Caeli Widger - Mother of Invention

From her mother, Kate had inherited a condition called acute ovarian fatigue—AOF—which made her odds of conceiving a child after age thirty very low. Perhaps worse was the fact that Kate’s likelihood of miscarrying if she did manage to conceive was very high, as was her chance of experiencing hyperemesis gravidarum, extreme “morning sickness.” Kate’s own mother had long suffered through all of these circumstances.

Kate had revealed all this to Tessa a decade ago, through uncharacteristic tears, when she’d been Tessa’s top employee at Loop Industries, one of a half dozen companies on the peninsula that had entered the race for life extension therapies and technologies. Kate’s job was to solicit donations from ultrawealthy individuals to support the firm’s anti-aging research. The work was complicated and nuanced, and steeped in rejection. It also required a deep understanding of Loop’s work, and the ability to then explain it persuasively to skeptical, inaccessible, and often eccentric billionaires. Kate had routinely pulled fifteen- and sixteen-hour days, doing whatever it took to book meetings with prospects, then hopping on planes, armed with statistics, slides, and samples, ready to pitch Loop with confidence to extremely powerful individuals, nearly all of whom were male. And she’d killed it, raising nearly a half-billion dollars in her first year. She and Tessa gradually progressed from colleagues to friendly coworkers to close friends. Now, nearly a decade after they’d met, Tessa liked to think of Kate as a niece. When the Seahorse Trial came to fruition, Tessa called Kate immediately. She was a perfect candidate: mentally and physically fit, with a clear medical justification for accelerated pregnancy, and temperamentally suited with her sales-hunter mentality.

Kate was tough. Except, Tessa knew, when it came to her mother. Then Kate became a little girl again, craving approval.

“She dumped all her fertility issues on me, for years,” Kate was saying now. Tessa had heard this fact countless times over many conversations with Kate, but still nodded sympathetically. “And now that I’m taking actual steps to avoid them myself, she thinks I’m morally deficient.”

“You know that’s outrageous,” said Tessa. “She’s just fearful. And she didn’t have a career, remember.”

“How could I forget ,” said Kate.

“So she might not fully understand how hard it would be to do your job if you felt sick for nine months.” After working for Tessa at Loop, Kate had gone on to an intense career in high-ticket software sales, regularly closing the six-figure deals that had earned her a spot as the top performer at RogueTech, and a renovated Eichler house in Mill Valley. Nine months off her game could mean a loss of millions in commission to Kate.

“Right?” said Kate, sounding gratified. “You know how on I need to be in my pitches. Am I really a terrible person for wanting to avoid nine months of morning sickness?”

“Of course you’re a terrible person.” LaTonya Sims drifted up behind Kate, wearing a fuzzy yellow robe, her perfect crimson nails in formation around a cup of coffee. With her free hand, she gave Kate’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “Kidding, Kayters.”

LaTonya, a fashion model from the Bronx, and Kate had formed a rapid bond when they met after being selected for the Trial a year ago and had since developed a sisterly dynamic, with an easy physicality that made Tessa envious. They were forever slinging arms around each other, leaning a head on the other’s shoulder. Tessa had always felt uneasy with this type of affection— why? she wondered, as LaTonya took a seat on the couch next to Kate and leaned against her.

“Morning, Tessa,” said LaTonya. “Thank God you’re here.”

“Sorry to barge in so early,” said Tessa. She was always startled by LaTonya’s beauty, especially first thing in the morning, when LaTonya had clearly just rolled out of bed. Her eyes were still half-mast and her face bare of makeup, but she looked every bit the supermodel she was: six feet tall and impossibly narrow. Dramatic cheekbones, full lips. Lustrous dark skin. She was determined to have a baby with minimal interruption to her career. Her multimillion-dollar contract with the French label Tropez did not permit the lengthy interruption of natural pregnancy. Nine months would be a deal-breaker. Nine weeks, however, was not a huge deal. She’d already booked a personal trainer known as the Miracle Worker in the modeling industry, a man famous for guaranteeing women a “complete body recoup” just three weeks after giving birth. As for other postpartum logistics, Seahorse would provide each member of Cohort One with a customized prosthetic breast, wearable by anyone and infused with the mother’s scent, designed to “lactate” formula tailored to mimic her biochemistry. Each Cohort member would also receive a tiny two-way VR device that, when worn by mother and baby, would allow them to “be” together, regardless of physical location.

Bottom line: LaTonya could resume shooting for Tropez a mere four months from now, max, lithe as ever, minus the guilt that would ordinarily arise from working twelve-hour days with a newborn at home. “Barge in?” said LaTonya to Tessa. “Give me a break. We’re lost without you.”

“Oh, you’re completely fine without me,” said Tessa. “But I’m happy to see you, too.”

“I was just filling Tessa in on my mother’s latest take on my life choices,” said Kate. “Which is still that they’re super shitty.”

“Your mother’s a mindless bitch,” said LaTonya easily. “We all know that, Kayters.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” said Kate.

“Well, I’m extremely proud of you, Kate,” said Tessa.

“Spare me the mom compliments,” said Kate.

“The mom-pliments,” said LaTonya, propping her long, slender legs on the coffee table.

“I’m not your mom, Kate,” said Tessa. “And I’m neither mindless nor bitchy, at least by my own estimate. So I think my opinion counts.” She liked saying the things to Kate that Kate’s mother never did. And they were all true. Tessa was wildly proud of Kate—her mentee, her ingénue, her former colleague, and now dear friend—for defying the opposition of both her mother and her ex-husband and enrolling in the Trial. “And my opinion is that you’re extremely brave. I don’t say that to many people.”

Kate tried to look irritated and failed. Tessa could see her holding back a smile.

“I’m with Tessa,” said LaTonya. “You’re a badass, Kayters. My parents were basically cheerleading for me to do Seahorse, and I’m still scared shitless.”

“Yeah,” said Kate. “Shit. Less.”

“Seriously, you two?” asked Tessa, feigning surprise. “At this point?” She’d anticipated this—the Cohort’s last-minute jitters, doubts, the urge to back out. Completely normal. It was Tessa’s job to soothe them back to their full commitment. Doubts caused the risk of flight and more.

“Really,” said Kate.

“Well, let’s talk about it,” said Tessa. “What are you afraid of? What’s really at the bottom of your fear, after all these months? Don’t think, just speak from the gut.”

“You mean, aside from a higher chance of miscarriage and birth defects, not to mention societal condemnation and death?” said Kate. She smiled as she said it, but Tessa could hear she was only half joking.

“Also, our bellies splitting open,” said LaTonya, with a nervous laugh.

“Very funny,” said Kate, not laughing.

“Of course you’re afraid of those things,” Tessa said kindly. “But remind yourself that we’ve taken every possible precaution. That you have the best clinical staff in the world dedicated to you twenty-four seven.”