by Jon Jacks
Wait!
What of Cally?
Her DNA would be an exact match, wouldn’t it?
So did that mean she’d escaped?
I smiled with relief.
Dorian smiled back warmly, pulling me towards him once again to give me a welcoming, loving hug.
Thankfully, he’d misinterpreted my expression once again.
*
I clicked through the three dimensional videos and photos in our family album.
The section where my proud mum and dad were taking every opportunity they could to catch me feeding myself, playing, jumping, falling, running, and whatever else they had found particularly amusing or endearing at the time – which was quite a lot of things, actually.
Strangely, I’d never really noticed it before whenever I’d browsed through this album but I couldn’t find a similar high level of shots of me as a baby, or a toddler taking my first steps, eating my first real meal, that kind of thing.
Even of the few that were here, I couldn’t remember ever being proudly shown them.
Which was a bit odd, yeah?
Sure, the odd shots were there right enough; I remember mum laughing as she’d showed me some of them when I was older.
Looking at them now, however, it dawned on me that neither mum nor dad ever appeared in any of these earlier shots.
It could have been, to be honest, any baby, any toddler.
Kids that age, they all look more or less the same, right?
‘Cute kid; that’s you, right?’
I whirled around.
I’d been so intent on closely studying the pictures flashing up on the screen globe that I hadn’t heard Dorian A enter the room.
‘Uhm, er, yeah, course; course it’s me!’
I laughed nervously.
He noticed the nervousness.
He cocked his head, looked at me quizzically.
His eyes weren’t quite the same as Dorian’s, I realised.
Was it the colour?
No, not the colour – it was a sparkle, a twinkle of amusement.
A warmth that I rarely if ever saw in Dorian’s eyes.
Was it kindness too?
Or was it just that he appeared interested in me, waiting for me to speak rather than laughing at my confusion as Dorian would.
Wait!
How had I known this was Dorian A, rather than Dorian?
Because Dorian wouldn’t look at me in this way of course!
A way of observing me like he was taking in every little bit of me into his memory.
Like it gave him pleasure to watch me.
To simply see me.
I’d caught him watching me a number of times. But it wasn’t watching me in the same way Dorian would – a way of ensuring he knew where I was, and what I was doing.
When Dorian looked at me, I felt he was more interested in taking in my surroundings, seeing how well or how poorly I fitted into them. Working out if I needed his help to conform to how he believed I should behave or appear.
Oh yes, he was always there for me, of course.
But it was as if he believed he had to be there for me; otherwise, somehow, I’d stumble, or do something wrong, or make a fool of myself.
He had to take charge. To show he cared for me by controlling me.
Dorian A grinned sheepishly.
I felt like an idiot!
How long had I been staring into his eyes without saying anything?
‘Well, who else would it be?’ I said finally, foolishly.
‘Who else?’ he agreed with a smile.
He took a glance at the pictures I’d called up on the screen.
‘Pretty even then,’ he said. ‘But I’ve gotta be honest; I’d never have guessed even such a pretty little girl would grow up as beautiful as you are.’
‘Do…Dorian – Dorian A – yo…you shouldn’t be talking in such a way!’
I was angry, embarrassed, flattered, nervous, bewildered.
And foolish! Everything I was saying was coming out all wrong!
‘Saying you’re beautiful? Well, sorry; I just sorta seemed to notice that Dorian never seems to bother telling you that. Though, of course, I’m sure he’s gotta be at least thinking that, the way I see it. And so I just thought I’d say it for him; sorry.’
He was still too close to me. My skin felt strangely hot. My mouth dry.
What’s happening to me?
I can’t go falling for a Droid!
A copy of the man who will soon be my husband!
I stepped away from the screen, away from Dorian – Dorian A.
‘Of course he tells me I’m beautiful Dor – look, is there something I could call you other than Dorian A? It’s such an odd thing to keep on saying.’
He shrugged.
