With the word “precious,” Dr. Little’s dry lips curled, and his eyes gleamed. He deserved a kick in the groin. “In the twenty-first century, the surrogacy success rate was 39 percent. One thousand years later, we suspect that number won’t be any different, since our women already require hormone therapy. Surrogacy is our next best option, but right now, you are our first and best.”
“If only you had asked,” I said, not that it would have made any difference. I imagined myself unconscious and naked on an exam table, a MED with a syringe-like hand ending my chastity.
“At the time, we weren’t sure an awakening was even possible. It wasn’t until after the conception that our team found a way to bring you into consciousness. And to be quite honest, Miss Dannacher, Dr. Pickford and I voted against it.” He leaned back into a stretch. “We wanted to keep you in stasis before, during, and after each pregnancy. We expected you’d be reluctant and difficult to manage, but I was outnumbered, the others insisting it would be healthful to the growing fetus and an act of injustice if we didn’t.”
Michael wanted me awake. And Michael had known I was pregnant this whole time.
“In the end, President Gifford made the call. He has plans for you, Miss Dannacher. You are a symbol of fertility and hope for this world. Your happiness is also one of his top priorities.”
A poster child for their program—and now that I was pregnant, I could never be happy.
“So, they all know I’m…? Everyone’s known this whole time?” I asked, my body sick and trembling.
“Of course.”
No wonder Magnum was so pissed off.
“Everyone who has contact with you needs to be privy to your rare condition,” he continued. “This is a top secret program. The public can’t know about you—at least not yet.”
“Why?”
“Ultimately it was our president’s decision not to tell the people. So far we’ve kept them sheltered from our predicament. If they knew the truth, he suspects riots and protests if we can’t deliver what we promised, a scene from 2425 before our forefather’s regained control of the world and rebuilt our population.”
“But you should have told me. From the very beginning, I should have known!” Michael should have told me, regardless.
“The team was ordered not to tell you. There are two very good reasons why we waited. First of all, we wanted you past your first trimester, and secondly, we thought easing you into the project slowly would make you a willing participant by the end of your twelfth week, and you’d take the news in stride. Apparently we were wrong.”
“Yes, you were wrong,” I said, holding my tears.
“I suppose so.” He stood and nodded to the guards. “But we had to tell you now. You’ll start noticing changes in your body in a matter of weeks.”
While pushing up from the chair, I looked down at my stomach. It wasn’t sunken like it was when I first awakened, but I was too thin before. Over the last few weeks I’d gained weight, but it was needed weight, muscle weight. Could there really be a baby inside me? I crumpled at the thought.
“So what’s going to happen now, now that I know?”
“Well, first of all, tomorrow you’ll be meeting the father of your unborn child.”
My knees buckled, and the taller of the two security guards caught me at my waist, holding me until I was stable. The father of my baby. They wanted me to meet him? Why?
“Who…?”
“That question will be answered tomorrow. In the meantime, remember that everything you do has a direct impact upon the baby you’re carrying. Every choice you make is no longer just about you, it’s about you and your child.” He winked and gave a nod to the security guards, and after one of the guards took my arm to lead me into the hall, Dr. Little called, “Don’t you forget that,” as the door slid closed.
He was right. It was no longer just about me, it was about me and the pink little being he showed me on his Liaison. Every decision I made was a decision for both of us. To kill myself meant taking an innocent life with me. A hunger strike meant starving my baby, too. Now that I was pregnant, a roll of the dice meant two playing pieces were moved in a game I didn’t want to play.
A hot shower left me physically and mentally numb, my legs unsteady, my arms weak. In the mirror, I tried to find the face of a young, independent woman, but the face of a depressed, seventeen-year-old girl stared back at me instead. I was pregnant and stuck in a world of restrictions.
What if I had thrown myself into a high-speed mover? Two lives would have been lost instead of one. What if I had a miscarriage? Even though I was three months in, it could still happen. And then what would they do—make me conceive all over again?
Ella and Dr. Love were in my room when I returned from the bathroom. “Cassie, honey, how are you doing?” asked Ella.
But I couldn’t answer. My body trembled. My throat tightened. Ella wrapped her arms around me, and I couldn’t stop my tears.
“Everything’s going to be okay. We’re all going to help you through this. It’ll be easier now that you know.”
“I wish I’d known sooner,” I sobbed, letting her go.
“We wanted to tell you,” said Dr. Love. “But we had to do what was best for you and the baby. I hope you’re not upset with us for that.”
Ella brushed a tear from my cheek. “It was so hard to go along with Dr. Little’s plan and not tell you the real reason why he wanted us to go out and celebrate. I had to bite my tongue more than once, and poor Magnum. He was on edge all night, knowing what was going to happen after dinner.”
“No, I understand.” And I did to an extent.
When it came to Michael, I couldn’t and didn’t. He’d had plenty of times to tell me after he made the room free, giving me a secret to use to my advantage. He also could have told me the night he snuck into my isolation cell. But now it was too late. I had one choice: I had to play their game, and I had to play by their rules.
“It’s late, sweetie. You need to get some rest and keep up your strength for that baby of yours. It’s a miracle, Cassie, an absolute miracle,” she said, giving me another hug.
