That’s how people say it. Key lecture, key speech, nothing works without keys anymore. The key lecture about adenoviruses. By this point Karen sits in on lectures at University College London nearly daily, among hundreds of young people who don’t have anything even approaching her mental abilities. But Karen can’t attend university. Not officially. Not with a scholarship. A degree, a PhD at twenty. Her own research team—not going to happen. For that she’d have to register. And for that she’d have to have a chip implanted.

Karen sits alone on the bench. The others shun her, the others watch her. They stare at her. If a famine were to break out, she’d be the first one to be eaten.

The professor explains the effects of the fascinating virus. “If you infect pregnant women with the virus, the fetus will also enjoy the virus’s effects. The virus will thereby be able to overcome the hematoencephalic barrier. The placenta is another story, but the Zika virus demonstrates that this, too, seems possible, even if no one as yet has been able to figure out the mechanism. However. Today’s problems, having to do with violence, depression, drug addiction, criminality, would disappear from the world after one generation.”

The professor takes a deep breath. Almost dreamily she looks out the window at the sky. The students don’t understand a word. Except Karen. Karen is excited. What she’s learning matches a prediction. It’s the confirmation of her theory.

“Alongside reduced aggression and sexual listlessness, those affected should be able lead a happy life, even if not a sexually active one.”

“If you are ready,

I am, too,” Karen greets the lab director later. A wispy crane-like fellow with a giant Adam’s apple. Over forty. That is, from Karen’s perspective not just old but long dead. After she had the idea about the virus, Karen befriended the man, though that’s overstating it since the friendly contact is one-sided and verbal only. Karen is allowed to use the lab when it’s empty, and she can order some shit using the lab director’s account. It’s of no interest

To

THE LAB DIRECTOR

INTERESTS: A collection of miniature living rooms in matchboxes. Trading pornographic images of underage females

CRIMINAL ACTIVITIES: stealing used underwear for sexual stimulation

CONSUMER INTERESTS: see 1.2

“So, where exactly am I supposed to speak into?” asks the lab director at the interview to determine whether his contract would be extended.