The Tomorrow Clone (The Tomorrow Gene Book 3)

by Sean Platt

  “What is this?” Ephraim asked, though he already knew.

  “Neven’s birth certificate.”

  Ephraim turned the paper over and over. There was nothing on the back. The certificate listed all the usual info, but it somehow seemed lacking. There was no official embossed seal from the government. And where there should have been a hospital’s name, it read only Eden.

  “Why do you have it?”

  “Wallace gave it to me. He was so proud.”

  Ephraim turned the certificate over once more, just in case he’d missed something. He hadn’t. It was only paper. They were in yet another office in the sprawling Vineyard mansion. Sophie and Hannah were with them. But no one had found any answers.

  “It’s not real. Wallace made it up himself on one of his computers at the time. He wanted a memento. To make it all feel official.”

  “Make Neven’s birth feel official?”

  “Yes. He’s a clone, Ephraim. Did you know that?”

  Ephraim blinked at the paper. Papa went on without waiting for an answer.

  “When he began on what would eventually become Eden’s work as we know it today, Wallace already had all the underpinnings from the past and from researchers he worked with. Cloning wasn’t new, but his process was. Wallace would one day use Precipitous Rise to grow his clones to maturity rather than letting them sprout from babies, but he was patient enough, even back then, to take it one step at a time. He wanted to remove birth from the loop, so he tackled that first.”

  “How do you ‘remove birth from the loop’?”

  “Cloning originally meant creating in vitro zygotes that were then implanted into surrogate mothers. The process was clumsy and not scalable. He couldn’t employ an army of women to impregnate repeatedly, so he wanted to find a way to grow his clones fully in vitro, without a surrogate.”

  “Babies gestated in tubes?”

  Papa nodded. “He was his test subject. And Neven was his first success.” Then Papa tapped the birth certificate — which wasn’t, it turned out, truly a birth certificate at all. “He got the idea for this from dolls his sister used to play with. You’d buy a doll at the store, and it’d come with a birth certificate. Then—”

  “It was an adoption certificate,” Ephraim interrupted.

  Papa looked up at Ephraim, surprised and somehow pleased.

  “My sister had a bunch of those dolls.” But then Ephraim remembered that he’d never had a sister. Something terrible gripped his chest and forced him to look away.

  “At first, he thought that Evermore might offer custom children,” Papa continued, “and the certificates might be a nice touch. So, he made one for Neven, to show me. It was the only copy. He kept the original for himself.”

  “Why you?”

  “Because I’m on it. See?”

  Papa pointed. Under “Parents,” two names were listed: Wallace Connolly and Timothy Friesh.

  “This is a collector’s edition. I made Wallace take my name off of the one that he kept. It felt creepy, and it wasn’t accurate. He said that because I was half of our venture, I deserved credit, like half ownership. But this was a child, not a lease. I was bothered when I realized that the experiment was going to work and Neven would ‘come to term’ — whatever that means when you grow in synthetic placenta, fed from an artificial umbilical cord.

  “Wallace hadn’t told me what he was up to, but when had that ever stopped him? He had big ideas, and I was always his wet blanket. He hated my lack of enthusiasm about Neven, but was I supposed to jump up and down? He saw the breakthrough, but I saw a ticking clock. That baby would need to leave the tube. Then what? Wallace was inarguably the father, but I sure wasn’t. I made him fix it. Because that was my job, to make sure that when the visionary made his grand plans, they were accurately and precisely handled.”

  “You were his partner?”

  Papa nodded. “Not in Eden; that was after my time. But in Evermore, yes. Wallace got this big idea to get into biomedical. He blabbed on and on about how we could start rejuvenation spas and, using this amazing new, albeit slightly illegal, body of treatment, keep people young forever. I agreed mostly to shut him up, figuring it’d come to nothing like most of his hair brained schemes. I got out not long after he made Neven. After I asked Wallace, ‘What happens when that baby is born?’ and he barely gave it any thought, likening my ‘fretting’ to worrying what happens when a product is removed from a mold.”

