Sarah shifted from one foot to the other, feeling like an insect under
a microscope.
"Dinner's almost ready, Mom," said Jill, taking Sarah's arm
and leading her to an oval table with four place settings. She and Bruce
disappeared momentarily into the kitchen and reappeared with a feast:
baked chicken seasoned with rosemary, asparagus smothered in Hollandaise
sauce, baked potatoes, a tossed salad and dainty glasses of white wine.
"Don't look so surprised, Mom," Jill laughed as she placed
a china plate of food before Sarah. "I've known about you for awhile
now and have been preparing for this moment for years."
"I can vouch for that." Bruce smiled at her from across the
table.
"Grandma, what does it feel like to be a clone?" Ryan asked
just before he shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth.
"Ryan!" Jill gave him a sharp look.
"No, it's all right. I'd be curious too." Sarah settled her gaze on the boy's unusual eyes. A grandson! I actually have a grandson. A jumble of emotions tumbled through her. I didn't get to see Jill grow up. Maybe I'll have that chance with Ryan.
"It's rather disturbing. It feels like... like I've been asleep
for such a short time, and yet all this time has passed. Your mother
was not much younger than you when I... before I..."
"You died." Ryan's eyes widened. "This is great! I can't
wait to tell all my friends about you. You..."
"Ryan!" Jill cut in sharply. "Have you forgotten what
Dr. Cohen told us?"
Ryan's head drooped. He nodded slowly. "That Grandma's an experiment,
and we're supposed to keep her a secret."
"What do you mean I'm to be kept a secret?" Sarah asked later
that evening after Ryan had gone to bed and Bruce retired to the living
room to read.
Jill fluffed the pillows of the guest bed. "We're supposed to
watch over you now. It's funny. You raised me when I was little and
now it's my turn. At least until you can take care of yourself."
Tears touched Sarah's eyes. She blinked them back. So many jumbled words tangled in her throat. One thought that had chewed at her all evening finally emerged. Even before she asked it, her stomach tensed, her hands became clammy.
"What happened to Roger, your father?"
Jill's face paled slightly.
Sarah went cold. "D-did he die, too?"
"No." Jill sat at the edge of the bed and took a deep breath.
"What happened to him?" Her throat clenched. "Is he
all right?"
Jill nodded. Sarah couldn't allow herself to be relieved, not just
yet. "He remarried and moved to the other side of the country."
No! Sarah screamed internally. This didn't happen; it's a nightmare.
I'll awaken soon.
I want him to be happy... but happy with me. Why did they have to revive
me? Why? She melted into Jill's embrace.
"Don't worry about him. You have a second chance. A chance not
many people get. You can start over."
Start over... Jill's words throbbed in her mind. I don't want to start
over, she thought as she struggled to sleep. I had a life before, a
life I was happy with. I'd give anything to return to it, watch Jill
grow up, be with Roger. I promise I'd spend more time with them.
She sat up in bed as an idea occurred to her. I don't care what Dr.
Cohen or Jill tell me. I will find Roger. Jill said he was on the other
side of the country, but there must be some way to reach him.
Over the next few days, Sarah struggled to adjust to this new situation. Jill's home was similar to the cloning lab in some respects: the walls in each room held a subtle glow when they were turned on at night and there was a room similar to the atrium, only smaller. Jill called it her "meditation room." One wall in the living room was actually a giant television screen that displayed three-dimensional images.
Neither Jill nor Bruce commuted to work, but each had their own "work
room," where they apparently communicated long-distance to their
bosses, clients and coworkers on paper-thin computers and practically
invisible telephones. They even ordered their groceries online. Ryan,
however, did leave the house each morning for school. Jill and Bruce
took turns driving him and picking him up. For that single piece of
normalcy, Sarah was grateful. The world was still the same in some respects.
In the evenings, after dinner, Jill would show Sarah photographs of
things that she had missed in the years after her death. Sarah struggled
to hold back the tears, especially when a photograph had Roger in it.
He seemed to disappear after Jill was grown.
On Saturday, the family took Sarah out to dinner and then to the first
movie she had seen in decades. The experience overwhelmed her. The entire
dome-shaped theater was the screen over which the film played, flashing
vivid, three-dimensional images. Smells and temperatures were even added
for an extra effect, allowing the audience to feel as if they were in
the middle of the action. And they were no longer called movies but
holovids.
Afterwards, Sarah had a headache, which wasn't helped by Ryan's constant
exclamations of, "Wasn't that great, Grandma! I'll bet you didn't
have vids like that when you were my age. Didn't you feel like you were
really on Mars?"
Sarah tried again to ask Jill about Roger. "I know it's difficult,
Mom, but you must forget about him. He's no longer a part of our lives."
"Why? What happened?"
Jill sighed. "That's just the way it is, that's all. Now let's
forget it. You've been here for over a week now, and it is time that
you were trained for a job. Dr. Cohen left explicit instructions that
you learn to become independent." She led Sarah into her private
office. "In fact, Dr. Cohen will be the one training you."
Sarah felt momentarily relieved. It had been so long since she'd worked,
and she'd been becoming increasingly anxious since she had been here,
but a deep fear gnawed at her stomach. She wasn't familiar with all
of this new technology. The anxiety gripped her even harder when Jill
unrolled her computer as if it were a thin sheet of papyrus and hung
it over the desk.
Work! The thought echoed through Sarah's head. By all means, I should
be retired by now. I can barely remember what I did before although
the hours were long, and it kept me from my family much of the time.
"It's good to see you again, Sarah." She jumped when she
heard Dr. Cohen's voice and saw the woman peering out at her from the
thin computer screen. The image was so clear that Sarah was almost certain
she could just reach out and touch Dr. Cohen. "Have you adjusted
to your new situation?"
"Um... a little, I suppose." She felt strange speaking to
that screen. "I don't think I'll ever be able to get used to this
completely."
Dr. Cohen nodded. "That's understandable. You are our first cloned
success, after all, but hopefully not our last. We are working on other
subjects, and that's where I need your help."
"My help?" Chills tingled along Sarah's skin.
"It's simple, really. I just need you to catalog the names of
our donors who, just like you, had died and had body parts contributed
to our lab." Sarah shivered. "Catalog their names, their family
members and the progress that their bodies are making. We'll pay you,
of course. Times haven't changed that much in this respect, and you
still must be able to make a living. Eventually, your work will become
more challenging."
For the next several days, Sarah spent a few hours at this computer,
placing the information that Dr. Cohen sent her into a large database.
The work was tedious, and Sarah found that she needed frequent breaks
in the meditation room, but at least she felt as if she were productive
again. Is this what Bruce and Jill did all day? They certainly stayed
in front of their screens for quite some time.
As Sarah gradually became more comfortable with this new computer system,
she began to search for information concerning Roger. If Jill or the
other family members came by while she was doing this, she would fold
up her computer and tuck it into a pocket as if it were a scrap of paper.
This was her personal business, after all.
