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Sample 1 Chapters 17–20

The Dream of Motherhood Beyond Gender and the Rise of Solo Parents

Chapter 17
April 2000
(The Dream of Motherhood Beyond Gender Borders)

At the end of April 2000, Dr. Henry encountered what would become the first case of its kind at his fertility clinic: Christina Thompson and Elizabeth Baker, a same-sex couple from Manchester, were seeking to fulfill their dream of motherhood through in vitro fertilization.

But for Henry, this was more than just a routine appointment. It represented a potential milestone within an unprecedented project — one of the core reasons behind the newly formed partnership between him and Charles Hart. The two had been working tirelessly for months on an idea too bold to announce publicly. With no official name and still lacking legal support, the project was referred to only as an “expansion” of the Genesis Project.

It was an initiative ahead of its time, aimed at transcending the limitations imposed by the society of that era.

The arrival of Christina and Elizabeth was seen as a concrete opportunity. Behind a seemingly standard procedure, there might be a discreet opening for a new reproductive era.

Henry and Charles were well aware of the legal risks, but they were willing to help — not out of defiance to the law, but from a scientific and human conviction that this was merely the beginning of something that, one day, would become both inevitable and normal.

At the time, the United Kingdom had no specific legislation guaranteeing access to assisted reproductive treatments for same-sex couples.

The Human Fertilisation and Embryology Act of 1990 did not explicitly include the rights of same-sex couples, and many private clinics refused to serve them. In addition, legal questions around parenthood and parental rights were complex, as no laws existed that formally recognized both members of such couples as legal parents of a child.

Henry knew that the path he chose in assisting this couple would be challenging and would require pushing the boundaries of current legislation.

Yet, upon seeing the opportunity to act, he realized this could be a chance not only to help the couple but also to trigger meaningful social change.

He saw the case as a way to contribute to inclusive social progress by breaking barriers for same-sex couples.

He personally committed to ensuring the procedure was both safe and lawful, guiding the couple through the legal challenges while making sure the entire process complied with ethical and medical standards in place.

The procedure, carried out in May 2000, was recorded in clinical logs as involving the use of anonymous donor sperm and identified Christina as the biological mother of the child. Legally, only she would be recognized as the mother. Her partner, Elizabeth, though equally involved in both the process and the future upbringing of the baby, would not, at that point, have any guaranteed parental rights.

However, the real challenge arose after the fertilization, as the UK at the time did not legally recognize both women as responsible parents. There were no laws that allowed same-sex couples to be jointly registered on the birth certificate.

Henry, Christina, and Elizabeth sought out legal specialists, hoping to find a way to secure joint registration rights from the moment the child was born. But all alternatives proved nonexistent.

This meant Elizabeth would have no legal ties to the child. She would be unable to make medical decisions on the baby’s behalf or claim parental leave or state benefits such as family support or legal coverage in case of emergencies.

Even though she took part in the prenatal care and stood beside Christina during childbirth, she would legally be treated as an outsider to the family unit. In the event of a separation, she would also have no custody or visitation rights.

Even without immediate legal backing, Henry knew this case could set an important medical and social precedent, potentially influencing future legal reforms.

His goal was to demonstrate the feasibility and safety of the procedure so that, in time, more same-sex couples could gain access to the same rights — breaking both legal and social barriers.

Chapter 18

February 2001
(The Birth of Eve)

Nine months after the procedure, Christina gave birth to a healthy baby girl, weighing 3.2 kilograms. The delivery took place in February 2001, as expected and without complications. Henry and Charles followed everything closely — attentive not only to the baby’s health, but also to the symbolic meaning of that moment.

The real challenge, however, had already emerged during the pregnancy, when it became clear that the United Kingdom did not legally recognize both mothers as responsible for the child. There were no laws that allowed same-sex couples to be jointly registered on a birth certificate.

Still, this did not discourage the couple — nor Henry, Charles, or the others involved in the project. They had all poured a great deal of love into that journey and remained committed to the fight.

The name given to the little girl was Eve. Of Hebrew origin, Chavah (חַוָּה) means “life.” Born under the sign of Aquarius, her birth marked not only the fulfillment of Christina and Elizabeth’s dream of motherhood, but also a real and symbolic breakthrough in the history of assisted reproduction for same-sex couples.

— She’s beautiful, — said Christina, moved, as she held baby Eve in her arms.

Elizabeth came closer and gently stroked the baby’s head. But her eyes revealed the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

— I just wish I could be legally recognized as one of her mothers.

Henry placed a hand on her shoulder.

— Change begins with small steps. The most important thing is that Eve was born healthy and surrounded by love. The rest will come in time.

In that moment, Henry and Charles were certain that cases like Christina and Elizabeth’s would eventually spark public and legislative debates in the years to come. They knew the impact wouldn’t be immediate, but in Eve, they saw a symbol of what was still to unfold.

Later, after saying their goodbyes to Christina and Elizabeth at the maternity ward, Henry and Charles returned to the lab.

The lights in the main room were still on, and the monitors displayed the birth records and final clinical data.

Then Charles looked at Henry and said:

— We’re building something monumental. I know we’re just at the beginning, and I fear that one day this may go far beyond what we can foresee…

Henry, confident, smiled.

— This is just the beginning, Charles. The girl, newly arrived in this world, is an Aquarius — and maybe she’s the sign that the Age of Aquarius, which has just begun, holds much more for us than we can imagine.

Chapter 19
(The Human Code)

In the very same month that Christina and Elizabeth brought Eve into the world, science reached one of the most significant milestones in modern biotechnology.

The first draft of the human genome was published — the result of a collaboration between the public Human Genome Project consortium and the private company Celera Genomics. The official publications appeared in Nature and Science, marking the culmination of progress that had been underway since the previous decade.

For the first time, a substantial portion of the complete human DNA sequence became available, opening up new possibilities for understanding life at its most fundamental level. With around 90% of the genome mapped, scientists revealed the location and structure of thousands of genes, as well as the small genetic variations that make each person unique. Through these subtle differences, researchers began to better understand how certain genetic predispositions influence the risk of diseases such as cancer, diabetes, and neurological disorders.

More than just a technical achievement, genetic sequencing ushered in a new era in medicine: one of personalized treatments, preventive diagnostics, and the possibility of interventions tailored to each individual’s genetic profile.

It also reignited intense debates on the ethical limits of genetic engineering, the privacy of biological data, and the social consequences of unequal access to biotechnology.

Alongside the cloning of Dolly the sheep, achieved just a few years earlier, the sequencing of the human genome represented a turning point.

For the first time, science gained the ability to access, map, and precisely interpret the internal mechanisms that govern the formation and functioning of the human body.

Chapter 20
March 2001
(The Dream of Motherhood Beyond the Couple)

Before Eve’s birth, the Genesis Clinic had been exclusively sought out by heterosexual couples. The case of Christina and Elizabeth — the first involving a same-sex couple at the clinic — marked a concrete expansion of its scope. After the successful artificial fertilization that led to the baby’s birth, Genesis began receiving new kinds of inquiries.

