Dr. Kulkarni looked at the clock on the wall. “I think they'll have the lab ready for us just about now. Will you follow me, please.”
They walked out the door, and Dr. Kulkarni led them down long, antiseptic halls punctuated by innocuous oil paintings of floral arrangements or ships at sea; all bathed in a drab halogen glow that made everything look washed-out and sallow. They stopped at an elevator, and Dr. Kulkarni pushed the down button. The doors opened with a ding and they all stepped inside. Kulkarni mashed another button and they began their descent. They rode in silence, listening to the hum of the elevator's motor and feeling a vague sense of motion. The elevator carried them to the lowest floor, and they stepped out into a massive underground laboratory.
All around, technicians and engineers milled about in masks and white lab coats. The center of the room was devoted to banks of workstations with lab equipment, myriad screens, machinery and computers. All along the walls, there were thousands of glass cubicles, reaching upward like skyscrapers..
Ogden Lavigne craned his neck straight up to look at the crystalline towers that surrounded him. “I'll bet you spend a fortune on glass cleaner,” he mused.
Dr. Kulkarni had heard that one a time or three before, but chuckled politely anyway. “Yes, and what's more, every one of these cubicles is occupied. Isn't that something?”
“I've never seen anything like this,” said Jocelyn. “Which one is ours?”
“I'm not quiet sure, but we'll find out.” Dr. Kulkarni snagged a stray technician and showed him the Lavignes' file.
The technician pulled his mask off and pointed to a room high up on the north wall, “Tier 19, room 227.”
“Thank you,” Dr. Kulkarni told the technician, who put his mask back on and disappeared among the indiscernible white coats. And then to the Lavignes, “Let's get going, shall we? There is still much to do.”
The couple once again found themselves following Dr. Kulkarni as he led them to the far end of the laboratory. They came to the northern wall, and the Lavignes couldn't help but marvel at the pristine stacks and rows of glass cells. They got on an escalator and rode up the19 flights. They stepped out onto the balcony and continued until they reached a door marked 227.
Inside the room was sparse. It contained a single hospital bed with all sorts of health-monitoring devices, screens and more esoteric machinery hung from the ceiling on long metal arms. They hardly noticed the medical equipment- all the tubes and dials- they were far more fascinated by the bed's occupant.
Jocelyn Lavigne stared down in astonishment, “The resemblance is extraordinary.”
“That's because it is you, Mrs. Lavigne,” Dr. Kulkarni explained proudly. “Jocelyn, I'd like to introduce you to, well... yourself.”
In the bed before them lay a woman; an exact copy of Jocelyn Lavigne. But this woman had no arms or legs. Her shoulders ended in round contours that blended into her sides and gave no indication that arms had ever existed. Her torso was also cut short, ending with the angular jut of her groin. She was confined by a padded leather strap around her waist, and one around her neck. Her head was bald, and she pulled and jerked against the restraints as soon as the door came open. She stopped when she saw Jocelyn. Perhaps some sort of ancestral recognition registered. She was just as transfixed by Jocelyn as Jocelyn was by her.
Mrs. Lavigne stared breathlessly into her own eyes. Only the eyes looking back were dulled by crude ignorance. A feeble moan worked out of the clone's mouth, accompanied by a string of drool, and a palsied grin that twisted her face.
“Look, she's smiling. It's as if she knows me. Do you know me?” she asked. “I'm you.”
“I'm afraid it's no use trying to speak to her,” Said Dr. Kulkarni. “She won't understand anything you tell her.”
“Why not? Is something wrong with her?”
“No, no, she's perfectly fine,” Dr. Kulkarni assured her. “But she's only two months old. We grew her with DNA from the sample we took on your last visit. And while we are able to rapidly accelerate her growth with hormones and a form of genetically-enhanced progeria, her brain, while fully formed, is still quiet young, and has had practically no stimulus. So while it would seem you are looking at a woman with a lifetime's worth of emotion and intelligence, I can promise you; her brain is practically as smooth as an egg.”
