Nysa wasn’t quite sure what to make of the e-mail. She knew that she had a good reputation among her peers, but being selected to lead a project would be a giant step forward in her career. And as for that cheating bastard Robert, even if she didn’t accept the offer, she would let this individual know what kind of pig he was. A boyfriend in grad school, Nysa had caught him in bed with her roommate one night when she came home early from a study group. She’d broken up with him immediately despite his protests that it had just happened, and that it didn’t mean anything. What a pig. And that line—didn’t everyone in the movies use that line when caught cheating on their significant other? At least come up with something original, she’d thought to herself.
Pulling herself back to the present, the more she thought about the mysterious offer, the more confused she became. Finally she decided to discuss it with Alastair and make her decision then. For now, she had work to do.
All day she pondered the e-mail and tried to make heads or tails of who had contacted her. She hadn’t recognized the sender address, and the e-mail had not been signed. And how had this anonymous person come to choose her? Her mind raced with questions: What exactly was the project? When would it start? What would she need? Would she accept?
Her life was becoming normal again. Alastair had quit drinking. She had been able to redirect her focus back on her work, and her career was again on the rise. She was well liked and respected among her peers. Did she really want to risk the unknown at this point? She would have to request a leave of absence for an unspecified amount of time. Good luck on that, she thought. She might have to leave UCLA altogether. Was she willing to leave all that she had accomplished behind? Thoughts and questions rattled around in her head like bingo balls. It became difficult to concentrate on the job at hand.
After finishing at least some of her work for the day, Nysa called it quits. After scribbling some last minute notes, Nysa logged off and headed home. When Nysa arrived she found dinner waiting for her. Alastair had finished early at work and had surprised her. While the dinner wasn’t anything to write home about—spaghetti and salad—she appreciated the effort. She kicked off her shoes, flung her purse onto the couch, and sat down at the table opposite Alastair. She let her hair down out of the bun she had put it in that morning and dug in.
“How was your day, babe?” she asked after wolfing down a few bites.
“Same old routine,” he replied. “Just sat at my desk all day programming and thinking of you.” He gave her a wink. “How about you?”
She hesitated. “I got something strange today.” Nysa then related the contents of the e-mail she had received that morning. “What do you think?”
“Strange is an understatement. This person seems to know a lot about you. I don’t like it. Does it bother you?”
“Not really,” Nysa replied. “He brought up Robert, which was a little weird, but it just seemed like he did it to bait me. It’s still common knowledge around the lab what happened, so it wouldn’t have been too hard to find out.”
“I don’t know. It sounds a bit off to me. Do you have any idea who it might be or who he might have talked to about you?”
“No,” Nysa replied. “None. I was thinking about it at work but I haven’t heard anyone say anything about someone nosing around. I also don’t recognize the e-mail address. Not that it’s difficult to hide who you are through the Internet.”
“That’s for sure,” Alastair replied. “I don’t know,” he continued. “It sounds weird to me, but if you’re interested, I guess it can’t hurt to listen. If not, just tell him. Either way, be careful. No getting into vans with the windows painted or anything, okay?” Alastair teased. “But seriously, if you have any doubts or think there might be something dangerous going on, give me a call.”
“Deal.”
With that settled, Nysa and Alastair finished their dinner while discussing current events, various problems at work, and any juicy gossip they’d heard. When they were finished, Nysa cleared the table and, while doing the dishes, continued to ponder the offer. Who knows? It could be the opportunity of a lifetime.
When she finished drying the last of the dishes, she retired to the study, signed on to her work e-mail, and sent her reply. After a long hot shower, she went through her nightly routine of brushing her hair.
“Fifty-seven, fifty-eight…oh screw it,” Nysa murmured, tossing her brush on the vanity. She made her way back to the bedroom, climbed into bed, snuggled in next to her man, and drifted slowly off to sleep.
It seems that I am to be punished for my sin. Humanity has left me, I am left with only a small reminder of the man I once was. Death cannot come quickly enough, yet I fear it is a long way off for me for I fail even in my attempts to end my own life. How should I fill my days? Do I try and become the man I always should have been, or do I embrace the man people believe me to be? I don’t know. Maybe as this miserable life passes, I will find a way to redeem myself, or at least put an end to my misery.
January 3
One nice thing about arriving at work before everyone else was the privacy it afforded should one need, for example, to check on other job opportunities. While this was her work e-mail, it was not monitored and read by her supervisors as in so many other businesses. When she entered the office she went through her normal morning routine, although slightly faster than usual.
As she sat down to check her e-mail, she realized that she was slightly nervous. A few butterflies flitted around in her stomach and her palms were a bit damp. She rubbed them on her slacks and signed on to her computer. She scanned through the barrage of crap in her inbox until she saw it.
“Dr. Knight, I can’t begin to tell you how pleased I am by your decision. A representative of mine will contact you shortly to further discuss the details of your employment.”
