by Trish Moran
‘Stand back, please. We don’t usually have so many people around when we awaken a Lab,’ he told them. He nodded to Abel who turned a dial on the display at the top of the capsule. He waited a moment until the occupant began to stir, then he gently raised the lid.
‘Time to wake up, Gen!’ he whispered softly as a young woman uncurled herself and stepped out of the capsule. She wore a short simple tunic that revealed strong slender arms and legs. She pushed her long black hair away from her face and looked around her. Abel took her hand and smiled, ‘Ready for a little walk?’
The woman nodded and looked around bemused, ‘I am Gen?’
‘Yes,’ Abel showed her the code tattooed on her wrist. He held out his own wrist, ‘And I am Abe.’
There was a stunned silence as the two walked away slowly around the ward, Gen occasionally stopping to ask Abel a question.
The president was the first to speak. ‘Perhaps we had better adjourn to the committee room?’
‘I was just about to say that myself,’ Sir Philip nodded.
Peter gestured vaguely around the room, ‘But … all these capsules … are they all capable of … coming to life?’
‘They are already alive,’ Celia pointed out. She looked at the faces of the others; Penelope was clinging to Peter’s arm, Tony was looking confused. Only John Baxman was staring stonily ahead.
Back in the committee room, there was a long silence. Celia gave out a cup of coffee to each of the other people, as they did not seem capable of doing this simple task themselves.
‘How can this have been happening? How did things go so far?’ Peter shook his head.
‘But, don’t forget, we are also saving lives! Enabling injured and disabled people to have a better standard of life! Let’s not forget the good side of the Centre’s work!’ Baxman pointed out. ‘Look at your own son, Mr Armstrong – he would not have survived his last three accidents without the Centre’s intervention!’
‘Yes, for those who could afford it, we have done a great deal of good work,’ Sir Philip agreed.
‘And at what price to the Labs?’ Abel added.
‘Labs?’ Tony asked.
‘You called us ‘SPs: Spare Parts’, a term we found unpalatable. We renamed ourselves Labs – those created in your laboratory, as opposed to your kind, Non-Labs – those created by normal human reproductive means.’
‘Where do we go from here?’ Penelope shook her head, still feeling dazed.
‘Well, obviously the American deal cannot go through,’ Tony said.
‘Yes. The Centre will be closed, immediately!’ the president said.
‘Well if it must, better do it with least amount of publicity. Make the best of the situation!’ John looked at Sir Philip. ‘We’ll need to get our lawyers on to it immediately.’
‘What about all the … Labs … in the Centre?’ Penelope asked.
‘Turn off all equipment before anything else wakes up, I would say is the best idea!’ John had just put his coffee cup down on the table as Abel flew across the room and landed a punch squarely in his face.
Simon was back at the Labs’ house that evening. All were watching the television.
‘I thought the Centre would be on the news tonight,’ Leon commented that evening.
‘Just a brief account of the American deal falling through, no mention of why,’ his brother said.
‘I can’t get through to my father on his phone!’ Simon looked frustrated.
‘It’s a complicated situation. Celia has just phoned,’ Keith told them, coming into the room. ‘They’ve only just left the meeting now. Their lawyers and the government are already involved. And one of the committee members has somehow ended up in hospital with a broken nose!’
‘Abel, I suppose!’ Johnny said as his brother shrugged.
‘Celia said there are many difficulties ahead. The first one is finding a place for the Labs still in the Centre to live,’ Keith continued.
‘What other problems are there? Why hasn’t the story been made public yet? Why aren’t the Labs free?’ Simon asked him.
‘Celia didn’t have time to go into everything on the phone. She will fill us in on the details later,’ he paused. ‘She is going to reside at the Centre for the foreseeable future. Both she and Abel feel it would be in our best interests, and those of all previously freed Labs, to continue under our present IDs until the future of the Labs is clear.’
It wasn’t until the following week that Celia and Abel visited the house late one evening.
Dette first hugged Celia then Abel.
‘We have been so worried about you!’ she cried.
Abel smiled and patted her arm. His face looked pale and drawn.
‘We knew things would take time, but there are so many issues that had not occurred to us.’
They all settled themselves down in the lounge.
‘Well?’ Keith looked at Abel.
‘Where do I start?’ he sighed. ‘We have insisted accommodation for the Labs still in capsules at the Centre is completed as soon as possible; so a compound of prefabricated housing is being erected in the grounds,’ he looked at Celia. ‘We have also insisted on a decent standard of accommodation and facilities for the Labs who will live there initially. Fil and Valerie, who is a Non-Lab worker at the Centre, have arranged a team of Labs to care for the Labs in the Nursery Ward until they reach maturity and then they also will be freed.’
‘What about those in the Caves?’ Keith asked him.
‘They will join the newly freed Labs in the compound. It is better that you and all the Labs already living within the community do not reveal your true identities at the moment. There are so many legal issues to be addressed. We now have several lawyers involved, and the government, too, of course!’