Jocelyn was oddly disappointed to hear this. She felt a sudden nausea, staring down at her grotesque doppelganger; a human worm, limbless and frail, slobbering in a hospital bed its entire existence. She supposed she should have been prepared for this, but the reality of the experience inexplicably sickened her.
Ogden, who had been in a stunned silence, finally spoke. “My God, honey, it's you. It's you, but you're so young.” He said, absently squeezing himself through his pants.
“It's fascinating, isn't it,” Said Dr. Kulkarni, “Along with multiple hormones and antibiotics, we also feed her a sucrose-rich diet that will enable her to gain excess fat quicker, thus accumulating the body-fat necessary to sustain the fetus.”
“I guess this is what they're talking about when they say the miracle of birth,” Ogden said. “I mean, they tell you what to expect, but seeing it up close... It's just... wow!”
Jocelyn felt like she was spinning. She actually had to hold an arm out to the smooth glass wall to steady herself. “I don't understand why she doesn't have arms or legs.”
Dr. Kulkarni gave a quiet laugh, “Well she's not going to be running any marathons, is she? We altered your genetic code so that it would produce a clone without limbs, simply because she doesn't need them. It's a waste of energy for her body to grow and sustain them, so we just sort of cancel them from her genes.”
Jocelyn watched as her clone thrust its head back and forth, with each jerk the clone let out a wet, choking gurgle that trembled in pitch and volume.
“If there are no more questions, perhaps we could begin insemination,” Said Dr. Kulkarni. He turned to Ogden, “Are you ready to begin?”
Ogden looked around at the glass walls, “Right here? Now?”
“There's no time like the present”
“I'm as ready as I'll ever be, I guess,” Said Ogden, loosening his belt.
Jocelyn wished she could look away. The eagerness with which her husband disrobed disgusted her. He spit into his hand and began to work his prick until it grew stiff in his grasp. He reached out to massage one of the clone's breasts, pinching the nipple between his thumb and index finger. Jocelyn looked down at her own chest and folded her arms.
“This is okay, right Doc?” He asked.
“You can do whatever you need to feel comfortable.”
Still squeezing her breast with one hand, Ogden asked, “In that case, do you think I could...” He motioned to her mouth.
“I wouldn't recommend you do that, for a number of reasons,” Dr. Kulkarni said, writing something down on a clipboard.
“Well, it looks like I'm ready enough, anyway,” said Ogden, looking down. He positioned himself and slowly pushed his member into his wife's bedridden double.
The clone rocked violently against the straps and let loose a feral wail, her eyes widened in fear and primal enmity.
The loathing grew inside Jocelyn. She saw the familiar carnal expression that transformed her husbands face into something primordial. A look she had seen many times, staring down at her. It used to thrill her. It was exciting knowing she had the power to bypass a man's rational brain and reduce him to a creature of lust; to transform him; to devolve him. Now that look would only sicken her.
Ogden turned his head to look at his wife, “Honey, this feels amazing!,” he said, panting and red-faced. He gave her the thumbs-up sign, grinning and still pumping away, before turning back to focus his attention on the shrieking clone beneath him.
Dr. Kulkarni glanced up casually from his clipboard. “Once he achieves completion the egg will be fertilized,” He said to Jocelyn. “From there we will be able to alter the DNA to your specifications.”
Jocelyn grew numb watching her husband heave himself upon her amputated copy. He had given up any illusions of gentleness and hammered away unmercifully. She asked a question just to block out the shrill cries of the poor creature. “How many times will he have to attempt to fertilize before he's successful?”
“Oh, just this once. The clone is extremely fertile, we've seen to that.”
Jocelyn considered herself lucky that she wouldn't be subjected to this ordeal again. She didn't think she could watch this another time.
Sweat dripped down from Ogden's leering face and splashed against the clone's body. Her long, desperate howls were stilted by a brief pause every time he thrust forward and ground himself into her.
“What happens after she gives birth?” Jocelyn asked.
