Mirror X

by Karri Thompson

  “Dirty socks, purple pox—take me away to Tasma,

  Slimy skin, no more kin—take me away to Tasma,

  Puss-filled dots, broken bots—take me away to Tasma,

  Bloodshot eyes, a world of spies—take me away to Tasma,

  Forefathers, forefathers, hear my cries—please take me away to Tasma.”

  “That’s a pretty depressing song, Kale.”

  “Well, that’s what’s to be expected. Young survivors of the plague made that one up, the idea that there was a place called Tasma, a secret paradise free of the plague and its aftermath. Like I said, the song is based on an old myth, a myth born from hope.”

  That made sense in terms of how Ella and Dr. Love both referred to it.

  “Um, I guess black is not so bad. If I have to wear this forever then I guess black is the best color to have. It goes with everything, right?”

  “Right,” said Kale.

  “And now that I have access to Liaison One, I can order a hoverchair,” I said in a half-serious tone. “I’ve used one before. I’m sure Dr. Little won’t mind if you take me on a tour of the hospital.”

  She gave me a sympathetic frown. “And I’m sure he will.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I sighed.

  After Kale left, I tapped the L-Band’s magical screen and figured out how to listen to a song called “New World” by a band called Plague Party. At first, the volume was way too loud and the chorus “New world corruption; What’s your assumption” rocked my room for two minutes, making the suspended table gyrate until I figured out how to turn it down.

  Then I watched ten minutes worth of a soap opera on a monitor that lowered from the ceiling. And I thought twenty-first century soap operas were cheesy, although it did give me the opportunity to find out that their vehicles did, in fact, fly after all. A character named Phoebe ran out of credits, so when she tried to board a hoverbus, she was turned away. Boyfriend George tried to come to her rescue by holding up his wrist and saying, “If only my band would work for you.” In the end, George offered Phoebe the use of his personal mover, and Phoebe showed her gratitude by complaining about the mover’s low hoverment.

  Talk about boring. On a positive note, it did give me a bigger glimpse into the world of clones, and by the end of thirty minutes, I wished I had an L-Bud, a small, optional earpiece that everyone appeared to own and wear.

  With my L-Band, I could practically locate and talk to anyone in the world, but that also meant I could be located and talked to at any time. Was there any comfort in knowing I was part of their Liaison One system, attached to their society in a way that made me one of them despite not being a clone? No, there wasn’t. This was their world—not mine.

  What else could an L-Band do?

  “Liaison One, where’s Dr. Michael Bennett?”

  “Miss Dannacher, Dr. Michael Bennett has left GenH1, but I can give you his current location.” Liaison One’s voice was distinctive but genderless.

  “Um, okay.”

  “Michael Bennett is on Hoverbus 23, heading south above 21st and B Street. Would you like me to connect you?”

  “No, no, please don’t do that.” My face flushed, and a funny, delightful feeling ran through my chest.

  Um, how about, “Liaison One, where is Cassie Dannacher?” Having my exact location could help me navigate my way to a window.

  “I am sorry, Miss Dannacher, but that information is restricted.”

  “Restricted? But I am Cassie Dannacher.” Why all the secrecy?

  “A VWP clearance is required in order to access any information regarding Cassie Dannacher.” That’s weird. So not everyone is supposed to know about me?

  “Who has VWP clearance?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Dannacher, but that information is also restricted.”

  VWP clearance. The “P” could stand for “project” or “plan,” but what about the “VW?” I couldn’t think of any words from my past or any from my present situation that related to me and started with a “V” or a “W.”

  What in the world could VWP mean and what did those three letters have to do with me?

  Chapter Seven

  “How are you doing? I haven’t been in to see you in a few days,” said Dr. Love.

  Just a few days? It seemed like forever. Michael hadn’t paid me a visit, either. I missed him and couldn’t help wondering if he was purposely avoiding me. Did he think I was still harboring disappointment toward him for not telling me earlier this was a world of clones living in mock hope, or was he having second thoughts about his unrestricted gush of emotions toward me?

