Damn Dr. Little for showing me those dead babies and suffering chimpanzees. The level of guilt tugging at my soul rose with each passing day whenever I considered running away again or ending my life but retreated when I imagined myself barefoot and pregnant.
By the fifth night, I was ready to throw my dinner tray and bang my head against the wall, but then I heard a knock and gentle whisper.
“Cassie.”
“Michael? Is that you?” I asked, searching the room and seeing no one. “Where are you?”
“Up here.”
A set of fingers poked from a small vent positioned one foot below the ceiling. After a wiggle, the hand disappeared. “I tried to make your room free, but it was impossible—even with my clearance. Security’s too tight when it comes to you.”
“How did you—?”
“Bot closet on the other side of this room. Entered the wall through an electrical panel and squirmed my way through this vent.”
“What about your band? They’ll know you’re here.”
“Only if someone tries looking for me. It’s a chance I’ll take.” After stacking both pillows at the head of my bed and standing on them, I was tall enough to see through the vent, and there was Michael, his face shaded by the alternating stripes of the grate. I moved close enough to feel his breath against my face when he spoke. “How are you?” he asked. A wrinkle of worry formed between his eyebrows.
“I’m fine, I guess, considering all that’s happened. What happened to you?” I asked, after noticing a fresh scrape on the side of his face.
“It’s nothing. The vent opening was too small, so I had to force my way through. But that doesn’t matter. I had to see you.”
“What if someone’s listening to us?”
“They’re not, or a SEC would be here by now. Besides, that doesn’t matter. There’s something I need to tell you.” He licked his lips. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would be like this, what they’d do to you, or how I’d feel about you.” The blood on his temple ran to his cheek. “My hands are tied, but I promise I’m going to do everything I can to make things right.”
Make things right? Was that even possible? “How?” I asked, glancing down at my banded wrist.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll think of a way. All I want is for you to be happy, and there are only two ways for that to happen: the program has to change, or you have to change. And asking you to change is something I’ve decided I won’t do to you again—not now, especially not now.” He shook his head and smeared the blood away before it hit the corner of his lip. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.
But what did he mean by not now? “Why? What’s happened?”
“Nothing. I just want you to know that just like you, I’m a pawn in the presidents’ plan. If circumstances change, if more truths are told, just remember that I was never the decision maker, please—please remember that.” His eyes, unblinking, were so intense I sucked in my breath and held it until I spoke again.
“What kind of truths? What aren’t they telling me?”
Michael glanced below him. “I need to go.” As he stuck his fingers through the grate and I caught them with mine, my racing heart became palpable.
“No, please stay, just a bit longer,” I begged.
“I can’t. If I’m caught, they’ll either limit our future time together or drop me from the program.”
“But I need to know you’re safe.”
“I’ll knock on your door once I’m back in the hall.”
He left as quickly as he came, dropping below as my fingers reached through the vent for one last attempt at human contact before he was gone.
A human touch, a human voice, was something I needed while in lockdown, especially since they came from Michael, but at the same time, his visit made my emotions waver even more.
More truth? What the hell was he talking about?
Within minutes, there was a soft rap upon my door, and I smiled, knowing Michael was okay.
Minutes, hours, days continued to pass. I was so angry at this inept world that at times I screamed at the top of my lungs, calling Dr. Little a liar and a bastard, and at other times I found myself crying at the thought of another dead fetus being fished from a vial.
To Dr. Little, I was a prenatal ward chimp, minus the need to enucleate the eggs. My daughters would be treated with the same level of controlled detachment, existing in the state of perpetual pregnancies forced upon us.
Forced—that was the problem. I’d gladly donate my eggs for the good of mankind, but the team’s plan didn’t end there.
Bots of all kinds continued to rotate in and out of my room, JANs to clean, SERVEs to deliver food, and MEDs to conduct simple medical exams, and each time, I hoped it was Michael taking the risk to sneak back into my room.
The disappointment made me uncooperative. When bots approached to change my sheets, I took my sweet time moving out of their way, and during showers, I stayed under the hot water for so long, it activated the automatic shutoff.
When it came to blood samples, I was even less than accommodating. “Why does Dr. Little want so many blood samples?” I demanded from the stoic bot as it held out its pin-concealed finger for the eighth day in a row.
“Routine samples are needed to gauge your recovery, Miss Dannacher,” is all it would say. In the end, there was no use in putting up a fight, knowing a SEC was stationed outside my door.
The room’s lighting never changed despite my voice commands, forcing me to gauge the time of day and the day of the week by the type and number of food deliveries. Surprisingly, I wasn’t given a diet of bread and water. In fact, the cuisine was not only tastier in this wing of the hospital, the portions were larger, so large that after dinner all I wanted to do was sleep until morning. When I awoke weak and groggy, I’d circle the room in a half hour jog and follow that with push-ups, sit-ups, and stretches to keep up my strength and improve it.
One morning was marked with an even bigger, more appetizing breakfast, a bouquet of flowers with a magnolia blossom positioned at its center, and when a team of security guards returned me to my old room, Magnum was there to greet me, although I wished it was Michael.
