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Good, good. My father,” he began, “Has for two decades been engaged in what he believes one of the greatest humanitarian efforts of all time. To those who beg for release, yes, he has offered it.”
    Hans rose and began pacing. “Euthanasia, as you called it. Yet I conclude that his efforts are misdirected. You see, I believe it is more merciful to offer vaccination or food to those who crave death. In this, he and I disagree. I feel that my father’s efforts, well–intentioned as they are, have been short–sighted. Who would offer death when they might instead offer hope?” Hans broke off, exasperation furrowing his brow.
    I had no idea how this was going to come back around to me being here.
    Hans laughed, a short, forced laugh as he began pacing again, shoes clicking upon the sterile polished floor. “I am hardly the first child who wished his father would retire and pass along the family business into more capable hands.”
    I raised my eyebrows. Hans wanted to run Geneses?
    “And yet my father will never agree to rest from his efforts. Unless.” Hans looked deeply into my eyes, and I forced myself to meet his gaze, glacial and ravenous. “Unless there were something else with which he might occupy himself.” He paused. “Something which touches his heart even more profoundly than his desire to lessen human suffering.”
    A name popped into my thoughts. One that I absolutely did not come up with on my own. The name Elisabeth, spoken in a man’s voice, and with angry emotions.
    Where did that come from, I wondered ? I felt an uneasy certainty that it came from Hans’ mind. That he had inadvertently spoken in my mind like Sir Walter or Christian might do.
    He spoke in a whisper. “Your great–grandmother twenty–three times removed was called Elizabeth de Rochefort. The name means nothing to you, I know, and yet I assure you that there is no other name more precious to my father. His dearest wish was to have a child with her.”
    I remembered, just in time, to look shocked by what Hans said. “How can your dad have a child with someone who died centuries ago?”
    “How indeed?” Hans asked, carefully examining my face.
    I tried to keep an innocently–puzzled expression upon it. Which, honestly, wasn’t all that difficult because I still didn’t see what I had to do with early retirement for Helmann.
    And then I did.
    Fortunately Hans had just turned his back to me as my face registered disgust. I grabbed for my hot cocoa, now luke–warm. The syllaberry syrup had gathered at the bottom and tasted too sweet. I struggled to swallow it down.
    “My father has an unusual genetic make–up which has allowed him to live for a very long time. He was once married to Elisabeth, but none of their children survived infancy. Although she was long–lived as well, she did not survive as my father has done.”
    “You want me to get pregnant with your dad so he’ll focus on a baby instead of trying to euthanize the world?” The words tumbled out like I’d choke on them if I kept them inside.
    Hans looked at me with what appeared to be genuine shock. “I would never ask such a thing of you. Forgive me, Samantha. I have explained things most ineffectively if that is what you have concluded.”
    I frowned. “You don’t want me to have your father’s baby?”
    “I hardly think an unwanted teen pregnancy would be a reasonable request to make of a young person who has suffered as you have already done in your life. Child, forgive me.” Hans shook his head slowly.
    “Then what am I doing here ?” I asked.
    “I wish only to ask if you would, out of the kindness of your heart, and for the benefit of millions who die and billions more who may yet—” Here he paused to draw breath. “Might you consider an egg donation?”

Chapter Eight
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    CROSSES OF ASH
    · WILL ·
    Sir Walter pressed us back into the wall of the office. Lest we should be detected.
    Right, I wrote. Our freezing cold invisible bodies would