2084: Slavery Resurgent

“Science is still only a candle glimmering in a great pitch-dark cavern.” - Mario Vargas Llosa

“This is where the tour of this facility normally ends. However, Congressman Udall has requested for the tour to be extended to include the subterranean cavern where GLAD is developing techniques to clone automatons,” stated the Assistant Director to the group. “The first two levels were manmade tunnels. Six hundred feet below them lies a massive limestone cavern with stalactites and stalagmites. Congressman Udall will appreciate that rather than bore a third tunnel at a cost of almost a billion dollars, GLAD chose to utilize a ready made cavern provided by nature. The Director also salvaged a freight elevator from a played out silver mine which we overhauled and now provides us with access to the cavern. This segment of the tour may be strenuous and is not without risk. If anyone desires to skip this portion, I can escort him back to the Food Court on Level One. Any takers? Please step forward (short pause). None? I must say, you do look quite fit. Remember, once we’ve begun, there will be no turning back.”

The corridor terminated at the freight elevator. After the group boarded, the Assistant Director pushed a yellow lever forward and a wire cage surrounded them. When he pushed a larger green lever, the freight elevator began to slowly descend. Six minutes later, the freight elevator clanked to a stop at the floor of the cavern. The Assistant Director pulled back on the yellow lever which caused the wire cage to fold up like an accordion. Three LED floodlights mounted on an elevator wall penetrated an inky darkness for a marginal distance. It was as if they had descended to the bottom of the Marianas Trench. Franklin felt cold and wet. He had been to Carlsbad Caverns and the Cave of the Winds, but this was nothing like that. This was spookier than dining in a Mexico City cemetery on the Day of the Dead.

Crouching down, the Assistant Director opened a wooden box containing miners’ helmets, switched on their headlamps, and distributed them to the group. Franklin felt somewhat relieved. Unlike the floodlights, the headlamps pierced the darkness. It definitely bolstered his courage.

The Assistant Director blazed the trail across a stalactite forest towards a series of tents and pavilions that were faraway near the opposite wall of the cavern. As they approached the first of the tents that were eerily lit from the inside by a soft blue light emanating from thousands of miniature fuel cells embedded in its microfiber lining, a cold chemical light which offered none of the warmth of home.

A tent flap unzipped and out stepped a cyborg whose artificial right hand held a .38 caliber pistol which he holstered once he identified who was coming. “This is Captain Manning, Chief of Security in the cavern,” the Assistant Director said with a wave of his outstretched hand, “Allow me to introduce Congressman Jeremy Udall, Chairman of the House Budget Committee, and his entourage.” Captain Manning shook hands all around.

“You must be freezing,” commented Captain Manning, “I’ll get you some quilted coats from our storage pavilion.” He left and came back with a stack of coats. After the group put them on, Franklin noted that the coats fit perfectly. In Franklin’s opinion, this was quite a fete, considering that Captain Manning hadn’t been told what size coats to get. Clearly, the Chief of Security was no slouch when it came to sizing up matters.

Captain Manning turned towards Congressman Udall and said in an even tone, “ May I assume you are here to discuss our - I mean my unit’s – request for hazardous duty pay? This is not exactly a healthy environment. My men risk coming down with influenza and pneumonia.”

Embarrassed, the Assistant Director intervened, “I am certain Congressman Udall is giving your request the consideration it deserves. However, his primary motive for visiting GLAD is to evaluate and assess our efficiency. Your security team plays a large part in our ongoing efforts. As such, I am sure you will be eventually rewarded. We need your input. I realize you had no advance warning, but I would consider it an honor if you would accompany us on our tour of the cavern. Captain Manning has a more detailed knowledge of our automaton cloning operation than the rest of us, with the possible exception of the Director, at GLAD.”

“Of course, I would enjoy conducting our distinguished visitors on a tour of GLAD’s automaton cloning operation. On your left is the Insemination and Incubation pavilion where the process begins,” Captain Manning indicated, “we refer to it as the ‘I&I’. There is really not much to see – test tubes, bunsen burners, slides, flasks – things only a scientist would find interesting.”