‘Why hasn’t the whole story been made public yet?’ Johnny asked him.
‘As one of the committee members said, “we have opened a huge can of worms!” The lawyer representing the Labs has prioritised establishing us as a race. That will give us a much stronger standing. The lawyers representing the subscribers have two main issues: whether they have any rights to ownership of the Labs they funded to be created, and also whether they are entitled to compensation and a refund of the fees they have already paid. Especially if, as they now know, Non-Labs were sometimes used to replace the Lab organs. That brings me to the next point: as leader of the Labs, I am to be tried for the murder of the Non-Labs which we substituted for the Labs. Oh, and I am also accused of causing actual bodily harm to John Baxman.’
Leon let out a long whistle.
‘The government are hoping to resolve some of these issues before making things public. There will be a backlash from certain members of the public about the Non-Labs we used as replacements. And are we going to be accepted by society? Or be the freak show of the decade?’ Abel spread his hands.
‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ Ruby asked him.
He gave her a smile, ‘All we can ask you, Ruby and Simon, is to continue to support us Labs as you have done up till now! We’re going to need all the Non-Lab friends we can get!’
Keith gave him a grin, ‘Finally, Abel! You are beginning to appreciate the help our Non-Labs friends can give us!’
Abel bowed his head in acknowledgement.
A week later the story was finally released to the public. International television stations and newspapers were buzzing.
Celia read the article that appeared in a national newspaper:
DARK SECRETS OF THE CENTRE REVEALED!
Over the past week, the residents of Hambleton and other small towns near to the Advancement of Medical Technology Centre have watched as over a hundred prefabricated buildings were delivered to the site. Yesterday the arrival of one hundred military personnel aroused further curiosity.
Two weeks ago the takeover bid of the Centre by the American company, Medicfrontier, was unexpectedly called off at the eleventh hour.
We are finally able to revea
l the truth behind the scenes. A story that sounds more like science fiction than real life in this sleepy English town.’
The article went on to give details of the secret medical advancements that had been developed at the Centre. It also included comments by government officials.
Celia quickly read through the article in The Times and phoned Keith.
‘So it is finally out in the open,’ Keith said. ‘Isaac just phoned to tell us that they’re holding a press conference at ten o’clock at the Centre, to be shown on BBC One. The Prime Minister, Sir Philip, and Abel, who has been released on bail, will be answering questions.’
Keith, the twins, and Ruby were in front of the television at one o’clock.
The Prime Minister was asked how medical developments had got this far without any questions being asked.
‘Well, the government were given to believe advanced stem cell research was taking place here. We were not informed at any stage that whole organs, never mind complete human-type bodies, had been created.’
‘It beggars belief that this research continued to such a level!’ a woman said. She turned to Sir Philip, ‘Did no one raise any objections to the extent the research had progressed?’
‘Dr Miranda Cheung did, five years ago!’ Abel said.
‘But, unfortunately, Dr Cheung died in a tragic accident before she was able to give detailed information about her fears,’ Sir Philip quickly countered. ‘But now we have been made fully aware of the extent of the medical developments here, we are working together to deal with this situation as best we can. The government and Abel, as leader of the, erm, Labs, have our full cooperation.’
‘The Labs?’ a young reporter called out.
Abel explained the origin of the term.
‘How do you see life for the … Labs … in the future?’ another reporter asked.
‘We would like to integrate fully with the Non-Lab world,’ Abel said. ‘Live alongside you, as equals.’
‘How many Labs are there?’ another reporter asked.
‘There are nearly one thousand at the Centre who will move to the new compound being built for them on the Centre’s land. Not all have reached maturity yet, though, so they will be moved out gradually,’ Abel told him.
‘How will this all be funded?’ a woman asked.
‘Completely by the Centre,’ Sir Philip answered.
‘What makes the Labs different from us humans? Have you any special powers?’ the same reporter asked.
Abel shook his head, ‘No; though we are programmed to develop to a greater level of fitness and strength. We do need to follow a strict exercise regime to maintain this level once we leave the capsules, as your people do. Our intellectual development, also, has been programmed during our formative years.’
They spent the next hour answering questions before Sir Philip stood up and signalled the end of the interview.
‘What about the donors of the stem cells? What rights do they have?’ a reporter called out.
‘I’m afraid that we are not at liberty to say. We are, at present holding talks with the donors and their lawyers,’ Sir Philip answered. ‘Now I’m afraid I must close this question time. A government-appointed team is to make a tour of the new compound for the newly freed Labs. They will make their findings and observations public within a few days. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen!’
Keith switched off the television and looked around at the others.
‘Abel was right. This is just the beginning of the story!’
‘They weren’t too critical of the Labs, were they?’ Johnny said.
‘Yes, they were more critical of the Centre staff,’ his brother added.
‘Isaac told me that several of the subscribers are arriving for talks with the Centre staff and the government officials tomorrow!’ Ruby told them. ‘His uncle said it is all hush-hush at the moment!’