“Hi, Cassie, how are you feeling?” he asked, concerned but smiling.
“Not bad, considering the fact that I was restricted from sunlight, fresh air, and leaving the building for four weeks. Oh wait, I’m restricted from those things when I’m in this room, too,” I joked.
Magnum chuckled. “Actually, you were only there for three weeks, thanks to Dr. Bennett.”
“What do you mean?” My chest inflated with a big breath and smile.
“He couldn’t talk Dr. Little into cutting your sentence, so Dr. Bennett contacted President Gifford himself and convinced the president to do it instead.” His eyes were as wide as his smile. “That takes balls, going over Little’s head like that,” he added. “Dr. Little was ready to transfer Dr. Bennett to another hospital.”
“But he didn’t, right?” I asked, holding my hand against my chest.
“Nope. Gifford wouldn’t let him—said Dr. Bennett was a key player in the program and they needed him here.”
Whew! That was a relief.
“He was docked a month’s worth of credits instead. Michael knew there’d be a consequence, but he didn’t care, said he’d gladly lose a year’s pay to shave a week off your punishment.”
Poor Michael. I could have handled my full sentence.
Magnum dug into his right tunic pocket. “At least your L-Band will be functional again, and you’ll also have this.” He beamed, pulling out a folded Liaison.
“You’re kidding. Even after what I did? Isn’t Dr. Little afraid I’ll try to use it to come up with an escape plan?”
“Not after Gifford insisted.” A set of dimples erupted with a refreshed grin. “You can thank Dr. Bennett for that one, too. He told the president it would help you pass the time and might even quench your need to run away again, since it would gi
ve you a glimpse into the outside world.”
Just like he said, Michael was looking out for me, trying to be on my side as much as he could. My insides warmed.
“It must be boring sitting in here all day. I can’t blame you for what you did. I would have jumped out of a window by now.”
“Yeah, you better not give me any more ideas.” I laughed. “So, um, you didn’t get in trouble because my L-Band was programmed wrong, did you?”
“Nope, that wasn’t me. It was a tier four, but I think it was Dr. Little’s fault,” Magnum whispered. “To the tier fours, you’re classified as being on life support—his doing.”
“That’s good. I would have felt really bad if it was your mistake, and they found out about it because of me. I just…I just had to get out of here. I need fresh air, trees, a pretty sunset.”
“I know, but since that can’t happen, maybe this will make it a little easier.” He handed me the Liaison, and it popped opened against my palms. “Soon you’ll be able to communicate and access information directly through your L-Band or your Liaison. I’m also here to fit you with an L-Bud, which will make things easier.”
“That’s great.” But was it? It was just another device to tie me to their world.
“Dr. Bennett’s only concern is making you happy. He also knows how miserable this must be for you. He doesn’t blame you for running away either,” he whispered. “Now let me show you how this works,” he said, sitting down and inching his chair as close to the bed as he could without hitting his knees.
The Liaison and L-Bud were simple to use, and after ten minutes of tutorial, I knew I could probably figure the rest out on my own, but I wanted him to stay. He seemed so familiar to me, his appearance, his charm, and his endearing laugh, like someone I met in a dream.
“Magnum, do you ever wonder about who you were before?”
“What do you mean?” His dimples disappeared.
“You know, who your DNA came from.”
“Does it matter?”
Like Ella, Magnum obviously never imagined the corpse of his ancestor, the DNA donor who lent the dried marrow of a thigh bone or tooth so he could stand there today, hundreds of years later, instructing me in the use of a Liaison.
I bit my lower lip. “No, I guess it doesn’t matter. I just know that I’d want to know who I came from if I was a clone. I’d wonder how much in common I had with the original person. You know, if I ended up wearing my hair the same way, having the same taste in clothes, or even the same kind of job—stuff like that.”
“Huh, I never really thought about it.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t want to feel like I have to live up to what my donor was, and what if he was a criminal? I wouldn’t want to know that. I don’t want my life predisposed in any way. I am who I am now—not who my DNA contributor was.”
“But in a way, it would be just like trying to find out more information on a long-lost relative. Your donor is your only real relative. You could think of him as your biological brother, so I think it would be cool to know all about him.”
“Yeah, maybe. I see your point.” He scratched his chin and a dimple appeared in one cheek and then disappeared.
“Can you look it up if you want to?”
“Yeah, I guess I could. There probably aren’t any restrictions because it’s not information people usually try to access. I have clearances in anything genetic, but honestly, I’m not sure I want to know.”
The feeling of familiarity, the déjà vu, with Magnum was hard to ignore. There was something familiar about his charisma and easy ways that I couldn’t shake.
He cleared his throat. “Let me show you how to contact someone who’s not in this building.” He tapped on my Liaison. “Just in case you need to contact Ella or any of the other doctors at home.”
“So you have top-secret clearance.”
“And more. Don’t tell, but I can override any restriction,” he murmured.
“You’re so bad.”