‘Hm, could just be D A, I suppose. But that’s still a bit odd, yeah? So how about Dan? Dorian always seemed a bit, well, pretentious to me anyway.’
‘Dan?’ I said it unsurely. It was a Perma-Leisured name. ‘You sure about that?’
‘Well, no, not entirely. There’s lots of other name I’d prefer, to be honest. But I was just trying to think of something reasonably close to the one I’ve been landed with.’
‘Well, your name’s to do with DNA, right? So how about Dean. I’d prefer Dean.’
He chuckled.
‘As your majesty commands: I will henceforth be called Dean!’
He backed away, giving me a mock bow and curtsy.
I slapped him lightly across the top of his head.
‘Stop that!’ I said ridiculously playfully, like I was some embarrassed little ten-year-old.
‘Ouch!’ he laughed, standing up straight once more and rubbing his head. ‘Is that what passes for being knighted around here?’
‘Knighted! Majesty! Just what sort of mind has Dorian given you Do – Dean?’
‘Well, his own – Dorian’s of course.’
‘No, no – I don’t believe that at all. All my friends who have accidently met you when they’ve called – yes, they thought you were Dorian of course. You played the part well, so they wouldn’t suspect who you really were. But you slipped up.’
‘Slipped up? I thought I had Dorian’s mannerisms off to a tee; if you don’t mind a bit of boasting on my part.’
I laughed.
‘Ah, well there you are you see! Dorian wouldn’t regard anything like that as boasting; he’d just see it as an obvious fact that didn’t need any comment. And my friends have spotted it too – “Oh, he’s so much more relaxed these days! He’s much nicer than the last time we met! You’re changing him for the better Angeic!”’
‘Well, none of that is really to do with mind now, is it? It’s more to do with – well, what? How you regard others, I suppose. Like you, for instance; you said “who”. You said, “who”, not “what”.’
‘Sorry; you’ve lost me. I said “who” not “what”?’
I grinned, confused.
‘Just a few seconds ago; you said I played the part so well, your friends wouldn’t suspect “who” I really was. Not “what” I really was.’
I chuckled, not a little nervously.
‘Well, I couldn’t call you a “thing”, could I?’
I glanced back at the pictures to avoid his gaze.
On the screen, a girl of around two or three was sitting in a toy car, grinning happily at whoever was taking the picture.
A girl who was supposed to be me.
But a girl, I’m now sure, who wasn’t really me at all.
So “who” or “what” was I?
*
Chapter 14
‘But he is a “what”, isn’t he?’
Dorian stepped into the room, raising a quizzical eyebrow as he caught me standing so close to Dean.
‘Dorian. You can’t say that!’
>
I was embarrassed for Dean, but he didn’t seem in anyway upset by Dorian’s rudeness.
‘Of course I can! I created him, didn’t I? Besides, he’s probably the most important “what” ever created; far more important, in fact, than most human beings.’
Ignoring me, Dorian strode directly towards Dean.
‘Our Dorian A here could improve the lot of the human race far more than any individual could hope to – hmn, interesting. Very interesting.’
Reaching out, Dorian had touched and lifted up Dean’s chin, revealing a long cut hidden beneath his jaw.
‘Another cut?’ I whirled on Dorian. ‘Dorian, what’s happening to him?’
Taking his hand away from Dean’s jaw, Dorian looked deep in thought as he stroked the same area of his neck where Dean’s cut had appeared.
Now I reached out, tipping back Dorian’s chin in the same nonchalant way he had forced Dean to reveal his neck.
Dorian let out a low, amused laugh.
‘What are you looking for Angeic? Are you beginning to think we might be that connected that we share our cuts and bruises?’
Dorian’s skin was faultless. There wasn’t any sign of there having been any cut there at any time.
I let go of Dorian. He observed me with wry amusement, waiting for the answer to his question.
‘Well, that’s why you looked, isn’t it?’ he asked.
