by Greg Krojac
Todd Jones had been present at the first ever successful soul transfer experiment and had been involved in almost all experiments since. He often wondered what had happened to his colleague, Wolzenik but he didn’t miss him. Wolzenik’s sudden disappearance had left a vacancy for a senior lab technician, a position which he gratefully accepted.
Professor Ivanov took his surgical scalpel and drew it across Ami’s belly, pressing harder until a gaping wound opened up. Blood trickled down her body and through the 1cm holes into a drip-tray below. Thankfully, she had already passed out. The professor drew the baby from its mother’s womb, having first clamped off the umbilical cord. This was probably unnecessary, bearing in mind what was to follow, but it’d become a habit for the doctor to do this.
The baby girl was placed in the donor incubator and the lid closed, the rubber seals preventing unwanted air from entering or leaving. A button was pressed and the air was sucked out of the baby’s incubator. The new-born started to show the same symptoms as Ray Greenway had seven years earlier; she didn’t survive very long and her mother had already died from exsanguination.
The activity monitors picked up movement from the baby’s soul – it was leaving the body. The same network of airlocks guided the released soul into the incubator where the clone was waiting. All eyes were on the soul tracking monitor. Suddenly the operator stood up.
“Professor! The soul has completed the transfer. The clone has a soul. We’ve done it!”
The professor looked over his spectacles at his subordinate.
“You mean I’ve done it, Jones. I’ve done it. Not we.”
“Of course sir.”
The professor addressed the rest of his staff.
“OK. Well done everybody. Cunningham – tell the Clone Care team to come and collect this new creation. She may only live a couple more months but there’s a lot of information we can gain by observing her. Riddle, you can dispose of the baby, and Watson, you can get rid of the mother. Jones will supervise you. He’s quite the expert now. Bryant, you and Young can clean up in here. I’m going to my office to celebrate with an excellent twelve-year-old Scotch whisky.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
21:13 FRIDAY 3 MAY 2058
The clone observation team were busy making their laboratory as clean and orderly as possible. They’d received a message that the Pindar himself, Thomas McCall, would be paying them a visit, an event that didn't happen often and was akin to a royal visit. A young bespectacled man in a crisp white lab coat slid through the door, stopping abruptly when the soles of his shoes suddenly regained traction.
"He's here! Look busy!"
Just as employees had done for decades when facing a visit from top management, people opened spreadsheets on their computers and picked up their interactive clip-boards in an effort to look industrious. As it happened, the laboratory staff had plenty of time to prepare themselves before Thomas hauled his way into the laboratory, placing his crutches before him and all but dragging his legs behind him. It was an ungainly way of moving around but Thomas was determined not to give in and resort to the use of a wheelchair, no matter how chic its design. He was greeted by a smiling Professor Ingram, the head of the Clone Development and Observation department.
"Mr Pindar, sir. Welcome to our humble abode."
Thomas returned neither the smile nor the pleasantry.
"Where's the clone then? I don't have all day."
He was led to a corner of the room where a fifty-nine-year-old woman was laying in an oversized cot. The twenty-year-old female clone (who was only twenty days old when she had received the baby's soul) had been replaced by an older version of herself - still attractive, but with a few lines that had been given to her by the ageing process, and more than a few grey hairs. The oversized nappy that she wore was a stark reminder that this was still – in essence – a baby, complete with a baby's physical and mental limitations, unable to fend for herself, unable to do anything other than what all fifty-nine-day-old babies can do... sleep, cry, eat (although having teeth the clone was able to eat normal food), and fill her nappy.
Thomas turned to Professor Ingram.
“That’s it, is it? Billions of pounds of research money and all you can show me is a giant baby?”
“We are making progress, sir.”
“What progress? I can’t see any bloody progress.”
“With your authorisation, I’d like to try approaching the problem from a slightly different angle.”
"What angle would that be?"
"Well sir, perhaps we should try passing a soul into a very young clone, perhaps – I hesitate to use the word – a baby. Maybe the clone needs a soul from the start, not added later. The adult clones look mature, but they’re like a computer without an operating system. Totally useless. Look at Trudi 001."
"Trudi 001?"
“We assign a unique identifier to them according to the name of the original stem cell donor. This is the first clone grown from a donor named Trudi. I don’t know what her surname was.”
“And I’m not interested in her surname, or how you catalogue the products.”
"The donor will have to be a Recarn, but we’re having trouble getting volunteers; people are fine about soul-transference from human to human – after all, that’s just a natural part of the life process, but moving the soul into a clone – a clone that has unresolvable problems as yet, that’s frightening people off.”
“Why does the donor need to be a Recarn?”
“Because, sir, we Recarns remember our past lives when our bodies are around seven years old. The point of the project is to transfer a Recarn soul into a clone, is it not? If the donor is a Recarn, it will understand our objectives better and can give us a valuable insight into the process. But, as I said, getting Recarn volunteers is proving difficult these days.”
Thomas didn’t much care for the attitude of Professor Ingram. He found it condescending. The man was only an employee. Did he think that Thomas would let a little thing like a shortage of volunteers get in the way of progress?
