I look back at Savannah. Hopefully some motherly affection is resurrecting within her.
Our gaze connects. She wags her head, and her lips mouth the words, “This is not a good idea.”
“Oh, everything’s fine,” Morgan coos. Morgan’s conscience appears further out of reach and seeing the two girls together does not stimulate any love in her for her soon-to-be-euthanized granddaughter, and so she does not urge me to separate the girls. She glances at Savannah, appearing to not have any understanding as to what is troubling her so.
I lead the crowd to my office. Nellie insists on pushing the stroller and Mary Nell squeals with glee as her new friend begins to playfully push it in a zig-zag pattern down the hall. Nellie appears to relax and be more playful as she distances herself from Sharon, who follows behind us.
“Be careful,” Morgan grabs a stroller handle to steady it around a corner.
“It’s nice to see your protective maternal instincts kick in,” I say to her. She nods and grins, apparently not catching my meaning. “You’re gonna be a great mom.”
When we walk past Mrs. Williamson’s open door, she pulls away from her desk and comes to the opening into the hallway to watch us pass. “That’s something you don’t see every day,” she comments.
We walk down the hall and into my office. Morgan and Argentino begin to admire the view, but Savannah and I are fascinated by the communication between Mary Nell and her genetically perfected twin. They sit on the ground and pull toys out of the diaper bag.
Mary Nell speaks a long string of gibberish words as she holds her new doll up for Nellie to see.
“Your grandpa certainly has a nice taste in dolls, though I much prefer a colorful dress than the white.”
Mary Nell again speaks many unintelligible words.
“Really?” Nellie cocks her head to the side. “Well, Mary Nell, I don’t get a chance to get my white pants dirty, so I wouldn’t know . . . ”
It appears Nellie understands Mary Nell’s gibberish.
“Do you understand her?” Savannah asks.
Nellie nods.
The worker from the Verity Wing stands by the door, acting as Nellie’s manner policeman. When Nellie doesn’t speak, she looks down at her with a frown. “Yes ma’am?”
Nellie nods again. “Yes ma’am.”
I glance at Savannah. “You know, this has never happened before.”
“What?”
“A donor and a dupe actually treating each other like people before the transfer.” I point at the girls and smile. “They’re friends.”
Savannah sighs. She’s troubled. I love it.
“What am I going to do now, Daddy?” Tears well up in her eyes.
I must proceed with caution. If I plunge the sword in too deep, she may harden her heart against my counsel. But love for my granddaughter constrains me to speak up in her defense.
I motion to Sharon. “I’ll bring her back. You go.”
“I was told not to leave her.” Her countenance is stiff and unfriendly.
“By whom?”
“Dr. Cranton.”
“Let me see your ID.” She unclips it and shows it to me. “Sharon Molla.” I look into her eyes. “Do you know who I am?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know Dr. Redd Cranton works for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Just wait outside the door. Please. We need some private family time. I’ll speak well of you to Dr. Cranton, so you have nothing to worry about.”
She reluctantly steps out of the room.
For several minutes, we all just watch the two girls play. Nellie looks happier than Mary Nell, embracing her fully, even with her quirky habits of wanting to touch her face and hug her excessively.
“Look how that, Savannah. They’re like, like, like sisters.”
“Maybe I’ll give Nellie a sister one day.” Savannah’s eyes are cold again. This girl constantly fluctuates between contradictory emotions.
“Savannah, look, look, uh, look at me.” Our eyes meet. She softens at the tears in my eyes. “Nellie already . . . already . . . already has a sister.”
My stuttering prompts Mary Nell to point at me and try to explain to Nellie in broken gibberish how my halting speech makes us alike.
“I love your eyes.” Nellie reaches for Mary Nell’s cheeks and pinches them teasingly. “And I love your funny voice.” She releases a girlish cackle. “Though I don’t think the grown-ups can understand you.”
Mary Nell responds unintelligibly, at least to me.
