CHAPTER SIXTEEN—PERSON OR CLONE?
Kathy was becoming agitated. She tossed off her
covers and jumped out of bed. Her bare feet looked so narrow and pale. “But
this is all so sudden. I need time to think.”
Carla countered, “We don’t know how much time you
have, Kathy. We have to act now. If we don’t like the new programme, I can find
something else for you. You aren’t signing your life away.”
“What can you tell me about this programme? What is
the facility named? Where is it located? Can I visit it first?”
Carla pulled back her fringe in exasperation.
“You’ll be a study at Gilcrest. It’s located on the Northeast edge of town.
It’ll be too far for you to walk. Shuttle service will be provided. Visiting it
first is out of the question. I want you to begin your sessions there as soon
as you get clearance from Windmere, in other words, tomorrow.”
Kathy began nodding her head understandingly. “Okay,
I get it. And thank you, Carla. Thank you for going out of your way for me.”
The next few hours passed in a flurry. Adrenalin
made everything possible, that and Carla’s indomitability. I thought, “She is
brick. I am clay and Kathy… Kathy is origami paper.”
I stayed with Kathy in her room for about 45 minutes
while Carla spoke with administration. She returned to our room a little
flustered. “They’ve signed you out, but they want you to leave immediately.
Something about not wanting to waste the bed. I think they were put off. They
mentioned your requiring medical testing but I assured them that wouldn’t be
necessary. You’ll need somewhere to sleep tonight. In a pinch, I suppose you
could camp out in my office. ”
Kathy looked panicky, “What about your flat, Sophie?
Isn’t your building supposed to be some kind of safe house?”
I cried out, “Yes, yes, but I have to clear it with
Joe first!”
Kathy began to cry, “What about Keith. I wanted to
break the news to him. Now there’s no time.”
Carla barked out orders. “Kathy, Sophie and I will
help you pack. We’ll take a taxi to my office and call your Joe and Mrs.
Ellington from there. I’m sorry about this Keith chap. Can’t you say goodbye to
him on your way out?”
We threw Kathy’s meager possessions into five large
plastic bags. Kathy then knocked on Keith’s closed door and slipped into his
room. She was inside for a few minutes. I heard their voices, but I couldn’t
decipher what they were saying to each other. I wondered if he were jealous of
her or happy for her, quite likely a blend of both.
The three of us then walked out of Windmere. Kathy
and I never saw it again. We took a taxi to Carla’s office where we hung out
while she made a few hectic phone calls. Finally, she instructed me to ring Joe
up. I was weak with relief when he picked up the phone.
“Joe, something serious has come up and my friend
Kathy urgently needs a place to stay. Even though she’s not on the lease, can
she stay at my flat, at least for the time being?”
Joe’s tone was immediately reassuring. Moreover, he
sounded focused and concerned. “What about sleeping arrangements? By that, I
mean beds.”
I paused, at a loss. “I’ve a twin bed. She has
nothing for now.”
He hardly missed a beat. “I’ve an idea and I hope
it’s a good one. Get her over to the flat as soon as you can. I’ll take care of
a bed straightaway. We’ll meet there today and have your belongings moved. Try
to stay calm. It’ll all work out.”
Our next destination was Mrs. Ellington’s office.
She was in a sour mood when the lovely Ida showed us in.
“All of this commotion is quite irregular. I hope
you understand that the studies at Gilcrest are pilot projects which could be
aborted at any time?”
Carla positioned her formidable hands on her hips.
“I disagree. What you don’t understand is that institutions like Windmere
Heights are things of the past. It’s only a matter of time before organ
donorship is abolished. When that happens, your ethical credibility, Madame,
will be in the toilet. Let’s debate this no further. We require authorization
for Sophie to be Kathy’s carer at Gilcrest. The regular form will do.”
I was elated when we left the office, permit in
hand, but Kathy looked exhausted. The three of us stood on the pavement. Carla
and I decided that Kathy and I would proceed directly to my flat and Carla
would return to her office, collect Kathy’s possessions and join us there.
“But that’s a lot of stuff for you to manage on your
own,” I worried. Carla was robust, but surely her energy had its limits.