‘Abel is pushing our lawyers to establish the Labs as a race as soon as possible. Amnesty International has said we have a strong case,’ Keith said. ‘They think that our demands for equal rights to Non-Labs should be met.’
‘Celia has arranged for me to work with the newly freed Labs on the Compound. They will need some help fitting in with Non-Lab life, just like you did,’ Ruby said. ‘I will have accommodation at the Centre; we don’t want anyone connecting me with you yet.’
‘We will miss you, Ruby!’ Johnny said.
‘Yes,’ Leon agreed. ‘First we lose Celia and now you!’
‘We’ll be able to meet up some evenings and weekends!’ Ruby told them.
‘You will be working alongside Abel!’ Johnny pointed out.
‘Yes, I’ll need a break every now and again!’ Ruby said, only half joking.
Meanwhile, at the Centre, Celia was searching through files on the computer. She clicked her tongue in frustration as twice she came up against ‘Access Denied’ screens. Her brow furrowed as she once again keyed a password onto the screen and her face lit up as the screen changed to show a list of data. She pulled a memory stick out of her pocket and quickly copied some of the information onto it. As she heard voices nearing the room, she pulled the memory stick out and pushed it into her pocket; closing the screen in front of her. She had opened a different file as two people entered the office.
‘Hi, Fil, Valerie,’ she swung her chair round. ‘I was just taking a look at the organisation of the Centre data. The man from the MoD seemed to think that splitting the data in three sections, interdependent on each other, would be the best way to safeguard it from future misuse.’
‘Leave that to them to sort out, Celia,’ Valerie replied. ‘You’ve enough to worry about for the moment organising the new compound.’
As the three of them sat and discussed arrangements for the next few days, Celia fingered the memory stick in her pocket.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Is this all we are to expect?’ he walked briskly, hands plunged into his pockets. She struggled to keep up with him.
‘But Abel is asking for equal rights for us, the same as the Non-Labs!’
‘And we are all to sit quietly, waiting to see if they are going to be gracious enough to grant us our rights! Grateful for any crumbs they toss our way. Existing as second-class citizens.’
He stopped and stood looking at the ground. Slowly he raised his head.
‘No! That’s not good enough for me! No substandard race is going to treat me like this!’
She looked at his face. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘I am going to show them who is superior!’
He started to walk again.
She stood for a moment, then hurried to his side.
‘How are you going to do that?’
He walked on in silence for a while, then stopped and faced her again.
‘The Centre. It was not all bad, you know.’
‘They were creating us Labs as spare parts for their own people!’ she protested.
He nodded slowly.
‘Yes, but by creating us they were able to create people of a much higher standard than their own flawed species! Think of the Centre as just the springboard for a future perfect race! Do you want to be part of the new world?’
Chapter Fourteen
‘Thank you for attending this meeting at such short notice,’ Sir Philip nodded to the people sat around the large oval table in the Centre’s conference rooms.
‘Well, we are all greatly shocked by this news!’ one of the men said.
‘Stunned!’ echoed another to a chorus of murmurs.
‘Surely we aren’t the only subscribers?’ asked one, looking around the table.
‘No. There are too many to bring together for one meeting. This is the first meeting of subscribers and lawyers in the UK. Similar ones are being arranged in other countries with subscribers involved with the Centre,’ Sir Philip told them. ‘I’m sure you will have many questions for us.’
‘I would like to speak on behalf of the six subscribers that
I have been asked to represent,’ a silver-haired man stood up. ‘First of all, why were my clients not informed of the true nature of the operations carried out at the Centre? They were all led to believe that stem cell research enabled replacement organs for themselves and/or their children.’
John Baxman stood up, ‘Before each operation, the patient, or the patient’s parents in the case of a minor, were given a brief outline of what the operation would involve. Until recently, the human cell … products … we used were simply seen as being just that, products of our research, an extension of a group of cells. When we were made aware of their unexpected advanced level of development, we immediately called a halt to all operations.’
‘And suspended all stem cell development until further notice,’ Sir Philip added.
There was a moment’s silence and then an older man spoke up.
‘So, what we have now are clones of ourselves, or our children, walking freely around?’
‘And these clones are campaigning for their own rights as citizens?’ another man said.
‘I believe they are actually campaigning to be recognised as a race,’ the lawyer told them.
‘A race that we have unwittingly paid millions of pounds to produce!’ a woman added.
‘God! Wouldn’t it be creepy to suddenly come upon an exact copy of yourself walking along the street?’ a young woman shuddered.
‘I think it would be really cool to meet me, face to face, in the flesh!’ a young British pop star stood up. ‘Hey! We could perform together at my next concert! Me and my clone! Hey, yeah! Mirror images!’ He began to play an imaginary guitar.
‘We are not talking about some gimmicky trick!’ John Baxman said tersely.
The pop star threw up his hands. ‘OK! I know – clones are for life, not just for Christmas!’
His wife sighed and pulled him back down into his seat, ‘Can’t you ever take anything seriously, Zorro?’
Everyone’s attention was pulled back by the sob of another older woman.