by M A Gelsey
He trailed off with a pensive expression on his face. Javi exchanged a shrug with Herman and they drove on in silence. They reached the park fifteen minutes before Javi was supposed to meet Stella. Javi felt his palms start to sweat when Fred and Herman drove off. He wiped them on his jeans and started towards the weeping willow where they usually hung out. He texted Stella telling her where he was and saying he could meet her anywhere she wanted.
He spent the next ten minutes staring at his phone, but she didn’t reply. It was making him increasingly tense, and he had just managed to convince himself that she had changed her mind and decided to stand him up when she appeared, pulling aside two of the hanging branches and stepping under the shady curtain towards him.
Javi sprang to his feet, nearly hitting his head on one of the lower branches, and Stella smiled at him but not in a mocking way. “Hi,” he said. “D’you want to stay here to study or should we go to the picnic tables by the lake? Or anywhere — whatever you want is good.” He almost cringed at how eager he sounded.
“This is perfect,” Stella said. Behind her the leaves swayed gently back and forth and she approached him and sat down on the grass near the trunk of the tree. Javi sat down next to her, but not too close. He didn’t want to push his luck. Stella pulled her tablet out of her bag and opened a pdf of her class notes. Hastening to mimic her, Javi snatched up his laptop and pulled up his own notes and the exam study guide.
“Where should we start?” Stella asked.
“Anywhere —” Javi cleared his throat nervously. He had to stop sounding so pathetically worshipful. “Or — or maybe we should just go through the guide from the beginning?”
“Sure,” Stella said, oblivious to Javi’s self-consciousness. He supposed she must be used to it — probably a day didn’t pass without some guy making a fool of himself as he struggled to impress her.
Throat dry, Javi read out the first section of their study guide, and from then on it became slightly easier to talk to Stella without worrying that he might humiliate himself with an uncontrollable boner or an accidental confession of love. For the next two hours, they took turns quizzing each other and discussing particularly challenging translations. Javi barely dared think it, but it seemed to him when they reached the end of the guide that things had actually gone well.
Stella seemed in no hurry to depart, however, and Javi took his cue from her and dawdled in packing up his things.
“I think we’ll be fine,” Javi was saying. “At least it’ll be over in a couple days. I hate exams.”
“Oh!” Stella said suddenly, making Javi jump. “There’s something I wanted to show you, I almost forgot.” It seemed she hadn’t been paying much attention to what he’d just been talking about, but Javi didn’t care. She typed something into her tablet then handed it to Javi. It was a blog article entitled, “INTERNATIONAL CONGRESS OF GENETICS TO CONVENE IN ZURICH”. He glanced questioningly at Stella, and she read his hesitation correctly.
“The article says Dr. Edgar Midas — the father of human cloning — is going to be one of the keynote speakers,” she explained. “Do you know him?”
Javi gave a short laugh, slightly bewildered. “Never met him.”
“But he’s the one who made you, isn’t he?” Stella pressed.
“I guess,” Javi said. He really didn’t like to think about how or why he was ‘made’. Not that he ever managed to forget for long.
“I’m sorry, I know I keep bringing this clone thing up, you’re probably tired of it. I’m just — I kind of like science and lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the ethics of things like cloning, robotics . . . technology in general really. Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that kind of stuff.” She looked down at her lap and actually blushed.
Javi was so floored that she thought there was anything she could say that he wouldn’t be interested in that it took him a moment before he said, “No, it’s fine. You’re right, that is interesting. I guess I never thought of it that way. Maybe I should go meet him someday, this Dr. Midas.”
He was almost ashamed to admit it to himself, but he’d never thought of Stella as being a person with actual interests. She’d always been more of a concept, a Platonic Form to be admired from afar but never truly known or understood. Not that he understood her now, of course. But he was just beginning to come to terms with the idea that she might have a lot more depth than he had ever imagined.
She had already begun speaking again, much more freely and enthusiastically than before, and Javi hastened to listen so she wouldn’t think he was another one of the many guys who only cared about her looks.