"I don’t see a problem, Professor Ingram. We're surrounded by Recarns here."
"But we need to find a volunteer, someone who is willing to die for the cause. As I said, volunteers can be hard to come by. I’d certainly think twice about volunteering. Even though I understand the project’s importance."
" That’s easily resolved. Thank you for volunteering Professor Ingram. Guards restrain this man!"
Two armed guards rushed into the room, forced Professor Ingram's hands behind his back and bound his wrists with malleable hand-cuffs which moulded themselves into perfectly fitting one piece wrist restraints, which could only be opened with the correct solvent. Professor Ingram started to panic.
"But you need me. I'm in charge of this unit."
"Not anymore you're not, Ingram. You're nothing more than a glorified babysitter and nappy-changer. Anybody can do your job."
Thomas turned to Professor Ingram's chief assistant who was standing with his mouth open as if he were catching flies. The guards and their prisoner left the room.
"What's your name?"
"Parsons, sir, Colin Parsons."
"Well, Colin Parsons, you're Professor Colin Parsons now. You're in charge."
The newly promoted Professor Parsons had always wanted promotion but he was unsure how to react to this sudden career advancement and could only stutter his gratitude. Thomas continued.
"Professor Parsons. Do you have any new-born clones in stock?"
Parsons had recovered his composure.
“We are expecting to have three clone babies ready in three days’ time, sir."
"Excellent. I want at least one prepped for soul transference as soon as it is ready."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Thomas made a rather clumsy 360° turn, glad that he wouldn’t have to rely on his crutches for much longer. He made his way out of the laboratory, flanked by the two remaining guards.
; Professor Parsons ordered an assistant to check the clone inventory.
“What are the product IDs of the three products due on Monday?”
“Carlos 004, Peter 003, and Trudi 002, professor.”
“Let’s keep it in the family. Assign Trudi 002 for the human adult to clone baby transference at 10 a.m. on Monday morning. Professor Ingram always had an eye for the women. Now he can be one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
21:13 FRIDAY 3 MAY 2058
Professor Ingram was wheeled into the laboratory, strapped to the trolley and flanked by two armed guards. He was naked except for a light sheet that covered him, not to preserve his modesty but to spare the blushes of any non-medical staff that they may pass in the corridors. The straps binding him were fastened very tightly in order to limit his movements and he was also gagged to prevent him from crying out. The Transfer team would have liked to have sedated him, but they couldn’t risk unnecessary chemicals affecting the experiment; everything had to be scientifically perfect. They wondered how Professor Ingram would react when placed in the donation capsule. Perhaps he’d be resigned to his fate and accept what was about to happen to him, or perhaps he’d struggle and endanger both the laboratory staff and the delicate equipment that was used in these experiments. The calibration of dosage of the Human Growth Hormone was critical to the experiment and they couldn’t risk adding a third variable. That was why they also had four additional security men in the laboratory, ready to subdue him at the slightest hint of violent behaviour.
Professor Ingram was a scientist and having analysed the possibilities of escape, and finding them to be non-existent, he didn’t see the point of fighting. Even if he did manage to make a break for it there would still be the two armed guards outside the door. Besides, he knew that he’d be reborn in another body; it wouldn’t be the complete end of him, just this particular life. And he was a Recarn.
He climbed into the donation chamber, reluctantly but without incident and watched as the transparent lid was closed, trapping him inside his new coffin. Product Trudi 002, the clone baby, was brought into the room and placed into the receiving chamber. Research had shown that clones were created bereft of souls, they were driven by instinct and, if left to mature without a soul being transferred into their body, they couldn’t function independently,
Product Trudi 002 was very placid, not even crying, unlike Professor Ingram who had suddenly realised the full scope of the horror that was about to befall him. It’s all very well dying – that comes to us all – but we all hope that it will be painless and quick. He’d never actually seen one of the experiments in process since he normally entered the project after a transference had been made, but he’d heard that it was a very unpleasant experience. He pushed his hands against the transparent plastic of the chamber lid but nobody paid any attention to him. He punched the lid with all his might, bruising his knuckles. He shouted as loud as he could but the rest of the people in the room could either not hear him or were ignoring his pleas. He whipped his head from side to side in a panic. He stopped suddenly as he felt a strange sensation in his hands and feet, his whole body in fact, as the air was sucked out of his chamber and he fought for breath. He managed to look down at his body and was distressed by the sight of his swollen body just before his lungs burst. Professor Ingram lost consciousness quickly and was spared the terror of feeling his blood boil as he drifted into a coma just before his organs shut down completely.
His consciousness sensed movement and that it was somehow travelling, but it was restricted to the confines of the transfer apparatus. It was exhilarating and, as a scientist, he also found it fascinating.
The laboratory technician pushed a couple of touch controls and Professor Ingram’s soul was forced into the other chamber where Product Trudi 002 was waiting. He felt his essence first envelop the baby and then felt himself sucked through the baby’s pores. For a second he was aware that he was inhabiting a new body but this was short-lived as his memory of being Professor Ingram became involuntarily repressed and would not emerge until his new host body reached its seventh birthday, although of course this was considered to be extremely unlikely as no clone baby had survived beyond eighty days as yet and those that had reached that age (eighty years physical age) still only had the capacity and ability of a new-born baby. Nobody knew whether Professor Ingram’s theory was correct and whether introducing an adult soul at such an early stage in the clone’s development would work, so they were entering uncharted waters.
