Beta

by Rachel Cohn

  We did not speak to one another. What would there be to say? What the…?

  And there was a fuchsia-eyed clone standing in the corner of the room at all times who had the bulk of a heavyweight boxer. It was clear from his appearance and his constant silent watch over us that we were to wait, to rest, and not to converse.

  So, in the waiting chamber, I lay down on the cot like a good clone, and I slept when I could, and I waited for a life outside the waiting chamber.

  The next day, the other new Emergents and I were brought to the orientation room, another dark, windowless room where we were told to sit on floor pillows set up in a circular pattern. In the middle of our circle, a holographic presentation for newly awakened clones instructing them on their new lives was projected.

  An elegant young woman, who had alabaster skin, slanted black eyes, and jet-black hair with violet highlights, narrated the orientation. She wore a red Chinese dress with gold dragons embroidered across it, accentuating her svelte figure. As she spoke, a montage of images was displayed around her, featuring pictures of the Io Sea’s violet-blue water lapping on white sand beaches, tiered waterfalls gently cascading over crystalline stones, towering rock formations rising from the ocean, inland mountains, and tangles of dense jungle. Her intonation purred in welcoming delight.

  “Hello, newly emerged clones! I am Mei-Xing, and I am here to tell you about Demesne, your new home!

  “Demesne is an archipelago of islands formed after a giant undersea volcanic eruption occurred a thousand miles off the coast of the Mainland, the newly realigned continent of countries brought together after an unfortunate time in human history called the Water Wars. This lush new paradise needed humans to enjoy it! Of course! The world had experienced such despair, but now with hope and prosperity once again reclaiming the Earth, this new paradise was primed for pleasure. So, the best island in the new archipelago was bought and developed by some of the wealthiest and most important Mainland humans ever! These swell fellas had the island crafted into the ultimate playground for elite people like them who needed their own private refuge. Of course! They earned it!

  “The ocean surrounding the very island where you’re watching this right now was reengineered by master scientists and spiritual gurus to create the world’s most luxurious waterscape. They remade their waterway and called it the Io Sea, which ripples in patented violet crests, and offers a totally transformative experience. For humans, swimming in Io enlightens, relaxes, and enchants. Beautiful!

  “Guess what else? Since they’d already reengineered a whole ocean, they figured, why not make the air better too? So they designed a system to pump premium oxygen into Demesne’s atmosphere. This succulent, sweet air, only available in specially designed container spaces elsewhere, is actually pumped across our entire island. Amazing, right? Right!

  “So probably now you’re thinking, This is total paradise on Demesne, what more could this perfect place need? The answer to that would be: workers to serve the island’s guests! Of course! Maids, butlers, cooks, construction laborers, you know! The tiny glitch was that the very atmospheric conditions that make Demesne so totally awesome also make it very difficult to travel to. And it’s way too relaxing and fun on Demesne for humans to get any actual work done! Bummer!

  “To remedy that, the island’s founders built a scientific compound for the brilliant Dr. Larissa Lusardi, the world’s top expert on cloning. They brought her to Demesne to create workers who could provide the important services the island would need for it to be a functional resort. And you, my friend, are one of those lucky clones! You have been chosen because of the superior aesthetic of your First—the recently deceased human you were cloned from. Through Dr. Lusardi’s patented technology, Firsts’ bodies are cloned within forty-eight hours of their expiration, allowing for the extraction of their souls. So, bonus for you! You don’t carry the burden of a heavy soul. I know, so lucky!

  “You are the elite of human cloning. Congratulations! You represent the strength and beauty for which this island is renowned. And now you will be living and serving on the most luxurious and beautiful place on Earth! Amazing, right? Right!

  “Welcome!”