“And really, there’s the whole question of ownership too — somebody is paying a lot of money for a clone to be made, but you can’t own a human. It’s kind of strange when you think about it. A pretty risky investment,” Stella said.
“Yeah,” Javi said, slightly uncomfortable again. This was always something that had bothered him about his parents. Growing up he had wondered more than once if they regretted spending so much money on his creation, when no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t live up to the memories of their original son.
“Have you ever met another clone?” Stella asked.
“No,” Javi said. “Or at least, not that I know of. But I guess it’s possible. It’s not like we walk around with the word ‘CLONE’ tattooed on our foreheads.”
Stella laughed at that, a musical sound that made Javi want to laugh too out of sheer joy.
“Of course,” she said. “I mean, I’d never have known you were a clone if we just met on the street. The fact that they can do that is pretty miraculous. The scientists, I mean.”
“It’s not the easiest thing to step into though,” Javi said without thinking.
“What d’you mean?” Stella asked.
“Oh I dunno,” Javi said, wishing he hadn’t spoken. “It’s just — I’m sure you’ve heard the story of why my parents commissioned me.”
“Yeah,” Stella said, and a faint crease appeared between her eyebrows, like he’d brought her attention to something that had never occurred to her before. “How old were you when you found out?”
Javi shrugged. “I must’ve been really young, because I can’t remember anyone actually telling me. So it’s like I’ve always known. I dunno if that’s better or worse than finding out later.” He tried his hardest not to sound bitter, but wasn’t sure he succeeded.
For a moment, Stella just looked at him. Then she rummaged through her bag and pulled out a small baggie with several joints and a lighter. Javi raised his eyebrows, not sure why he was surprised.
“D’you smoke?” she asked, opening the baggie and putting one of the joints between her perfect pink lips. Javi nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from her mouth. All of the dark thoughts he’d been pondering fled in an instant, and he was transported to a world where he was a regular person, sitting under a tree with the girl he liked sharing a joint. This would probably be the best afternoon of his entire life, and he didn’t want to waste it brooding.
Stella lit the joint and took a long draw, then passed it to Javi. Her lip gloss had left a mark on the light brown paper and Javi covered the same spot with his own lips as he inhaled the smoke. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Herman’s face when he heard about this.
15: EDGAR PRIME
“Come on, Prime, you need to focus if we’re going to get through this before we leave for Zurich tomorrow,” Dr. Midas drawled.
“How do you know I’m not focusing?” Edgar Prime asked through gritted teeth. He had an itch above his left ear, but the EEG sensors glued to his head prevented him from scratching it. Dr. Midas raised an eyebrow while Patrice reset the experiment without comment and waited dutifully for Dr. Midas to begin again.
Dr. Midas picked up the white pawn and moved it forward two spaces while Patrice clicked a timer and began typing notes into her laptop. As with most of his experiments, Dr. Midas hadn’t bothered to explain to Edgar Pr
ime what he hoped to learn from their chess match. In truth, Edgar Prime had been holding back. No matter what he said, Edgar Prime knew Dr. Midas hated losing. Edgar Prime sighed and moved one of his knights. Patrice clicked the timer again.
“Aggressive,” Dr. Midas commented. Edgar Prime shrugged. Dr. Midas clicked his tongue and made his next move. Edgar Prime tried to ignore the sound of Patrice’s frantic typing and the clicking of the timer whenever one of them moved. For the next fifteen minutes they played in silence, until Edgar Prime maneuvered himself in a position to take Dr. Midas’s queen. The older man stared at the board with a furrowed brow then after a few moments he smiled grimly.
“I knew you had it in you, Prime,” Dr. Midas said. He moved to take one of Edgar Prime’s pawns after ascertaining that nothing could be done to save the queen.
“I go by Ed now,” Edgar Prime said as he took the white queen with one of his knights.
Dr. Midas burst out laughing. “I always hated people calling me ‘Ed’.” He moved one of his bishops to take Edgar Prime’s knight.
