“Good morning Commander Tyler, Doctor Mathers.” A pleasant female voice greeted them over the intercom as they entered.
“June?” Rob asked, uncertain of the voice and suddenly self-conscious about undressing.
“That's the computer,” Greg said.
I hope I don't hear that voice the whole time. What would Carol say? Rob thought humorously, trying hard not to think about the coming event.
Greg hurried him through the open glass door to the spectrometer, but Rob's curiosity got the better of him. He walked over for a close-up view of the nursery. The entire tank was sealed. Rob could see a shadowy mass attached to the back wall. Reddish brown in color, at its base it was as big around as a dinner plate and then it tapered out about four inches to a three inch concave face at its center.
“Is that the—”
“Umbilical? Yes,” Greg answered from the doorway.
Rob turned back to Chloe, smirking behind his mask. “That’s gonna be one heck of a bellybutton.” He then tossed the garments out behind him.
The major was already closing the outer door when Rob began to undress. He laid his clothes on a corner bench that he hadn't noticed the day before.
“Commander Tyler.” It was Yeoum. “I am compelled to thank you once again for your participation in this program. Six hours from now, you will begin to see the results of your efforts.”
“Provided you all do your diligence, and get it right the first time,” Rob said.
“I'm afraid that depends more upon you than us, Commander. You must refrain from as much movement as possible, I must remind you.”
“Yeah I get it. Just don't pipe in any kicking tunes. I may get the urge to boogie a little bit.”
“Nope,” said Don. “There won't be any music or sound of any kind while you're in there. The sound waves could disrupt the scan.”
Rob looked disdainfully through the glass at them. “That wasn't on the brochure.”
“My apologies, Commander,” Yeoum said unconvincingly.
No wonder there was a psych eval. I may go nuts by the time this is over. “So I'll be alone with my thoughts. For six hours. Great.”
He stepped into the spectrometer, ducking his head to fit through the opening. The inside seemed to glow. It was well lit, but Rob couldn't tell from where. Its surfaces were cool to the touch, but not uncomfortably so. The interior was cylindrical, four feet in diameter and eight feet long with a concave floor. The black outline of the human form was traced where Rob was to lie. At its head was a rather uncomfortable-looking cradle.
“I wonder if this is what a Vienna sausage feels like?”
He lay on the floor and settled his head in the cradle. “Snug as a bug in a really big rug.”
He heard Don say, “Try not to go to sleep.” The glass door closed with a hiss and his ears popped as the pressure equalized. After a minute, he could hear the muffled sound of electric motors and felt machinery moving in the floor. It moved slowly back and forth, spreading out to his left and right.
“No turning back now, I guess,” he said out loud and then he began to think about the lyrics to Don McLean's American Pie as he settled in for the duration.
18 Idle Hands
26 July 2010
ROB WAS RELIEVED BEYOND measure when the successful scan was finally over. Provided the growth process went well, his part in the experiment was complete. It was still necessary for him to remain inside the complex, but his mobility within was greatly increased. He was even given permission, over Yeoum’s initial objections, to go as far as the garage and the security office.
Just after the scan, he spent a few hours in the computer center. He then attempted to wear himself out by exercising and shooting hoops, and later found himself alone in the parlor, still feeling restless. It seemed that the more he worked out, the more restless he became. Those not involved with the cloning had busied themselves throughout the scan and then retired to their quarters early. Since his appetite for the big meal he had dreamt of before the scan was gone, he settled into a recliner with a bowl of popcorn, a soda, and the television remote.
He was still flipping channels when two young airmen attached to the security detail wandered into the room. It wasn't uncommon for a few of the security policemen to come inside, especially the animal lovers, during their off-duty hours.
“Good evening, sir,” they said as they went to the kitchen in search of a snack.
“Evenin' fellas. Catch anything?” Rob asked cheerfully, grateful for the company.
They stopped and gave him a perplexed look. “Sir?”
Rob watched their expressions change to confusion accented with concern. “A joke, gentlemen.” They smiled tentatively and went about their business.
Rob continued to scan through the channels. Finding nothing interesting, he settled on one of the late night talk shows.
The airmen, one with a bowl of chocolate chip ice cream and the other with an even larger bowl heaped with freshly popped popcorn, came stiffly to the living area, unused to the stranger’s company. “Mind if we join you, sir?”
Rob looked at them seriously. “Only if you’re sharin'.” He smiled to lighten the mood.
As they watched whatever happened to be on, the airmen relaxed. Having only seen the commander on the security monitors, they didn’t know what to expect. But they quickly found him to be down to earth and easy to talk to. They even began to appreciate his quirky sense of humor.
The subject soon turned to old cars. The three weren’t surprised to find that they shared this common interest. Rob told them about Daisy, and how much he enjoyed working on the Bronco. One of the airmen told the story of how he, his uncle, and his father had restored a French blue 1972 Triumph TR6 convertible to showroom quality the summer before he enlisted in the Air Force. The other had a similar story about a 1949 Ford Coup that he and his brothers had chopped and made into a low rider.