“Tosh,” she dismissed my concern. “I feel fantastic,
absolutely galvanized. What we have now is the perfect window of opportunity.
The old policies are unravelling; the new policies are not yet in effect.
Anything and everything is possible.”
I was doubtful. “But what if the new policies don’t
turn out to be as benign as you hope?”
“Oh, you know what they say about crossing that
bridge…”
The weather had turned difficult. Freezing rain had
begun whipping the air. Kathy and I began shivering, but Carla looked totally
unaffected. She didn’t even bother turning her collar up.
Before getting into separate taxis, I remembered to
ask her, “Tell me, do you know anything about Miss Veronique? I think about her
very often. She was kind to us.”
Carla answered, “I suppose she was, in her way.
Actually, our paths have crossed a couple of times. Things haven’t gone well
for her. You wouldn’t recognize her if you ran into her. She looks like an old bag
lady.”
Carla’s words upset me deeply and I was taken aback
by her spiteful tone. There was no time to question her further, but I realised
that Carla’s memories and mine must have been very different. I had loved Miss
Veronique, whereas clearly Carla hadn’t. But how could that be? Miss Veronique
had been equally attentive to both of us. Carla flagged down a cab. “You take
this one. Get some rest. You both look tuckered. I know it seems like you’re in
the centre of a tornado right now, but in a week, less than a week, you’ll be
settled into your lovely routine, and life will be manageable and much, much
better. You’ll see.”
The taxi driver was an immigrant whose English was
colourful. He had beautiful thick-lashed dark eyes. I could tell that he found
Kathy and me attractive. He watched us in the rear view mirror, his eyes
focusing on one of us and then the other as though he were transfixed by a
sporting event.
“Can either of you young ladies explain so many
confusing signs that appear suddenly?”
I tried to keep my answer succinct. “They’re
political. There’s going to be a referendum some time next year. I’m not sure
when. Different groups are lobbying for a variety of policies regarding clones
and the elderly. That’s all I know. I don’t understand the meanings of the
slogans.”
“Very confusing,” he said. “In my country, we no
have clones and we love our old people. But we have plenty other problems. No
perfect place on Earth.”
The conversation petered out on its own. After I
paid him the fare, he smiled at both of us, a sweet fatherly smile.
“Be safe, pretty girls. Movaffagh basid . Good luck.”
Ice pellets fell like needles.
My cheeks stung, and Kathy’s face was wet and red. An elegant middle-aged woman
passed by. Her mascara was running even though she was carrying an oversized
yellow umbrella. It struck me at that moment that clones never used umbrellas. Not ever.
I wondered why I had never noticed that before.
We ran to the red door. My fingers
felt like icicles. I fumbled with the key. Finally, we were inside. Safe and
sound, or so I hoped. Once inside the flat, we were greeted by warmth. I
assumed that Joe had turned up the heat. I was delighted when I saw him enter
the living room via the kitchen. He looked wonderful. I wanted to throw my arms
around him, but Kathy’s presence inhibited me. I didn’t want her to feel
uncomfortable, but Joe was looking at her fondly. “You must be Kathy. How
lovely you are, but how frozen you look! Ladies, let me hang up your coats in
the bathroom. Then we’ll go into the kitchen and I’ll fix you some cocoa.”
I felt a pang of jealousy. ‘He
likes her. He thinks she’s pretty and so she is. What’s more, she’s closer in
age to him than I am. I feel like the ungainly kid sister, the third wheel.’ I
sternly told myself to stop thinking such damaging things. It was easy because
Joe then looked at me and said, “You’re a beautiful girl, Sophie, a beautiful
girl with a beautiful soul.”
I was thrilled to see a small,
round table and two wooden chairs in the kitchen. “These are just for now,
until we collect your furniture. But if you like them, you can keep them. They
were doing nothing but gathering dust in my storage area. I’ve also scrounged
some mugs and plates and utensils. And I’ve stocked your pantry and
refrigerator. But the big surprise should arrive presently. It’s my
housewarming gift for you, both of you. Now sit yourselves down and allow me to
serve you.”
“Joe, I don’t know how to thank
you.”