  As Mei-Xing pronounced the word welcome, a diverse procession of clones whose ethnicities seemed to represent every corner of the earth came forth to wave in greeting and repeat her last word: “Welcome!” They were dressed in the respective uniforms of maids, butlers, chefs, massage therapists, golf and tennis instructors, luxisstants, etc., and like Mei-Xing, they were adult specimens who appeared in their twenties and thirties, and who fit the island aesthetic of great looks matched with great bodies.

  I had awakened as one of them, but in teen form.

  I held the promise of a new future in cloning.

  After the presentation, Dr. Lusardi herself came into the room to address us. She said, “Think of yourselves as empty art canvases.” A server clone came into view and handed mirrors to us all. Dr. Lusardi continued. “Look into these mirrors. See your canvases.”

  I looked into the mirror and saw my face for the first time. I had eyes, ears, nose, cheeks, lips—the usual human complement of features, all perfectly formed and aesthetically desirable. On the right side of my face, I saw the tattoo that had been aestheticized from my temple to my cheekbone, a violet-colored fleur-de-lis symbol. I touched it, and saw the other clones doing the same thing to theirs, trying to feel the pretty picture on our faces to see if the tattoo had texture. It did not.

  Dr. Lusardi said, “While you may look like humans, you are not humans. The violet tattoos on your faces are there to signify that distinction. You belong to Demesne.” She paused while the server clones removed the mirrors from our hands. Then she continued. “But, like humans, you can be considered to have two parts—what’s inside you, and what’s outside. The first part, what’s inside you, are your organs, which have been replicated from your human Firsts. In humans, what’s inside is something that can’t be seen—the soul. Here is the primary distinction between you and your Firsts. You do not have souls. What you have instead are individualized chip implants, which have been customized for you. The first chip is in your brain, and it contains all the data you will need to function in your assigned roles on Demesne. Your chip will instruct you how to mimic human feelings by arranging your face and body language to organically and physically express what your soulless bodies cannot actually feel. It will self-modify to approximate the human expressions appropriate to any situation you are in.

  “You will have different roles on Demesne. You two”—here Dr. Lusardi pointed at the two brawny male clones sitting in our circle—“are perfectly built for construction work. You will go straight to construction headquarters from here, with no intermediary broker to auction you off. The skill set you need to operate machinery and the like has been implanted in your chips. You two”—here she pointed to the female clones, slim blondes with tiny waists and full breasts—“will go to a broker who will try to sell you into more upmarket roles, perhaps masseuse or even luxisstant. You will receive training in your assigned jobs, and your chips will show you how to project the qualities that humans like to see in their workers—warmth, devotion, cheerful efficiency.” Dr. Lusardi then pointed at me. “And you, our teen Beta. I don’t know what will happen with you. My other teen Beta has been a Fail, so normally I would not put you out for sale yet. But you are too exquisite not to give it a try. You have exactly the aesthetic this island seeks, even if you are a Beta.”

  “What does Beta mean?” I asked.

  “A test model,” she said. “Still under development.” She chuckled and added, “Just like a real teenager.”

  Next, another holographic projection dropped into the middle of our circle, showing the diverse procession of welcome clones we had seen in the earlier presentation, who now displayed their forearms. Dr. Lusardi explained, “The second chip you’ve received has been inserted beneath your skin on your right wrists. It is your locator, to ensure
you’re never lost and that your owners always know where to find you.”

  The new Emergents and I all placed the fingers of our left hands onto our right wrists to touch our chips. We could feel a texture, a small bump beneath the skin. How fortunate. In this new and strange land, we would never be lost.

  The holographic image of the clones demonstrating their forearm chips disappeared, replaced with close-up images of the clones’ individual faces, displayed in rapid succession. They each had identical violet fleur-de-lis tattoos on the right side of their faces, while the left sides of their faces had individual tattoos, different types of flowers on each.

  Dr. Lusardi explained further: “Then there’s what’s visible on the outside. Your facial tattoos brand you as clones indigenous to Demesne. You’ve already seen your violet fleur-de-lis tattoos. Once you are bought and assigned duties, the left side of your face will be aestheticized with a specific botanical tattoo symbolizing your role. This is when the empty canvas of your existence shall start to take form. From then on, that botanical symbol will quickly identify what role you serve on the island.”

