Celeste laid the table. Like everyone else, she had the television on and tuned into the debate, but she was only half listening to the proceedings as she contemplated whether or not she had chosen the right napkins. They were red and perhaps too festive. White would be better. She collected them all up again and took them to the linen room. As she bent down to replace them on a low shelf there was a sharp twist in her belly – a contraction. She gasped and dropped the napkins, grabbing at her stomach. Leaning forwards, she prayed that this was just a false alarm.

Not tonight. Not after all the preparations I made.

The contraction passed.

'Thank God,' she said out loud. When she returned to the dining room she realised she had forgotten the white napkins.

After Celeste had finished the domestic preparations she went upstairs to change. She switched the television on in her room also, but, even so, she didn't absorb much of what was being said. There were too many other things to think about. Like how to stuff her body into smart clothes and not look awful.

She was still staring critically at her naked body when she heard Rob's car pull up. He came in with a bang (he always did) and loped up the stairs, calling out to her:

'Celeeeeeeste!' He came into the bedroom, stopped, and gave a long appreciative whistle.

'Don't be ridiculous,' Celeste told him.

'I didn't say a thing,' he told her. 'But, if I may, I think you should wear that to dinner.'

Celeste grimaced and held her belly.

'I'm disgusting.'

'Nonsense,' said Rob, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. He nuzzled into her neck and let his hands wander.

'Stop it,' Celeste snapped, pulling away from him.

She saw that glimmer of defeat cross his face. A small part of her felt sorry.

'Get dressed,' she said to him and she finally broke free of the mirror and investigated her wardrobe. In the end, it didn't take her long to dress. She put on her make-up and sprayed scent on her neck.

Perhaps the smell will distract from the ugliness.

Rob walked out of the dressing room and looked at her as she fixed her earrings in place.

'Well?' she asked.

'Stunning,' he said, and she knew he meant it. A mix of gratitude and impatience swelled in her. She still felt ugly. Her face was hard and unhappy, and she felt enormous.

'Every inch the glamorous fatso,' she said, and she stood up and left their room. 'Don't be too long!' she called out as she got to the stairs.

When Chris and Jakim arrived Celeste was seriously considering the liquor cabinet. She didn't hear them ring the doorbell but she heard Jakim's booming voice after Rob had let them in. She went into the hallway to greet them. As always, her breath caught when she saw Jakim. A tall, beautiful man, she thought it was practically impossible not to love him.

'I see you've still got the debate on,' said Chris, reminding Celeste that he was there too. She smiled at him.

'Yes, but I've barely had a moment to watch it. I've no idea where things stand.'

'Do you mind?' Chris asked and he stepped into the living room.

'Drinks?' asked Rob.

'Negroni,' Chris and Jakim said together.

'Celeste?' Rob asked and she thought about cocktails, wistfully.

'Elderflower,' she said.

Chris and Jakim sat down in front of the television.

'What do you think about all of this, C?' Jakim asked her.

Celeste shrugged.

'You must have an opinion,' he said, and he rewarded her with that painfully bright smile of his that made her limbs feel like water.

'Must I?' she asked as she sat down.

Jakim laughed.

'Fair enough. Most people do, though. Have an opinion.'

'Yes, I suppose they do,' she said. Jakim studied her and she met his stare.

'Spiky as ever, C,' he said.

She liked hearing him call her C. It reminded her of another time. Before Chris. Before Rob.

'They have to rule for the amendment,' Chris said.

'Do they really have to, though?' asked Rob as he brought the drinks in. He offered them around and then sat down next to Celeste. She shuffled a little further up the seat, trying to create some space between them.

Chris was happy to argue:

'It's the morally sound choice. It could prevent the need for genetic modifications further down the line. Particularly if gene drives are implemented, which would save so much time and money.'

'You're just regurgitating the pamphlets we all got. Why do you personally feel they should okay tampering with unborn children?'

'You mean you don't think they should okay it?' Chris asked and Rob laughed.

'Nice deflection. And if you're asking; yeah, I think it's a good idea. I just want to know why you think it's a good idea.'

Chris thought about it for a while. Celeste looked at the television but didn't see anything as she thought about what Rob had said:

Yeah, I think it's a good idea.

The baby kicked and Celeste jumped.

'You okay?' Jakim asked and Celeste managed to smile.

'She's a bloody ninja,' she said.

Rob slipped a hand onto her belly and grinned as the baby gave Celeste another booting. She pushed his hand away.

'I'm too hot, babe,' she muttered, and she tried to shuffle even further away from him.

You think it's a good idea? She thought at him. Playing god with us all?

