Made in the U.S.A.: The 10th Anniversary Edition

by Jack X. McCallum

  REQUEST RUSH FOR RESULTS OF HER COMPLETED MEDICAL EXAMINATION!

  Have OBGYN confirm normal fertility and reproductive capability.

  Begin contagion exposure tests – is she really immune to illness as these test results suggest?

  Jeannie could be our EVE! SCIENCE is our ADAM!

  She is the BEGINNING, the FOCUS, the CENTER!

  It is ALL about Jeannie!

  Ensure ALL of JN’s eggs harvested per request and fertilize w/spermatozoa from control group.

  Long range plan RE: JN offspring–1st litter–Euthanization and Autopsy requested— are mutations present?

  Confirm Betsy Jones status. If really the child of JN—Euthanize and autopsy.

  JN is first healthy clone to reach maturity. When ALL avenues of study have been documented

  (20yrs from now?) euthanize and autopsy.

  Will recalled his earlier thought that Jeannie was at the center of all this activity.

  “I can’t believe this,” Jeannie whispered. “This is so . . .” She couldn’t finish. The thought that they could so casually order Will and Betsy killed left her speechless, and she was equally disturbed by the references to her as an almost mythical Eve, and the way many of the notes about her were written with great force and heavily underlined.

  “Yeah,” Will said. “Business as usual around here. Jeannie, they didn’t get a chance to collect any—”

  “No! Thank God.” She read more.

  Talking with WH, (12/31/99) JN described herself as ‘seconds.’

  A wonderful designation! I shall use it from now on!

  “Will?” Jeannie looked sickened, and angry. “Do you think he watched us . . . together, last night? I’d never discussed my life with anyone before then.”

  “Eww, I’m gonna puke,” Betsy groaned. “You two did it?”

  Will frowned at her and then returned his attention to Jeannie. “Yeah, he probably watched, or saw a recording. Don’t worry, though. He wouldn’t have gotten off on it. He’d watch us with the detachment of an entomologist watching two bugs mating on a tree branch.”

  SECONDS (wonderful term!) Source List

  Seed materials confirmed:

  1] Tesla–hair–(technical)

  2] Stephen Hawking–epidermis scraping–(tech)

  3] Edison–hair–(tech)

  4] Jefferson–hair–(leadership, propaganda)

  5] Lincoln–hair–(leadership, propaganda)

  6] Churchill–cigar–(leadership, propaganda)

  7] Napoleon Bonaparte–epidermis from penis–(strategy)

  8] Red Cloud–hair–(leadership, strategy)

  9] Hedy Lamarr–hair–(technical)

  Betsy grabbed the journal. “Where the heck did these guys get Napoleon’s cock?”

  “It’s traveled the collector’s circuit for years,” Will said. “Every once in a while it’s auctioned off. I once read a story from the seventies that said it was all dried up and looked like a sea-horse.”

  “Now I’m really gonna blow chunks,” Betsy said. “You’re making this shit up.”

  “Betsy” Jeannie said, “Please stop swearing so much.”

  Betsy looked shocked. “Oh I get it. Mr. Cool here can curse all he wants after putting the meat to you but when I act unladylike I get crapped on. And I still think he’s making this shit up.”

  Will was getting a little irate. “Maybe if you cracked open a book once in a while babe, you’d learn something, however unsavory it may be.”

  “I read, but I don’t read the kind of garbage you obviously do, superfuck.”

  Jeannie shook her head, shushing Betsy. To Will she said, “Who is Red Cloud?”

  “He was a Lakota Sioux,” Will, said, “a Chief who led successful campaigns against the whites, right after the Civil War. He was a real warrior who fought only when he had to and tried to avoid it when he could.”

  “Some of these people died so long ago,” Jeannie said. “There’s no way they could make a clone from something dead for so long, could they? I mean, if you do the math on me, the stuff they used had to be . . . fresh.” She made a face and shuddered.

  “Who knows?” Will replied. He remained deadpan as Betsy, standing behind Jeannie, gave her mother the finger and mouthed obscenities. “I do know that when it came to making leaps and bounds in this kind of research, Stern, Eicher, Zane, and Mondani were always full of surprises, and this new kid Tupper is another sharp one. Where would they have gotten the material from Marilyn to create you?”