“I don’t know,” Nellie answers. “I wish I did know.” She glances at the door. “Probably the same age as you, Mary Nell.”
Savannah flinches. She leans forward with her elbows on her knees. “Nellie? What did Mary Nell just ask you?”
“She asked if we were the same age.”
“I don’t know how she can understand her. I can’t understand her half the time.” Savannah turns to her mother. “It’s so frustrating.”
“I know.” My wife pats Savannah’s shoulder. “And it would be so even for the best mother.”
I stretch my hands toward them as if they were my final argument in defense of my granddaughter’s life. “It’s a match made in heaven.”
Savannah turns to Nellie and stretches her arms toward her. “Come here, Nellie. Let me hug you.”
While grasping Mary Nell’s hand, Nellie walks toward Savannah and brings both of them into her embrace.
There is tenderness in Savannah’s eyes as she embraces the two girls. Mary Nell grunts with pleasure, as she does when she’s eating a delicious snack or having a pleasant dream on the edge of a meal, as she did when she napped on the beach and I gently caressed her back with the tips of my fingers. Savannah has distanced herself from Mary Nell to protect her own heart from being torn apart when the transfer takes place. To see her embrace these two three-year-old girls gives me hope.
“Sissie!” Mary Nell blurts out. She reaches and touches Nellie on her full pink lips. “Sissie.”
Nellie smiles. “I don’t have a sister, but I would love to pretend to be your sister if your mommy permits me.”
They both look up at Savannah, wide-eyed, hopeful, as if expecting her to grant them permission.
With tears running down her cheeks, Savannah glances at Argentino, who shrugs.
Morgan speaks up. “I just want you to be happy.”
“True happiness is to love, without condition or exception.” I lean forward. “Savannah, will you let them be happy?”
36
“WHO? WHO TOLD YOU THAT?”
Sharon Molla, the short-haired, board-thin female Verity Wing worker, is adamant. “I’m sorry, Dr. Verity, but . . . ”
“Because if it’s someone I hired, I’m going to fire them right now.”
Mrs. Williamson has come to the door of her office, listening in to our contentious conversation with great interest.
“She’s from HHS. Dr. Brie Mallory,” Sharon finally blurts out. “She’s in charge of the care of the dupes. She didn’t want to let Dr. Cranton find a way to check Mary Nell out, so she made the rule unconditionally applicable to all.”
“Nellie. We’re calling Mary Nell’s dupe Nellie.”
“Dr. Mallory insisted, in no uncertain terms, that she cannot leave the premises.”
I turn to Mrs. Williamson. “This dupe is the product of Mary Nell’s genome, which legally makes her Mary Nell’s property, and Mary Nell, being a minor, is under the authority of her mother, which makes her legally the property of Savannah Verity, my daughter. I’m sure Dr. Mallory doesn’t want legal trouble. Get her on the phone.”
“Yes, sir.” She disappears back into her office for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Doctor, but Dr. Mallory was insistent that the dupe cannot—”
“Nellie!” I shout, turning to point at her. “Her name is Nellie!”
Sharon Molla and Mrs. Williamson share a cold stare. Sharon calmly responds, “You can
call her what you want after the transfer.”
“The mother of the donor”—I point to Savannah—“is right here! My wife, who ordered the transfer, is right here!” I point to Morgan.
“Do you really want to mother them both?” Sharon turns to Savannah, her hands planted firmly on her lips. “I find it very hard to believe.”
“Yes. I think so.” Savannah glances at Argentino, and stutters, “I, I think so.”
Sharon blows noisily through her cheeks, appearing to doubt Savannah’s sincerity.
“I do,” Savannah asserts more confidently.
“Perhaps an exception to our handicapped transfer protocol can be made for you then. But you have to understand, there are channels for that kind of request, and Dr. Mallory personally insisted that I am not to let her out of my sight. She is the lawful property of the New Body Research Center until the transfer.”