“The way she's designed, she'd die of old age in a few months. But after your baby is born, we'll have to dispose of her to make room for the next occupant. We used to sell them to a company that would grind them into slurry to feed to farm animals, but the animals kept getting sick, so we just incinerate them now. Such a waste”
Ogden let out a loud grunt, and collapsed forward onto the clone. He wheezed and lifted his sweaty head up from between her breasts, “I feel like a kid at the fair,” he announced, “as soon as the ride's over, I want to go again!” He laughed.
Dr Kulkarni wrote in his clipboard again, “I'm certain what you've done will be sufficient.”
Ogden doubled over with his hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath. “That's fine by me, Doctor. I'm surprised I'm still standing, to be honest.”
“Now the hard part is over,” Dr. Kulkarni looked at Ogden trying to thread his belt back through his belt loops. “Everything else is up to her. She'll be monitored 24 hours a day, and our staff is right outside should any complications arise, but I'm sure they won't. And in a few short weeks, you'll have your brand-new baby boy, isn't that exciting?”
“It sure is,” said Ogden, shaking the doctor's hand. “We really can't thank you enough.”
Jocelyn had moved across the room while the doctor was explaining all this. She stood beside the clone and looked down at her. Her eyes were wild, and they darted all over the room, terrified, in agony. When she reached out to stroke her face, to calm her, she jerked away from Jocelyn's hand, cringed and shut here eyes tight in anticipation of more pain.
“Do you think I'll be able to visit her, doctor?” Jocelyn asked.
You may come back to check on the development of the child as often as you like, just make an appointment first. But right now, she needs her rest.” Dr. Kulkarni looked at his watch, “I actually have another appointment in a few minutes that I need to prepare for.” He moved toward the door. “If you have any further inquiries, feel free to call my office.”
Jocelyn and Ogden left the room together, his arm around her shoulder as they walked onto the balcony. Jocelyn was vaguely aware of her husband going on about how their life was going to change, what a miracle it is to make a child, and what great parents they were going to be, but he seemed to be talking to her from another universe. She felt tired and sick,and didn't really understand why. She looked out over the railing, across the massive facility, onto the towers, the infinite rows of glass rooms. They were soundproof, but she could still hear numb screaming coming from each one. She pressed her hands to her stomach, to feel her empty womb, and that is where those screams would echo inside of her forever.
A SERPENT’S TOOTH
The antique store had been on Main Street for as long as she could remember. It was an old brick building with peeling paint and an old-fashioned wooden sign that hung over the entrance, giving it a pleasant, but obstinate aesthetic amongst the ever-changing businesses that lined the old street. And although she had passed by it countless times without giving it a second glance, today she decided she would go inside
Joyce looked down at her five-year-old son Jeffrey, “Mommy's going to go in the store and look around. The things inside are very old and valuable, so you mustn't touch anything, okay?”
Jeffrey yanked his hand from his mother's grip, “No! I don't want to go in this stinky old store. I wanna go to the game store and you buy me the new Slaughterville 6!”
They had only been shopping for a few minuets and Joyce was already beginning to feel exasperated, but this was nothing new with Jeffrey. She tried to convince herself that he was just going through a phase, but sometimes she wondered.
“You're lucky I'll still take you home with me after what you just did in the shoe store. But if you can manage to try and behave in here, maybe we'll see about the game store okay?
She could tell that Jeffrey was unsatisfied with her answer and saw the beginnings of a tantrum brewing, which, if he were any other child, would be an annoyance, but in Jeffery’s case, would be a disaster. So, she pulled him into the store before he could react.
They were greeted by the sound of little bells jingling as she opened the door. A cute touch, she thought. Inside the shop smelled of soft, worn leather, dusty old books, furniture polish ...and something else; maybe old meat that had been left out too long after lunch, or something mouldering in a trash bin.
“Mommy, it smells in here!” Jeffrey whined.
Before she could tell him to hush, a voice called out from a darkened corner. “Welcome to my little store, where everyone finds exactly what they need.” The voice's owner stepped into the light; a slim, ancient man with a shock of ivory hair, slightly yellowed as if tarnished with a grim patina of nicotine. “ I am Mr. Satyr, the shop's proprietor.” He extended a gnarled, yellow-nailed hand. Joyce shook it and he smiled at Jeffrey, exposing a mouth full of crooked teeth overlapping each other like a copse of diseased saplings. Jeffrey receded from that hideous grin and quietly slinked away, vanishing amongst the crowded display shelves.