More same-sex couples started to turn to the clinic, drawn by Henry and Charles’s clear and responsible stance in the face of the legal restrictions of the time. Many heterosexual couples continued seeking treatment at Genesis — not only for its medical excellence but also for the values guiding the project.

Eve’s birth had only been the beginning. From that point on, the clinic gained national recognition and soon began attracting international attention — not just for its technical achievements, but for the seriousness with which it approached ethical issues that many still avoided confronting.

In a short time, thanks to the ethical resolve of Henry and Charles in the face of systemic constraints, Genesis began drawing a new profile of patients. Single men started looking for anonymous egg donors. Single women sought in vitro fertilization to have children without depending on a partner.

It wasn’t merely a technical breakthrough — it was a shift in the understanding of the right to parenthood. For the first time, these individuals found a clinic willing to offer structure, support, and most importantly, legitimacy in their pursuit of that right.

And this placed Henry and Charles face to face with even more complex questions — clinical, legal, and moral — in a context where the discussion was just beginning to emerge, while institutional and social structures still resisted any real change.

The name Genesis was already circulating widely in the media, bringing recognition — and along with it, new challenges.

Among the most recent cases, Grace Cooper stood out as one of the most delicate. She had come to the clinic seeking fertilization of her own egg with donor sperm after being turned away by several other institutions.

Her medical history included diabetes and hypertension, among other conditions that posed serious risks to both her pregnancy and her life, as well as the baby's. The likelihood of complications was high and demanded extra vigilance from the earliest stages of the process.

One of the main risks was the development of preeclampsia — a potentially severe condition characterized by high blood pressure, swelling, and risk of organ failure. The reduced blood flow to the placenta caused by this condition could also compromise the baby’s development and lead to premature birth.

There was also a heightened risk of preterm delivery, with all the associated complications, such as the need for neonatal intensive care. Intrauterine growth restriction was another serious concern, with direct consequences for fetal development.

The chances of the baby being born underweight were considerable, as was the possibility of extended neonatal hospitalization. Finally, the risks of both maternal and fetal mortality were significantly higher than in a low-risk pregnancy.

Unlike other institutions, Henry decided to take the case — and the risk. He assembled a multidisciplinary team of doctors, psychologists, and psychiatrists, all highly qualified and committed to providing comprehensive support throughout Grace’s journey.

Once again, Dr. Charles stood beside Dr. Henry, fully immersed in a new challenge that he saw not only as scientific progress, but as a humanitarian mission of the highest importance.

By December 2001, the clinic’s records showed that Grace’s procedure had been successfully completed, with the in vitro fertilization carried out according to standard protocols.

The selected embryo was implanted, initiating the pregnancy process. The procedure went smoothly, and Grace began to be continuously monitored by the medical team.

Sample 2 Chapters 20–25

The Dream of Motherhood Beyond Gender and the Rise of Solo Parents

Chapter 21
February 2002
(The Envelope)

In February 2002, scientists at Texas A&M University announced an unprecedented achievement in biotechnology: the successful cloning of a domestic cat named CC (CopyCat).

For the first time, a feline had been genetically replicated, proving that cloning could also be applied to pets — a breakthrough that sparked new debates around bioethics and the potential reach of genetic engineering.

Meanwhile, in the United Kingdom, a delicate situation was about to unfold at the Genesis Clinic, part of the Darwin Mendel Laboratories.

That same month, Eve turned one year old. Christina and Elizabeth visited the clinic, as they had occasionally done throughout Eve’s first year — but this time, notably, they came alone. Eve was not with them.

They entered the building quickly, their firm steps echoing down the corridor. Christina’s stern expression made it clear this wasn’t a casual visit. Something was different. They were carrying an envelope.

— We need to speak with Henry. Now. — Christina demanded, her voice sharp as she faced the receptionist.

The authoritative tone made the staff exchange uneasy glances. The usually calm clinical atmosphere had turned tense.

When Henry heard the commotion, he stepped out of his office and found the two women in the lobby.

— Please, come with me.

He led them into his office. As soon as the glass door closed, Elizabeth tossed the envelope onto the desk.

— We did a DNA test.

Henry remained expressionless. He took the envelope, opened it slowly, and skimmed through the contents.

He already knew what would be inside. The office fell silent as Christina and Elizabeth watched Henry’s every move, anxiously waiting for a reaction.

— This is about our daughter, — Elizabeth said, her voice trembling, barely containing her anger.

Henry looked up at them.

— I understand your concern. But this is a legal and contractual matter.

— Legal and contractual? — Christina burst out.

Elizabeth stepped forward.

— Then we’ll go to the police.

Henry took a deep breath. He had already considered that possibility and knew the situation could spiral out of control quickly. But he also knew that, at that moment, there was nothing to be done. Not even government authorities would offer them support.

Out in the corridor, Charles had been watching from a distance. He saw Christina and Elizabeth’s sharp gestures, their furious expressions, and the aggressive tone of their voices spilling through the half-open door. The argument was escalating. Deciding to step in and try to calm things down, he entered the office.

The moment Charles walked in, their fury turned toward him.

— And you, Dr. Charles? Are you part of this too?

The words struck like darts, indignation flooding their voices in an overlapping torrent of accusations.

Charles raised his hands in a gesture of peace, trying to make sense of the onslaught of words — but it was impossible. The chaos they created was overwhelming, driven by anger and the clear frustration they carried.

For a moment, Christina and Elizabeth looked at each other, their faces flushed with emotion, their breathing labored.

Then, without saying another word, they turned abruptly and left, likely heading to seek legal counsel or contact the authorities.

In the hallway, the clinic staff watched in silence as the two women walked across the lobby.

Henry remained still for a few seconds, shaken by all he had just heard. On impulse, he rushed out to catch up with them before they got into the car — but it was too late. He could only watch as they drove away, silently.

In the clinic’s parking lot — where pedestrians often walked and the speed limit was just 10 km/h — Christina and Elizabeth sped off well above that, leaving the property and quickly disappearing down the main road.

Chapter 22
(Under the Grey Sky)

Henry, walking slowly and lost in thought, returned to his office, his mind in turmoil. Charles, noticing the weight in his friend’s expression, decided to follow, sensing he might be able to offer some support.

— Henry, can we talk? — he asked, cautiously.

Henry paused for a moment, looking down, visibly frustrated, and replied:

— I just want to be alone, Charles. Thank you.

Respecting his request, Charles simply nodded and stepped away, heading toward the other staff members.

Many were still shaken by the argument that had echoed through the clinic, unsure of what to say or how to react.

At 5 p.m., as the workday neared its end, a devastating piece of news spread rapidly through the corridors.

Christina and Elizabeth had been involved in a serious car accident on the highway between Hillend and Manchester. Neither had survived.

The shock was immediate. Some staff members were visibly shaken, unable to believe what they were hearing.

Others, though saddened, murmured quietly among themselves, recalling how recklessly the couple had driven out of the parking lot.

— Did you see how fast they were going? — whispered one employee, still stunned.

— That wasn’t safe driving at all… What a tragedy.