“What can I say, I’m a rebel.” He crossed his arms and leaned back as if his shoulders were against an invisible wall. He crossed one foot over the other as his knee jutted out to the side. He looked like an image on a billboard. It was just too perfect, the pose, the dimples, the charm. It was magnetic, making Magnum the perfect name for this small-statured man with a big personality. He laughed while tilting back his head.
Drunk on our laughter, I said, “Come on, let’s look up your DNA donor. I want to know. Aren’t you just the least bit curious?”
“I’m not sure.”
He was still smiling, so I persisted. “Just think about it then.”
“Okay, I promise that I’ll at least think about it.” Magnum glanced at his L-Band. “Damn, I have to go. I forgot. Two units on the fifteenth floor need to be tech prepped and upgraded by noon.”
“That’s in twenty minutes. Will you have time to do it?”
“Probably not, but when I’m told to do something that involves Cassie Dorothy Dannacher, I drop everything else and do it. You’re the number one priority around here now.” He grinned and changed his pose to what was yet another billboard-type stance.
“Sorry I kept you so long with all of my questions, Magnum.”
“I’m not.”
“Then I’m not, either.”
“You’re a brave girl, Cassie. I’m glad you’re back.”
“Thanks. You’re too cool, you know that?” I said.
“I don’t know what that means, but it’s good, right?” Magnum walked to the door and gave a half wave over his shoulder.
“Yeah, being cool is definitely a good thing.”
Truths that still remained a mystery—that was definitely not cool.
Chapter Ten
“I still don’t understand why Dr. Little is suddenly allowing me to leave my room.” Since the answer was always no, I’d finally stopped asking.
“Who cares as long as you get to do it,” said Ella. She stood in the doorway of my bathroom as I primped my hair in the mirror, brushing it smooth with my hand.
“And what was his reason?”
“To celebrate your recovery.”
What was this, my reward for good behavior? I hadn’t caused any problems since my isolation ended three days earlier. I didn’t protest when another blood sample was taken by a MED. During my therapy sessions, I didn’t pester Ella to take me to a window, and when Dr. Love came for a visit I didn’t lecture her about how I still refused to fully participate. Why? Because I knew it wouldn’t do any good—not because three weeks’ worth of solitary confinement turned me into an ingratiating captive.
“Is Dr. Bennett going to be there?”
“No, but Magnum’s coming.”
That probably meant Michael didn’t want to make it. Just because we couldn’t take our relationship any further didn’t mean we had to stay away from each other. Was he purposely avoiding me?
“Are you sure you don’t want to use Standup?” joked Ella. Standup was against the far wall, slumping like an unwanted mutt with its head down, waiting for its master to call its name.
“Nope, I don’t need it anymore,” I teased back. “Gumby’s officially retired.”
“Okay, we’ll retire ‘Gumby,’ or whatever you call it. How do you like the clothes I picked out for you?”
She scanned my body two days prior with a sizing wand and sent the results to a clothing store called “Apparel Five.” Twenty-four hours later, I was sent ten mix-and-match pieces tailored to my skinny frame, and two pairs of shoes that molded precisely to my feet.
“You look beautiful, Cassie.”
“Thank you.” Scrunching sections of my hair with my fingers and spraying it with something she brought me took my hair from flat to full and smelling like lilacs. A dime-sized amount of foundation, plus blush, eye shadow, mascara, and lip gloss, again brought by Ella, disguised the dark circles under my eyes and gave me a “tanned” complexion and l
ips the color of a fresh peach.
“So are you ready for your first authorized night out?” she asked as we crossed my room.
“Yeah, but I still wish we were going to the botanical garden instead.”
“I know. I tried to change Dr. Little’s mind, but he still doesn’t want you leaving the building. You’re lucky he’s letting you leave your hospital room. Come on, let’s go.”
Leaving my room for the third time was almost as momentous as the night of my escape attempt. My sore feet shook as I stepped through the sliding door and entered a hallway I had only seen in short glimpses.
Ah, freedom once again. But not truly, I thought, glancing down at my L-Banded wrist. This definitely wasn’t 2022, now that I could take my time and see it properly. The brightly lit, taupe walls of the hall were adorned with abstract paintings and recessed monitors that glowed in the same taupe color when they weren’t flashing advertisements or weather updates.
“That’s the A.G.-lift I took when I ran away.”
“Oh, no wonder why the guards in the lobby didn’t intercept you before you left the hospital. That lift is reserved for bots.”
After two turns we entered a corridor packed with uniformed employees bustling like busy bees that were happy in their hive, collectively working at the same tempo or pulse, like they were sharing one heartbeat.
“Most of the employees live here,” she said. “Including me. That’s why GenH1 has its own restaurant.”
Half of the wall to my right was a large, single pane of glass from the ceiling to the floor. Two buildings loomed across the courtyard, bold and alien against the blue sky as wisps of white clouds turned pink with the setting sun. Natural light—yes. Finally! Vitamin D, here I come.
“We’re here.” Ella clapped as we approached an indoor marquee that read, “GenH1 Bon Appetite.” Not very original.
Magnum beat us. He was already at our table, sipping an artificial beer. “Thanks for inviting me to join you two for dinner.”
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