  The holographic images disappeared, replaced by a lulling musical accompaniment underscoring the finale to Dr. Lusardi’s orientation lecture.

  She said, “But as your aesthetic evolves based on your duties here, what will remain constant is your mission. Always remember: you were created to serve. Science has allowed for the extraction of your First’s souls so that you clones may serve here without restriction. You feel nothing, so that the humans you serve can feel what they come to Demesne for—happiness.”

  Holographic images were projected in front of each of us, human faces labeled HAPPY, CONTENT, PLEASED, and SATISFIED.

  “These are the faces you shall strive to attain in your service to humans,” said Dr. Lusardi. “These faces are your ultimate artistic goal. You are merely the supplies that enable your owners to experience the art of fine living on Demesne, which they’ve worked so hard to create.”

  We returned to the waiting chamber after our orientation, and were told we would spend one last night there before being sent the next day either to our new duties, in the case of the two males, or to appropriate brokers to be put up for sale, in the case of the two adult females and myself. We went to bed.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke suddenly, my mouth parched. “Could I please have some water?” I asked the burly clone orderly who presided in the corner of our room at all times, watching over us.

  He pointed to the door. Quietly, he said, “There’s a water fountain at the end of this hallway. Don’t be long.”

  I scurried outside into the dimly lit hallway. As I marched toward the fountain at the end of the hallway, I passed by a doorway that, unlike the other doors I’d seen so far at the compound, had a glass window for seeing inside the room. The sign on the side of the door said INFIRMARY. I datachecked this word and learned that an infirmary is a place where malfunctioning or sick beings are sent to be made better.

  I peered through the window. The room appeared to be a scientific laboratory similar to the one in which I’d first emerged, with long metal tables and medical equipment. On these tables were fuchsia-eyed clones in need of repair.

  A male clone lying on a metal table, his hands and feet locked into restraints, was having the skin on his chest seared off by a lab worker holding a steel torch. A female clone sitting on the next table, also restrained, had blood and ooze dripping from one empty eye socket as a lab worker extracted her remaining eyeball from the other socket. In a corner of the room, a male clone was pinned against a wall, his arms above his head with his wrists and ankles in restraints, and he was being prodded with a long metal stake that was jabbed into his armpits, his mouth and nostrils, then his ears.

  The subjects’ bodies were all beaten, bruised, and bloody, and their mouths were open, as if they appeared to be saying something. Or screaming something.

  My heart palpitated as my hands turned clammy and I felt beads of sweat form on my brow. My body felt turned back to panic, as during my first moments upon initial awakening.

  I turned around and raced back to the waiting chamber to return to my bed.

  Thirst could possibly be a sign of malfunction. I no longer required a drink of water.

  IT’S TRUE ABOUT THE AIR HERE.

  Although I have no basis for comparison, I can feel how the oxygen-enriched air on Demesne could give a human body and mind a constant feeling of bliss. The air here is so smooth I begin to understand how humans with souls would find it impossible to accomplish any work. It’s no wonder the humans require clones who don’t care about luxuriating in the island’s serenity. The sweetness could be as intoxicating as the anesthesia shot to my face from which I am awakening.

  My eyes open from their brief slumber. We are gliding in the Aviate again. Now I remember. Anesthesia wears off more quickly on clones. After my purchase, we stopped at the clinic on the grounds of the country club, called Haven, where clones go to be “vined,” the term the humans use for clones who have received the specific botanical tattoo symbolizing our role, aestheticized onto the left side of our faces after we are assigned jobs. Mother’s bodyguards in the Aviate’s front seats are vined in nasturtium—shield-shaped leaves with bright yellow and orange flowers—symbolizing conquest, a trophy.

