Cloned Lives

by Pamela Sargent

  “You don’t understand me at all, do you?”

  “I’m not finished.” She was slouched over the table now. Carole hovered in the door to the kitchen. “I think I understand you pretty well. How different are we, really? She ignored his grimace. “How different are we?” she repeated, as if to rub it in. “I could have been like you, any of us could have. So could Paul, for that matter. Maybe the only difference is that, confronted with you, the rest of us were forced to be a little more rational, we couldn’t give in to ourselves the way you do. You’re still acting like an adolescent. I could understand it once, but I can’t now.”

  “Stop it, Kira.”

  “No.” She was upset now, unable to stop the flow of words. “I am sick of it, Jim, and I imagine the others are too. I’m sick of your self-indulgence and willful ignorance, I’m sick of getting calls every few months or so when you’re bored or feel like committing suicide. I’m sick of nursing your delicate soul through every little emotional crisis. You can’t get along with yourself and you take it out on us because we remind you of yourself. And now you’re trying to shift the blame to Hidey and everyone else because it’s easier than doing anything yourself.”

  Jim was motionless. Ellie looked distressed. Carole had disappeared again.

  “You act,” Jim said finally, “as if I enjoy being the way I am. Don’t you think I’d be happier some other way? This is just how I am.”

  He was trying for a reconciliation. His green eyes pleaded with her. Throw him a bone, she thought bitterly, and forget it, open another bottle and get drunk and talk about old times, the good ones. “You can do something about what you are,” she said. “I think you do enjoy what you are in some strange way. I don’t think you’re really interested in changing. I think something in you enjoys being tormented, even if you have to invent a whole mental construct of superstition to do it and believe things that appeal to you aesthetically in some weird way instead of trying to find out if they’re true.”

  Jim buried his head in his arms as she stood up. “Don’t, Kira,” Ellie said. “Be fair, please.”

  “So he’s got your sympathy,” Kira said harshly. “You’ll learn.” She walked out of the room. She could not stay here, not now. She could go to her office, try to do some reading, call Hidey later. She could stay with him for the weekend, calm down. She opened the front door.

  The sultry night air seemed to seep through the open door past her. The road and the houses on either side were misty, blurred by a humid haze.

  “That’s right, walk away,” said a voice behind her. She turned and saw Jim standing in the living room doorway. “We’re always doing that, aren’t we. We just throw our punches and walk away, not even examining the casualties.”

  “I need some time by myself.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “None of your goddamn business.” She hurried outside.

  “What are you hiding, Kira?” he shouted after her. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there? You think you can see through me, well, let me tell you, I can see right through you. You’re not telling me something, but I’ll ferret it out, I promise.”

  She kept going toward the car, afraid to turn around.

  As she was driving away, she saw Ellie pulling at Jim’s arm. Then the door closed, hiding them both.

  There were more graffiti on the side of the biological sciences building, replacing the words that the maintenance people had removed the week before. A picture by an anonymous campus artist had also appeared on the building; a cheerful-looking Frankensteinian monster held a beaker in one hand and pointed to the entrance with the other. Next to his head, in yellow paint, were the words BACK TO WORK!

  Kira smiled in spite of herself. She was still tired. Her muscles ached and her back seemed jarred permanently out of line. Hidey’s apartment was more of a way-station than a home, almost bare of furniture, with a small, out-of order holo projector, an old computer booth and a narrow bed. She had tried sleeping on the bed with Hidey, but at last had been forced to retreat to the sofa, which turned out to be a little too short.

  She had not mentioned her problems with Jim to Hidey and had been afraid to call her brother from Hidey’s place, afraid he would see where she had gone. At last on Sunday she had gone out, down the city streets to a phone on the corner. Jim had not been home, or was refusing to answer.

  Hidey had driven in early, awake and alert as usual. She had followed an hour later. She suppressed a yawn. Entering the building, she went down to the lounge in search of a cup of coffee. A group of lab assistants and students were playing cards at a table in a corner; they looked up as she came into the room and went back to their cards.

  She punched out some coffee and sat down, wondering if she should try to call Jim again, then remembered that he usually liked to sleep late. I can’t keep hiding from him.

  “Why in hell didn’t you bid spades?” one of the young men in the corner said loudly.

  “Good morning, Kira.” She looked up and saw Kurt Schultz getting some coffee. He sat down next to her. “Have you read the material Hidey gave us yet?”

  “Some of it,” she said.

  “I’m not criticizing his project,” Kurt went on, “but I think he may be deluding himself about the results. He is assuming that aging is the result of random metabolic errors. We can prolong life with the use of anti-aging shots, but I wonder if it could be prolonged very much more even if the shots were given earlier. There is as much reason, given the state of our research now, to assume that aging is genetically programmed into us.”

  “That’s a pre-moratorium theory. Besides, wouldn’t our project have some good results anyway?”

  “Indeed it would, the medical benefits Jonis mentioned. That is all. The cells of the immune system appear to become less efficient with age, the DNA polymerases make more mistakes as the cells divide. The process eventually breaks down.”

