Prodigal Son

the terrible tax Victor placed upon Erika's right to live.
        A moment passed, and then a sound issued from elsewhere in the room. A short-lived furtive rustle.
        Shadows veiled the room, were lifted only where the light of a single bedside lamp could reach.
        Naked, Erika slipped out of bed and stood, poised and alert.
        Although her enhanced eyes made the most of available light, she lacked the penetrating night vision of a cat. Victor was conducting cross-species experiments these days, but she was not one of them.
        Desirous of more light, she moved toward a reading lamp beside an armchair.
        Before she reached the lamp, she sensed more than heard a thing on the floor scurry past her. Startled, she pulled her left foot back, pivoted on her right, and tried to sight the intruder along the path that instinct told her it must have taken.
        When there was nothing to be seen-or at least nothing that she could see-she continued to the reading lamp and switched it on. More light revealed nothing that she hoped to find.
        A clatter in the bathroom sounded like the small waste can being knocked over.
        That door stood ajar. Darkness lay beyond.
        She started toward the bathroom, moving quickly but coming to a stop short of the threshold.
        Because members of the New Race were immune to most diseases and healed rapidly, they were afraid of fewer things than were ordinary human beings. That didn't mean they were utter strangers to fear.
        Although hard to kill, they were not immortal, and having been made in contempt of God, they could have no hope of a life after this one. Therefore, they feared death.
        Conversely, many of them feared life because they had no control of their destinies. They were indentured servants to Victor, and there was no sum they could work off to gain their freedom.
        They feared life also because they could not surrender it if the burden of serving Victor became too great. They had been created with a deeply embedded psychological injunction against suicide; so if the void appealed to them, they were denied even that.
        Here but a step from the bathroom threshold, Erika experienced another kind of fear: of the unknown.
        That which is abnormal to nature is a monster, even if it might be beautiful in its way. Erika, created not by nature but by the hand of man, was a lovely monster but a monster nonetheless.
        She supposed that monsters should not fear the unknown because, by any reasonable definition, they were part of it. Yet a tingle of apprehension traced the contours of her spine.
        Instinct told her that the rat was not a rat, that instead it was a thing unknown.
        From the bathroom came a clink, a clatter, a metallic rattle, as if something had opened a cabinet and set about exploring the contents in the dark.
        Erika's two hearts beat faster. Her mouth went dry. Her palms grew damp. In this vulnerability, but for the double pulse, she was so human, regardless of her origins.
        She backed away from the bathroom door.
        Her blue silk robe was draped over the armchair. With her gaze fixed on the bathroom door, she slipped into the robe and belted it.
        Barefoot, she left the suite, closing the hall door behind her.
        As the midnight hour came, she descended through the house of Frankenstein, to the library where, among the many volumes of human thought and hope, she felt safer.

CHAPTER 33
        
        AT VICTOR'S SUMMONS, they came to him in the main lab, two young men as ordinary in appearance as any in New Orleans.
        Not all the men of the New Race were handsome. Not all the women were beautiful.
        For one thing, when at last he had secretly seeded enough of his creations in society to exterminate the Old Race, humanity would put up a better defense if it could identify its enemy by even the most subtle telltales of appearance. If all members of the New Race looked like gorgeous fodder for the box-office battlefields of Hollywood, their beauty would make them objects of suspicion, subject them to testing and interrogation, and ultimately expose them.
        Their infinite variety, on the other hand, would ensure the winning of the war. Their variety, their physical superiority, and their ruthlessness.
        Besides, though he sometimes crafted specimens breathtaking in appearance, this enterprise was