Rob glanced at the clock. “Wow. It’s three o’clock and I’m still not tired.” He rolled his eyes. The prospect of staying in the place for six more days with nothing to do was unappealing at best, but to suffer insomnia too? It was too much. Looking back at the television, he saw an ad for a local car repair shop. “Hey guys, you like to work on old cars, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
Rob stood to his feet and rubbed his hands together. “C'mon. I’ve got a project for us.”
* * * * *
DURING THE NEXT FIVE days Rob had very little contact with any of the cloning team. They were diligently monitoring the clone's progress and rarely left the lab. Jimmy occasionally wandered through the parlor late at night, but was invariably summoned back to the lab by Don or the professor who needed this process scanned or that progress monitored. Poor Jimmy’s work was never done.
As for the others, any combination of five, except Eddie who seemed to be keeping his distance, could be found in the parlor during the evenings for an impromptu poker tournament. As it turned out, Tiong was the shark in that tank. Rob got his wish to play horse with June several times, and Jimmy had attempted, when he could find a few spare minutes, to show him how to play some of the video games in the library.
Rob was mildly concerned with the slight but persistent shortness of breath he began experiencing. He attributed it to nerves, even though he hated to admit that he was anxious. At times, he had to concentrate in order to take a deep satisfying breath. Don invited him several times to come see the clone’s development, but he refused. He simply wasn't comfortable with the idea.
When he woke up on day six, Rob felt claustrophobic. He longed for wide-open spaces and blue sky. He daydreamed about swimming in the warm ocean, and made himself a promise to take Carol and the kids to the beach when he got home. He was sitting in the parlor reading his Bible when Jimmy’s voice came over the intercom.
“Good morning, Walmart shoppers. The time is now eight o’clock a.m. The clone is ninety point four three seven percent complete. Esti
mated time of awakening is twelve forty-three a.m. Monday morning. While you’re here, check out the deli for some great deals on salami and Black Forest ham. Thank you for shopping with us.”
“Wow. He is incredibly annoying.” Rob stared at the speaker in the ceiling. He turned his attention back to his reading. He had made some real progress during the week and was up to the book of James, his favorite in the New Testament. Its chapter one message of persevering through trials was, he felt, especially poignant for his present situation.
“Morning,” June greeted as she came into the room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She had just woken from a nap after getting up early to attend to the chimps.
“Mornin',” Rob replied after finishing the verse he was reading. “I made whomp cinnamon rolls. You're welcome to ‘em.”
“What the heck are whomp cinnamon rolls?”
“The kind that come in a can. When I was a kid, you had to whomp them on the counter to open them. Now you have to use a spoon.”
June smiled through her sleepiness. “Thanks.” She washed her hands and scanned the long countertop, spotting the rolls on a platter covered with a paper towel. “Having a problem with flies here inside this clean environment, are we?”
“Haven’t seen Jimmy this morning,” he replied with a straight face.
She poured herself a glass of milk, selected one of the icing-topped rolls, and joined Rob in the living area. She plopped into the loveseat next to him, tucking her feet under thighs. “What'cha reading?”
“My Bible.”
“No kidding. Which book?”
“James.”
June thought for a moment. “‘Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.’”
“‘Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything,’” Rob recited, finishing verse four.
“Any special meaning to those verses for you?” she asked, obviously referencing the process going on a few rooms away.
“I just happened to be in James,” he replied. “But, yes, they aptly fit this … situation.”
They spent the rest of the day visiting the chimps, playing board games, and talking—anything to take Rob’s mind off of things. While playing basketball, the shortness of breath began to intensify. He was able to maintain control with some effort, but June noticed that he was uncomfortable. Late that evening, they met back in the parlor to watch a movie. Without warning, Don erupted into the room, nearly taking the door off its hinges. He had a huge smile plastered on his dark face. It was the first time that either of them had seen him since Monday. He scanned the room and found Rob and June standing in the living area, their alarmed expressions dimming his excitement a bit. “What's wrong?” June asked.
Don clapped his hands together. “Nothing's wrong. In fact, everything's perfect.” He trotted towards them. He started to hurdle the recliner in front of him, but decided against it, considering his prosthesis. “Today is the big day. Well, technically it'll be tomorrow, but it's within five hours now.”
Both June and Rob tensed, but for different reasons.
“You guys have got to come and see! We're over ninety-five percent, now. He's got hair!”
Rob flinched involuntarily. The detail was more than he wanted to know.
“We heard Jimmy earlier,” June said, sitting down. She fixed her eyes on the television as Rob gave Don a doubtful look.
Don danced around the chair, barely able to contain his glee. He ended up face-to-face with Rob, his hands on his shoulders, something that he would never have done if he weren’t stoked with adrenalin. “You gotta come.”
Rob looked past Don, scanning around for the remote control. The shortness of breath that had nearly been forgotten returned as he did.
Don frowned. “Don't you want to see the fruits of your labor?”
“No.”