  “He wanted to, what? Dispose of Neven?”

  “In a manner of speaking. He’d take his samples, keep the kid with a nurse the way you’d park your extra car in a neighbor’s garage. Then he’d give him up to a state orphanage for them to deal with.” Papa sighed. “But as it turned out, against all the odds, Wallace got attached. It was the first time I ever saw him soften. Ironically, I don’t think he’d have had the same reaction to a child born from a woman. But to Wallace, this baby was, quite literally, himself. He’d created something, and he felt responsible for it. So, he raised Neven like a son.”

  Hannah, who apparently hadn’t heard this story, made a maternal cooing. “That’s sweet,” she said.

  Papa took a long breath, held it, let it go. He glanced at Hannah, but plucked the birth certificate from Ephraim’s hands and said the next thing while looking at it with his mouth tugged down in a frown.

  “In a way, I suppose. But by the time Wallace figured out how to be a father, much of the damage was already done. Babies imprint immediately. They learn emotion by osmosis. That all happened for Neven while he wasn’t much more than a product in Evermore’s inventory. He had medical care and got fed. Beyond that, he didn’t have much at all. Wallace started paying attention to him before he turned one, but only barely. He was distant, mostly the old Wallace that I knew growing up. They grew closer, but the limiter was always Neven’s capacity to grow close. It was a problem.”

  “A problem how?”

  Papa set the birth certificate back in the drawer and shook his head. He looked away, and when he turned back, the three clones saw him wearing a half-smile, a man forcing himself to think of brighter things.

  “It doesn’t matter, I guess,” he said. “What’s done is done. After that, Wallace bought me out of Evermore and continued his work without me. He ‘dinged the universe,’ just like he always wanted. I think Neven was his only infant clone. From then on it was Elles, Nolons, and eventually client work. Not to mention Eden’s true spa facilities. We got along better after our separation. I’d tip my hat to my old friend if he were alive.”

  Ephraim couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t even know how to start explaining what bothered him about all of this. Was this truly Papa’s final word on Wallace Connolly? That he’d ‘tip his hat’?

  “But what about the Tomorrow Gene?” Sophie said, surprising Ephraim. “What about the fact that Eden copies its customers without their knowledge or permission, then sells the clones? What about the rumors that Eden kills off the originals after creating young clones like me so people won’t know they can’t turn back the clock on aging? What about how they found a way to steal people’s minds?”

  “The question of duplicating customers without their permission isn’t what worries me most right now,” Papa said.

  “Then what does?” Hannah asked.

  “The idea of duplicating anyone without their permission. Quickly. Easily. In quantity.” Papa took another slow breath and finished. “Without even having to go anywhere near the person to be copied.”

  Ephraim looked at Papa. “What are you talking about?”

  “I only have ideas, but they’re pretty convincing. Wallace wasn’t the only one able to predict the future.”

  “So …”

  “We’ll need to find Neven and ask him,” Papa said, nodding to Ephraim. “And for that, I need your help.”

  “But Neven is dead.”

  Papa shook his head. “Only the first Neven is.”

  Chapter 17

  A
Damn Good Reason

  “What do you want first,” Ephraim asked, “the bad news or the worse news?”

  Jonathan looked up at his brother from his seat in Eden’s “Crow’s Nest” — the small room nestled inside the Reception island’s famous flame structure. Its walls were all windows, with unparalleled views of the ocean horizon. That’s why Neven used to come here, he said the view helped him think. Jonathan came for other reasons. He wanted Eden’s newest occupants (the cops feigning good manners) to believe that this fake command room was the true heart of Eden.

  Ephraim waited. It seemed that Jonathan’s look of acknowledgment wouldn’t be enough. But instead of replying immediately, Jonathan took time to appreciate the moment’s subtle signs of fuckery. Ephraim’s beard, for instance.