I nodded; yes. For a brief moment I’d wondered if Dean was suffering from Dorian’s own shaving cuts.
I turned back on Dean.
‘Did you cut yourself? Can you remember when you might have cut yourself?’
Dean appeared puzzled.
‘No, I can’t think of anytime I might have cut myself.’
Dorian frowned.
‘Oh, so you don’t think it might have been when you oh so helpfully decided to give Maria a hand moving things around down in the waste room?’
Dean stroked the cut beneath his chin thoughtfully.
‘Yes, yes; when I was lifting up the bins – I suppose I could have done.’
Dorian’s frown hardened.
‘You shouldn’t be endangering yourself in this way! I was serious when I said you’re probably far more important that any single human! I was going to send someone to drag you away from that filthy room, but you thankfully put an end to it yourself and left.’
‘There was nothing else to do; it’s not a difficult task, unless you’re small and weak like Maria.’
‘The only tasks you should be taking on are the ones I set you, understand? There’s a great deal of intelligence and common sense built into you; use it in future!’
‘Have you got people following him Dorian?’
I was bridling not so much at the way Dorian was ordering Dean around, but because I recognised it all as being hardly different from the way he seemed to be constantly increasing his control over all areas of my own life.
‘Is that how you knew he was down in the waste room?’
‘Following him?’
Dorian glanced back at me as if I were just a little bit crazy. He indicated the room with a wave of his hand.
‘Do you see people following him around Angeic?’
Dean grinned as, stretching out an arm, he pulled up a sleeve, baring his flesh.
‘Dorian’s got far more sophisticated ways of keeping track of me.’
With the fingers of his other hand, he pressed down hard just above the crock of his arm. The skin temporally reddened, revealing in its midst a smaller, tablet-shaped patch of white.
‘A tracking chip; under your ski–’
I gasped.
I spun round to face Dorian.
‘How did you know where to find me outside in the old town?’
I ripped back my own sleeve, feeling my own flesh, pressing down hard, reddening the skin just like Dean had done.
‘Angeic, you’d still be out there, a captive of those rebels if I hadn’t taken the precaution–’
‘Precaution?’
It was in a different place to Dean’s, hidden away in the fleshier part of my inside arm; but as soon as I felt the small, soft disc, I knew what it was – my very own tracking chip.
*
Chapter 15
Dorian had drunk so much at dinner the previous night that I wondered if he’d get Maria to shave him, rather than risking doing it himself.
He preferred the old way of shaving, with foam and a safety razor; he said it gave him a feel of the past, a sense of the way men used to be before the fear of an infection made them turn to the kind of electronic machines that should only be used for shaving a woman’s legs.
But even he, after a night’s heavy drinking, when both his eye and his hand would be unsteady, would have the sense to sit back in a chair and let Maria delicately fuss over him.
Today, though, he didn’t call on Maria. He stood in front of the large bathroom mirror, stripped to the waist, running a bowl of hot water, and preparing the brush and foam stick.
‘You sure you’re up this?’ I asked. ‘You downed quite a lot last night.’
He’d taken me out, the best restaurant in town. To apologise for everything. To explain. To show he loved me.
That’s why he had asked for the tracking disc to be inserted beneath my flesh, during one of the monthly routine checks we all undergo; because he loved me. Because he didn’t want to lose me.
So why didn’t he ask me if I was all right about having a tracking disc?
Because he knew I’d flip. Because he knew I’d see it as a way of keeping tabs on me. Because I’d see it as a sign that Dorian believed I was pathetic and needed looking after all the time.
Yeah, I thought all those things, and more.
‘Think about it Angeic,’ he’d said, reaching out for my hand across the table, catching me in the hard gaze of his beautiful eyes. ‘You’re a prime target for kidnapping. You’re about to marry – if I say so myself – the owner of one of the most important Droid manufacturers. Think what power they’d have over me if they held you; I’d do anything to keep you safe, to have you back.’
