Summary: Love isn't the answer, or even the question.
Carla had a job, a dream, and a girlfriend. Her job was metahuman biochemistry, her girlfriend was in her arms, and her dream was about to come true.
Her laptop beeped. Giving a shout of joy, Carla jumped from bed and ran to her studio.
"That better be the damn Nobel committee," said her girlfriend walking behind her.
"It is!," shouted Carla. "It's better! It's fucking better!" She was literally jumping up and down in front of her laptop. "The protein folding simulations match!"
"Meaning...?" Dani wasn't a scientist, but she had dated Carla long enough to recognize that tone of voice.
Carla took her by the shoulders. "The metahuman gene? We can synthesize it! We can make *everybody* a meta!"
"You did it?" Dani's face was serious, almost reverent.
"We did it, love. No more disease. No more..." Carla struggled for words. "No more gravity!" She couldn't decide whether to laugh or kiss her lover, so she did both at the same time.
Dani took her face softly in her hands.
"You are a goddess, love, beautiful and dangerous and kind. And I'm only a pawn."
She twisted her hands sharply, notified her Queen and sat down to cry next to the cooling body.