  “But what if there’s a replacement of those cells?”

  “You might have some prolongation. But it is my opinion that any work Hidey wants to undertake that would accomplish his particular goal would have to be done simultaneously with basic genetic research. If the DNA in a system could somehow be programmed not to make errors of this kind, particularly involving the breakdown in amino acid structures, then both projects might achieve results similar to what Hidey wants. I doubt that his project alone can produce what he is looking for.”

  “Excuse me for saying this,” she said, “but you sound as if something else is bothering you about this proposal besides what you’ve just outlined. Hidey’s read the literature, I’m sure he knows about the difficulties.”

  “I shall confess that I have my doubts about his motives.”

  “Come on, Kurt, you don’t believe that Hidey just wants to make a name for himself.”

  “He’s an old man. He does not want to die, none of us do. But death is a little closer to him than to the rest of us. I think he might be deluding himself about how much he can do. Consider how he presented the project, how he announced it. No conservative estimates of goals, just the words indefinite life, immortality if you will. And he had us believing it because he so obviously did. What is he going to do when he finds out that it may not work?”

  “I think he’s mature enough to handle it,” she said coldly.

  “I shall admit that you know him better than I do,” Kurt continued. “I’ve only been here for three years and you have known him all your life.” He sipped at his coffee. “Hidey has been a guest in my home on several occasions, however, and recently I have noticed an attitude of his that very much disturbs me.”

  “What’s that?” Kira mumbled into her cup.

  “I can see two hearts,” a young man shouted from the corner table, “but why in hell did you bid three?” Kurt’s attention seemed to wander to the bridge players.

  “Go on,” she said.

  Kurt’s pale eyes focused on her again. “Excuse me, I am a c
ompulsive kibitzer when anyone is playing bridge.” He finished his coffee in one gulp. “My wife very much enjoys Hidey’s company in our home. She is a paramedic and likes to discuss things with my colleagues. One evening recently we began discussing death, a gloomy subject to be sure, but then we had all had a fair amount of wine. I tend to be somewhat fatalistic about death, believing that we can forestall it only for so long. I accept it as a part of life, and expressed this opinion to Hidey. He became perturbed. Death, he claimed, is an aberration and an insufferable one. He said that everything he had ever done in his work was ultimately designed to fight it. He called it an adversary, and one which he would, he hoped, defeat one day.”

  “And you find that strange?”

  “Indeed I did. Does that surprise you? We must all die some day to make room for those who will be better adapted than we are. That is the way evolution proceeds. No amount of genetic manipulation will produce unforeseen and spontaneous mutations possessing qualities humanity may need in the future. Any mature person accepts death. Only the very young believe that they might live forever. The rest of us are all too aware of our mortality.”

  “And why can’t we improve ourselves?” she asked. “Why can’t we change and stay on instead of waiting for death?

  “What I am trying to say is that Hidey may be deluding himself about this entire project. I can ignore his attitudes, strange as I find them, unless they threaten to affect our work here. But with his attitude he may affect this project, if it should be undertaken. He may rush things, or take foolish chances. He has a grandiose vision that may interfere with how he views reality.”

  “You’re wrong.” She finished her coffee and put the cup down on a nearby table. “Don’t you think he was personally involved when he cloned me? Paul was his best friend. It didn’t interfere with his work then.”

  “Perhaps it did. If I were to clone anyone at that time, if I had been around then, I might have cloned the child of parents, for example, who had lost their child and could not have another. That is, if cells had been available. That would have proved whether or not the process was a possibility at that time. Cloning five copies of a friend was somewhat extravagant. His feelings must have had a great deal to do with his decision.”

  “There were things he wanted to find out that he couldn’t have if he had done what you suggest.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. I am still worried about this project.”

  “You seem to be worrying a great deal,” she said, “about problems you said at the meeting shouldn’t concern us.”

  “The issues presented themselves as I considered the proposal. I could not ignore them.”

  “You don’t think it’s worthwhile at all, then.”

  “You persist in misunderstanding me, Kira. I believe the project might be worthwhile and the results interesting and perhaps beneficial. I have doubts about whether it will achieve the end Hidey so ardently desires. I would be delighted to pursue this research unless I think Hidey’s wishes might interfere with our work in some way.” Kurt stood up. “Perhaps you too are personally involved in what should be a scientific enterprise.”

  “My feelings for Hidey have nothing to do with this,” she said defensively.

  “I was not referring to your personal relationship. You are a sensible person who, I am sure, can keep such things in perspective. I meant that you are the outcome of one of Hidey’s former projects and thus might have a personal interest in this one that, through no fault of your own, you are unable or unwilling to acknowledge.” Kurt’s silvery blond hair seemed to glitter almost metallically under the lounge lights.

  “Forgive me, Kurt, but I can’t help feeling that you’re patronizing me.”

  “That was not my intention.”

  “What will you decide at the meeting this week?”

  “I do not yet know.” He gave her an almost formal nod and wandered over to the bridge players.

