Christ Clone

by McLeod, David

  'What does that mean?' Travis interrupted.

  'The ones with illnesses or those who were possessed. I think you'd call it madness. These subjects were banned from the temple, never to be saved. My house was adorned with all the finest treasures, and even had its own cleansing pools. Whenever I had guests, wine flowed continuously, and my numerous maids served imported gourmet delights. The huge temple bridge offered a link between our residence and the temple; only the high priesthood crossed by this route, all others entered the temple below us.'

  Travis was enthralled. 'So what happened?'

  'It started out as just a sort of laziness; rising later and later in the morning. I thought at first it was the wine or age creeping up on me, but even during the day I felt sluggish and lethargic. This affected my appetite; at first I didn't like the foods I usually craved, then I just stopped wanting food at all. My sleep was an awful affair, waking up feverish with soaking wet sheets, but worse still were my coughs. They went from a basic throaty niggle, to a deep lung-piercing phlegmy hack. That was the hardest part to conceal.'

  Travis looked perplexed.

  'If the high priest had discovered that my sins had caught up with me, then I too would be banished from the temple, and I would lose all the gratuities bestowed on me.'

  Travis understood.

  'I heard a rumour about a healer, a man who performed great feats of magic. He cleansed people of their sins in the pools outside the temple walls. So at night I started to sneak out of the temple grounds to watch these so-called baptisms. They were an astonishing sight. People came in droves just to be touched by this man. He even claimed to forgive them in God's name. His Father's name, he said. This was in conflict with what we ourselves did; only the priests could forgive sins!

  'I saw him several times as I gathered the courage to be cleansed myself. And when I heard rumours of imminent treachery, a plot against the healer, I slipped outside the temple to meet him. But he was nowhere to be found. I searched frantically, only to find he had been taken away by Pilate's guards. The next time I saw Jesus was at his crucifixion.'

  Travis wanted to ask questions, but Probandi continued his account. 'Not long after that, I began to cough up blood, and so my sins were discovered. I was banished from the temple, but I remained nearby, staying with whatever kind strangers would have me, but mostly just sleeping on the street.

  Travis jumped in; his eagerness had got the better of him. 'Did you get a good look at him?'

  'Who?'

  'Did you get a good look at Jesus?' This was a critical moment for Travis. His challenge and, more important, his own sanity hinged on this one answer.

  Probandi thought for a moment. His memory of the crucifixion was more vivid than anything else he recalled. 'I could never forget him,' he said, his voice a whisper.

  Probandi's words brought a flood of emotion to Travis; he excused himself and left the room. Wanting privacy, he made his way to the bathroom. He filled the basin with water and bent his head to meet his cupped hands. As the cold water hit him, his feelings began to fade. His hands slid down his face and he looked at himself in the mirror. He saw a grin of triumphant relief.

  It was time to sell the next step. There were three clones in existence; they could all be Jesus, or none of them. The burden of proof rested on Probandi.

  Dr Androna had diagnosed Probandi with tuberculosis. They'd isolated him weeks ago and a dose of isoniazid was administered daily. The course usually took from nine to twelve months, but with the accelerated cell growth no one knew how long the treatment would take. Now, when Travis looked at Probandi he seemed tired; dark folds rimmed his eyes and his shoulders were hunched.

  'I have something to show you, my friend,' Travis announced. 'It's something no one has ever had the opportunity to see before.'

  Probandi looked puzzled.

  'Just follow me.' Travis went to the door and Probandi followed obediently. They moved along corridors, passing offices and the main laboratory.

  'Where are we going?' Probandi asked. Travis didn't answer; instead, he waved his hand to indicate that they should quicken their pace. After weaving rapidly through the building they came to a door marked Private — authorized personnel only. Only two people were authorized to enter this room, Travis himself and the doctor. He waved the security tag in front of the sensor and the lock snapped open.