Rob turned his attention back to Chris and the debate, and very soon Jakim was drawn into the conversation. Celeste only half listened to them.

'I do think the way they've formed this debate is a good idea. Having so many ordinary people involved in the argument,' said Jakim.

'I don't know. I think I would prefer listening to people who actually know exactly what they're talking about. How are lay people really to know what's best in terms of the science of this?' asked Rob.

'How are scientists supposed to know what's best in terms of ordinary human experience?' Chris countered. 'This is the kind of decision that affects everyone so everyone has to have a voice. I'm only disappointed that I wasn't selected in the debate lottery.'

'The public will speak when it's time to vote. What we need from a debate is facts related by experts so that we can all make an informed decision,' said Rob.

'What we need from a debate is questions posed by people that represent us all. I don't think scientists have a strong enough grasp on everyday reality.'

'C?' Jakim asked, and Celeste couldn't rightly say how much time had passed.

'Sorry,' she said. 'I was just thinking about dinner. And I haven't even got the appetizers out. My brain’s all over the place.' Chris stood up as she did.

'I'll help you,' he said.

'Oh, you don't have to!'

But he insisted, following her to the kitchen. He was always trying to get on her good side.

Celeste carefully spread the topping she had made, on each of the blinis, before handing them over for Chris to adorn with roasted peppers and olives.

'This smells gorgeous. What's in it?'

'Sour cream, horseradish, tarragon. Lemon juice.' Celeste couldn't think of anything more to say. She didn't want to talk at all. Chris did not like quiet, however, and it didn't take long for him to attempt conversation again:

'I suppose, even if we end up voting for germ-line modification, it'll be too late for your little one anyway.'

'What are you talking about?' Celeste asked.

Chris seemed surprised by the question.

'The debate of course. And the vote. It'll be a bit late for your baby since she's past the germ-line sell-by date.'

'She's not a bottle of milk, Chris.'

Chris squirmed.

'No, I know. Poor choice of words. I only meant that... I just...' He gave up. Then he pointed at the spoon Celeste held, poised over nothing. It had dripped a white line of sauce down her dress.

'I have to change,' she said. 'Can you finish this off?'

Chris nodded and she left him.

As she looked over her clothes again, Celeste fought off the wave of tears that was building. She rubbed her belly and whispered to it:

'You'll be perfect, baby girl. I promise. You'll be perfect.'

It took her some time to pull herself together. When she was ready, she went downstairs and into the kitchen to heat up the soup. She could hear the voices rumbling in the living room, and that goddamn debate was still going on in the background. She wished, for a moment, that she was someone else. Someone happy. Someone softer. Someone she used to be.

She finished the last-minute preparations of food and when everything was ready she called the men into the dining room. They sat down in their usual places. They had done these dinners for so long now.

Why are we still doing this?

'This smells divine,' Jakim said.

'It's nothing special,' said Celeste, but of course it was.

'You missed the blinis, beautiful,' said Rob, and she nodded and ladled the soup.

The conversation drifted over her. They were talking about work, about golf, about politics. They were being distinctly masculine, distinctly cliché. And then Celeste became aware of Rob calling her name.

'Hmm?'

'Where are you, hun?' he asked her.

She smiled around the table.

'Sorry, I was a million miles away. Still preoccupied with baby things. I keep thinking we've forgotten something important.' She was lying, but they didn't notice.

'Speaking of babies, would you think about getting yours modified if there was anything wrong?' Chris asked.

Celeste dropped her spoon into her bowl.

'Why would anything be wrong?' she asked.

'He was just speaking hypothetically,' Rob said.

'Why are we still talking about this debate?' Celeste asked.

'Everyone's talking about it,' Jakim said.

'And we've got to be like everyone else? Isn't that what this all amounts to anyway? Modifying children so that they're like everyone else; so that they're considered normal? I don't see why we feel we have to do that. Some people just aren't meant to be like everyone else!'

There was a brief silence. Then Chris spoke:

'It's not a matter of making people the same. It's about making sure everyone's healthy.'

Celeste snorted.

'Plenty of people with so called disorders are healthy. They live, they breathe, they lead full lives. Plenty of people with disabilities make more of their lives than thousands of normal people.'

'How many of those people do you know?' Chris asked. 'And have you asked them what they think about all of this? I'm sure plenty of people with genetic disorders would have jumped at the chance to rectify the anomalies of their code if they’d been given half the chance.'

'You're talking about making those decisions for embryos and cells. You can't ask an embryo what it thinks.'

'But you can extrapolate what they might think from what grown people with genetic issues might say about their own problems. And we're not just talking about health here. We're talking about the financial issues that go hand in hand with people that require more medical care than what, for want of a better word, 'normal' people need.'