Edgar Prime shrugged again. He had long ago learned it was often better to make a neutral gesture for Dr. Midas to interpret than it was to try to explain himself. He was equally likely to be misunderstood either way, and shrugging took less effort.
“Ed,” said Dr. Midas, enunciating as though testing out the sound of the word. He wrinkled his nose. “No, I can’t call you Ed. Too strange. It’s like I’m talking to myself but using my least favorite nickname. No, you’ll always be Prime to me.” He gave Edgar Prime what was clearly supposed to be an affectionate smile.
“Checkmate,” announced Edgar Prime, moving his castle into position. He kept his face blank, but inside he was scowling. Dr. Midas threw his hands up theatrically, but he was unaccountably pleased despite his loss.
“Very impressive, Prime. I can’t wait to show you off at the International Congress of Genetics. This will be an exceptional year, I think.” He looked at Edgar Prime expectantly, as though waiting to be asked why. Edgar Prime did not indulge him, instead stooping to pick up his backpack.
“Are we done?” he asked. “I’ve got a lot of homework. I’m trying to get ahead since I’ll be missing this week.”
“Of course,” Dr. Midas said. He looked slightly bemused, and Edgar Prime knew when he left Dr. Midas would confer with Patrice to brainstorm possible causes of his moodiness. “A car will pick you up at half past four tomorrow morning. Be sure to pack that suit I got you.”
“I know,” Edgar Prime said wearily. It wasn’t as though this was the first I.C.G. Dr. Midas had dragged him to. Patrice began unsticking the EEG sensors from his head.
“Good luck with your work,” Patrice said. Edgar Prime glanced up at her in surprise. She usually didn’t say anything at all to him, and when she did it was only to do with whatever experiment Dr. Midas was running at the time.
“Thanks,” Edgar Prime said, eyeing her with vague suspicion. It felt strange for her to speak to him as a person rather than an experimental subject. “Good luck with . . . whatever you’re working on too.” It was only an empty courtesy to him, but she seemed appreciative nonetheless. He supposed praise might be hard to come by working for Dr. Midas.
“Thanks Ed,” Patrice said, giving him a small smile. Edgar Prime only just managed not to drop his jaw in shock. She removed the remainder of the sensors in silence. Edgar Prime stood up and stretched, rubbing at some remaining stickiness behind his left ear. He nodded to Patrice and Dr. Midas in farewell, and left the lab to get back to his dorm.
The sun was low in the sky when Edgar Prime reached the street. He noticed three protestors holding signs and marching back and forth in front of the building. Two of them were women, each holding signs with anti-cloning slogans. Their hair was tangled and down to their waist. The third protestor was a man with a thick, bushy beard. Their clothes were all earth tones, loose-fitting garments that Edgar Prime suspected were deliberately mismatched to recall the hippie styles of the 1960s.
He watched them for a few seconds — none of their signs were particularly witty or original — then turned in the direction of campus. A shout stopped him and he looked back towards the protestors. One of the women with dirty blonde hair and skirts that brushed the sidewalk was pointing at him.
“There he is! The first clone, copy of the man who made it all possible,” she called. A few of the passerby glanced in his direction, but nobody stopped or said anything else. “Come join us, unnatural test tube creature. Surely you want to save others from your fate.”
Edgar Prime turned around and headed back towards campus. Behind him, the woman continued to shout.
“You can walk and talk and think and dream, but you’ll never be one of us! You’re the canary in the coal mine, Edgar Prime. Even your name is sinister.”
Edgar Prime hunched his shoulders and shook his head, even though nobody was paying him much attention. The woman’s rant became unintelligible, and soon he couldn’t hear it anymore at all.
16: MIRA
The cockroach scuttled out from underneath the refrigerator, startling Mira so much she gasped and dropped the mug of coffee she’d just poured, splashing the expensive mahogany cabinets, the marble floor, and her shoes.