  Travis turned to Probandi. 'Now, what you're about to see may shock you at first, but I'm sure you're up to it.' He swung the door open and they walked into a small room. It was pitch black, and a heavy, damp, musty smell hung in the air. Travis flicked on the lights and boldly announced, 'Probandi, I have great pleasure in introducing you to yourself.'

  The coffin on top of an operating table was immersed in light. The spotlights made it look like a museum exhibit.

  Probandi looked at Travis and back at the coffin. He had no idea what was going on, but as he moved closer to the box, his legs trembled. Travis put his arm around the clone's shoulders to steady him as they approached the open coffin and looked inside.

  Probandi was face to face with himself. The empty eye sockets looked up at him. He just shook his head in disbelief. 'Is that . . . is that me?' he asked, but he knew the answer.

  'Sure is. What does it feel like? Are you having an out-of-body experience?' Travis asked. He couldn't stop himself being facetious, but he did want to know what was going through the clone's mind.

  'I think I need to sit down before I fall down.'

  Travis pulled up a chair for Probandi. He wanted to keep the clone close to the mummified corpse.

  'Where did you find it . . . um, me?'

  'Let's just say we managed to liberate you from a tomb in a UK museum. We felt you'd been asleep for far too long already.'

  Probandi looked puzzled.

  'You were found by an archaeologist, a Dr Gibson; he was going through tombs in the Hinnom Valley when he stumbled upon you.'

  Travis studied Probandi, looking for any signs of recognition; with nothing apparent, he continued. 'Your tomb was situated in the Field of Blood, beside Mount Zion. Judas was obviously keen on the spot because he ended up buying the place.'

  A flash of something crossed Probandi's face.

  'What?' Travis asked excitedly.

  'It's just . . . Judas, I remember him. I think — no, I'm sure — I've met him.'

  'You've met Judas?'

  'Please, just give me a moment.' Probandi's head sank to his chest and he began to struggle with his breathing.

  'Are you okay?' Travis asked.

  Probandi lifted his head and raised his finger to Travis' mouth in order to quieten him. He then rose slowly and moved to the coffin. He stared into his own face again. After a short time, he reached in and held his own skull in his hands. The cold remains of flesh felt rough to his touch and he began to feel a reconnection, as though he'd been reunited with a missing piece of himself. He began to speak, slowly and deliberately. 'I've actually met Judas on several occasions.' His mind began to trawl the dark recesses of his past.

  Travis remained silent.

  'He was one of the healer's followers, and often acted as a gatekeeper. He controlled access to the healer. I'd tried a few times to get past him, using my position, and tempting him with money, but he always refused. In fact he intrigued me because he rejected my money so absolutely. Anyway, time passed and I remember sitting in the high priest's temple; there were a few of us — the priests, I mean — discussing this and that, when Judas walked in through the great entrance. We all knew who he was; as we knew all of the outlaws' faces. We had followed them enough ourselves to have their images imprinted on our minds. He strode up to us and asked to see the high priest. There was something in his eyes, a faraway look, and the beginning of tears I think. We discussed it later, the others didn't see it, but I did, clear as day. One of the priests asked what business he had with the high priest, and all Judas would say was, "I'm here to see the high priest." His speech was a monoto
ne, almost a chant; we all thought he was possessed.'

  Probandi paused. 'There was a certain amount of irony in one of the great healer's followers being possessed. Anyway, leaving the group, I escorted him to the main altar and asked him to wait there. I went to speak with the high priest, who was there with his close council. They told me to bring Judas to them and dismissed me at once. Judas wasn't long in there, and he departed in a hurry. He was clutching a small pouch we all assumed was some form of donation. But we couldn't work out why the high priest would donate funds to the outlaws. We speculated for days on this. They had remained outside the city of their own volition, so it was hardly an attempt to bribe them to leave. A few days later, one of the noblemen came to us very excited. He'd overheard a conversation between two of the council members. They'd been discussing the payment to Judas, and they'd said it wouldn't belong now before he betrayed Jesus. I couldn't believe it. This was a man who'd turned down my own attempts to bribe him, and with a far larger sum than I'd assumed to be in that little pouch. The very next day I had my answer. News that Jesus had been taken by the Romans filled the marketplace and the entire city — and that Judas had been the one to give his lord up!'