“Why don't you take me? I'd like to see.” June was attempting to get Don's attention off of Rob, more than anything else. She had been curious about the procedure when they had cloned the chimps, but she hadn't developed any enthusiasm in Rob’s case. Once it had been established that Rob was a committed husband and father, she had spent a good deal of time with him. She now thought of Rob as the older brother she never had.
Don grabbed June by the hand and dragged her out of the room.
Slumping back into the chair, Rob considered his Bible. No matter how much he had read and prayed about his decision to be a part of what was happening here, he had received no answer, no insight pointing to right or wrong. He knew that prayers weren't often answered in a perceptible way. That their results could go unnoticed until much later, once there was time to reflect upon them.
At first, it gave him some comfort. Nothing had ever happened to him, good or bad, that hadn't resulted in his eventual benefit in some way. But he also realized that life's storms had a way of sneaking up on people when they were least prepared. Sitting there, he remembered a conversation he had had with a priest during the process of his confirmation when he was thirteen. “In life we must endure many storms,” he recalled, speaking the priest’s words aloud in the empty room. “If the waters are smooth today, you must keep watch on the horizon for the dark clouds, and listen for approaching thunder.”
It had been some time since he endured a storm.
* * * * *
JUNE GAZED INSIDE the nursery and stared at the shadowy form within as music played softly in the background. Yeoum believed that the clone could hear within the confines of the chamber, just as a developing fetus hears sounds through its mother’s flesh. Music was, he believed, a necessary element in the development of the new life. He had even begrudgingly agreed to intersperse his classical choices with a limited selection of Don's own favorites from the 80s and 90s.
Partially hidden by the translucent liquid was a human form. Its size and shape looked to be the same as Rob's, but details, other than a pink coloration and the darkness of the hair on its head, were impossible for June to determine.
“Can you believe it?” Don whispered, holding his thumb and forefinger a hair’s breadth apart. “We're this close.”
“Have there been any complications?” June asked.
“None,” Don grinned.
June stared in morbid fascination at the ghostlike outline. The realization of her fears was right in front of her, but she held on to the hope that humans would prove far too complicated to duplicate, even under the watchful eye of SIS. The computer had complete control of the process, introducing the building blocks of protein sequences and other elements at the precise nanosecond required. No human possessed the skills to come close to what Jimmy's software could do.
“Great,” June said unenthusiastically.
Don didn’t notice her blasé attitude. “It's been even smoother than it was with Angelina. It's taken a little longer, not so much because of the size differential as it is the complexity of the cerebrum. Your chimps are smart, June, but humans will always be smarter.”
She was mildly insulted by both the slight against her babies and the fact that Don thought she wasn't already aware of the fact. “Present company excepted.”
If Don heard the insult, he ignored it. He remained intent on the contents of the tank, much as a cheetah might study a baby gazelle with a pronounced limp. “This must be close to what God himself sees.”
A chill ran up June’s spine at his words. She found them to be more than a little disturbing. “Please, don't talk like that.”
Again, he ignored her. “Can you imagine what this will mean to medicine? The good it will do?”
June remained silent, unable to forget Rob's reaction to Don's exuberant conduct an hour before. Would it really do the good that Don was prematurely bragging about? She leaned in close, her breath fogging a small patch of glass, and whispered, “Are you going to save the world?”
Earl
ier that afternoon, Yeoum had stood and stared at the nursery. Here was the culmination of over sixty years of work begun by his father, a daechwa in the North Korean Army. Yeoum himself had achieved this same ranking of senior colonel before defecting to Canada in 1991 at the age of 54.
He had worked with his father at the military hospital in Pyongyang, beginning as a young boy. Funded by the administrations of Kim Il-Sung and his son, Kim Jong-Il, the “Human Enhancement Program” was an extremely high priority endeavor for the North Korean government, which was eager to field the world’s largest army. He’d been given unrestricted travel privileges, surpassing even those of his father, which had allowed him to attend foreign seminars and conferences that he deemed necessary to further his work. It was in Montreal, where he had made subtle inquiries on previous trips, that he had left his delegation and had sought political asylum.
He had been given permanent residency, but was afraid for his life. So he reluctantly accepted an offer of employment from the United States in exchange for his continued work in the field of cloning. It was eventually an arrangement he came to enjoy. With the resources made available to him, he was able to make steady advancements and add team members essential to his success.
He had been conditioned from an early age to ignore the test subjects of his experiments in North Korea, regardless of species. There was no possible way for him to remember how many had been sacrificed over the decades in pursuit of the elusive quest of cloning. The faces had long since faded from memory. Until more recently, that is. Agonizing screams from the past had begun to make their way back into the professor’s conscience as the present project developed. Through the increased use of alcohol, Yeoum had managed to squelch them temporarily. But even that had been losing its effectiveness of late.
That is, until the day that Commander Rob Tyler had walked into his laboratory. Yeoum considered Rob’s mere presence his vindication, his penance fulfilled. All of the suffering that he and his father had caused would be justified if only one person could be helped through the use of his work, and that of his team.