  “Well, let’s see. Boredom, breakfast, physical therapy with Ella, boredom, lunch, boredom, dinner, boredom, bed, and two bouts of claustrophobia. Times that by however many days I’ve been here. Overall, I feel dismified,” I said, a bit proud of myself for using a coined word from this century, something I learned from the government-run soap operas.

  “It’s been ten days since your awakening.”

  “Then I’m way overdue for some fresh air. I’m banded now. Can’t you at least take me to an opened window in a hoverchair? I was told that once I was banded…”

  “I’m sorry, Cassie, but Dr. Little thinks it’s best you stay put until you’re further along in your recovery. Your trip to PNW One was an exception.” Dr. Love smiled sympathetically. Dr. Little apparently held my freedom in his hands. Damn.

  “Yeah, I know. That’s what Ella keeps telling me.”

  But how long could I stay put without going mad? Doubt was starting to take root in my soul, growing into a thorny weed of suspicion. Tearing that notion aside by reflecting on the clones’ kindness and vulnerability was no longer enough, my skepticism springing back again, fresh, ripe, and ready to play upon my emotions every time I convinced myself everything would be okay.

  “But he does think you’re ready for another meeting with the team.”

  “Today?”

  “Today.”

  “Meeting about what?” Could it have something to do with VWP? Maybe it was about the alternative plans? My apprehension doubled.

  She drew in a deep breath, checked her L-Band, and sighed. “You’ll find out soon enough. They’re just down the hall.”

  She adjusted my bunched-up pillow, but my muscles were so tight with the thought of another visit it made it difficult for her to prop me up. She added two stim patches to my shoulder blades, but their systematic array of shocks did little to give me any relief.

  The last meeting bore many unwelcomed surprises, but I’d get to see Michael again, and in his eyes, I’d be able to read either apology or repentance over the last time we saw each other.

  “Miss Dannacher, Dr. Love.” Dr. Little nodded, lifting his coffee cup, and Dr. Pickford mirrored his greeting. Michael restricted his eye contact with me, giving one brief smile before looking away. Dr. Love nodded at the three men and made her exit without saying goodbye to me or to them.

  The two men took chairs opposite Michael, and Dr. Little set his mug on my table. “Dr. Pickford and I wanted to delay this meeting, giving you a little more recovery time, but Dr. Bennett insisted we make this visit today.”

  When Michael refused to look at me, the hair on my arms rose.

  “During our last meeting, we told you we might need to come up with an alternate plan, and I’m here to inform you that we’ve done just that. It’s a plan that needs to begin as soon as possible, in case our other research fails to produce results.”

  “And what’s that?” Everyone scrutinized me except Michael.

  “Miss Dannacher,” said Dr. Little. “During your lifetime, females were born with all of their eggs intact. They—”

  “I know how the reproductive system works.” My stomach turned.

  “Then you know that right now you are carrying hundreds of eggs.”

  My stomach flipped again as fire ignited in my gut. No! He couldn’t be suggesting…? I didn’t think they’d stoop this low.

  “Female c
lones are infertile, but not our males,” he said with a brazen smile. “Miss Dannacher, you are the answer to our prayers. You can save the human race.” The eagerness in his face contorted the smile stretching between his creased cheeks.

  Dr. Pickford’s lip curled with pleasure, but Michael’s posture hadn’t changed.

  The muscles in my neck twinged, and a headache the size of a tennis ball developed in the center of my forehead. They couldn’t be serious. I tried to speak, but the words clogged my throat and never came.

  “But it won’t work. I can’t do it alone. It’s impossible,” I said, wiping the sweat from the back of my neck and looking back and forth among the doctors.

  Dr. Little rubbed his hands together and rotated his shoulders. “That is where you’re wrong. The genetics team has already made the calculations. Using your eggs, a team of surrogates, and a gender selection process assuring the birth of only females, within one hundred years, there would be enough fertile women on this planet to sustain our population naturally.”

  “A team of surrogates?” I asked after a swallow.