Dr. Love gave my shoulder a light squeeze, and said, “Sleep tight,” as they walked out the door.
Yeah, right. Sleep tight. That night, I lay in bed and thought about miracles—the miracle that I was alive and the miracle of life itself. Maybe I was there for a reason, one beyond my control, and one that would bring a miracle to this desperate world. But what about my baby? Right from birth, she’d inherit my problems. Could I let that happen?
Chapter Twelve
“His name is Travel Lee Carson III.” Dr. Little’s wrinkled jowls shook, and I shivered. Meeting the father of my child made me more nervous than I thought I would be.
The third? Apparently clones kept the old traditions. It wasn’t about bloodlines and biological relations anymore. It was all about being related by marriage and adoptions. Preserving last names and titles gave them a past even though they didn’t really have one. I’d seen it one too many times in the soaps.
“Why do I have to meet him?” I asked, rubbing my wet palms against the tops of my thighs.
“He wants to meet you. He and Dr. Bennett will be here any minute,” said Dr. Little, glancing at his L-Band.
“So, Dr. Bennett is going to be here, too?”
“He is.”
Oh gosh. Talk about awkward. Michael was the last person I wanted to see. The pulse in my neck pounded as my anger toward him mixed with my anxiety.
“Last night, I told you that one of my top priorities is to make you happy. I think giving you something from your world will make you happy.” He smiled, and his cheeks puckered, pulling his wrinkles.
What could he possibly give me from my world? Claus?
The door to my right slid open. He stood, and I did the same, following his cue. A guy entered first, smiling nervously. Michael came next, his head down, his hands in his pockets.
“Cassie, I’d like
to introduce you to Travel Lee Carson III,” said Dr. Little. “The biological father of your child.”
Biological father—the words plunged through my heart, my soul, and just as I semi-recovered with a deep breath, that pang of familiarity that I felt with Magnum ran through my body in a wave that made me gasp. Travel Lee Carson III looked very familiar. My cheeks burned as I studied his profile, his straight, perfectly proportioned nose, and his sideburns trimmed and neatly slanted at the bottoms.
“Hello,” he said, offering a hand for me to shake.
Our eyes locked, and I sucked in a short breath, my hand falling away from his. I stumbled backward, grabbing the arm of my chair to steady myself before lowering slowly to my seat.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, looking from Travel to Michael for a silent explanation, but Michael’s eyes were on the floor, his lips tight as he sat down in the chair farthest away from me. As Travel took the chair at my right and our eye contact resumed, an eerie, cold prickle ran up my spine, because Travel Lee Carson III was none other than the clone of my first crush, David Casper. This had to be more than just a coincidence.
Travel’s gaze in my direction was almost palpable, momentarily sending me back to my last day at Central when David and I said our goodbyes, and he gave me my first kiss.
Brown eyes, deep brown wavy hair that hit at his shoulders, and a parade of light freckles that ran across his cheek, over his nose, and down the other cheek. Broad shoulders, a small waist, and a distinct jawline. Travel and David were identical down to the way they wore their hair.
And just like David, his features were boyish but rugged, and there was a youthful recklessness about him, like he would accept any dare and make any bet. But there were two differences: this version of David was older by two if not three years, and though the tone of his voice was the same, his accent was weak, marked by just a touch of the Australian drawl I loved. When David died, he must have been buried back in his home country.
For a moment, he made my insides tingle, my skin goose pimple, and my heart quicken, but I knew what I immediately felt for him was superficial, born from the fact that he looked like David.
Magnum said that clones were different people with their own souls, but how true was this? Could Travel and David have more in common besides their looks? This clone struck me differently than Magnum. James Dean was simply a pinup from an era gone by, the era of hula hoops, poodle skirts, and car hops. Dean’s image was immortalized in merchandise and movies. Over time, he slowly lost his individual identity until he was just an icon, a mascot of the Hollywood glamour days.
I never knew James Dean, but I knew David Casper. For this reason, it was different with Travel. Magnum was Magnum, but when I looked at Travel, I saw David.
He was it—my present from the past? But how did Dr. Little know about David? Did Travel know I knew him before, in the form of a guy who was intelligent and sincere, someone who had almost become my boyfriend? Did Travel know he was selected to be the donor simply because Dr. Little wanted to anchor me to this world with a familiar face from 2022? And this was supposed to make me happy?
I was pregnant with this guy’s child.
My sweaty palms met the arms of the chair as I caught my breath and crossed my legs, first one way and then another. I tried to appear calm, my thoughts collected, when in truth, my insides twisted. The reality of my pregnancy and the father of that child gnawed away at my core.
“As of tomorrow, Travel will be calling GenH1 home,” said Dr. Little. “His belongings are being moved to an employee housing unit on the fifteenth floor, the first floor above the hospital. Another unit on that floor has been reserved for you.”
“I made that request. I hope you don’t mind,” said Travel. Travel’s cheeks were pink like mine probably were, flushed with anticipation and a bit of fear.