  “I have no idea.” Jeannie replied, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. “I always assumed that somebody stole a few hairs or pricked her finger to get some blood.”

  “Could be,” Will said. “Eicher was a scumbag though. He probably bought or stole tissue samples from someone in the coroner’s office. Shit, I heard they lost Kennedy’s brain after his autopsy. Compared to that, misplacing a few scraps of Marilyn is nothing.”

  Jeannie was pale. “God,” she said.

  “Wait a minute, “Betsy said, forcing a laugh that sounded shrill. “Marilyn? Marilyn Monroe? I know she looks like her, but are you saying my mom is . . . a clone?” She wanted to believe the idea was bullshit, something out of a bad novel, but with all she’d seen today. . .

  Jeannie reached out to touch Betsy’s cheek and her daughter pulled away.

  Betsy’s voice was harsh as she stepped back. “Don’t touch me, you freak.”

  Jeannie looked like she was going to cry.

  Will was furious. He grabbed Betsy by the shoulders and gave her a fearsome shake. “You knock that shit off right now, kid, or I’ll—“

  “Please!” Jeannie laid a gentle hand on each of them and moved them apart. “Let’s just find what we need to find and get out of here.”

  Will raised his hands and took a step back.

  “Stephen Hawking?” Betsy said, reading the journal again. “He wouldn’t put up much of a fight if they wanted to take something from him. But who is Hedy Lamarr?”

  “She was a popular actress,” Jeannie said, regaining her composure. “She did a famous nude scene in a movie, way back in the thirties. Drove the censors crazy.”

  “Yeah,” Will said. “Ecstasy, released in nineteen thirty-two. But a lot of people forget she was also a real thinker. Given the time and money, who knows what she could have done? She worked with a guy named George Antheil to create a new way of guiding radio-controlled missiles during World War Two. They offered it to the Navy and the Navy turned it down, since the available technology of the era would have been too cumbersome for their uses. Vacuum tubes and other bulky stuff. But then years later, the transistor comes along, and the Navy puts the idea to use to secure communications. In fact, Lamarr and Antheil’s discovery of spread spectrum applications is used in cellular phones today.”

  “Where did you learn all this stuff?” Jeannie asked

  ”I move around a lot and stay in a lot of motels,” Will said. “I read a lot, and watch a lot of cable. The History Channel. The Discovery Channel. That shit rocks.”

  “Well, why not clone a woman with real brains and not some actress,” Betsy asked, “Like that Frenchie, Mary Curry?”

  “Marie Curie,” Will said, correcting he pronunciation.

  Betsy grabbed her crotch, a gesture that Will had never seen performed by a girl.

  “Isn’t it obvious? Men never change,” Jeannie said. “Hedy Lamarr had brains, but she also had a pretty face, and a great figure.”

  “And get this,” Will said. “By the time the Navy started using the system, the patents Lamarr and Antheil had registered had expired.”

  Jeannie said, “Let me guess, she never saw a penny?” Will nodded. “Look at this,” she said, as Betsy turned a page in the journal.

  Seed materials wish list (Get Kraft to approve!):

  1] Hitler–bone–in Gene Library (Leadership, Propaganda)

  2] Da Vinci–hair–UNCONFIRMED, in GL? (Technical)

  3] Einstein–h
air–in GL (tech)

  4] Mozart–hair–in GL (Musical Adeptness> Mathematics>Computer Tech)

  5] Keaton–hair–in GL (strategy)

  6] Elizabeth I–bone–in GL (Leadership, strategy)

  7] Hess–hair–in GL (Propaganda)

  8] Jeanne d’Arc–hair–UNCONFIRMED, in GL? (Propaganda, strategy)

  9] Rasputin–hair–UNCONFIRMED, in GL? (Motivation)

  10] U. S. Grant–hair–in GL (Leadership, Strategy)

  “Cripes,” Will said. “Let me see.” Betsy gave him the journal.