  “Our women menstruate despite the lack of an ovum.”

  My stomach did another cartwheel. Every month the clone women were given a red reminder of their sad fate, making me one to envy and secretly despise. Maybe that was why I was being kept a secret? But they didn’t need to wait for me. They could be using them as surrogates now, couldn’t they?

  “So, you’re going to force me to give you my eggs?” My heartbeat quickened as the thought filled my being.

  “Force is a strong word,” said Dr. Pickford, twiddling his thumbs. Dr. Little’s smile turned into a sneer. “‘Donate’ is a better word. And in the meantime we want you to…” Dr. Pickford’s lips curled, twitching into a half smile.

  “You want me to have a baby, too?” I shouted. Everything tightened—my shoulders, my neck, my jaw.

  “Yes, babies,” he said. “We want you to have babies, but only until we can successfully implement a surrogate program using your eggs. Then your reproduction rate can slow to a stop.”

  Babies. Surrogate program. Reproduction rate. The words rattled in my head. This couldn’t be happening. “I won’t do it.” The room started to spin. “You can’t make me!”

  “Miss Dannacher, you and your offspring will be treated with the utmost respect and consideration during this process,” Dr. Pickford interjected. His tone was fatherly, marked with sincerity, creating deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, but his upper lip continued to curve, making him appear sinister. “All of your needs, wants, and desires will be met. Our budget is unlimited when it comes to your well-being. Our goal is to keep you happy and reproductive.”

  Happy and reproductive. That was what he said, but in his tone and eyes lay a threatening flash of evil, warning me not to trust him.

  Two deep breaths made the room stop spinning. “You think forcing me to get pregnant is going to keep me happy? I’m sorry but that’s not possible,” I snapped.

  “Miss Dannacher,” said Dr. Little. “You need to think of this as your contribution to the world. We were desperate and out of ideas until we found your cryonic chamber. This is your destiny. You’re the woman who’s going to save the Earth. You’ll inspire our clone women to join the surrogate program in an act of patriotism and honor. Your daughters will follow your lead and accept their duty with gusto.”

  “I can’t. I won’t.” I trembled. “I’d never lead anyone into that fate.”

  “You’ll make it an honor and a privilege for our women to play an active role in the project, thus ending our future struggle for survival. We’ve created a wonderful place here. It’s a world of peace, not war, abundance, not deficiency. There’s no poverty, prejudice, or suffering.” Dr. Little’s eyes widened to their limit. “And there’ll be no more one-in-five babies meeting such sad, pathetic fates. Using your eggs will prevent this.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t want to provide this—honor.” I swallowed and pushed back against my pillow, inching as far away from them as I could as the face of an innocent baby burned in my brain. “No. No.” Did he really think he’d be able to guilt me into being cooperative by showing me the prenatal ward?

  “We’ve been able to cure every disease and heal the most debilitating injuries,” he said a bit arrogantly. “But there’s only one thing we can’t do, Miss Dannacher—guarantee the future of the human race without your help.”

  “Recloning. Recloning is the answer, not this. And…and improving the artificial uterus.”

  “No, Miss Dannacher. You are our only solution at this point in time. Recloning may prove to be an impossibility and—”

  “But, I-I…”

  “Without your cooperation, our children will grow up in a world of unbridled desperation and fear, a world with a survival-of-the-fittest mentality. We can’t let that happen now, can we, Miss Dannacher? You can’t let that happen to this wonderful society we’ve created.” Dr. Little shook his head from side to side.

  I shrunk away in horror. I didn’t want to be the woman who was going to save the Earth. Babies? They wanted me to have babies? That’s the last thing I wanted to do. What about the training and career opportunities Michael said I would be given to become a so-called productive member of society? And what about going to college? He lied to me! He’d known their plan for me all along.

  Michael caught my stare as my gaze begged for his support, and I glared when he remained unmoved.

  “We expect your cooperation, and in doing so, I can guarantee your happiness and the satisfaction in knowing that you rescued mankind from a horrific fate. You’ll be treated with fairness and the utmost respect.”