  Ephraim had always hated facial hair; he said it made him itch. But he’d grown the beard anyway after the first Mauritius guards had inexplicably released him and vanished from the island, but before new guards came to replace them. With the beard, and wearing the glasses he never normally wore, he didn’t look much like Ephraim Todd. But that was the point. There was only supposed to be one Ephraim Todd, and that Ephraim was supposed to be back on the mainland and missing from prison.

  “Just tell me, Ephraim.”

  The sound of his name made Ephraim look around the room. But as far as Jonathan knew, and as far as his sweepers and jammers told him, the Mauritius people hadn’t tampered with the island’s systems or planted any hidden listening devices. They were playing nice, pretending their presence all over Eden was about resolving misunderstandings instead of ‘busting Jonathan Todd’s ass and shutting the island down now that he’d finally gotten what Wallace should have willed to him in the first place.’

  “I told you,” Ephraim hissed, “you have to call me Elijah.”

  “Relax. There’s nobody in the room with us.” Then, a jab at him. “Your little secret is safe.”

  “This isn’t just about me, Jonathan. If the wrong person hears you call me that name and decides to look at me closer, or God forbid, run a DNA test, our entire story falls—”

  “Yes, yes. Eden’s future relies on nobody arresting the Ephraim standing right in front of me.”

  He looked around, making Jonathan want to laugh. The stress had, over the past months, magnified so many of his brother’s shortcomings that Jonathan began to fantasize that the clone might make a better sibling after all. At least that guy had the stones to stand up for his beliefs.

  “What is it?” Jonathan sighed. “If you’re here to tell me about the Washington leak, I already know.”

  “How?”

  “GEM tried to call. Some agent, trying for Wood. Left a message at the office number. They just said that a previous guest had questions. So I pinged Neven’s network. There was someone close enough to GEM to tell me that the guest was Titus Washington.”

  “Did you call them back? Return the message, I mean?”

  Jonathan shrugged. “Why? Until GEM has an official mandate, talk just feeds the gossip.”

  “You don’t think it looks like we’re hiding something?”

  “Who gives a shit?”

  Ephraim seemed at first to find Jonathan’s answer irresponsible, but then he shrugged. At least it was honest.

  Jonathan elaborated. “Take it easy, Elijah. This is all a game of chicken. GEM probably thinks we’re cloning people, and sure, that’s plenty illegal. Which is why we’re in international waters.”

  “Except that Mauritius …”

  “… is about the least frightening occupying army ever,” Jonathan finished.

  “But if they find—”

  “I’m getting tired of explaining this, Ephraim. Mauritius won’t open doors we don’t want them to unless they have a damn good reason. And support. Wallace bought them out of their EEZ fair and square. They have to poke around and pretend they’re here to show the world that we’re just misunderstood. Eventually, they’ll realize they have to leave. We just have to wait it out.”

  “And starve.”

  “I’m interim CEO. When Neven died, I got the bank access. All the contact databases.”

  “Which we can’t use because the border patrol is watching us too closely.”

  “Except that we obviously can, in limited amounts, and you goddamn well know it because Mercer got in and out with a small shipment yesterday.”

  Ephraim made his obnoxious I’m concerned face. Somehow the beard made it even more annoying. Jonathan wanted to punch the expression right off of his brother’s cowardly mug.

  “Are we finished here?” Jonathan asked.

  “I haven’t told you anything yet.”

  “Okay. Tell me. I believe I had a choice between bad news and worse news. Lay it on me.”

  Jonathan spread his arms to display his nonexistent confidence. A gesture of spite, meant to counterpoint Ephraim’s sniveling.

  After a moment, Ephraim said, “Fine. The bad news is that Fiona called.”

  “So what? To hell with Fiona.”

  “She wants to charter a plane and fly here.”

  “Tell her to get in line. I think Wood’s about to do the same. His balls are so blue about all of this by now the fucker’s probably half Smurf. Mauritius won’t let either of them land. If they try, they’ll arrest them.”

  “It’s Wood she called about.”

  Ephraim had taken the call? He was so phenomenally stupid sometimes. “And?”