'How many people with genetic disorders do you know, Chris?' asked Celeste.

Chris shrugged. 'None. But then CRISPR's solved millions of genetic problems already. Do you know anyone with a genetic defect?'

'Defect.' Celeste repeated the word, pronounced it slowly like it was new to her. Then she stood up. 'I should get the main course.'

She gathered up the soup bowls and disappeared into the kitchen. Rob followed her.

'What's wrong?' he asked.

'Nothing.'

'You're leaping down Chris's throat for no good reason. All he's doing is expressing an opinion.'

'All I'm doing is expressing an opinion! Since when is what I think less important than what you all think?'

'Since never,' Rob said. 'You know it isn't that. You're provoking an argument.'

'Arguments are healthy,' Celeste said. She bent over to put the bowls in the dishwasher.

'Here, let me do that,' Rob said, moving to her side.

'I can do it!' Celeste snapped and Rob stepped back, holding up his hands. He looked at her for a moment and she glared back.

'Whatever,' he muttered and he left the room.

'More wine?' she heard him ask the others.

Celeste sagged against the counter. She felt that wave of tears rising up again and she hugged herself as if her arms could hold them in.

It's just the hormones, she thought, but she knew it wasn't. I used to be happy.

'C?'

Celeste jumped and looked up at Jakim.

'I didn't hear you come in.'

Jakim walked over to her and took her hand.

'What's wrong, C?' he asked her, and then the wave broke and the tears ran down her face. 'Oh, love!' he said and wrapped his arms around her.

'I used to be happy, Jak,' Celeste sobbed into his shoulder. 'I used to be happy.'

Jakim let her cry. He rubbed her back gently but didn't hush her. He just waited for the tears to stop. When they did she pulled back and looked at him.

'You all call me spiky C, but I used to love people. I was good with them. My parents called me their little angel, and I always thought it was because I was sweet and happy all the time.' Celeste swallowed and walked over to the breakfast bar. She sat on a stool.

Can I do it? Can I tell him everything?

'The boys'll be wondering where you are,' she said.

Jakim shook his head. Celeste smiled but didn't look at him, afraid that if she did she'd not go on.

'I found out later that 'angel' was a common term for people with my condition. But I only understood that I had a condition when it was gone. Angelman Syndrome.' Celeste smiled. 'They called me their little angel just like every other parent that had a child with AS. It still meant something to me though. I was a happy little angel.

'Only they had to fix me. I still don't know what was so wrong that it had to be fixed. We were a happy family. Mum always said we were rich in love. We were also just plain old rich, though, so that might explain some of it. Rich people – we don't like seeming less than perfect do we?'

Celeste finally looked at Jakim. There was no turning back now. He waited for her to continue.

'I was six when our doctor told my parents about CRISPR. She explained what it all meant. It’s old tech now, but it was amazing then. Of course, I understood nothing. I just sat on the floor, drawing pictures and laughing. I doubt my parents understood much of what she said, either. I don't think they understood anything beyond the idea that their daughter could be cured. That was all they needed to know.

'I don't remember how I felt after they “fixed” me, but I remember how happy my parents were. They hugged me so tight and Dad cried. "Our little angel," he kept saying, over and over again.

'He didn't call me angel much after that, though. After that it was a normal life, I was a normal girl and I was treated that way. I was young enough to grow into my features, look normal, look "pretty", no one ever knew.' She smiled at Jakim.

'C,' he said, and she laughed.

'I've had such a normal life,' she said. 'And maybe it was better this way. But...' she said.

'But?'

'Well, I'll never know for certain, will I? If being normal is better.' Celeste rubbed her belly again. 'And now there's this one to think about. She could have AS. And what do I do if she does?'

Jakim walked over to her and took her hand again.

'You do what you think is right,' he said. 'You try to make her happy.'

You'll always be an angel. You'll be perfect, no matter what.

Celeste broke away from him and dabbed at her eyes.

'God, they'll be starving in there,' she said. 'I should get started on this.' She took the plates off the warming shelf. 'Go back and join them, I'll just be a minute more.'

Jakim hesitated. Celeste felt him watching her as she started plating the food.

'Go on,' she said. 'I'm fine.'

When Celeste brought the main course into the dining room Jakim's eyes grew wide.

'You've outdone yourself!' he said. She knew he was exaggerating, trying to inject some normality back into the evening.

Of course, we have to be normal.

Celeste played along.

'Blood, sweat and tears, the secret ingredients!' she said.

She took Rob's hand and gave it a squeeze; a promise to not argue, to smile, to be normal.

On the television in the other room the debate drew to a close.