The baby clone Trudi 002 was returned to the clone monitoring department, to be observed. Like all the other clones before, she was to be given the HGIH on the twentieth day of her existence, but nobody on the research team held any great hopes that they would be successful and that the clone would survive much beyond the normal eighty days.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
03:48 SUNDAY 15 JUNE 2058
A glimmer of light could be seen on the horizon as the six silhouetted figures took their positions in the woods surrounding the cancer research complex. Cancer had still not been conquered although many inroads had been made against various forms of the disease so it was entirely feasible to the general public that this research facility should exist. Indeed it was seen as one of the few positives of the ONP government that resources appeared to be pouring into the hunt for a cure for cancer. As had always been the case, cancer research was considered a good and worthwhile cause.
There were many cancer research establishments dotted around the country, some actually used for seeking a cure for the disease, but many as a cover for ONP research and experimentation. And none was as heavily guarded as this particular facility. Dozens of automatic high powered pulse guns scanned the area outside of the facility, ready to shoot down any intruder before he or she could breach the boundary fence. The area surrounding the establishment was dotted with small motion-sensitive sensors that sent an immediate signal to the cameras’ pulse guns and the threat would be neutralized within a fraction of a second. These weapons were always set to ‘kill’ – prisoners were never taken, be they bonafide intruders or innocent dog-walkers who had strayed into the wrong area. Stories about dangerously toxic chemicals being used in the fight against cancer were encouraged and kept all but the most determined snooper away. The public just assumed that the facilities were using some extremely dangerous materials or chemicals in their research; if they’d known the truth it would have horrified them even more.
Inside the research facility, Product Trudi 002 had just entered her forty-second day of existence. She’d been given the HGH at her creation and HGIH on the twentieth day but her body had continued to deteriorate, and she had the appearance of a forty-two-year-old woman. Her mental capacity was obviously higher than that of the previous guinea-pigs, she’d been trained to use the toilet, thus dispensing with the need for nappies, and she could feed herself, but there was little more improvement than the basic skills that a toddler could master. She seemed to be able to communicate simple requests by gesture but her speech was minimal. She couldn’t even speak as well as a two-year-old human baby, let alone have a full-blooded conversation.
The lights of the Clone Holding room flickered. The Clone Sitters, as the staff of the Clone Observation Unit were nicknamed, paid little attention, believing it to be caused by a power surge as an experiment was conducted in another part of the building. They continued their work, which appeared mainly to consist of surfing the internet on their smartphones. Some things never change.
But this time the flickering lights were not of little or no consequence. This time they represented an actual breach of the research centre’s security. Outside the facility, an electromagnetic pulse had disabled the research centre’s primary defence system, leaving it vulnerable for a few minutes. One Life scientists had managed to perfect a portable and directional Electromagnetic Pulse Generator that didn’t disable every piece of electrical equipment in the vicinity. It was calibrated so that you could shoot a
pulse at a particular piece of electronic equipment and it would send a signature back to the Electro Magnetic Pulse generator containing all the attributes of that particular piece of equipment. The EMP generator would clone the pulse, disabling all other similar objects in the vicinity. In this way, the defences were neutralised in less time that it takes the average person to blink an eye, whilst leaving the attackers’ weaponry fully operational.
The six intruders overcame the security staff with ease and three of their number burst into the laboratory, startling the Clone Sitters. There had been so little time between the shutdown of the perimeter defences and the appearance of the masked intruders that they hadn’t registered what was happening. But one of the technicians, Sarah, who had reacted exactly the same as her colleagues, wasn’t surprised at all, for it was she who had informed One Life of Trudi 002’s existence. The SIMP allowed herself to be knocked unconscious along with her colleagues as pulse beams struck each one of them, whilst two of the assault team lifted Trudi 002 off her chair and carried her out of the facility to a waiting SUV. The whole operation had taken about three minutes from start to finish and was a perfect example of team efficiency.
The six quickly made their way outside where a van was waiting. The driver had already removed two high-powered motorcycles from the vehicle and positioned them alongside the van, their engines idling, ready to use as soon as the extraction team arrived. Michelle Boone broke away from the main group and almost threw herself onto the waiting motorbike while another member of the assault team mounted the other. They both dropped their respective clutches and accelerated harshly, the back wheels of their steeds sliding for a second or two until they gained traction.
***
The three vehicles drove off at full speed, the van and the two motorbikes only slowing down momentarily just before they arrived at a three-way fork in the road. The two motorcyclists flipped a switch on their handlebars and an exact holographic image of the SUV enveloped the bikes. Two Jeeps that were in pursuit were suddenly faced with three versions of the same vehicle, weaving in and out of one another’s paths to confuse their pursuers before each taking a different fork in the road. The driver of the first Jeep looked at his passenger.