And then I looked at Michael. His cheeks were pale and taut, appearing oily in the dim lights of Dr. Little’s office. Michael still hadn’t looked at me, and I was totally okay with that. I had some choice words ready for him, but now was not the time.
“I’d like us to become friends and raise our daughter together,” said Travel as he nervously wrung his hands in his lap.
Raise a baby with someone he didn’t even know?
I gulped, and an empty spot grew in the pit of my stomach. “Um, actually, I haven’t had a lot of time to think about this. I haven’t decided what I want to do. I’m not sure I want to be a mother. I haven’t—”
“Please raise our baby with me. I want us to be like a real family.” He blinked anxiously, and I remembered the seventeen-year-old boy who took my hand and said, “Cassie, I think we could be more than just friends. What do you think?”
That was the day I planned to tell David the bad news. My mom was on a flight back to the States, and I’d be back in Arizona in less than two weeks, preparing for a dig. He let go of my hand when I told him we’d probably never see each other again. And with his gaze fixed on the horizon, he said slowly, “Oh, then I guess there isn’t any point.” I locked myself in my room that night and cried in my pillow, refusing to answer when my grandfather knocked on my door.
“We’re stuck here at GenH1, so we might as well make the best of it.” He laughed.
“We’re stuck here?” I said, raising my voice.
“Travel,” Dr. Little interrupted. “Cassie’s commitments to the project haven’t been fully discussed with her yet. But I have her contract right here. It’s identical to yours. Cassie, all we need is your final approval,” he said, as if I even had a choice. What a phony.
He set his Liaison in front of me. “Cassie, you and Travel are invaluable to us. We can’t risk losing either one of you, so we need to keep you at GenH1 for your safety, health, and well-being. This program is also highly classified. We can’t risk a security breach.”
“So I can never leave this building?”
“You can’t leave the GenH1 compound—at least not until it is deemed safe. It’s for your own protection.”
“And when will that be?”
“That date has not yet been determined, but the time will come. It’s all here in the contract.”
While Dr. Little spoke, he kept his fingers interlocked and his hands on the table, but every so often he’d smile from one side of his mouth, look at me, and then nod toward the table behind him like he and I had some kind of inside joke about Claus. It made me sick.
“Travel understands,” he continued, “that at times, being part of this process will be, let’s say, an inconvenience, but he also understands that the outcomes exceed the cost of his independence during all phases of the program. We’re currently in Phase I. Phase II begins our surrogacy program, during Phase III—”
“How many phases are there and how long will each phase last?”
“There are currently seven phases. Each phase is dependent upon the last, and there are many factors involved, making it difficult to establish an accurate timeline, but at some point you’ll be allowed to leave the compound. And at that point in time, we have no objection to you starting a career or even getting married to whom you choose.”
“So basically I’ll be a prisoner here until you decide I’m not.”
“Miss Dannacher, you have to understand that—”
“What is there to understand? I was impregnated against my will, and now I’m being forced to stay here until you see fit.” My volume half doubled.
Travel drew in a deep breath. Raising my voice made him uncomfortable to say the least, since his outlook on the program and mine were in sharp contrast.
“It’s not like you don’t have any choices. Like I’ve told you before, your budget is unlimited, and you’ll have full access of the GenH1 compound.”
“Then I want to move into my housing unit today. And I want permission to explore the GenH1 compound and visit the botanical garden any time that I want.”
“Done,” said Dr. Li
ttle. “You know your happiness is of the utmost importance. We just need you to sign the contract.”
“Can I please have a few minutes to talk to Cassie alone,” interrupted Travel.
Dr. Little and Michael stood abruptly and walked to the door. Michael kept his head lowered, his hands in his pockets, but that didn’t stop me from glaring at the two men until the door slid closed behind them.
Travel bent forward until his face was a mere three inches from mine. He took my stiff hands in both of his, cupping them lovingly like we’d known each other for years rather than a few minutes. His eyes glistened, and though their intensity was at odds with our situation, since I was a mere stranger, something about them put me at ease.
“Cassie, right now inside of you, our joined DNA is producing a child whose body is unique. Not a reinvention of an ancestor’s bone marrow, but a living, breathing piece of you and me combined, connecting us in a way I never thought was possible for a man and a woman.”
His words were melodic, his breath well-seasoned with peppermint, but my hands remained rigid in his with the thought of a baby—his baby—inside of me.
“We’re creating a new, one-of-a-kind life from our own DNA, proving that the preservation of mankind through reproduction can still exist even with clones. It is such an honor to participate in this mission to save the world, but I need to do it with you at my side. I want you next to me, hand in hand, through all phases of the program. Can you do this for me?” His voice was desperate, his breathing quick, making me almost pull away.
By his side? He didn’t know me, and I didn’t even know him, though I did feel some kind of strange connection. His mannerisms, his gestures, the way he pushed his hair behind his ear and tilted his head to one side when he was listening intently—all of that was David.
I didn’t grow up in an infertile world, a world where the prospect of having a biological child was unconceivable until now. I’d never be able to understand any clone’s unending yearn for this type of bond with another human being. For him, this link to me was almost as strong as marriage, and who was I to ruin this thought for him? He wasn’t the one who’d forced me to become pregnant.
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