  “I’m not sure. She just kept blabbing on and on about him. About our clone-brain-mapping process.”

  “What does Wood have to do with Eden’s thought transfer system?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe you should have asked.”

  “She was being evasive! You want to talk to her next time, I’ll—”

  “See, that’s the difference between us, Ephraim. I know better than to talk to Fiona Roberson. She’s a paralyzed ninja. She’s built her entire business on her brain and her voice, whereas when it comes to thinking on your feet, you’re a fucking idiot.”

  Ephraim gave Jonathan a level stare. They’d always fought like brothers, but the past months of occupation had shortened Jonathan’s temper and sharpened his tongue.

  “Just tell me the bottom line.”

  “She asked if we ‘had Hershel here.’ If we’d been on video, she’d have been winking.”

  “He’s in New York. Fiona thinks GEM’s been given permission to come here?”

  “No, that’s the thing. She mentioned that. She knows Wood can’t come.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “I didn’t either. She must have decided I didn’t have what she wanted, though, because eventually she just dropped it. But do you know about something called a quarry?”

  “It’s where mining is done.”

  “Not that kind of quarry, I don’t think.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “Then no. Do you?”

  “No. But it must have something to do with Precipitous Rise because she said ‘you’d better think long and hard about hooking it up to your ghetto machines, because it’s not … it’s not …’”

  “Not what?” Jonathan prompted.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Did you record the call?”

  “You told me not to record anything while we were under occupation.”

  “Then why the hell didn’t you take notes?”

  “There was a guard right there in the office! And he was looking at me like he knew who I—”

  Jonathan wanted to plant his face in his palms. Instead, he exhaled. “Never mind. Whatever. If Fiona calls again, ignore it. If she’s so persistent that you feel we have to take it, then send her to me. That sure sounds to me like a conversation worth remembering.”

  “She said that she knew what we were up to.”

  “That’s good because I sure as hell don’t.” Jonathan shook his head. “Fine. I guess thanks for telling me.”

  But Ephraim hadn’t mo
ved. He and his big, out-of-control beard were standing beside the spiral staircase leading up into Crow’s Nest, waiting like a dog for scraps. “That’s not all. There’s still the worse news.”

  Jonathan leaned against a desk. He kept his mouth shut but made a let’s just get it over with wave with his right hand.

  “After Fiona got all worked up about the quarry stuff — because she seemed sure that I was lying about not knowing what it was — she told me to do something.”

  “Was it jump up your own ass and die?”

  “She told me to check the drome banks.”

  “Why?”

  “She just said that if I seriously didn’t know about Wood and quarry or anything like that, I was being played, and there were things I needed to know before it was too late.”

  Ephraim leveled his gaze at Jonathan until his brother finally understood. “What? You think I’m hiding something from you?”

  “Someone leaked the Titus Washington clone file to GEM. Someone here is conspiring with someone on the mainland.”

  “You can’t seriously think—”

  Ephraim’s eyes stayed hard. “Convenient, the way that clone killed Neven but didn’t touch you. And gave you Eden just like you always wanted, right? How many times have you told me that as Wallace’s right-hand, you should have been in charge rather than ‘that little fucking psychopath’?”

  “You think I’m working with him? With the Ephraim clone?”

  “You were the one controlling him. Whispering all those subliminal commands into his ears.”

  “Neven did that!”

  “And you picked up the slack when Neven wasn’t there, didn’t you?”

  Jonathan wanted to fight back — to punch Ephraim like he’d thought earlier — but that would be giving the situation the power it seemed to want. GEM, Mauritius, and Fiona Roberson would love it if Eden ripped itself apart from the inside. He raised his hands for peace.

  “We can’t let them get to us, Little Brother. I’m not hiding anything. Honest. What would be the point? Even if I wanted to double-cross you somehow,” He uttered the words with all the verbal absurdity he could muster. “Would it be remotely sensible to do it now, when you’re the only partner I have left in the world? My own brother?”