the recess, I advise you to,” Professor gave a sly blink, “have a good rest! That’s one! (cries of approval and chuckling); not to lose the knowledge – that’s two! Think once again over your absolutely respectable opinion, yet from a different standpoint, got it? That’s it, see you in the fall.”