“Of which I am the top dog—the toppin-est dog that’s not a government agent anyway.”
Sharon Molla develops a fine tremor to her lower lip. “Yes, sir, you are, but with all due respect, you are not the top dog in the Verity Wing. As a matter of fact, you are not even allowed to step foot in the Verity Wing.”
“Five more months! That’s how much time until the government gives up their dictatorial powers over my business, the company I founded. Then you know who’s going to be the top dog again?”
Sharon swallows hard. “You, sir.”
“Do you want to keep your job here in five months, or are you counting on a transfer to Dr. Mallory’s federal agency? Because I think the Department of Health and Human Services was forced to make cuts recently, and I don’t suspect they’re hiring terminated dupe baby-sitters from research centers.”
She stares at me with fear in her eyes.
Mrs. Williamson sticks her head out of the door. “Dr. Mallory is now out of reach until tomorrow morning.”
“Doesn’t she have a nanophone stuck in her skull like everyone else?”
“They wouldn’t give me her number.”
I turn to Sharon Molla. The initial stone-faced countenance she wore has dissolved in fear over her contention with the founder of the New Body Research Center. If she makes one call to a government agent, I will be in so much trouble for defying the rules that they may ban me from my own facility but, at this point, I’m confident that she’s seriously considering letting me have my way.
“When does Dr. Mallory usually arrive in the morning, Sharon?”
“About 9 a.m.”
“Be in my office at 8:30 tomorrow morning, and everything will be fine.” I raise a finger to halt her protest. “One more word of resistance from you and not only will you lose your job, but I will make sure you never get a job anywhere else either. I promise you.”
I guide Savannah and Morgan into roomy office and slam the door in Sharon’s face. The whole room erupts in a cheer. I swell with pride, but shush them quiet. I listen intently through the door, hoping Sharon will submit and just leave. I hear her quietly tiptoe away and out the door. I hear the ding of the elevator and the swish of the closing of its doors.
Yes! I have stood up to the tyranny and won. I sigh with relief.
Nellie is the only one who appears confused.
“What’s happening?” she asks Savannah.
“You’re going home with us.” Savannah grabs Argentino’s hand affectionately. “You’re going to be our new daughter, Nellie.” Nellie and Mary Nell squeal with glee, squeezing each other’s hands and then clapping playfully.
Morgan’s eyes dart to me. “But you said you’re bringing her back by 8:30.”
“I told Sharon to be here at 8:30,” I whisper, “and all would be well, and it will.”
“Why do I feel like a great burden has just been lifted from off my shoulders?” Savannah bends down to hug the girls, tears in her eyes.
Oh, those words are such music to my ears!
“Savannah, I will do everything in my power to let you keep your daughters.”
I open the door and peek into the hallway to confirm that Sharon is gone and the opening and closing of the elevator doors wasn’t a ruse. “Let’s get out of here.”
As we are leaving, I say goodbye to Mrs. Williamson, and she responds, “Be safe.”
Be safe? That’s not something she would normally say. “What do you mean? Why that look in your eye?”
She steps closer and whispers, “Oh, I’m referring to this morning’s threat.”
I stare at her, puzzled.
“I have all the emails forwarded to our contact in the FBI and that attorney, oh, what’s his name, the smart aleck . . . ”
“Guave Sealdor.”
“Yes. Him. Don’t they update you?”
I shake my head side to side. “What?”
“The right-wingers are after you, too. Some crazy militia fanatics. I think all the new government activity on the Verity Wing has made the right-wingers upset and suspicious.”
“What’s that international team of medical investigators doing on the Verity Wing anyway? They won’t tell me.”
“I don’t know. I just know that a team was sent by HHS to investigate some of our transfer procedures.”
“What? It was agreed that they wouldn’t pry into our transfer protocol. That’s outside their jurisdiction, by patent, by contract.”