As the whispers grew, Charles felt a sharp pang in his chest. Without hesitation, he rushed to Henry’s office.

The floor-to-ceiling glass door allowed a clear view of the interior.

The blinds were fully open, revealing Henry seated at his desk — the same one that had once belonged to his father. His face was heavy with sorrow.

Henry saw Charles outside and pressed a button on his desk. The door slid open slowly, allowing him in.

Charles stepped forward, hesitantly, reading in his friend’s eyes a storm of emotions.

— Henry, are you aware of what—what just happened? — Charles asked, his voice low, nearly a whisper heavy with gravity.

Henry didn’t speak. He simply nodded — a small, almost imperceptible motion. Charles understood he already knew.

The front desk security guard had received the news over the radio just minutes earlier, and upon hearing the victims’ names, had run to inform him.

Soon, the entire clinic was aware of the tragedy.

Charles sat in the chair across from Henry’s desk. The silence was absolute. Neither seemed capable of forming a coherent thought.

Both sat with their heads down, each locked in reflections that pulled them into a vortex of grief. Charles knew Henry was trying to process it all.

After a few moments, Charles rose. Before leaving, he cast one final glance at his friend, hoping to find some trace of a reaction in his eyes.

But Henry remained still, staring at the same spot on the desk, immersed in sorrow and introspection.

— I’ll be downstairs in the lab. If you need anything, call me. You know I’m here for you, Henry.

Henry kept his gaze fixed, his eyes distant.

Without another word, Charles left the office. As he descended to the lab, a weight pressed on his chest.

He knew there was nothing he could say or do that could change what had just happened.

Chapter 23
July 2002
(The Birth of a Boy)

The accident that claimed the lives of Christina Thompson and Elizabeth Baker brought with it an unexpected legal impasse. As the United Kingdom still lacked specific legislation to regulate parenthood for same-sex couples in assisted reproduction cases, the Genesis Clinic — which had already struggled to secure legal recognition of both women as Eve’s mothers — now faced a new and delicate reality: the custody of the child.

With no close relatives willing to assume responsibility, Eve — just over a year old — was placed into the adoption system.

The future of the child, already marked by complex legal disputes, was becoming even more uncertain.

It was then that Dr. Charles, moved by the situation, made a decision — one he would not go back on.

Since Eve’s birth, he had followed her story closely and could not bear to see the girl handed over to an undefined fate.

Determined, he began a long and arduous legal process to adopt her.

After months of bureaucratic requirements, hearings, and a temporary foster care period, Charles — then 56 years old — was finally granted official custody, becoming her adoptive father.

— Welcome to my home, to my life, little Eve, Princess of Eden, — said Charles through tears at the moment of adoption.

Another shocking event would soon shake the Genesis Clinic.

Grace Cooper, the patient who had sought the clinic for in vitro fertilization with anonymous donor sperm, went into premature labor at seven months.

The delivery was critical and marked by severe complications. Shortly after birth, the baby was rushed to an incubator and placed under intensive care.

Grace, however, did not survive.

Her fragile condition, worsened by preexisting medical issues, led to fatal complications during the procedure.

Grace’s death not only devastated those around her but also opened a new legal dilemma.

As the biological mother had not legally registered any guardian besides herself and had no close relatives to claim the child, the Genesis Clinic found itself entangled in yet another complex legal process.

While the newborn fought for survival in the incubator, his identity remained undefined.

No name, no family, and no clear future — he became just a number in the hospital records.

As his health gradually improved, the baby was officially placed into the adoption system, waiting for a home that could offer him a future.

Chapter 24
December 2002
(The Rebirth of Adam)

Charles was embracing a new role in his life. Now, as the adoptive father of little Eve, he dedicated himself to raising the girl while continuing his work at the Darwin Mendel Laboratories and contributing to significant scientific advances.

Meanwhile, Grace Cooper’s baby, after months of recovery, was finally discharged from the hospital.

With no family and no defined future, he remained in the adoption system, waiting for a home.

From the beginning, Charles had followed the boy’s struggle for survival. Over time, he developed a deep bond with the child and, moved by compassion, felt compelled to act.

Realizing the baby was still waiting for an adoptive family, Charles contacted the authorities and recommended a couple who had long dreamed of adoption — longtime friends from his days at the University of Edinburgh.

The couple, who had been on the adoption waiting list for years, received the news with deep emotion and hope.

Brittany, an American, had moved to the UK to study at the University of Edinburgh, where she took courses with Dr. Charles.

During her time at university, she met Marcelo, a Brazilian born in Rio de Janeiro, who was studying Electrical Engineering at the same institution.

Their love blossomed, and after marrying, their desire to build a family grew even stronger.

However, Brittany later discovered she was infertile, and adoption became her only hope of motherhood.

Now, that long-held dream was becoming a reality.

The couple finalized the adoption and welcomed into their arms the boy who had, until then, been fighting to find his place in the world.

Charles, who had accompanied him since birth and formed a deep emotional bond, suggested the name: Adam. Of Hebrew origin, Adam (אדם) means "man" or "earth."

The suggestion was met with emotion and accepted without hesitation.

For the couple — and for Charles — Adam and Eve had already become symbols of love and resilience — and perhaps, of an intertwined destiny.

Brittany and Marcelo moved to Rio de Janeiro with their newly adopted son, Adam, leaving behind the whirlwind of controversy surrounding his birth, which had been widely discussed in the British media.

To them, Adam was not a legal case, a news story, or a statistic; he was their son.

Chapter 25
2003
(The Decline and the End of an Era)

After the deaths of Christina and Elizabeth, the subsequent legal dispute over Eve’s custody, and later, the death of Grace Cooper and the legal impasse surrounding Adam, the Genesis Clinic — part of the Darwin Mendel Laboratories — began to face mounting public and legal pressure.

Though once a renowned reference in the field of assisted reproduction, especially for same-sex couples, the clinic found itself at the heart of a whirlwind of legal complications.

The absence of clear legislation regarding parenthood in cases of assisted fertilization involving same-sex couples only made the scenario more uncertain.

The clinic had already faced bureaucratic obstacles trying to ensure that Christina and Elizabeth’s rights were recognized, and their deaths only worsened the situation. The critical case involving Grace Cooper, followed by her death and the legal dispute over Adam, further intensified the institutional and judicial pressure on Genesis.

The cases of Eve and Adam, coupled with the absence of legally recognized parents, led to complex legal discussions that dragged on for months and exposed major gaps in British law.

Meanwhile, the ethical implications of therapeutic cloning and reproductive biotechnology began to erode the reputation of the Darwin Mendel Laboratories.

Therapeutic cloning, once seen as a key to the future of science, started to be questioned in both academic and political circles, as debates over its risks and limitations intensified.

Once viewed as a leader in the field, the lab found itself at the mercy of growing public distrust and tightening regulatory constraints that began to suffocate its research.

In the midst of these challenges, the image of the Genesis Clinic was tarnished. Once hailed as a pioneer, its credibility was now under fire — legally and ethically.