“You just did thank me. It’s a
very simple thing, thanking is. It comes from the heart, and it requires very
few words. In fact, the fewer words, the better.”
Joe brought us steaming mugs
filled to the brim with hot chocolate. The doorbell rang and Joe clapped his
hands, “That was fast!” he exclaimed. But when he opened the door, we heard
Carla’s booming voice. “Can you help me with the other bags then? They’re
downstairs and they’re soaking wet.”
Sophie and I ran into the
living room. Carla had plunked down two wet bags on the foyer floor. Her cheeks
were a fetching shade of pink. She and Joe tromped downstairs together. I
turned to Kathy, “Should we just wait here and let them do all the work?”
Kathy smiled, “Between them,
it’ll be just one trip. I don’t see the point in getting in their way. Let’s
finish our coca, and when he leaves, I’d like nothing more than a long, hot
soak in the tub.”
Carla clomped into the
kitchen.“Right then. Your gear’s all here Miss Kathy. I’d best be off. This is
a fine flat. I hope you’ll both be happy and well here. Here are the directions
from the nearest metro station to Gilcrest. They’re a bit soggy, but still
readable.”
As we were saying good-bye to
Carla, we heard a din on the stairwell, and then the doorbell rang again.
We trailed out of the kitchen
and watched Joe ushering in two chaps who were carrying large boxes. “two more
trips ought to do it,” the younger man, a boy really, told Joe. While he was
waiting for them to return, he winked at us. “The trick’ll be to convince them
to assemble this lot.”
At first, they were unwilling.
The older one said,” Sorry, mate, but assembly isn’t included in the bill of
sale.”
“I’ll make it worth your
while,”Joe cajoled. “Ten quid each. It shouldn’t take you more than 30
minutes.”
“This isn’t our last delivery.
Our boss’ll be on the warpath if we show up late.”
“A tenner each then?” Joe countered and the delivery men both nodded
their heads in unison.” They lugged the sodden boxes, two of which obviously
contained twin mattresses, into the bedroom. Carla said her goodbyes, and Kathy
and I were left holding two half-full mugs of tepid cocoa. We retraced our
steps back to the kitchen and set our mugs on the counter. “Let’s raid the
pantry with our eyes,” Kathy suggested.
Its freshly painted white
shelves were stocked tidily with marmalade, marmite, soda crackers, tins of
soup, boxes of dry pasta, a sack of rice, a box of chocolate biscuits, bags of
dried fruits and nuts, a jar of peanut butter, small spice jars with colourful
lids, a tin of expensive coffee and a huge cannister of liquorice allsorts.
“Now the refrigerator!” Kathy
exclaimed. We opened the freezer door, but there was nothing inside. The main
body of the appliance, however, housed cartons of milk, bottles of fruit juice,
eggs, butter, a loaf of sandwich bread, chunks of orange and yellow cheese, and
a bottle of white wine!
I prepared a fat cheese
sandwich for Kathy, rinsed her mug and poured her a full glass of milk. “What
about you, Sophie? Aren’t you peckish?”
“I’m too excited to eat just
yet. I wonder if Joe will be able to help me collect my stuff. We could use the
coffee maker and the toaster oven, not to mention the towels and bed linens.
He’s done so much for us. I’d hate to ask him for more.”
“You could put it to him this
way — ” but Kathy didn’t get to finish her sentence. Joe was standing in the
open kitchen doorway and beaming. “The lads are almost finished. Sophie, when
they’re done, why don’t we go to your flat to pick up the essentials. I can
return tomorrow with a U-Haul and take care of the rest.”
The uniformed men stomped into
the kitchen. I looked at their open faces more closely and realised that they
were most likely brothers, with roughly the same age difference as Kathy and I
had. Illogically, I found myself hoping that they thought we were sisters, not
clones. “It’s all set up now,” the older brother said. “Come and have a
look-see.” I wondered why he had said ‘it’and not ‘they.’ Surely there were two
beds, one for each of us.
There were and there weren’t. Against
the far wall, a white metal frame attached a lower bed and an upper bed; the
latter was pretty close to the low ceiling. A sturdy-looking ladder led to the
higher berth. “They’re bunk beds,”Joe informed us. “They’re popular with kids,
but I thought they would save you space and that you might enjoy them as well.
