Primogeniture (The Firstborn)

1: The homecoming

My Dearest Sarah.

You have often asked me things about my past, which I have been unable to answer. I wanted to tell you so much, but as you will see from the events that follow, it was not within my power to do so.

I now want to tell you the whole story from start to finish and hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive the harm that I have done; much against my will, but harm nonetheless, inflicted on others and particularly on Rebecca who we all loved so very much.

You will no doubt remember the day as well as I, even though you were only 14 and Rebecca 11. The day I returned home and your mother told me she wanted a divorce.

That in itself was to change our lives forever, but what you don’t know is that I had made a momentous discovery that very same day and just a few hours before, that would change the lives of all humanity.

I am writing this letter, based partly on notes made at the time and partly from memory, in the hope that in some way it will explain my actions and that eventually it may be possible to publish an account of my role in all of this, when it is safe to do so.

I do not believe that time has yet come. But I leave this letter in your safe-keeping in anticipation that it may be of some use and perhaps when all of this becomes known, some sense can be made of it all and some lessons learned.

It was the staccato rat-a-tat-tat of the wind lashed rain, pummelling and ricocheting off the pitched glass roof that penetrated deep into the recesses of Felix’s being. It was as if his entire consciousness were being forced into intense sharp focus by that repetitive insistent drumbeat; a dramatic accompaniment to the falsetto of Chris’s voice as he tried to make Felix understand above the clamour.

At the time, Felix was unable to take in quite what Chris was saying. He knew of course that these results had been seen before, but he knew also that they must be an anomaly, a mistake, an error somewhere in the process, a glitch in the machine.

“No, no,” Chris kept on repeating. “I have run and re-run the tests and it’s always the same result, every time. It’s no anomaly. It’s a scientific fact. Or very soon will be.”

The rain kept coming in great tidal surges, even harder now as if to emphasize the import of Chris’s words.

The wind rattled against the windows of the science block and it was with a feeling of foreboding that Felix gazed blankly at the data presented to him. Somehow, it all meant very little. Although this should have been second nature to him, he just couldn’t concentrate his mind on the mass of data and graphs Chris was holding out in front of him, let alone interpret them. His mind felt numb.

He could only peer out of the window at the eddying leaves swirling around the campus and stare blankly across College Green to the grey imposing Art Deco bunker of the Divinities Faculty opposite.

He wondered what all this would mean if Chris were correct. And Chris was always correct. What it would mean for religion. What it would mean for science? What it would mean for society. He knew that if this data was as it seemed, then life could never be the same again.

Felix left the building by the rear exit, out into the miasma of darkness, mist, wind and rain. Not the sort of October day when an umbrella would be of any protection against the elements.

Walking quickly across the campus, struggling against the buffeting wind with water trickling down the back of his neck; Felix’s mind was elsewhere.

“You must be absolutely clear about this,” he explained to Chris just before leaving the building. “These results must not be revealed to anyone. Not until we’ve been able to fully test the data and consider the full implications.” Chris gazed back at him with an expression that somehow didn’t fill Felix with absolute confidence.