Ongoing lawsuits and increasing social pressure directly impacted the clinic’s operations, creating a scenario of financial and institutional insecurity.

The Darwin Mendel Laboratories, once a global reference in genetic and reproductive biotechnology research, saw its position weaken as the consequences of its research began to weigh heavily on its future.

Public trust in the promises of revolutionary scientific advances had been shaken by the growing awareness of the risks and ethical dilemmas involved.

Significant shifts in the global scientific landscape also directly impacted the future of cloning.

The year began with a devastating blow to the field: the premature death of Dolly the sheep, the first mammal cloned from an adult cell.

At just six years old, Dolly died from health complications including early-onset arthritis and progressive lung disease. Her death not only reignited concerns about the viability of cloning but also cast doubt on its safety and applicability.

The public and investors — once captivated by the idea of replicating living organisms — began to question whether cloning was worth the risks, particularly in reproductive cloning and its potential human applications.

Public funding for Dolly-related research at the Roslin Institute was suspended in 2002 — a precedent that triggered uncertainty for other UK institutions involved in cloning studies, including the Darwin Mendel Laboratories.

Researchers feared that new restrictions would be imposed, choking the field before it could reach its full potential.

In the UK, new regulations were implemented to ensure that any cloning experiments were conducted under strict ethical standards. The new rules restricted animal cloning for commercial purposes and explicitly banned any attempts at human reproductive cloning.

Internationally, governments responded with increasingly rigid prohibitions. In 2002, Australia passed a law banning the practice, and in February 2003, the U.S. House of Representatives approved a bill to fully prohibit human cloning.

That same month, Germany strengthened its opposition and advocated for a global ban.

By April, the European Parliament called for a complete prohibition on cloning across all member states, citing both ethical and scientific concerns.

Major world religions also reaffirmed their opposition. The Vatican, under Pope John Paul II, vehemently condemned both reproductive and therapeutic cloning, claiming they violated human dignity.

Back in 2001, the Vatican had already called for a global ban — a position it continued to defend in the years that followed. For the Catholic Church, even therapeutic cloning was unacceptable, as it involved the destruction of human embryos.

Among Protestant groups, many denominations rejected reproductive cloning, though some progressive churches viewed therapeutic cloning as acceptable, provided it adhered to bioethical principles. The Anglican Church, for instance, opposed human cloning but saw room for therapeutic use in medical contexts.

In the U.S. and UK, evangelical leaders warned of violations against the sanctity of life.

In the Islamic world, reproductive cloning was widely condemned, considered haram (forbidden) by religious scholars as a violation of God's natural order. However, therapeutic cloning generated more debate, with some scholars arguing that it could be permissible if it didn’t involve the destruction of embryos.

Countries like Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Iran maintained firm stances against human cloning, though discussions about potential medical benefits continued in research and academic settings.

Judaism presented a more diverse stance.

While Orthodox rabbis condemned any form of cloning, some Reform leaders argued that therapeutic cloning could be allowed to treat diseases. Israel did not fully ban therapeutic cloning, allowing certain studies to continue.

In Hinduism and Buddhism, no single consensus existed. Some Hindu perspectives accepted therapeutic cloning as long as it alleviated human suffering.

The Dalai Lama, leader of Tibetan Buddhism, emphasized ethics and compassion as guiding principles for evaluating any scientific advance. He maintained a cautious stance but did not categorically oppose therapeutic cloning. Human reproductive cloning, however, was viewed with skepticism — although some Buddhist interpretations considered it through the lens of karma and reincarnation, not necessarily rejecting it.

Society, torn between fascination with science and fear of the unknown, followed the progress of cloning with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety.

Science fiction films and sensational headlines fed apocalyptic visions — of clones used in armies, as laborers, or mere organ reservoirs.

At the heart of the debate were disturbing philosophical questions: Would a clone be the same person as the original? Would it have its own consciousness?

Beyond the ethical implications, there were biological concerns. Dolly’s case showed that clones might age faster, develop genetic diseases, and have shorter life expectancies.

Science, which once promised a revolutionary future, was now facing the boundaries of its own progress.

The Darwin Mendel Laboratories was deeply impacted by the wave of growing restrictions and public distrust, which brought regulatory obstacles, ethical dilemmas, and technical challenges.

The initial excitement surrounding scientific breakthroughs had given way to a more skeptical climate, undermining the commercial viability of various cloning approaches.

Therapeutic cloning, aimed at creating stem cells from cloned embryos for disease treatment and organ regeneration, still held enormous transformative potential.

However, it faced serious concerns — about safety, long-term applicability, and the ethics of using human embryos.

Moreover, the technique was complex and expensive, making its widespread adoption difficult.

Clinical applications of cloning, involving cloned cells to regenerate damaged tissues or organs, also faced major obstacles.

Despite its therapeutic promise, the approach was costly and uncertain in terms of long-term effectiveness.

One of the core challenges was that cloned cells might inherit already-shortened telomeres from donor cells, impairing their longevity and functionality — making them less effective for lasting treatments.

In the private sector, therapeutic cloning had become a high-risk investment. Research and development costs were high, regulation was strict, and social resistance was mounting — making profit prospects uncertain.

In response, many companies began redirecting their investments toward other areas of biotech and regenerative medicine, such as non-cloned stem cells and biomaterials — the creation or regeneration of biological tissues for medical use.

These alternatives were less controversial, more commercially viable, and better aligned with current regulations — making them more attractive to investors.

Struggling to raise new funding, Darwin Mendel Laboratories faced a critical turning point.

In light of the cumulative challenges, Henry, now 30, and Charles, 58, decided to end the partnership that once aimed to transform the future of science.

With that, they also shut down all their joint projects — including their most ambitious endeavor, which had never been publicly named, known only by its internal codename: “Genesis Project Expansion.”

The dream of bringing science to those who needed it most had been partially realized, but it never reached the scale they had once envisioned. What remained was an ideal cut short before its full potential could unfold.

Henry — once a visionary scientist and ambitious entrepreneur — now adopted a more restrained approach.

He stepped away from the obsession with disruptive innovation and astronomical profits, shifting to a more pragmatic and stable business model.

He redirected private investments exclusively toward the fertility clinic — focused on heterosexual couples, more fully protected under British law — while the lab’s genetic research branch was restructured to operate solely in support of academic projects.

Charles, who once dreamed of expanding the boundaries of science, withdrew entirely from the corporate world and returned to the University of Edinburgh, resuming his academic career focused on teaching and research.

More importantly, he dedicated himself to raising Eve — embracing fatherhood as a new and deeply meaningful purpose.

The end of their partnership marked the closing of a chapter.

Chapter 36 

(Written Since the Origin)

That night, after the conference, Adam and Eve returned home together. They sat on the couch and kept talking — about the presentations, the day at the lab — until, little by little, the conversation began to take a different turn.

Eve was more relaxed, without the intense focus she usually had on work-related matters.

She then went to Charles’s wine cellar and grabbed a bottle of cider to toast with Adam. She knew Charles wouldn’t be happy to find out which one she had picked — a discreet bottle, placed at the back of the shelf, as if it had been left there on purpose, waiting precisely for her.

