Millennium Babies

The fire crackled in the fireplace, her wine had warmed to room temperature, bringing out a different bouquet, and her blankets looked comfortable. She sank into them. Franke's voice droned on in the kitchen, and she ordered House to play Bach to cover him.

But her favorite Brandenburg Concerto couldn't wipe Franke's voice from her mind. Studying Mille

Three days later, Brooke was in her office, trying to assemble her lecture for her new survey class. This one was on the two world wars. The University of Wisconsin still believed that a teacher should stand in front of students, even for the large lecture courses, instead of delivering ca

But now she was getting past the introductory remarks and into the areas she wasn't that familiar with. She didn't believe in regurgitating the textbooks, so she was boning up on World War I. She had forgotten that its causes were so complex; its results so far reaching, especially in Europe. Sometimes she just found herself reading, lost in the past.

Her office was small and narrow, with barely enough room for her desk. Because she was new, she was assigned to Bascom Hall at the top of Bascom Hill, a building that had been around for most of the university's history. The Hall's historic walls didn't accommodate new technology, so the university made certain she had a fancy desk with a built-in screen. The problem with that was that when she did extensive research, as she was doing now, she had to look down. She often downloaded information to her palmtop or worked at home. Working in her office, in the thin light provided by the ancient fluorescents and the dirty meshed window, gave her a headache.

But she was nearly done. Tomorrow, she would take the students from the horrors of trench warfare to the first steps toward US involvement. The bulk of the lecture, though, would focus on isolationism—a potent force in both world wars.

A knock on her door brought her to the twenty-first century. She rubbed the bridge of her nose impatiently. She wasn't holding office hours. She hated it when students failed to read the signs.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Professor Cross?”

“Yes?”

“May I have a moment of your time?”

The voice was male and didn't sound terribly young, but many of her students were older.

“A moment,” she said, using her desktop to unlock the door. “I'm not having office hours.”

The knob turned and a man came inside. He wasn't very tall, and he was thin—a ru

“Professor Franke.”

He held up a hand. “I'm sorry to disturb you—”

“You should be,” she said. “I purposely didn't answer your message.”

“I figured. Please. Just give me a few moments.”

She shook her head. “I'm not interested in being the subject of any study. I don't have time.”

“Is it the time? Or is it the fact that the study has to do with Mille

“Both.”

“I can promise you that you'll be well compensated. And if you'll just listen to me for a moment, you might reconsider—”

“Professor Franke,” she said, “I'm not interested.”

“But you're a key to the study.”

“Why?” she asked. “Because of my mother's lawsuits?”

“Yes,” he said.

She felt the air leave her body. She had to remind herself to breathe. The feeling was familiar. It had always been familiar. Whenever anyone talked about Mille

Mille

“Oh, goodie,” Brooke said, filling her voice with all the sarcasm she could muster. “My mother was upset that I didn't get exploited enough as a child so you're here to fill the gap.”

His back straightened. “It's not like that.”

“Really? How is it then?” She regretted the words the moment she spoke them. She was giving Franke the opening he wanted.

“We've chosen our candidates with care,” he said. “We are not taking babies born randomly on January 1 of 2000. We're taking children whose birth was pla

“Wonderful,” she said. “You're studying children with dysfunctional families.”

“Are we?” he asked.

“Well, if you study me, you are,” she said and stood. “Now, I'd like it if you'd leave.”

“You haven't let me finish.”

“Why should I?”

“Because this study might help you, Professor Cross."'

“I'm doing fine without your help.”

“But you never talk about your Mille

“And how often do you discuss the day you were born, Professor?”

“My birthday is rather unremarkable,” he said. “Unlike yours.”

She crossed her arms. “Get out.”

“Remember that I study human potential,” he said. “And you all have the same begi

“Parents who were greedy,” she said.

“Some of them,” he said. “And some of them pla

“I don't see how our begi

He smiled, and she cursed under her breath. As long as she talked to him, as long as she asked thinly veiled questions, he had her and they both knew it.

“In the past forty years, studies of identical twins raised apart have shown that at least 50 percent of a person's disposition is apparent at birth. Which means that no matter how you're raised, if you were a happy baby, you have a greater than 50 percent chance of being a happy adult. The remaining factors are probably environmental. Are you familiar with DNA mapping?”

“You're not answering my question,” she said.

“I'm trying to,” he said. “Listen to me for a few moments, and then kick me out of your office.”

She wouldn't get rid of him otherwise. She slowly sat in her chair.

“Are you familiar with DNA mapping?” he repeated.

“A little,” she said.

“Good.” He leaned back in his chair and templed his fingers. “We haven't located a happiness gene or an unhappiness gene. We're not sure what it is about the physical make-up that makes these things work. But we do know that it has something to do with serotonin levels.”

“Get to the part about Mille

He smiled. “I am. My last book was partly based on the happiness/unhappiness model, but I believe that's too simplistic. Human beings are complex creatures. And as I grow older, I see a lot of lost potential. Some of us were raised to fail, and some were raised to succeed. Some of those raised to succeed have failed, and some who were raised to fail have succeeded. So clearly it isn't all environment.”

“Unless some were reacting against their environment,” she said, hearing the sulle

“That's one option,” he said, sounding brighter. He must have taken her statement for interest. “But one of the things I learned while working on human potential is that drive is like happiness. Some children are born driven. They walk sooner than others. They learn faster. They adapt faster. They achieve more, from the moment they take their first breath.”