  But there was something about Dr. Pickford’s twitching lip and Dr. Little’s condescending, yet sympathetic, attitude. Treated with fairness and respect? Could I believe that? In my gut, I suspected quite the opposite.

  “And what if I don’t want to cooperate? I’m not going to have a baby, and I’m not giving you my eggs!” I yelled, hitting my fist against the side table like a mallet. Dr. Little’s mug teetered and toppled onto its side, leaving a puddle of coffee to half absorb into the cuff of Dr. Little’s shirtsleeve.

  Sure, I was angry. They’d smiled, seemed concerned, yet all along they plotted without my knowledge, only caring about me as their baby-maker. If they’d told me up front, instead of hiding behind their deceptions, maybe I wouldn’t have been so furious. Yet, I wondered whether they would have awakened me otherwise.

  Ignoring his soiled uniform, Dr. Little picked up the mug and set it upright. His eyes never left mine. “You have to cooperate. It’s your destiny. If you refuse to take part in the program, you’ll be required to participate. There’s no other solution. The conversation ends here.”

  My destiny. This was what Kale, a technician, had referred to, proving they’d all known what was intended for me.

  The older doctors stood simultaneously as if their shoulders were attached, and as Dr. Little strode stiffly to the door, Dr. Pickford matched his pace. Before I could blink, the door closed behind them, leaving Michael with his hands in his lap, studying the floor.

  I was bedridden. An invalid. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t hide. I was exactly where they wanted me—homeless, vulnerable, L-Banded, and fertile. But they were vulnerable, too, a species doomed to extinction.

  Did I feel any sympathy for them? Of course, especially for Ella, Dr. Love, Magnum, and even Michael, though he hadn’t been completely honest with me. Was I willing to save their future at my expense? I wasn’t sure, though according to them, I didn’t have a choice.

  They’d strap me down, steal my eggs, and keep me pregnant for the next twenty years.

  The clones were like earthworms in the rain, curling and arching, stretching and wiggling to save themselves from drowning in a shallow pool in the sidewalk, a mistake left by a careless concrete finisher. The worms wanted to live, but unfortunately in the end, after all the clouds cleared, the worms w
ere dead, lying like rubber bands hardened in the sun.

  A clone could not give birth, but a clone could perpetuate the human race. Like greedy pirates looking for treasure, they had plundered and pillaged every cemetery known to man, leaving their ancestors’ caskets defiled and degraded.

  I was their Eve. My stomach churned. Who would be my Adam?

  I was the first to speak, and at this point, I was filled with too much turmoil and betrayal to even raise my voice. “You should have told me, Michael, from the very beginning that being a productive member of society meant being a reproductive member of society. All that talk about training and career opportunities was a big lie.”

  He bent forward, his eyes continually aimed at the gray floor as I watched his back rise with each breath.

  “I’m sorry, Cassie. You have no idea how hard that was for me. I wanted to tell you the truth, but I had no choice. Until you were told about the project, we had to keep you from asking questions we weren’t ready to answer. There was nothing I could do. They were going to wait another week, but I couldn’t lie to you one more minute, let alone a week or even a day. Thankfully, I was able to talk them into telling you today.”

  I folded my arms against my chest and sighed. “Even so, how can I not be pissed? I’m being forced into doing something I don’t want to do, and I’ve been manipulated and deceived by people I thought I could trust.”

  “I don’t know what to say other than that I am sorry. We were never trying to deceive you. We needed to wait until you were stronger. It didn’t seem right to tell you so soon after your awakening. You were too vulnerable.”

  “And I’m not vulnerable now? Look at me.” I said, raising my frail arms and letting them drop limply to the bed.

  “We’re all vulnerable. We’re desperate. We’re running out of time, and recloning and the artificial uterus probably won’t be perfected before then. We’re not trying to take advantage of you. You just happen to be the best and possibly our only solution. Can’t you understand that at all? Try to see if from our point of view,” said Michael desperately.