It was a handcrafted Catalan cider, Fructus Vetitus, made with heirloom apples from Baix Empordà, a coastal region that is part of Costa Brava, Spain.

Produced in limited batches, it combined a fruity lightness, a sparkling touch, and an aromatic profile marked by notes of white flowers, wild honey, and spontaneous fermentation. Made with Gala apples — red, slightly sweet, with a floral aroma and a visual tone that evokes temptation — handpicked at dawn. On the palate, the drink revealed a subtle balance between sweetness and acidity — like a secret shared between two lovers.

On the label, the brand Fructus Vetitus, written in red letters over a white background, also featured a red apple in relief — the brand’s distinctive symbol, impossible to ignore. The recommended serving temperature of eight degrees appeared just below, in elegant, stylized calligraphy.

Eve poured two glasses, adding thin apple slices to each. She placed them along with the bottle in a small aluminum bucket and returned to the living room, where the conversation with Adam continued.

— This conference marked the end of an important phase of my research — not just mine, but many others'. Everything went well. And of course, thank you for helping me with the cooling system. I think we deserve a toast. After all, I see you every day, buried in your coursework.

She extended a glass, revealing between her fingers — inside the crystal — the small apple slices floating in the light golden liquid, like a visual and aromatic detail to highlight the cider’s fruity origin.

— Care for one?

Although apple cider is a typical autumn drink in the United States, especially on Halloween and Thanksgiving, it wasn’t something Adam usually drank. Still, he reached out, a bit hesitant, still shy and slightly uncomfortable with the situation, and said with a simple smile:

— It’s not exactly my usual pick... but tonight deserves an exception. Why not?

He knew that moment was important for both of them.

As they drank the cider, Eve and Adam talked about many topics. Gradually, she seemed more at ease, which made her comfortable enough to open up to him. After a brief pause, with a lower voice, she began:

— You know, Adam... there’s something that just came to mind, and I think I need to say it. Since the first time I saw you, I felt something different — something I can’t really explain. I think it’s your eyes, you know? There’s a kind of innocence in your gaze that draws me in, but I can’t quite define it.

Adam was completely caught off guard by her words. He hadn’t expected that at all, and was so stunned that he didn’t know how to react. Eve, noticing his silence, continued:

— And do you think I don’t notice how you look at me? Whether here at home or in the lab, I always catch you, from the corner of my eye, watching me.

Adam blushed, clearly embarrassed and awkward. He had no idea Eve had noticed his glances in her direction. Now, after what she’d said, he could only wonder if it bothered her or...

Eve, seeing his discomfort, gently shook her head and, with an understanding smile, said:

— No, relax. You don’t need to worry. It never bothered me — she clarified, as if she had read his thoughts.

Adam was still speechless, unsure of what to say or how to respond.

At that moment, Eve took another sip of cider, slid smoothly across the couch until she was beside him, looked deeply into his eyes and said, almost in a whisper:

— They say it all began with an apple. Maybe that’s how everything that truly matters in life begins. And honestly, Adam... I’m ready to find out with you.

Sample 3 Chapters 58–64

Welcome

Chapter 58

(Shockwave)

The announcement of the Noah Project’s success quickly reverberated across the globe like a seismic wave.

The entire procedure conducted at the Ol Pejeta Conservancy in Kenya was broadcast live through the official channel of the Darwin Mendel Laboratories, and within minutes, the news had spread across every social media platform and news outlet.

During the transmission, viewers around the world followed the confirmation of the results and the real-time presentation of scientific data.

Archived footage from the Darwin Mendel Laboratory in Hillend was shown in detail, displaying the process of Intrasexual Gametic Nuclear Fusion: first, the creation of a female northern white rhinoceros zygote through the fusion of two egg cell nuclei; then, the generation of a male zygote of the same species using the same process, but with the additional genetic modification of one of the X chromosomes, converted into a Y via gene editing.

Finally, live footage showed the successful insemination of southern white rhinoceros females, carried out directly within the environmental reservoir of the reserve.

Henry had revealed — in front of millions of viewers — that the process had been a success: the creation of both a male and a female via Intrasexual Gametic Nuclear Fusion, followed by insemination into recipient females. The global reaction was immediate.

The scientific community, though accustomed to major discoveries, found itself divided — between awe, admiration, and, among some, a silent revolt tinged with skepticism.

The live broadcast didn’t just announce the achievement — it allowed the entire world to witness, in real time, the exact moment biotechnology crossed a frontier once thought impenetrable.

The press responded swiftly. Within minutes, the revelation dominated headlines, social media feeds, and public debates. The news had become a global event.

The confirmation that Intrasexual Gametic Nuclear Fusion had successfully produced both a male and a female — and that both had been inseminated — was met with enthusiasm by many. But not all celebrated.

Questions began to emerge almost instantly.

On television panels and across social networks, experts debated not only the breakthrough itself but what it meant for the future of reproduction.

— What does it really mean to create viable offspring from two female gametes? Or two male ones? — asked a journalist during one of the day’s most-watched broadcasts.

For some, this wasn’t just a technical milestone. It was a rupture — a break with the biological processes that had governed life reproduction for over a billion years.

The debate intensified further when renowned American evolutionary biologist Dr. Matthew Crane made a striking statement during a live interview on one of the United States’ major television networks:

— Yes, life takes many reproductive forms — that’s true. But what we’re seeing here is not natural. This is a new type of reproduction, engineered in a lab. Replacing the union of male and female with genetic design puts us on a dangerous path, filled with risks we don’t yet understand.

Aware of the broadcast’s reach and the public’s attention, he chose simpler, more direct language:

— We’re crossing a line that was never meant to be crossed. Mammals have always depended on male–female union to create life. Changing that is tampering with nature’s rules.

His words went viral within hours. They echoed among conservative groups and the more traditional sectors of the scientific community.

For some, it was a necessary warning.

For others, it was merely the predictable reaction of those confronted with what appeared to be the seed of a new era.

Chapter 59
(And a New Star Was Seen)

As soon as the live broadcast from the Darwin Mendel Laboratories ended, a wave of euphoria and possibility swept across social media.

What had begun as a scientific achievement aimed at saving a species on the brink of extinction had now become something far greater — a glimpse of a future never before imagined.

But it was within one particular community that the impact of the Noah Project struck with even deeper resonance.

The scientific milestone, initially designed to preserve a species, had transformed into something no one had foreseen — a vision that broke through nature’s most fundamental boundaries.

There, before millions of viewers, a new possibility had been unveiled: that same-sex couples could one day have biological children of their own, sharing only their genetic material — no donors, no third-party gametes.

It was an idea previously unimaginable, even to the most optimistic minds. Now, it had become a tangible concept, touched by science and exposed to the world.

And it left an entire community stunned — and deeply moved.

The conversation exploded online. The possibility of assisted reproduction between two fathers or two mothers, without outside donors, instantly became the dominant topic.