Most children prefer being on top; I know mine did when they were little, but
you could also rotate. What do you think, ladies?”
“I adore them!”Kathy said.
“Falling asleep is going to be so much fun. But I definitely prefer the lower
bed if that’s all right with you, Sophie.”
“It is. What a clever and
thoughtful idea, Joe. Kathy, you can do up yopur bed straightway. Joe, that reminds
me. Does this building have a laundry room?”
“Yes, it does. In the loft,
just one short flight of stairs. There’s a coin operated washing machine and
dryer, but you’ll have to provide your own laundry soap. And there’s a door
from there leading to the roof. You may enjoy spending time there once the
weather warms.”
Kathy had dragged a bulging bag
into the bedroom and was removing bed linens and towels from it. They were a
dingy yellowed-white, and I felt embarrassed for her even though my own were in
worse shape: discoloured and frayed to boot.
“Sophie, I think we should head
off to your old flat now. Kathy, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. I hope we
become good friends. I want you to know that I wish you all the best and that
I’ll do what I can to protect your well-being.”
Once inside Joe’s car, he
kissed me very sweetly and murmured, “Sophie, my dear little Sophie.” I found
myself hoping that he would somehow fall in love with me although I knew that
hadn’t yet happened. Joe kept the motor running and we snoggled for the better
part of an hour. My lips and chin felt deliciously sore. His touch was magical.
His fingers stroked my cheeks, thighs, nipples and then he thrust his hand deep
inside my ratty tights. Abruptly he shook his head, removed his moist hand and
explained, “We don’t want to keep Kathy waiting. If she falls asleep and then
wakes up, she may not know where she is and panic. I was both touched and vexed
by his concern.
My flat looked devastated. All
of Mike and Lucy’s stuff had either been removed or strewn over the dirty
floors. The heating had been turned off and the refrigerator and stone were
gone. In addition to green garbage bags, I had two cheap cardboard suitcases
that I had once thought looked classy. Pitiful. I stuffed the suitcases with my
lighter clothes and the few books and photographs I owned. Joe had brought
along a couple of boxes, and I packed my coffee maker, pots, pans, dishes,
utensils and toaster oven into them. The bags were used for miscellanea such as
shoes, magazines, mittens, hats, my one molting angora scarf, shampoo, bed
linens, sweat-stained pillow and a box of vanilla biscuits. I cradled my velvet
coat and tulip lamp in my hands, not trusting them to boxes, cases or bags. We
managed to load the car in two trips.
Joe asked me about the
remaining furniture. “There’s not much here, Sophie, at least, not worth
bothering over. Is there anything here that you want?”
I looked around at the crippled
coffee table, stained night stand, shedding sofa and derelict chairs. “No, not
really. We have the basics, the bare bones: beds, kitchen table and chairs. I’d
like to replace everything. I don’t want to pollute my lovely new flat with
this decrepit crap.”
“Good call, and I can help you.
I have quite a few nice pieces in storage. I’ll give you moment alone to say
goodbye to your flat. I’ll be waiting for you in the car.”
After Joe left, I walked about
numbly. I had no feelings about the place whatsoever. It was ugly, cold and
smelly. I hoped it would never as much as cross my mind again. All I could
think of was, “What’s done, is done.”
On the ride back to St. Luke, I
began wishing that Joe would invite me into his flat. His intoxicating taste
had insinuated itself into my bloodstream, and I wanted him to make love to me,
to fuck me. But it didn’t work out that way. We drove in silence. Joe was
delighted to find a parking spot smack dab in front of our building.
“Brilliant!” he whooped. “What a stroke of good luck!” An amber light above the
door framed it in a soft halo. The cherry red looked melanic. Joe instructed
me, “Bring up only what you’re carrying. I’ll manage the rest.”