  Betsy snorted. “Elizabeth? The queen from hundreds of years ago? And which Keaton do they mean? Diane or Michael?”

  “Buster Keaton,” Will said. “And that’s not as stupid as it sounds. Before he became a lush he had a fantastic talent for strategic planning. Look at one of his silent movies like The General and see how he orchestrated his scenes. Mozart’s an interesting choice. Think about a mind as agile as his applied to advanced mathematics and computer design. Imagine the kind of free-thinking artificial intelligence a guy like that could whip up!”

  Jeannie looked scared. “These categories . . . Strategy, Technical, Propaganda. It sounds like they’re planning to take over the whole world!”

  Will agreed. “Sounds like that to me too. Look at this. A scribbled note that says, ‘general population monitoring now possible through tracking implant technology—forward proposal to Kraft.’ And after that is a list of names, and ‘patent sales guaranteed’ written beside it. All of these company names are on the Fortune 500 list. Others are old, old money.”

  He read in silence a moment. “Whoa, the land of the free and the home of the brave? Another scribble says ‘Implementation of demongrelization. Disbursement of the Jeannie Genes. Aryan perfection.’ Maybe all the survivalist militia nut cases in Oklahoma and Montana aren’t far off when they rave about a New World Order on the horizon.”

  Jeannie couldn’t speak. She was horrified and frightened, feeling this was all her fault.

  Betsy looked disgusted. “Hitler? Are these guys insane?”

  Will didn’t look up from the journal. “Yes . . . in a way. If they want someone with the powers of persuasion they’re right on the money. Dale Carnegie had nothing on Adolf. Talk about winning friends and influencing people. Before he lost his cock and everything else Napoleon once said, ‘From the sublime to the ridiculous is but one step.’ Seems he was right.”

  He closed the book and tucked it into his jeans behind his back. “This is exactly the kind of thing I was looking for. We should get going.”

  Jeannie put a hand on Will’s arm. “We can’t leave yet. We have to stop them.”

  “Yeah,” Will said, “I know, but there isn’t much we can do without getting ourselves killed. Better to get clear of this place and plan our next move. Maybe get word to the press of what’s been going on here.”

  “Like anyone would believe it.” Betsy said with a laugh.

  “Good point,” Will replied. He looked Jeannie in the eye. “I’m not James Bond. I could try sabotaging their equipment or their computers, but I don’t have enough information to know what to hit, or how hard. No, my first priority is getting you away from here to someplace safe. If I can take a little proof of the weirdness going on around us, besides the fact that you and I are walking proof, that’s okay too. But it’s time to get moving.”

  “I’m with him,” Betsy said. “I don’t want to end up on a slab being dissected by these geeks.”

  Will saw that Jeannie was hugging herself and staring at the floor and that she had backed into one corner of the room. Again Will wished he could have five minutes alone with Eicher. Hell, he’d settle for one. Just one. What had that bastard done to her?

  “Jeannie? We have to go.”

  She felt Will’s hand on her cheek and leaned into it. It was so strong and warm, and it made her feel safe. She should have had hands like that to hold her when she was small. A father who loved her and protected her. But she didn’t. Neither would the children raised here.

  “They have a nursery here, Will. Babies. How can we leave the babies?”

  Will gently drew her out of the corner and held her close. “Jeannie, if we go in there and find one or two infants, escape is going to be difficult. But what if we go there and find ten babies? Or fifty? Each of us could carry one kid. That would slow us down. And how would we choose? How would we select two or three out of ten or fifty? We can’t put ourselves through that. Better to get clear of this place and work out a way to bust it wide open. Then we can save all the kids here, not just a few.”

  Jeannie nodded. Will thought she was going to cry, but she didn’t.

  Betsy was getting impatient. “Can we please get fucking started?”

  Will looked over his shoulder and said, “Quiet.”

  Betsy opened her mouth, and then closed it. Will was looking at her the way he had looked at the woman in the plastic booties who had opened the door for them. She wasn’t sure if her mom had noticed the way the pretty boy’s face had momentarily gone slack, his eyes glazing over as if he was freshly dead, but she had. He’d grabbed the woman like an emotionless killing machine, snapping her neck like it was something he did all day long. You’ll get yours soon enough, freak-lover, she thought.