— This is historic! — exclaimed an LGBTQ+ streamer during a livestream watched by thousands, still reeling from the revelation. — I know it happened with rhinos, but… do you understand what this means? Same-sex couples might no longer need donor eggs or sperm. For the first time, science is showing that it might be possible to create life using only the genetic material of the partners themselves.

In another stream, a visibly emotional influencer spoke with a trembling voice:

— Do you understand what this means? It’s a possibility. Throughout our entire history, this dream was never even allowed to exist. But… what if it can now? What if this is the first step toward a world where love between two men could also generate life?

The broadcast overflowed with comments — some in disbelief, others in awe. For the first time, something once considered unattainable had begun to take shape.

Hashtags like #BiologicalRevolution, #RightToTheFuture, and #ChooseHappiness quickly dominated the trending topics.

LGBTQ+ influencers and supporters celebrated, posting reflections and images, treating the discovery not as some distant symbol, but as a real and tangible possibility.

People shared their feelings — some skeptical, others visibly emotional. But all seemed to understand that what had been broadcast that day was not just a technical achievement — it was a glimpse of a future no one had dared to dream of.

What was meant to be a biotechnological milestone had turned into the center of a social debate of immeasurable proportions.

What began as an experiment to save an endangered species had, in a matter of days, become a symbol of something much greater — the possibility of redefining the future of human reproduction.

Many no longer saw it as just science. They saw it as a new way of having children.

The promise of something new — perhaps greater than anyone could yet understand — hovered over the world like a spark too powerful to contain.

But with it came opposition.

Members of the scientific community began to speak out against the experiment, arguing that such genetic manipulation crossed dangerous ethical and biological lines. They feared that advances in Intrasexual Gametic Nuclear Fusion could lead to catastrophic consequences.

Religious leaders were quick to react. To them, this was a direct violation of the natural and divine order of creation. The mere idea of applying the technique to humans was deemed outrageous — and unacceptable.

— Reproduction must remain within the bounds set by nature, they declared. Even in cases of endangered species. Any such interference is an affront to higher design.

Politicians and conservative groups responded quickly. They condemned the project, labeling Intrasexual Gametic Nuclear Fusion as a threat to society’s core values.

In some countries, parliaments entered a state of alert. Emergency legislation was proposed to prohibit any application of the technique to humans. The fear of a radical transformation in the structure of society mobilized authorities at full speed.

At the center of it all, three names had become impossible to ignore: Henry, Charles, and Eve.

To some, they were visionaries. To others, scientists who had crossed an unforgivable line.

Accusations surfaced. Critics claimed the three had known all along about the technique’s human potential — and that the entire project had been planned to attract the interest of same-sex couples, with the true goal not being species preservation, but the creation of a lucrative new market.

The weight of the discovery now rested on their shoulders. And they knew: they had opened a door that could never be closed.

The Noah Project had been conceived to save a species. But now, to many, it seemed to be the key to redefining the future of human reproduction — forever.

Across the internet, in parliaments, universities, church pulpits, and social media platforms, the debate had only just begun — and it was already burning with intensity.

In that moment, the world found itself divided — between wonder and fear.

A hypothesis had been launched.

New possibilities and paths like this — once touched by desire — never go back.

Chapter 60
November 2027
(A New Name, A New Force)

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls of the private chamber deep within the Darwin Mendel Laboratories.

Its gentle warmth stood in stark contrast to the sterile coldness of the surrounding halls, where technology had already surpassed the boundaries of the imaginable.

But here, in that quiet room, the conversation was no longer about science. It was about consequences.

Henry and Charles sat before the fire. The tea in their cups had gone cold, forgotten on the table between them. Silence lingered — heavy with the weight of what they had accomplished.

The world was in chaos — and they were at its epicenter. Yet in that space, everything seemed still. A rare moment of pause.

— It’s so quiet here, Henry finally said, breaking the silence. But out there… the world is on fire.

Charles didn’t take his eyes off the flames.

— The world has never been ready for what it cannot understand, he replied. And perhaps it never will be.

Social media was ablaze with protests, headlines, and impassioned speeches. On one side, the LGBTQ+ community celebrated the experiment as an unprecedented — and wholly unexpected — opportunity to claim equal reproductive rights, finally reaching parity with heterosexual couples.

It was a victory once unimaginable — and for the first time in human history, it was within reach.

— We’re watching the world split before our eyes like never before, said Henry, scrolling through the constant flood of notifications on his phone. Everyone seemed to have something to say. Reactions poured in from all directions.

— For some, this is a revolution. For others, a threat. But no one’s willing to wait and see the consequences before choosing a side.

He skimmed past videos and headlines. The Noah Project was no longer science — it had become symbol, battleground, rupture.

— Maybe that’s the price of innovation. There’s always a cost.

Charles remained quiet. He knew what they had created went far beyond protocol. It was a spark — and no one knew how far that fire might spread.

— The hardest part is behind us, Henry said. Now we have the chance to shape what comes next. A biotechnological horizon with no limits. We’ve already taken the first step.

He leaned back, his voice somewhere between conviction and exhaustion.

— And the supporters will come.

Charles studied him for a moment. Then, raising an eyebrow, he asked calmly:

— In the creation of… homophiles?

Henry looked up slowly.

— Homophiles?

— That’s what I’ve decided to call them, Charles said, nodding. Human beings generated through Intrasexual Gametic Nuclear Fusion. Biological children of same-sex couples.

The word hung in the air for a moment. New. Weighty. Intriguing. Unthinkable. Undeniable.

Henry repeated it softly, as if testing it aloud for the first time:

— Homophiles…

There was something final in the word. Something that sounded like the birth of a new era.

— It’s strong… he said. But it carries weight. Incredible, Charles. Did you come up with that?

Charles turned his gaze back to the fire, as if avoiding the question — perhaps finding it irrelevant in that moment. His answer came in another form, focusing on what truly needed to be addressed.

— I’m not sure the world is ready for this. Maybe it never will be.

Henry folded his arms, thoughtful.

— One day it will be. Just like so many other changes science has faced throughout history. But that’s no longer the real question. The real question now is: how long must we keep bowing to the limitations of a society so terrified of change?

Charles offered no reply.

Henry stepped closer, his gaze steady, his face lit by the glow of the fire — and made it clear:

— The revolution has already begun. It’s in the networks, in the streets, in people’s voices. And now… it has a name.

Silence.

Charles stared at the surface of his teacup, where the firelight danced in irregular ripples.

Henry’s declaration of revolution filled him with dread. Not for himself — but for everything it might unleash if it continued to advance. He feared the consequences.

A new name had been spoken.
A name with the power to change the world forever.

Chapter 61
December 2027
(The New Star)

The main hall of the Darwin Mendel Laboratories had been prepared for that night with the solemnity of a state ceremony. No audience was present — only a single camera, a few spotlights, and a real-time monitor projecting the live broadcast, translated simultaneously into ten different languages.