He’d smiled that smile that melts all my friend’s hearts. The kind of smile that says, Hey, aren’t I the cutest boy around when all’s said and done?
‘And that’s why you won’t let me smoke?’ I’d replied, nodding at the huge cigar he was lovingly curling between his fingers. ‘Because you care for me, yeah?’
‘And that’s why I won’t let you smoke; because I care for you,’ he’d repeated with a charming grin.
‘But it’s fine to cut your life short, right?’
To be fair on Dorian, I’d hardly ever seen him smoke before; it was usually just the odd cigar, one foisted on him by an overly excited and overly eager chairman of a company who’d just signed a mega-deal with Dorian’s company.
But last night, it was like he was wanting to try out every cigar in the tray the waiter brought to the table. Like he’d been denying himself all these pleasures for far too long, and now he’d decided he was going to make up for it.
Same with the drink; champagne, wine, brandy, whisky, vodka.
Not that anyone would have guessed he was knocking it back like he was filling up the car’s gas tank. He wasn’t even slurring his words. He could have been drinking water for all the effect it was having on him.
Perhaps that’s why, this morning, he didn’t seem to be suffering the hangover he’d so patently deserved.
His hand was perfectly steady as he slowly drew the razor across his foam covered chin.
His eyes weren’t even the slightest bit blurry eyed either.
Had he developed some sort of new, miracle anti-drink and smoking damage solution?
I wouldn’t put it past Dorian to test it on himself first.
He’d be amused by the surprise it caused. He’d love the shocked faces, the admonishing stares.
&n
bsp; Love the fact that there was a secret reason behind everything he was doing.
And yes, things like that, he’d even keep from me for a while. Until he was sure that what he was working on was going to work.
Then he’d be telling everybody; the news rooms, the TV stations, the politicians. Telling them all that he’d managed to come up with yet another breakthrough.
‘Why do you think Dean is so important?’ I asked him casually, observing him in the mirror as I prepared my makeup alongside my own wash bowl. ‘Not just as a replacement for Droids, obviously. There’s something else isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me.’
His hand slipped. A spurt of blood appeared in the foam collecting around the end of his razor.
‘Dean?’
He stared back at me from the mirror.
‘Oh, I meant Dorian A. it’s such an odd name, I thought it would be better to call him Dean.’
He smiled, patting the bloodied foam where he had cut himself.
‘Better? Better to give him another name? And “Dean’s” okay with it, is he? You just calling him whatever takes your fancy.’
‘Well, come to think of it – I never really asked him. He seemed okay with it.’
‘Good old Dean, eh?’
He grinned, began shaving again.
‘So, do I get an answer to my question?’
‘I thought I’d already answered it a while back. You’d get the human touch missing from Droids, but all the safety of knowing they’re not going to bring in any infections from outside; no more complicated heat treatments, or vetting. No worries, too, that they might be looking for a way to steal a strand of your DNA, so they can break into your car and kidnap you.’
‘So they’d be glorified slaves, you mean?’ I snapped. ‘And there’d be even less jobs for the real humans out in the wastelands.’
Dorian briefly stood back from his washbowl, observing me curiously in the mirror.
‘Seems you did pick up some infection when you were out there, eh, Angeic? What sort of sob story were they feeding you when you were out there with them?’
‘Sob stories? They live a terrible life out here Dorian!’
He casually returned to his shaving.
‘If it’s a mess out there, Angeic, it’s a mess of their own creating. They don’t have to live like that. They just expect us to provide for them all the time.’
This wasn’t the time to argue about this. I’d never persuade him he was wrong until, like me, he saw how they actually lived rather than going by the false images we were constantly fed on our screens.
‘You said Dea– Dorian A was more important than most human beings. Now, okay, I’ll go along with you that there would be undoubted advantages over Droids and all the fuss over infections; if we’re going to accept slavery, which I’m not by the way! But you said he was the most important thing you’d ever created.’