A representative? Shortly? Could this be any more vague? She read and reread the e-mail to make sure she hadn’t missed something. She was beginning to wonder if this was some kind of hoax, a bad practical joke. She chewed on the end of her pen as she tried to plan her next move. Eventually, she logged off and got back to work. She was attempting to extract some DNA from a sample obtained from King Tutankhamen, compliments of the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. The work was a bit monotonous but helped keep her mind off the morning’s e-mail.
By the time she paused for a rest it was almost noon. A few people had wandered into the lab over the last few hours but most had extended their New Year’s holiday for a few more days. Nysa put her equipment away, grabbed her purse, and wound her way down the corridors on her way out.
She walked out into the afternoon sunshine and called Alastair on her cell phone to tell him about the cryptic e-mail she had received, but she hung up when she reached his voicemail. As she put her phone back in her purse, she was approached by a tall, well-built, and handsome young man wearing a three-piece suit that Nysa doubted was off the rack. His belt, shoes, and briefcase matched, and he wore a tie that seemed to bring it all together perfectly. His dusty, light brown hair was conservatively cut. He approached her without hesitation, extended his right hand and gave her a firm, quick handshake.
“Dr. Knight, I’m Gary Stevens. I represent a person with whom you have had recent contact. Will you please join me for lunch to discuss the details?”
“Um…” Nysa hesitated.
“I assure you Dr. Knight, you are not now, nor will you ever be, in any danger. If you are unconvinced, you are welcome to take my card back inside to your office and verify my credentials. I’ll wait here or, if you would prefer, accompany you back to your labs.”
Nysa was still reluctant but gave in to her curiosity. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
“Very well, right this way.”
He led her to a town car waiting close by. Mr. Stevens opened the rear door, and as she climbed in she noticed the privacy screen between the driver and back seat was raised. The young man then walked around the car and climbed in beside her. As th
e car pulled away from the curb, he began to speak.
“As I’m sure you have figured out by now, Dr. Knight, I represent a man who is somewhat eccentric. He also prefers to stay out of the public eye, hence my presence here today. He has a few stipulations that he believes will be better received in person. We can discuss them over lunch. For now, do you have any questions that I can answer for you?”
She didn’t even know where to begin. “Who are you exactly?”
“Gary Stevens, attorney at law.”
“And who do you work for?”
“You may call him Mr. Scario if you would like, though I doubt you will ever meet or speak to him directly.”
“What is the project?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the details, only to assure you that you were found to be the best person for the job. All I can tell you is that everything you need will be provided, cloning is involved, and you will be well compensated.”
“How is this being funded?” she asked.
“This is a private project funded exclusively by Mr. Scario himself.”
“What? How can he afford to fund a cloning project by himself? Why?”
“I assure you that even if I knew that information I would not be able to divulge it. Mr. Scario is an enormously wealthy man who is in tune with developments in science. He invests frequently in cutting edge medical developments. You should be honored to be chosen for his project. He is quite meticulous when it comes to selecting his employees.”
Nysa detected a touch of boastfulness in his last sentence and fought off the urge to roll her eyes. “When would I start?”
“We hope to have everything in place to begin the project by February first.”
“How long is the project expected to take?”
“Dr. Knight, as I’m sure you remember from the e-mail, Mr. Scario does not tolerate failure. This project will continue until it is completed.”
“Can you give me a ballpark figure?”
“Assuming everything goes as planned and there are no major setbacks, I would guess a year, two at most.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence as she contemplated what had been said. She watched as they passed houses, which seemed to grow larger and larger the further they moved away from the college, and continued staring out the window as the houses were replaced by office buildings and retail stores. A short while later they pulled up in front of The Ivy, a popular, trendy Beverly Hills restaurant. She got out of the car and followed Mr. Stevens to a table in the back, away from the other diners.
From the exterior, The Ivy looked like a worn-down garden home with tables set out for guests. The interior was much the same, the decorations on the walls historic American emblems, wicker baskets, and chairs. A small fireplace stood along one wall as they entered the front dining room.
Nysa spotted more than one famous actor as they made their way past the other diners. She mentally compared her cheap blouse and slacks from Ross to the other diners’ clothes, which appeared to have been purchased exclusively on Rodeo Drive.
As soon as they sat, Mr. Stevens cleared his throat and, in a voice low enough to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard, began to speak. “Dr. Knight, as I told you in the car, there are a few details that Mr. Scario wanted delivered in person due to their unique nature. Some may require an explanation on my part while others you will merely have to accept should you wish to pursue this opportunity. Are you clear?”
“Yes.”