Henry stood alone at the center of the room, dressed in a formal dark suit, bearing the stature of a head of state. He stood before the iconic desk that had once belonged to his father — a symbol of power — surrounded by a minimalist setting: behind him, a shelf with a few science books, maps, and a globe, alongside a monitor displaying the Noah Project emblem in wood-toned brown, like the hull of an ark. No adornments. No distractions. All eyes were to be on him — and on what he was about to announce.

For a moment, he simply breathed.

No notes in hand. No teleprompter. No rehearsals.
No concessions. Only the sound of his own breath.

When the transmission began, his voice came firm, unwavering:

— Good evening. To same-sex couples, yes — you can have your own biological children without the inclusion of a third party.

He paused. The words, simple in form, cut across biological dogmas and echoed across continents.

— As a scientist, I can assure you: with Intrasexual Gametic Nuclear Fusion, this is now possible. It is no longer theory. No longer prediction. It is applied science — already proven successful in an organism as complex as ours.

At that moment, a link appeared beneath the video, allowing viewers to follow in real time the data feeds, sensors, and even 4K footage documenting the development of two northern white rhinoceros embryos — one male and one female — inside surrogate southern white rhino mothers at the Ol Pejeta Conservancy in Kenya.

What had started with a few thousand viewers was now being shared at lightning speed. Within minutes, tens of thousands were watching.

Religious leaders and conservative figures watched in stunned silence — a mix of restrained outrage and disbelief.

Meanwhile, countless LGBTQ+ individuals stared into their phone screens, tablets, laptops, and televisions — trembling, speechless, overwhelmed by the thought that what they were seeing might actually be real.

Henry knew what he was doing. This moment wasn’t just scientific. It was personal. Historic. Social.

He took a step forward.

— I know the weight of what I’m saying. I know what this challenges — biologically, politically, socially.

— But the time has passed when outdated systems can decide who gets to create life. Who is — and isn’t — allowed to have children. Science has moved forward. And with it, our reality… and the world.

His voice deepened, conviction swelling.

— There was a time when same-sex couples were persecuted, suffered, were even killed. They were forbidden to express their love publicly, forbidden to marry, to adopt, to have children of their own — even with donor assistance.

— I know this may be shocking for many. But for others, it is not. When I say the world allowed those atrocities, I’m not speaking of millennia ago. Not even centuries. I’m talking decades — less than fifty years. Even in countries considered progressive, welcoming of change. That is serious.

— We must stay vigilant to the revolutions ahead. We cannot allow intolerance to lurk at the edges of our society.

— The world will have to catch up to us.

Behind Henry, the emblem of the Noah Project — in the brown hues of an ark — began to dissolve slowly, giving way to a new symbol, appearing gradually in the prism-like colors of the rainbow. Before it could fully take shape, the image flickered and disappeared — but not before a single word flashed briefly in color: Projeto. A second word began to form — but vanished before it could be read.

By then, the transmission had broken every global record for live online viewership — reaching tens of millions.

It was like watching a star being born.
Not in the sky — but on Earth.

Then Henry ended his address with these final words:

— And as with the beginning of every new era, this one too must have a name.

He paused. Looked directly into the lens.

— Welcome to a new era. The Era of the Homophiles.

Chapter 62
January 2028
(The Birth of a New Symbol of Struggle)

Henry’s declaration crossed borders and ignited a wave of enthusiasm, especially within the LGBTQ+ community — and more specifically among same-sex couples, who now, for the first time, saw the possibility of having biological children as something real and tangible.

The impossible was beginning to feel like part of the future.

The term “homophile”, originally coined by Charles in the intimacy of the lab, soon transformed into a rallying cry — echoing through the streets and across social networks.

Activists and advocates embraced the word with force, elevating it to the status of a symbol — a banner for a future in which same-sex couples could generate biological children without relying on donors.

A right once deemed unthinkable had become the centerpiece of the fight for equality.

Social media, once flooded with debates on the limits of biotechnology, now became fertile ground for the movement.

The word homophile spread with astonishing speed, quickly becoming synonymous with inclusion, freedom, and a rewriting of the very notion of family. Hashtags like #WeAreHomophiles, #BiologicalLGBTQChildren, and #RightToReproduce exploded in popularity, accompanying global campaigns that flooded the feeds of billions.

It didn’t take long for the term to gain a visual identity of its own.

The first widely adopted symbol was the intertwining of two Mars shields or two Venus mirrors, with a small star shining at the center — a visual metaphor for life created between same-sex partners.

That star represented the homophile child — the direct and legitimate offspring of two men or two women, born without the need for any "third party."

Another emblem quickly rose to prominence: the southern white rhinoceros, its horn painted in rainbow hues like a unicorn’s.

This powerful icon represented the scientific breakthrough that had made the dream of biological parenthood possible for same-sex couples, without sharing genetic material with anyone else — in other words, a homophile child.

It became a symbol of strength, resistance, and resilience — especially for communities that had fought for decades for their rights.

These emblems spread rapidly — appearing on T-shirts, shoes, bags, watches, backpacks — soon dominating graffiti walls, billboards, and even tattoos.

They became the visible mark of a global movement on the rise — a symbol of pride, defiance, and belonging.

With each passing day, they gained more ground, becoming the flag of a future that was no longer distant.

Then came the marches.

Crowds filled the streets of cities like San Francisco, London, São Paulo, Barcelona, and Sydney.

The world witnessed, for the first time, people united by a common dream: the right to have biological children — without intermediaries, without concessions, without permission.

Rainbow flags, signs, and banners filled the avenues.
“We are writing a new chapter in human history,” read one banner held high at the Barcelona march.

The homophile symbol was everywhere, pulsing with the crowd’s joy — a celebration not only of science, but of a new kind of future.

Meanwhile, ideological tensions flared.
Conservative and religious sectors responded with fury, denouncing Intrasexual Gametic Nuclear Fusion as a direct threat to the “natural order of life” and the “traditional family model.”

Right-wing politicians, often aligned with religious blocs, rushed to introduce legislation aimed at banning any form of human reproductive research.

But within the LGBTQ+ community, the tide had already turned. The movement was no longer just scientific or political — it had become personal, emotional, existential.

They envisioned a world in which they could build full families — with children that were biologically theirs. A world where they wouldn’t have to live under the weight of outdated traditions.

— “Nature imposed a limit. It never allowed reproduction between two people of the same sex. But now science may overcome that limit. We want to be known not only for who we love — but for the children that carry our DNA,” said an activist in London, her voice trembling as she held a flag emblazoned with the homophile emblem. “Now, we will fight to the end.”

At universities and research centers, debates intensified. The feasibility of human application for Intrasexual Gametic Nuclear Fusion had become the focal point of scientific discussion.

What had begun as an effort to save the northern white rhinoceros was rapidly becoming the key to a reproductive revolution unprecedented in human history.

Biotech companies and global investors swiftly recognized the immense economic potential.

The human reproduction market would never be the same.

Forecasts projected astronomical figures, and even hesitant governments began to move — realizing that soon, they would have to decide the future of humanity itself.

But none of that mattered as much as what was already happening in the streets.

— “We will be known as the same-sex parents who defied nature’s limits and became the biological parents of homophile children,” read a massive banner raised during a march in San Francisco.