  When Jeannie was ready, she nodded to Will and followed him to the door. Will opened the door and saw Mondani standing there, one hand reaching for the doorknob. They looked at each other and then Mondani spun on one heel, raising a foot to run down the hall.

  Will settled an arm around Mondani’s shoulders. The movement appeared effortless, two pals together. But Betsy saw the way both of Mondani’s feet slammed down onto the floor and heard the man’s teeth come together with a porcelain click.

  “Hold the phone, doc,” Will said with an easy grin. He steered Mondani back into the office, closing the door.

  “Will . . .” Jeannie didn’t want to witness another death and she was afraid Will was going to kill the man on the spot. He looked at her and she relaxed a little when she saw his eyes. They were clear, not the vacant eyes that froze her with fear, but the eyes she had fallen in love with, eyes that made her melt inside.

  Mondani peered at Jeannie. The moment he saw her he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He seemed to be restraining a building rage, but also appeared unsettlingly eager. Mondani was a slender, handsome man with a strong nose and keen eyes, and now he looked like a dangerous bird of prey.

  Will shoved him back and he collapsed into the big leather chair behind his desk. Mondani straightened his tie, brushed non-existent dust from the lapels of his dark suit and then fidgeted with the crotch of his trousers. After a moment he regained his cool and sat back, trying to appear at ease.

  From the look on the Doctor’s face and the amount of squirming he was doing, Will knew Mondani was now packing some serious hardwood. Jeannie strikes again. Will tried not to laugh as Mondani plucked at his pants and adjusted himself.

  “William,” he said, giving a how-do-you-do tilt of the head to the second-last man he’d ever want to be on the wrong side of.

  Will sat on one corner of the desk and looked down at Mondani. “Well, well,” he said softly. “What am I going to do with you Doc? What will I do with the man who ordered the death of the woman I love?”

  Mondani paled, but kept his cool. Jeannie was watching Will’s face. Watching his eyes. Nobody saw Betsy grit her teeth in rage. He wants me euthanized too, you prick, Betsy fumed.

  “Now, William, think a moment,” Mondani said with authority, as if he were orating from behind a lectern. “It was not I who ordered your end, but Randall Kraft. He said—” Will held up his clone book and Mondani made a soft choking noise.

  “Dear Diary,” Will opened the book and pretended to read with dramatic whimsy. “Today I have decided to pluck a few thorns from my side. What joy!”

  “I do not talk like a fruit,” Mondani said, attempting a snarl. He stood and grabbed for the b
ook. Will made what appeared to be no more than a foppish wave. Mondani’s cheeks puffed out and he was slammed back into the chair, slumping and sucking air.

  Jeannie finally saw what she had been hoping she would never see again. Will’s respiration slowed and deepened as if he were performing some new-age breathing exercise. As he tucked the book back into his jeans his pupils dilated, and his eyes lost their sparkle. She had also noticed that Mondani was most inappropriately erect and thought if I only had a nickel for every time that happened.

  “You are not a nice person,” Will said to Mondani. He sounded like a little boy. “You have done bad, bad things. And you are going to do more bad things, unless you are stopped. I think I’m going to stop you now.” He reached for Mondani, who shrank back in horror like the heroine of a fifties monster movie being menaced by some unspeakable beast. A high-pitched voice cracking with tension made Will freeze.

  “Excuse me,” Tupper said. “Please, Mr. Hill, don’t do that.” He stood in the doorway wringing his hands together.

  Will turned his head, his hands still inches from Mondani’s throat. His eyes looked like dusty balls of glass.

  “Will,” Jeannie said. She stepped behind Mondani’s desk and took Will’s hands in her own. His skin was cool and rigid. “No more killing. Please.”

  “Give me one good reason,” Will said in a flat voice. His ghosts were screaming, and he winced. Squeeze that fancy bastard’s neck until his head pops right off his shoulders!

  “If you keep killing,” Tupper said, “You let the Compound win. You become exactly what you were trained to be, nothing more than a death machine. You are better than that. I know you are. Just leave. Now.”