The waiter, no doubt an aspiring actor based on his over the top dramatization of his delivery of their water, arrived at their table and took their orders. Stevens ordered only a Perrier with a twist of lime, Nysa the house Cobb with ranch dressing on the side. The waiter took the menus and left the table as quickly as he had come, returning shortly with Mr. Stevens’ drink and Nysa’s salad. The lawyer continued. “Very good. First, we will pick you up at your place of residence, and you will be relocated to the facility where the project is going to take place. You may pack whatever you would like with the exception of cell phones, laptops, blackberries—anything with which you can make or receive calls or e-mails. You are not to have any contact outside of the facility while the project is ongoing. Also, should you be replaced, you will remain at the facility anyway until its completion. These rules are due to the sensitive nature of the project. Any questions?”
“Yes, but I’ll wait until you’re done and ask them all. Please, continue,” Nysa replied.
“Second, the location of the project will not be disclosed to you. If you accept the offer, we will handle all aspects of your relocation to the project facility. This is also due to the secrecy surrounding the project.”
“Third, regarding your pay for this project, Mr. Scario is prepared to offer you any reasonable amount you require. Here is my card. Please contact me this evening with your compensation requirements should you agree to the terms. If he agrees to the figure, I will courier a contract to you. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them now and I will answer what I can.”
“I don’t really know where to start,” Nysa stammered. “I guess the first thing I would like to know is whether or not I’ll be doing anything illegal.”
“Absolutely not, Dr. Knight. The project you will be working on will not violate any existing laws. The secrecy surrounding your task is due to the highly competitive nature of the field, nothing more.”
“What about if I have an emergency at home? How will I know if nobody knows where I am or how to contact me?”
“I’m sorry,” replied the young attorney, “that’s a risk you will have to take. Should you take the position, you will have no contact with the outside world, emergency or no.”
Nysa frowned at his answer. “You want me to accept a position I know nothing about, doing something you won’t tell me about, and do it without having any contact with any of my friends or family? What if my fiancé were hit by a car?”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Knight, those are the rules. You can take them or leave them. The choice is yours. Do you have any other questions?”
Nysa’s thoughts swirled in her head, crashing into one another and taking her feelings in a brand new direction. She felt torn, unable to think clearly. Her gaze wandered around the restaurant, pausing briefly on one of the white wicker tables before bouncing to one of the many plants hanging from the ceiling and walls. In an attempt to organize her thoughts, she continued looking over the crowded restaurant. One patron was speaking tersely with her waiter and shoved her dish rudely back into his hands. A couple at a separate table stood and put on their jackets as they prepared to leave. Nysa watched as they made their way slowly back to the front of the dining room. She finally glanced back at the waiting lawyer. “No, nothing I can think of.”
“Thank you for your time. The bill has been paid; the car will wait outside to return you to your office. Goodbye, Dr. Knight.”
Mr. Stevens stood, shook her hand, and left the restaurant with the same purposeful stride as when he had approached her earlier.
She picked at the remainder of her lunch, pondering the proposition for a while, before getting up and leaving the restaurant. Nysa sat in the back of the car, her thoughts speeding past much like the trees that lined the side of the road. By the time the car arrived back at the university, Nysa had managed to work herself up to the point that she was quite literally worried sick. She went to her office and told her coworkers she wasn’t feeling well and that she was going home for the day. She walked back outside and called Alastair from her cell phone. This time he answered.
“Hey babe, how’s it going? I saw I missed your call earlier. Sorry, I stepped outside for a smoke. What’s up?”
She relayed the events of the last couple of hours to him. When she finished, she waited for his response.
“I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Of what?” she asked.
“Of any of it. There’s too much stuff they won’t tell you. What’s the big d
eal? I think you should get more answers out of them or tell them you won’t do it.”
She knew he was right, that it sounded a bit off, but at the same time, this could be big chance to prove herself. If this Mr. Scario was as wealthy as he seemed to be, he must have a pretty good reason for putting so much money on the line.
“I know it sounds strange, but this could be an incredible opportunity for me! And with the money from this, we might be able to buy a house. I think we should at least discuss it further. Maybe we can come up with a few more questions that Mr. Stevens will answer. If so, it might put some of our concerns at ease.”
“What’s to discuss? They want you to fly off to God knows where, to do God knows what, for God knows how long. What about us? We won’t even be able to talk to each other ‘til this thing is done. It’s not a long distance relationship; it’s no relationship! I want to spend the next year or two with you, Nysa, not sitting alone at the apartment wondering if you’re okay.”
“This could make my career and give us a chance to buy a house together. I know it will be hard while we’re apart, but think about how much better off we’ll be when I get back. We should at least consider it, Alastair.”
“I just don’t know. It doesn’t sound right to me,” said Alastair.
Nysa knew she’d won. “You just don’t like secrets. You never did,” she chided him. “You can’t even stand to wait for other people to open their presents at Christmas. Come on, let’s at least discuss it.”
“We’ll talk more when I get home. I’ve got some programs I have to patch up. We’ve had some trouble with hackers. I should be able to wrap up in a couple of hours. See you at home? We can talk about it then.”
“Absolutely, you’re the best.” Nysa blew kisses in the phone and hung up.
Days' End Page 2