On it, the words “Welcome, Homophiles” glowed like a battle cry — not just a slogan, but the declaration of a revolution already in motion.

The world was changing.

And this time, nothing would be able to stop what had begun.

Chapter 63
(A Divided World)

Governments across the globe were forced to take a stance.

In the most progressive nations, political discourse shifted toward discussions of regulation, recognizing the technology as a potential reproductive right.

Parliaments called public hearings, scientists were summoned to testify, and the term “homophile” — already a fixture on the streets and across social media — began to appear in official agendas.

But in countries heavily influenced by religious and conservative ideologies, the picture was very different.

Political and spiritual leaders swiftly condemned Intrasexual Gametic Nuclear Fusion as a threat to the traditional family and a direct affront to divine creation.

Fiery speeches flooded both pulpits and social media, warning that science was “playing God” and endangering the foundations of civilization.

Pressure on international bodies mounted with ferocity. The topic reached the United Nations, the World Health Organization, and international courts.

Public petitions with millions of signatures demanded that the fusion process be recognized as a fundamental reproductive right — especially for same-sex couples.

At the same time, a wave of opposing protests called for the global banning of the technology, branding it as “an experiment against human nature.”

The streets mirrored this deepening divide. In major capitals like New York, Paris, Berlin, and Rio de Janeiro, rainbow-colored marches filled entire avenues.

LGBTQ+ activists, families, scientists, and allies marched together, holding signs that proclaimed their right to have biological children without intermediaries.

But the opposition was organizing, too. Religious groups, extremists, and defenders of conservative morality launched their own protests.

Some of these demonstrations quickly escalated into violence — biotech labs were vandalized, scientists were threatened, and a wave of cyberattacks targeted the Darwin Mendel Laboratories and its three main figures: Henry, Charles, and Eve.

Henry’s name had become one of the most mentioned on the planet.

Across networks, in headlines, and in daily conversations, he was either celebrated as a visionary — or denounced as a heretic.

Social media had never been so sharply divided: on one side, hashtags like #RightToReproduce, #HereComeTheHomophiles, and #ReproductiveRevolution; on the other, #BoundariesForScience and #SaveHumanNature.

In response to rising threats, security was reinforced in strategic locations.

The Darwin Mendel Laboratories in Hillend, Scotland, had been transformed into a veritable scientific bunker.

The risk of terrorist attacks by religious extremist groups increased daily, fueled by incendiary speeches spreading through underground forums and radicalized online communities.

What had begun as a scientific effort to save an endangered species had now become the center of one of the greatest moral and political debates in human history.

More than biotechnology, it was the very concept of family, the creation of life, and the limits of science being challenged.

And in the eye of this global storm, Henry, Charles, and Eve understood there was no turning back.

The revolution was in the streets, in homes, in parliaments, and in courtrooms.

The future — no matter how uncertain or turbulent — was already in motion.

The world was divided.
And the fight for the right to create a new generation had only just begun.

Chapter 64
(Alliance in Times of Storm)

Henry’s office reflected the solemnity, legacy, modernity, and innovation that defined the spirit of the Darwin Mendel Laboratories.

Soft lights from next-generation translucent displays pulsed in precise intervals, casting cold reflections across the polished surface of the imposing desk that had once belonged to Frank Winner.

Suspended screens, thin as blades of glass, hovered in the air — held by nearly invisible supports embedded in the ceiling and dark wood paneling.

They weren’t holograms, but ultra-advanced transparent panels capable of rendering data in astonishing clarity. Lines and particles danced in a silent rhythm, as if knowledge itself were taking form before them.

With every gesture, the data reorganized in space, floating above the desk — anchored in a room where the past and future of science coexisted.

Silence weighed like a sentence. Only the gentle crackling of a cigar’s ember broke the stillness.

The smoke rose slowly, almost solemnly, dissolving into air thick with expectation.

The woody scent of tobacco mingled with the leather and cold metal, composing a setting worthy of decisions that define generations.

Henry stood, his gaze fixed on Charles, who remained seated in the leather armchair, motionless — as if trying to absorb everything he had just heard.

The faint glow of the cigar ember flickered in his eyes, reflecting the tension pulsing through the room.

When Henry finally spoke, his voice was low but firm — and carried more than words: it carried the weight of an era about to begin.

— Charles… — he began, his voice hoarse, almost a whisper — you know what we’ve done. You know what we’re about to unleash.

Charles kept his eyes steady, jaw tight.

He did know. More than anyone.

Henry stepped forward and placed a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder — a gesture that blended camaraderie with an unspoken plea.

— This is no longer about science, Charles. Nor glory. — His voice was clear now, loaded with something deeper. — This is about a new chapter in our species. About freeing same-sex couples from the need for a third party to create their own children. A daughter… a son.

— But Henry… the laws are still being debated. We can’t just start creating homophiles, — Charles said, hesitant.

Silence followed, thick, as if the very walls had absorbed the gravity of what had just been said.

Henry took a long draw from his cigar and exhaled slowly, as if each wisp of smoke carried the magnitude of what they had achieved.

— Do you remember when we hesitated to help Christina and Elizabeth have Eve? And Grace, who carried Adam? — he continued, voice steady, tinged with restrained pride. — We went where no one dared go. And in the end… the laws and prejudices of the time — laws that denied women and same-sex couples the right to parenthood — proved as obsolete as they were unjust. Look, Charles… everything changed. What was once forbidden, even called profane, is now accepted — thanks to science… and courage.

He paused, eyes locked on Charles.

— We tore down the walls of nature and society… we were vilified, nearly shut down, sued, hunted. Our partnership ended. And time proved we were right.

— And now we’re about to do it again. We know the risk is worth it — to help those who need us. The veil that biology has imposed on all living beings — including humans — since the beginning of time… must be lifted.

Charles looked away, swallowing hard, as Henry’s words echoed inside him.

— You’re saying… that once again, it’s up to us to face society’s status quo — to be the pioneers who show the world a new path for humanity?

The silence that followed stretched, until Henry exhaled softly.

— You know it, Charles. — He took a breath. — We were born to be pioneers. And yes, we’ll be hunted again. Surrounded. Alone. — He held his gaze, resolute — but there was something in Henry’s voice now: fear. — In recent weeks, many friends have fallen silent… and the enemies, Charles — they’ve multiplied.

Charles remained quiet, feeling the weight of it. Society was boiling — and they were at the eye of the storm.

Then Henry made the request he had been holding back.

— I need you with me, Charles. As a scientist, as a friend… and as my partner again. Together we’re stronger. — His voice almost wavered with the force of the plea.

Charles looked at him for a long moment. In Henry, he saw the visionary — the man who had never accepted limits. But he also saw someone afraid of facing the unknown alone.

And deep down, Charles knew. This was no longer a matter of choice. They stood on the edge of something that transcended natural human reproduction — something that would change humanity forever.

Henry’s eyes fixed on his.

He put out the cigar, extended his hand in a firm gesture — a pact, irrevocable — and said:

— Charles, welcome to Project Rainbow.

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