  Probandi shook his head sombrely.

  'As I said, the next time I saw Jesus was on Skull Hill. But I saw Judas twice more after that. Once was shortly after the crucifixion. He came running into the temple, demanding to see the high priest again. We didn't even get a chance to direct him — he just barged his way in. We heard a lot of shouting and yelling; it was hard to make out what they were saying, but we picked out the odd sentence. Something about it not being part of the deal. We also heard the sound of coins being hurled to the floor. More words were exchanged, and Judas left as angry as he'd come in.'

  Probandi slumped back into his seat.

  'You said you saw Judas one other time? Travis asked.

  Probandi nodded slowly.

  'It was just before I was thrown out of the high priesthood. I heard that he'd purchased the Field of Blood, and I couldn't understand why, so I decided to go and ask him. Finding him wasn't difficult. He was in a small temple on the city's south side. He was on his knees, deep in prayer. I knelt beside him and asked if we could talk.

  'At first he didn't recognize me. His eyes were overflowing with tears. I introduced myself and he shrugged his shoulders. "What do you want with me?" he asked.

  'His face looked so thin I knew he hadn't eaten. He agreed to come with me to the market to buy some food. We walked in silence and purchased bread and meat, and then found a place to sit in the shade outside the city walls. He started the conversation by telling me it wasn't supposed to be that way. He told me that although he was one of the chosen twelve, he'd always felt an outsider because unlike the others he was not a Galilean.

  'He said he wasn't really part of the miracles that had happened, and that he'd been to see Jesus on numerous occasions to ask why this was. "The Lord told me I had a special purpose," he said, and all would be revealed in good time. He was insistent that Jesus had a special purpose for him — He'd told him so time and time again. One day, Jesus had come to tell him the time was near, and that his purpose was to betray him to the high priests. He told Jesus that he would never betray him, and that he would only ever serve the Lord's cause. Jesus told him his betrayal was an integral part of the cause.

  He'd thought about what Jesus had said for days . . . about what he'd meant, and what the outcome would be. Judas decided he knew what he was supposed to do; by betraying Jesus to the high priest, and then in turn to the Romans, he would be expediting Jesus' purpose. If Jesus was arrested, then the people would revolt. The peoples' revolution would mean Jesus would be released and raised to his rightful place on the throne. His own mission as a disciple was set.'

  Probandi turned to Travis, who was nodding in agreement.

  'All sounds pretty plausible to me. So what went wrong?'

  'That was exactly what I asked him. Jesus had the support of the people, and of course, he was the Son of God, so I believe Judas' way of thinking was quite sound. He went on to tell me he was utterly devastated when he heard Jesus was to be crucified. That's why he went storming into the temple to confront the high priest. Turns out the priest and council had set up a deal with the Romans, and Jesus was the prize. Judas had gone to Jesus to try and explain, but before he got the words out, Jesus told him to be calm, to have faith; everything was happening as it should. After that, he couldn't get close enough to explain himself to Jesus; the other followers wouldn't let him near, nor would they listen to him themselves. The people he loved shunned him and his anger at the high priest had only made things worse. He'd thrown the money he'd received back at them, and they'd given him land in return. Thirty pieces of silver was the fee, thirty pieces of silver — a pitiful sum for giving up the Lord of love and compassion. He repeated "thirty pieces of silver", over and over, to himself. That's the thing that clinched it for me; I believed he was telling the truth. As I told you before, I'd offered him twice that amount just for an audience with Jesus.'

  Once again, Travis nodded in agreement with Probandi.

  'Judas was lower than I'd ever seen anyone in my life. He couldn't, and wouldn't, forgive himself.'

  'I know how that feels,' Travis muttered.