“I hope I didn't frighten the little one,” Mr Satyr apologized.
Joyce looked down. The appearance of this man was so startling that she had let Jeffrey slip away unawares. She called after him, “Sweetheart, stay where mommy can see you, and please be good.”
“Oh, I'm sure he'll be fine,” Mr Satyr assured her “I do so love little boys; they can sometimes be quite a handful, but I'm sure I don't have to tell you that.
“Jeffery’s always been sort of difficult," she agreed.
“I believe there is a saying, something the Bard said: 'How sharper than a serpent’s tooth is it to have a thankless child' I myself, am a firm believer that a little punishment can steady little boys who stray from the paths set by their parents, whatever that may be.” He took a long look at Jeffrey, who was opening pages of some very old-looking books and spitting gobs of snot into them, slamming them shut again. “However, some children are... how should I put it? Beyond redemption.” He flashed her his crooked grin once more.
Dana grimaced at the sight of his over-crowded mouth. They're like sharks teeth, she thought.
“Oh, listen to me go on. You didn't come here to be lectured on my antiquated methods of child-rearing. I'm sure little Jeffrey is a fine boy. So, why don't you just tell me what you're looking for, and I guarantee you, you will leave with exactly what you need,” Mr Satyr said pleasantly.
Joyce thought a moment, “Maybe you have something I could buy for my brother. There was a giant grandfather clock in the house where we grew up that was very dear to our parents. They're no longer with us and I think it could be a lovely sort of memorial if I could find a similar clock.”
“What a terrible thing to lose both your parents. And so young, too.” Mr. Satyr said, causing Joyce to smile politely. “Whatever happened to the clock you wish to With? If it was sold to another antique dealer it would not be impossible for me to track it down.”
“I'm afraid that it would be impossible. You see, it was destroyed in a fire.”
“Oh how awful.” Said Mr. Satyr.
A long silence hung between them and, for reasons she could not explain, Joyce began to tell the s
tranger her sad story. “The clock is actually not so important to me; it would only serve as a small reminder of some things lost that were much more precious to me: My parents. They perished in the blaze as well. It was not quite eighteen months ago that I decided to pay them a visit, you see. They lived several hundred miles away from me and, since becoming a new mother, I had been neglecting my visits that were more frequent before baby Jeffrey came along. They had not seen him since his birth, and were both eager to see what a beautiful young man he was becoming. So I packed some bags and Jeffrey and I made the, rather long, journey in my car. We left in the morning and arrived late at night. Usually I would dread such a trip, but Jeffrey was uncharacteristically well behaved; sitting calmly beside me, occasionally remarking on the scenery or whatever oddity comes to fascinate a boy his age. Jeffery’s grandparents were overjoyed to see him. They made such a fuss over him. As soon as he walked through the door they led him to a big pile of toys and games all spread out on the kitchen floor. Of course, I could have told them that gifts would be a waste of expense because little Jeffrey never actually played with toys. He would usually just stare at them; almost as if he were unfamiliar with the notion of fun or playing, and ultimately he would just pull or tear whatever it was apart. And, not surprisingly, he did just that. Not that my parents minded, they were just happy to see him. But he destroyed everything they gave him until he was sitting in a pile of broken plastic. But there was one thing that seemed to interest him: a chemistry set. I expressed my concern to my parents about it being possibly dangerous for him him. They wouldn't hear it. 'Your brother had a chemistry set when he was not much older and no ill came of it,' they said. I was never able to argue with my parents, so I let him have it. Because the drive was so long, not soon after we arrived we were off to bed. I couldn't pull Jeffrey away from the chemistry set. I was just happy to see him finally have an interest in something. So, I let him carry it to his room. He wanted to take it to bed with him but I wouldn't hear it. I put it on a shelf, despite his protests, and went to my own room, and didn't think of it again. And I slept.
Flyblown and Blood-Spattered Page 19