“Well, the President said it was a security issue, and the President’s men carrying her message had guns when they delivered it to Dr. Cranton. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
The President is clearly bucking against our agreement that the science stays with my team and the management with the government. I am helpless, like a paralyzed man watching mosquitoes swarm all over his body and is unable to swat them away. “Mrs. Williamson, will you see what you can dig up and let me in on it tomorrow?”
“I will.”
I stare at her for a moment. I wonder if seeing these two girls together impacts her at all, prompting her to rethink her decision to go through with her own scheduled transfer.
I ask Morgan and the others to wait by the elevator. I step into the room. “Mrs. Williamson, will you do me a favor?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Remember the love you have seen here today.”
She smiles. “It’s hard to believe that Nellie is half the age of Mary Nell. The dupe is so mature. They’re like sisters who’ve been together their whole lives . . . ”
“You have a sister on the Verity Wing, too. Remember that.”
Her grin dissipates. She now looks like a toddler grasping onto a piece of candy an angry parent has threatened to take away.
“One more favor,” I say.
“That depends on what it is. If you get in trouble, you know I cannot risk my job.”
“I just need you to keep a secret for me if you’re asked about something. The lives and the happiness of those girls are at stake.”
37
WHILE IN THE HOVER-LIMO HEADING home, it gradually dawns on me what I have done. Everyone else celebrates the potential for a new life with Mary Nell and Nellie as sisters. Everyone except Argentino, whose attention has returned to Morgan’s boisterous mania. But as I pass a “Do Not Enter” sign on an elevated intersection above downtown, at Main and Broad, a paralyzing fear begins to grip me. How in the world can I possibly get away with this?
As my driver Jim told me before he was killed, the federal government has no limitations on its ability to spy on us, and no one has given them better reasons to do so than I have. Perhaps they know I’m the insider responsible for releasing information harmful to my business to the right-wing press. If the anti-cloners were to co-opt me to go on the record, I could become a considerable threat to the government’s hold on the burgeoning New Body industry. The feds may have been enthusiastically anticipating my attempt to take Mary Nell and Nellie off the premises, in defiance of the inflexible policy of the managing bureaucrats, knowing that this would give them the justification to ruin my r
eputation and to revoke what little power I have in my own company. Or worse—they could even prosecute me for kidnapping.
“What is it?” Savannah rests a hand on my shoulder from the back seat. “What’s bothering you?”
I turn to look into her eyes. “We’re going to have to take her back.”
“Who? Nellie?”
Careful to be certain Nellie appears oblivious to our conversation, I nod, and speak softly. “Like it or not, she’s government property.”
Savannah turns to gaze at the girls, who play on the floor of the limo. “What? Why?”
“Sharon Molla was right. There are proper channels for this, for, um, for getting exceptions to the protocol. The feds have every alternative covered. They protect their investments. The bureaucrats are not just going to let me walk away with her.” I glance at Mary Nell in the rearview. “Not unless they have Mary Nell as contractually agreed upon. I worry that, uh . . . ”
“What?”
“How can we hide from, from”—I look toward the sky—“from the feds? You know the power they have, to snoop, to spy? I worry that they know what I’ve done and they’ve let me do it to, uh, you know. To justify getting rid of me.”
Morgan glances at the dash. “But your cloak’s on.”
I see the white light on the dash, letting me know my vehicle’s digital cloak (identification blocker) is functioning to conceal the identification of those with electronic devices inside the car. It’s true, this is the best technology in the world for remaining digitally in cognito. “But we are talking about the federal government, Morgan. No technology like this can be sold without a license, and that license is granted by who? The feds. They wouldn’t allow the public to access it if they didn’t have the means to bypass it.”
Nellie rises and comes to stand in the front of the cabin beside me. “But I belong to you now.” Her pleasant features are now strained and gloomy. Her pink cheeks appear to fade to gray right before my eyes. “They can’t take me back, right? I belong to you.”
“Nellie, do you really know what I’m talking about?”
“I can play with Mary Nell and listen at the same time. I’m a very good listener.”
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