“Fuck,” Mira muttered, as the thing darted back underneath the fridge before she had time to do more than look around wildly for something to kill it with (preferably something with a long handle so she wouldn’t have to get too close). She cursed herself for not having the stomach to leap over and smash it with her shoe — she hated the crunch they made and the way the guts would later have to be scraped off. The very thought made Mira shudder.
“Fuck,” Mira said again. She dialed the exterminator, and supposed she should consider herself lucky that she’d been the one to find the roach instead of her boss. If Harlow had seen it, she’d likely be out of a job. After offering the exterminator double his usual rate to come later that afternoon, she grabbed a handful of paper towels and crouched down to clean up the spilled coffee. She was more jittery than usual and kept whipping her head around when she thought she saw something move in her peripheral vision. When she finished she left quickly, not even bothering to refill her coffee mug. Even here, in a multimillion dollar high-rise office building, they weren’t immune to vermin.
Back at her desk, Mira hastily added “Exterminator” to her calendar, although she doubted Harlow would notice either way. She’d only been working as his assistant for just under three weeks, but he rarely checked up on her — he just expected things to be done.
She spent the remainder of the day running his errands and finalizing his meetings for the following week. Towards the end of the day, a dull throbbing pain had developed at her temples and the base of her skull. Her computer screen seemed too bright even on its dimmest setting. She was just about to pick up the phone to confirm Harlow’s restaurant reservation for a dinner that evening, when a voice behind her made her jump.
“You’ll get a hunchback leaning over the computer like that, Miss Behzad,” Harlow said.
“You startled me,” Mira told him unnecessarily.
Harlow grinned. “Apologies.”
Mira waited. When Harlow wanted something, he didn’t need prompting. And if he had just stopped by to chat, she didn’t want to encourage him.
“You know, you really should smile more.” Harlow told her. Mira barely managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes at that. Instead she gave him a smile, as though his comment was flattering rather than annoying as hell.
“There, now! That’s better. You’re much prettier when you smile.” Mira heard an echo of her mother in that sentiment, and had to fight the urge to throw her empty coffee mug at Harlow’s back when he turned away to head towards the elevators. Once he’d rounded a corner, the smile slid off Mira’s face. While harmless, Harlow’s regular comments about her looks rankled. She supposed she was pretty enough; short black hair, brown skin, a nice smile. It took two years of
braces to get that smile. You earned it. Perhaps she was a bit more muscular than some men liked, but she didn’t care, she had more important things to worry about. Inside her head, a voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother began to protest that thought loudly, but Mira pushed it away and started packing her things up for the day.
After waiting another ten minutes — she didn’t want to run into Harlow by the elevators or in the lobby — Mira took her leave. As she passed by the kitchen, she saw the exterminator on his knees, strategically placing glue and poisons in various crevices. She willed herself not to shudder again, and made her way outside.
Mira glanced up and down Park Avenue, taking in the usual bustle of Upper East Side rush hour. She set off towards the 59th St - Lexington Ave subway station, and took the 6 train to Canal Street while keeping a careful eye on those around her. She walked the rest of the way to a boarded-up storefront on Mott Street in Chinatown. The entrance was covered by a sign that read “Closed For Renovations”, but Mira ignored it and slipped inside. The space had a cramped feel: two low-ceilinged windowless rooms connected by a doorframe with no door.
Three people were seated at a large rectangular table working on laptops when she entered.
“You’re late,” Jack Sterling informed her. “He’s been antsy for the last couple of hours.”
“I can hear you!” bellowed Warren Watson from the second room. “Don’t test me, Sterling!”
Liesel Warner stifled a laugh from beside Jack. She was blonde and fair with blue eyes and dimples. Harlow wouldn’t need to ask her to smile more, Mira thought, immediately ashamed of spitefulness. She liked Liesel, and holding her beauty against her was such a pathetic cliche.
“What did you do?” Mira asked Jack.
Jack shrugged. From Liesel’s other side, John Fitzgerald leaned over and said quietly, “Apparently Jack isn’t as charming as he thinks. His mark broke things off with him today. We aren’t sure if it’s because she made him, or if he failed to please her in... other ways.”