  'There was nothing I could say to make him feel better, so I wished him well and told him I was sure Jesus had forgiven him. He just thanked me, and then returned to the temple and his prayers. Not long after that I heard that he'd hanged himself in the Field of Blood. Part of me believed he'd sunk so low there was nothing left to him but to take his own life — but a small part of me believes the priests had something to do with it.'

  It had been an amazing day for Travis; with Probandi's help, he was going to unveil Jesus — his own Jesus; his own forgiveness. In return for the identification, Probandi was promised the chance to be 'cured of his sins' by Jesus, and with Travis' open chequebook he would regain his opulent lifestyle, but in the twenty-first century.

  Travis wasted no more time. He called a meeting to discuss the specifics of the unveiling.

  46

  LOS ANGELES

  'So this is what your office looks like. It's enormous — funny, isn't it, the way some men seem to compensate for less adequate aspects of themselves?' Wainright was walking towards Travis' office window as he spoke.

  Picking up on the not so subtle innuendo, Travis said, 'With all the moles you've planted around the place, I'm surprised you haven't copied my office as well!'

  Wainright came back in an accusing tone. 'That reminds me — whatever did happen to our friend Mr Needham?'

  Already bored with their macho display, Dale Galbraith jumped in. 'Either you two get a room or let's get down to the matter at hand.'

  All three men were slightly embarrassed, Travis and Wainright by their own churlish behaviour and Galbraith by his potentially career-limiting comment.

  Travis had called Galbraith earlier that day and informed him of the latest addition to the cloning challenge. He briefly told Galbraith Stemtex had planted a mole at Travicom and Wainright had muscled his way in. A million questions must have raced around inside Galbraith's head, but Travis told him Wainright's involvement was a good thing, and that was that. End of story. Galbraith knew he wasn't going to get a chance to argue the point, so he accepted it; under the circumstances what else could he do?

  When the three of them sat down to plan the event, Wainright took control; after all, as he pointed out, it was going to be his grand finale. Galbraith, unaware of the finer points of the Travis/Wainright meeting, was silenced by Travis before he had chance to interrupt.

  'The way I see it,' Wainright began, 'since the estimated unveiling date is around Easter, I believe there would be no better place for this to happen than in Jerusalem.'

  This sparked an outburst from Galbraith. 'Are you mad? The logistics of getting everyone to meet in Jerusalem, even given plenty of warning, would be dif
ficult enough, but to try to do it in less than a week is plain ridiculous.'

  Unable to agree, they turned to Travis to adjudicate. 'What do you think, Travis?' they asked in unison.

  Travis had his hands joined in front of his face, as though he was deep in prayer. He'd tuned out the bickering as he thought about Wainright's proposal. Easter was the date they were targeting, and he was certain everyone would be ready, but he hadn't thought about the location until now; he'd more or less assumed it would be Los Angeles.

  Jerusalem sounded excellent, but Galbraith had a point. Doing it here in the United States would be difficult enough; it would be almost impossible to get everything set up in another country in under a week.

  'How could we do better than that? Unveiling his re-creation at the time and place of his death and resurrection?' Wainright added.

  'Even if you take the time factor out of the equation, do you have any idea how difficult it would be to get the three clones, and their entourages, from three different countries, into a religious country during one of their biggest religious festivals? I tell you, it's impossible,' Galbraith argued.

  'No, my pessimistic legal friend, what's impossible is the scientific feat we've performed; the rest should be easy!'

  Wainright and Galbraith were starting to square off at each other again.

  'Wait a moment. I've got an idea,' Travis said, jumping out of his seat. He moved to his desk and flicked on the computer while the other two men sat and watched. Travis logged on and searched the internet until he found what he was looking for.

  'Gentlemen, I believe I have an answer that can satisfy you both. We will unveil the clone of Jesus, at Easter, and in Jerusalem.' And he went on to explain.

  Taylor had arrived at the office early in the hope of doing some additional snooping before Travis arrived. She put her handbag under her desk and made her way to Travis' office door. She had her hand on the doorknob when she heard the unmistakable, booming voice of Douglas Wainright III.