  Kira got up slowly and began to walk toward her office. This was not going to be a good day, she was certain of that. She nodded to some students absently as she ambled through the hall and managed to smile as she saw Hidey approaching her.

  “Good morning!” he said brightly, then looked more closely at her. “If you looked any happier, I’d call a psychiatrist. Anything wrong?”

  “Just tired,” she said. There was no point in mentioning Kurt; she could tell him later.

  “I can’t be getting too old if I can tire you out.” He took her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “How about lunch in my office later? We can dial a couple of those indigestible sandwiches from the lounge and I think my office machine might be persuaded to come up with some soup.”

  “Sure.”

  “Got to run, I’m going to check out on grants at the science division offices and I want to beat the mob.” He gave her hand another squeeze and took off.

  He’s already planning the project. She worried about what he would do if others beside Kurt began expressing their doubts, then dismissed the thought. She did not have to worry about Hidey. He was probably aware of Kurt’s attitude anyway and could take care of himself.

  Kira unlocked her office door and entered the room. Again she thought of her brother. One. thing at a time, damn it. She had a class in an hour, a lab group in the afternoon, a seminar for people in the community, via computer screen, just before dinner. She did not feel like doing any of it and began to toy with the idea of saying she was sick and going home. She could crawl into bed with a good book and forget about everything for a while.

  And contend with Jim when he wakes up. Well, she could not have gone home anyway, guilt about her neglected tasks would pursue her even through sleep. She wished she was a little less responsible.

  At last she picked up the phone and dialed. Emma Valois appeared on the screen. “Hello, Kira,” she said cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”

  “Do you have any free time today?”

  “I’ve got about an hour after lunch, one to two.”

  “I need to talk to you. It’s not a social call.”

  “The time’s yours.”

  Jim was seated in front of her office when she returned from the seminar, his back against her door. Startled, Kira paused for a moment, then walked to his side.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted. He stood up and she unlocked the door. “I thought you’d be eating supper by now.” They went inside and he sat down in one of the chairs, slouched over, legs extended in front of him.

  “I didn’t exactly relish the thought of coming over,” he said, “but I was here talking to one of my old professors in the English department so I thought I’d come over here. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever see you again.”

  She felt irritated for a moment, then realized he was only kidding her. “I did sort of disappear.”

  “I tried calling you here but you weren’t in. Ellie and Carole wanted to go out to dinner and drive around a bit, so I told them I’d look for you.”

  “Did you talk to Hidey at all?” Her voice sounded too tense. “Or Jonis?” she added quickly.

  “I think they’re doing some lab work. I didn’t want to bother them.”

  She put away her seminar notes and sat down behind the desk. “I did try to call this weekend, but you weren’t home. I hope you weren’t worried.”

  “Why should I be? You can take care of yourself.”

  “I just didn’t want youto stay mad.”

  “Kira, I’m not really that upset, except for one thing. What are you hiding?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’m not a policeman or anything. You’re acting as if you have to guard me from something. I guess I resent it a little, I thought we were past the point where we had to hide our feelings. I suppose you have your reasons.” He smiled crookedly and she felt herself mirroring his expression. “It’s not so easy talking to the others either. The last time I talked to Al I got a lecture on space ships. The th
ree-second delay didn’t help.”

  I should say something. Emma had listened to her but had given no advice, only outlined the alternative courses of action. She was being foolish in letting this deception persist. Jim was her brother. She looked at him and wondered if she knew him at all.

  Hidey will come through that door and Jim will know. A wave of panic washed over her. Stop it. I have nothing to hide. He’ll find out sooner or later anyway.

  “Well, I am seeing somebody,” she said, quickly, plunging in before she had second thoughts. “I should have told you. After all, it’s not anything clandestine. I’m seeing Hidey.”

  For a moment she thought she had gotten away with it. Jim was chuckling. She smiled back. Well, I hope you’re happy, Kira, that’s all.

  He was silent for a few seconds. At last he said, “You can’t be.”

  “I am.” She said it harshly.

  “I’m surprised he can still get it up.”

  “Don’t insult him.”

  “I should have seen it coming. You’ve spent enough time with him. I knew he wanted to keep his friendship with Paul alive, but I really didn’t think he’d go this far.”

  “Damn it, Jim, it has nothing to do with Paul.”

  “How do you know? That may be all it is, whether he chooses to admit it or not.”

  “I know it isn’t. I’m closer to him than you are.”

  He was suddenly at the desk, hands planted on its surface. “It makes me sick, just thinking about it. I keep seeing him in the lab, putting us together, observing us in those goddamn wombs. Don’t tell me it’s a normal love affair. He’s really sucked you in, hasn’t he? First he has you involved in all these projects of his and then…”

  “I don’t have to listen to any more of this. And while you’re thinking about Hidey, you might remember what we did a few years back and think what people would say about that.”

  He pulled away slightly, as if she had slapped him. She stood up and glared across the desk at her brother. They faced each other, feet apart, fists clenched. The door opened and Jim spun around.