  I touch the left side of my face, drawing a line with my finger from my temple to cheekbone. In the LUV’s window reflection, I can faintly see the spikes of spurred, deep-blue flower petals. My vining announces to everyone how fortunate I am to be a teen Beta who will serve in an upper-caste companion role. Dr. Lusardi predicted that I would make an excellent sale, and she was right. I feel a swooping sensation in my stomach, a delicious anticipation. I can’t wait for the new adventure to begin. I can’t wait to settle into my new home.

  “Your vining looks divine,” says Mother in her childlike voice. “It will look even better once the burn marks fade. I’m so glad we went with delphinium instead of the chrysanthemum most of the other companions are vined in. Such a pretty choice. The blue complements the violet on the other side of your face so nicely.”

  Delphinium symbolizes ardent attachment. Mother seems ardently attached to my aesthetic. “Elysia, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a clone as lovely as you. And that’s saying something, on this island. I’m so pleased we will have a dear new girl at our home. What a brilliant idea for Dr. Lusardi to make a teen Beta. So young and pure! But oh…your poor First. All that wasted young beauty. Her poor mother, to have lost a child so young.” She sighs. “Oh, I can’t wait to show you off!”

  She hugs me to her side. I assess the proper response—to rest my head on her shoulder, and so I do, causing Mother to deposit a maternal kiss on my head. “Such a sweet girl,” she coos. Warmth from Mother’s hug floods my body. I am not just a companion, but a daughter, just like the Brattons’ human girl. I will be cared for and loved just like Astrid. I am such a lucky Beta.

  Like all the villas on Demesne, Governor’s House, where Mother has brought me home, is designed to be both art and architecture. A hundred or so luxury mansions are scattered across the island, all created by the same architect, all using the same exterior materials: stucco, wood, glass, titanium, and copper. The houses are shaped in sculpted geometric forms that look as if ancient civilizations had merged the temples built for their gods with a modern intergalactic spaceship, then blended these hybrid homes seamlessly into Demesne’s landscape.

  The Aviate arrives on the driveway’s landing pad, which is surrounded by rows of Demesne’s signature flowers, called cuvées. The cuvées are torchlike flowers, with bright coral-red spiked flowers on long, erect stems. They make the Aviate landing pad sparkle, like bottles of champagne waiting to be burst open.

  Mother clutches my hand as the Aviate comes to a stop. “Welcome home, pet,” she purrs.

  I do not need a guide to my new home; my chip’s interface reveals everything I need to know about it. Go
vernor’s House is perched at the top of a cliff abutting the ocean, with floor-to-ceiling glass walls for premium water views. The entryway is a marble foyer with crystal light fixtures hanging overhead, leading to a house of grand rooms: lavish bedrooms, serene lounge areas, state-of-the-art kitchen, massage room. And of course the house has the premium entertainment facility common to homes on Demesne: a FantaSphere room, a fantasy game arena for sports such as virtual deer stalking and shark hunting and rain-forest pillaging, and especially for playing Z-Grav, the zero-gravity game Mother has told me the teens on Demesne are crazy for.

  Governor’s House is powered by solar energy and operates on clone energy. The Governor and his wife have their own butler to anticipate and serve their every need, along with clones to facilitate the household operations: maids, chef, groundskeepers, luxisstant, bodyguards. The island’s larger pool of clones, the sporting instructors, massage therapists, and construction workers, are shared by Demesne residents and reside on the grounds at Haven.

  As we walk inside, Mother keeps hold of my hand and says, “You are the first clone at Governor’s House to serve as a companion, and its first Beta model. We are going to have such fun trying you out!”

  For the last couple of years, my new brother Ivan has been the region’s wrestling champion in his weight class. Or so Mother informs me after he wrestles me to the ground after we are first introduced. He is eighteen years old and has light brown hair shorn in a military crew cut, with light-blue eyes and full rosy cheeks like Mother’s, giving his face a softness at odds with his imposing bulk.