in politics had done a depressingly good job at stifling research into human cloning, afraid that scientists would start “playing God”. The irony that he was trying to figure out a way to accomplish their worst fears escaped Ernest. He wasn't sure if he would be able to get around the illegality of the project. And money was another Herculean obstacle he would face. All too often, money was fed into research projects in driblets, making the researchers need to justify the research so they could get more money to continue. But the biggest hurdle by far would be time.
He frowned. He was 45 years old. Because of all these obstacles, the work he was contemplating could take many decades, maybe even a century, being worked on alone. He marked his place in the study and turned off the computer to get ready for bed. There was no point in depressing himself further tonight.
#
It took almost a week but Ernest finally finished reading the research study. He had filled two notebooks with hastily scribbled notes and ideas in the process. It was now Friday and he decided he would take the day off from work so he could have three – hopefully uninterrupted – days to mull over the whole cloning issue.
Clare, the lab secretary, answered the phone on the first ring. “Yes, Dr. Ernest?”
“Good morning Clare. How are you?”
“I'm fine, thank you. And you?”
“Clare, I won't be in today. Cancel anything I had planned and reschedule it as you see fit.”
“Are you sick?” Clare asked, concern creeping slightly into her voice.
“No. I feel fine.”
“Then who is she?”
“Excuse me?” Ernest asked confusedly.
“The woman you're spending the weekend with. You haven't taken a day off in the five years I've been here so either you're sick – which you say you aren't – or it's a woman.”
Ernest laughed and said “I'll see you on Monday Clare. Have a good weekend.” He hung up before she could try to question him further.
The next three days Ernest spent thinking about cloning and almost nothing else. How it worked, its known limitations, the legality of it, what he could do with it and how to fund it. So far in the weekend, he had what to him was a fair understanding of the first two questions, he already knew how illegal it was, and he knew he was wanting it to prolong his own life first so he could continue his research; doing so for others would come later. On Sunday it was this last question that he was occupied with as he sat looking out the window of his apartment at some kids playing in the street below. He decided to go for a walk and distract himself for a bit.
When he returned an hour later he was no closer to any solution for being able to fund the research. It was one thing to ask for grant money to clone farm animals and animals that had gone extinct or nearly were. It was quite another to ask so he could clone a person – specifically himself. The illegality of human cloning was an obstacle blocking everything else and he could see no way around it. His idea for cloning himself so he could continue his research seemed dead before he could even try it.
That evening, as he sat picking at his dinner, he turned on the television to watch the news. First there were a few quick stories about numerous natural disasters and a few small scale wars. The news anchor, a pretty redhead of indeterminate age, said, “Here is an update to an earlier story. 56 year old Rex Corke, half owner of Corke Consolidated, suffered what appears to be a mild heart attack this morning. American financial markets were jittery at the news of America's seventh richest person sudden collapse and trip to the hospital. Mr. Corke's family physician, Dr. Saul Malines, addressed a press conference called by Rex Corke's brother, Theodore.”
The scene cut to a young looking doctor in the lobby of a hospital. “Mr. Corke suffered from a very mild cardiac infarction and will make a full recovery after taking some time off to rest.”
Ernest paused the broadcast and sat back to think a moment. He went to his computer and did some quick fact checking on the Corke brothers. Rex, 56; Theodore 55. Owners of numerous companies, mostly concerned with energy production. It was estimated they owned 1 in 8 oil wells in the United States. Founders and sponsors of numerous political organizations. Combined worth of 32 billion dollars. He stared at the screen, a thin smile coming to his lips. Perhaps Rex Corke's brush with death could work in his favor.
He glanced up at the clock; 8:45 p.m. He decided to work first on the body of the proposal, figuring it would take him a week if he worked on it exclusively every night after work. The cover letter on the proposal would come next and then the letter of introduction to the Corke brothers' doctor, he thought to himself as he started the word processing program.
#
It was Thursday when he finally finished the body of the proposal, which was about 3 days earlier than he expected. He went into work on Friday in high spirits. As he went into his office Clare, the department secretary and administrative assistant, gave him what she thought was a knowing smile: her boyfriend acted the same way after a week of nothing but sex.
For the first time in weeks, Ernest was able to concentrate wholly on his work at the university. There was still two hours left in the day when he walked out to Clare's desk and said “Go and leave early today. I'll see you on Monday.”
“Really!?” she asked with surprise. “Well, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth, Dr. Ernest!” she said as she quickly gathered up her things. As she was walking out the door she turned and winked, “Hopefully I'll get a chance to meet this extraordinary mystery-woman soon!” She shut the door quickly so Ernest couldn't have the chance to tell her she wouldn't.
After waiting ten minutes to insure Clare didn't return for anything, Ernest went to her desk and took five sheets of paper with the university letterhead on them. These would be used for his letter of introduction to Dr. Malines. Then he set about printing the proposal he had worked on at home during the week. The lab's printer was much faster than the one he had at home and its printing quality was better. But it was best if Clare wasn't around to ask questions while he printed it which is why he gave her the rest of the day off. While he kept one eye on the printer, he went back to his work for the university.
During the evening he started working on the cover letter for the proposal. He had considered combining it with the letter of introduction but decided to make them separate. The proposal he would hand deliver if he could secure an interview with the two brothers and their doctor.
#
Four weeks had passed since he had sent the letter of introduction in to Dr. Malines, almost three months since he attended the conference with the cloning lecture and Ernest was starting to think his letter hadn't been taken seriously. He had hoped using the university's letterhead would help to deflect the idea he was a crackpot but perhaps it wasn't enough, he thought irritably. He wasn't sure what he would do now. He turned back to his work, resigned to having his scheme for cloning sit and collect the dust of time.
That evening he hadn't been home more than ten minutes when there was a knock on his door. He got up and answered it hesitantly; it was dinner time and he never got visitors unless they were selling something or trying to push their version of God down his throat. He opened the door to three men, all wearing gray suits, two of them larger than and standing behind the third. Both of the larger men were wearing dark sunglasses.
“Dr. Paul Ernest” the front man said, rather than asked. Without waiting for a reply he continued, “My name is Lawrence Beria. I work for Rex and Theodore Corke as their personal assistant and these are Mr DeVille and Mr. Schackt who also work for them... in a different capacity. May we come in?” He smiled but the size and demeanor of the two men with him made the smile seem not just false, but almost threatening. Not knowing any way to refuse the request, Ernest let the three men into his apartment, for the first time reali
zing his contacting Dr Malines might have negative effects. He had a fleeting feeling of irony that, should this turn out badly, he had actually asked for it by submitting the proposal.
Beria went and sat on the old, worn sofa but DeVille and Schackt stood to either side of the door into the apartment. As he glanced around the apartment Beria said “My employers sent me to invite you to a meeting with them on Friday, two days from now. I'm also here to give you directions and instructions for the meeting.”
“Instructions?” Ernest asked.
“Yes.” Beria said as he glanced casually around the apartment. Since what you offered is...um... in a gray area legally, the invitation isn't something anyone wants to put into writing. I'm sure you understand.” He said smiling but it was a smile with little warmth.
“Uh.. yeah. Yeah, I understand.” Ernest breathed a little easier. At least for the moment he didn't think he needed to fear for his life.
“Here is the address and directions from here.” Beria said as he handed Ernest a single sheet of paper inside a folder. “When you get there you'll have to leave any electronic devices with the receptionist as well as any briefcase or bag you bring. Any papers you have are to be put into that folder. Will it be big enough for your needs?”
Ernest looked at the folder
The Cell Game Page 2