The foyer light was turned on
when I entered my flat, and kicked off my boots. The rest of the flat was in
darkness. I tiptoed toward the bedroom. The door was open. Kathy was lying on
the lower bunk, on her side and facing the wall. I set down the tulip lamp on
the floor and groped for the electrical outlet, plugged it in and switched it
on. I returned to the foyer. Joe was about to make his second and final trip to
the car. I realised that we weren’t going to be together that night. I was
almost certain that he desired me, but
his desire seemed disappointingly vague. After he settled the last of the boxes
on the floor, he kissed me lightly on my cheek. “Welcome home, Sophie. Sweet
dreams.”
But I knew there would be no
dreaming for me that night. I was too excited. I fished my dingy sheet, threadbare blanket and smelly
pillow out of the bile green garbage bag, and padded into the bedroom. Kathy
was sitting up. Her voice sounded bright. “How are you going to make her bed
perched on the ladder? Won’t it be tricky?”
“I don’t think so. I should be
able to do it from the second rung, which is reassuringly close to the ground.
Seeing as Kathy was awake, I switched on the main light and was disturbed to
see that the ceiling bulb was bare. “We’ll need to find a ceiling light
fixture. That bloody bulb looks blooming ugly.”
“I suppose it does, but the
room is so clean and white. Fresh paint smells like hope; don’t you think? I
love it here, Sophie. It’s like a dream come true.”
We decided to keep the tulip
light on. My mattress was pretty flimsy, but it was nice being so close to the
pristine ceiling. I enjoyed the perspective. Kathy and I chatted the whole
night through. We both got hungry toward dawn, so we filed into the kitchen and
prepared peanut butter and grape jelly soda cracker sandwiches. They were
delicious. “When I ran my bath, I noticed that the water here is different.
It’s very soft. It’s also delicious. It almost has a slight taste of —
something, something nice.”
In contrast to Kathy, I wasn’t
particularly interested in taking a bath although I certainly didn’t smell as
fresh as a daisy. I realised how casual I was about cleanliness and that
surprised me because our upbringing was very focused on keeping all parts of
our bodies clean. But then, our clothing was mostly second-hand at best and
never smelled new and fresh. And our flats always housed disagreeable odours of
mold or old boiled food or unwashed bodies, so somewhere along the way I had
lost my motivation to be squeaky clean. But Kathy obviously hadn’t.
Kathy persuaded me to take a
bath or shower. “Don’t we want to dazzle them at Gilcrest? Don’t we want to
look our very best?” she cajoled me.
I unpacked my few toiletries,
my thin bath towel and face cloth and arranged them in the Blue Lagoon. It felt
luxurious having a bathroom just off the bedroom. Kathy was right about the
water. The jets from the shower head released soft, sweet water. The sensation
on my scalp was like nothing I had ever felt, a combination massage and caress.
After we were both washed and
dressed, we enjoyed a second breakfast, a proper one. We had coffee, orange
juice toast with marmalade and two soft-boiled eggs each.
Kathy chose her white velvet
dress and she was wearing her long, thick hair in a ballerina bun. She looked
like a winter princess. “You can’t wear your coat, Kath. It’ll absolutely ruin
any kind of first impression you want to make. You can wear either one of mine
and from now on we’ll alternate, so that we’ll always look chic, at least as
long as winter lasts.”
The morning was beautiful but
treacherous. Tree branches were encased in armours of ice and the snow banks
seemed to boast millions of sparkling blue diamonds. But walking was almost
impossible. At each step we took, we slipped and slid and squealed. Ice-skates
would have served us well. We clung to each other as we made our way gingerly
to the metro station. And then we saw an astonishing sight.
A young girl, a beauty, was
pedaling a snow-white bicycle. She had long, pale hair and was wearing
cherry-coloured lipstick. Her eyes were only half-open. She looked as though
she were cycling in her dreams. Both Kathy and I gasped as she passed us by.
She bestowed a saucy wink upon us, and then she and her white vehicle glided
by. We turned to watch her long narrow back covered in a blond shearling coat.
And for the first time ever, I had no clue, none whatsoever, as to the species
of a being. Person or clone? I had no idea. Kathy murmured, “I’ve never seen
anything like that! Wasn’t she the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen?”
“Indeed,” I agreed. “But was
she one… of us?”
“I don’t know, Sophie. Was she
even real at all?”