“It’s not necessary to take a closer look at that,” Congressman Udall agreed, “but I do have a question. Where does the DNA to initiate the cloning process come from?

“That is way above my pay grade. I’ll let my boss, the Assistant Director field that one,” remarked Captain Manning.

“GLAD inherited a number of clones from the Supreme Soldier program when Congress quit funding it,” the Assistant Director explained. “We extensively tested them for desirable traits and took DNA swabs from those that scored the highest. Research and Development was perfecting methods of genetic alteration and accelerated maturation in primates when we were ordered to go into full production by President Snodgrass. GLAD made a last minute decision to use DNA – with selective alterations making each and every clone a unique being – that originally came from George 41,832,709.”

“George 41,832,709 saved my life,” Franklin exclaimed. “He is the bravest, most intelligent, and principled being – that stands for all beings, whether they be human, automaton, or cyborg – that I have ever known. I was given one month to train him to be a janitor and it took less than three weeks. We established a bond of trust. One night I caught a human janitor drinking on the job and I fired him. The man tried to slash me with a knife. George 41,832,709 disarmed him and threw him down a trash chute. He’s a born fighter and as loyal as they come. If all your clones are as good as George 41,832,709, then your project is headed for success.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pierce for your poignant input,” acknowledged the Assistant Director. “I will definitely keep it in mind.”

“I think it is time we moved on,” Captain Manning interjected. “Our next stop will be the Constructive Memory pavilion. Rapid grown clones do not have any childhood experiences. This is the department which supplies family memories to fill that gap. Of course, they vary widely and are tailored with care to fit the clone. It’s an exacting process. Each and every detail must be gone over. It’s essential that the clone never realizes that it’s a clone. Clones are also supplied with fake criminal pasts. In the end they are indistinguishable from previous automatons and I maintain they are actually better. Research and Development constantly strives to make improvements. Homeland Security assures us that today’s cloned automatons are far superior to yesterday’s transformed automaton. They are far less likely to become aggressive or exhibit other defects. In 2083, sixty-two automatons exhibited substantial glitches after sale and had to be bought back by the government. So far in 2084, more than a million cloned automatons have been auctioned to the public and only one was returned. A panel of scientists examining it found evidence of tampering and abuse. Demand continues to outpace supply.”

“Captain Manning, why don’t we let the Assistant Director take the group inside the Constructive Memory pavilion, so that we can chat privately outside?,” Congressman Udall suggested.

Although Captain Manning was taken somewhat aback by the Congressman’s proposal, he quickly acquiesced.

* * *

“We hang the petty thieves and appoint the great ones to public office.” - Aesop

“I was told that you and your men want Hazardous Duty pay,” stated Congressman Udall to Captain Manning as soon as the other people were out of earshot. “Considering the deplorable environment, anyone working in this clammy cavern deserves Hazardous Duty pay. I already feel sick and I have been down here less than an hour. However, there is a large gap between deserving something and actually getting it. It’s my experience that Hazardous Duty pay isn’t usually granted for anyone other than active duty military personnel. I understand that your unit was decommissioned. Now that Congress has resurrected the Supreme Soldier program and President Snodgrass has given GLAD a green light to clone automatons, there is no longer a reason for this to be a Top Secret facility. Declassify the entire operation, let the public know what is going on, and take Area 51 out of the hands of Spooks and let the military administer it.

The Pentagon could reinstate your unit and might even give all of you a promotion. With the money this facility generates, this could be a first rate Army base. Modern housing, schools, fast food, cinema – no more austere conditions. Imagine a climate controlled dehumidified cavern with LED overhead lighting and tents replaced by prefabricated buildings. You cyborgs need to think big and I need you to be patient. Keep a low profile while I persuade the President, Congress, and the public that this is the right course to take.”

“I get where you are coming from,” asserted Captain Manning. “The Director confiscated your gun, didn’t she?”

“How in hell did you find out about that?,” asked Congressman Udall, furrowing his brow.

“Our first week here, I had one of my men bug her office,” said Captain Manning. “He had a hard time. There was already two bugs on her phone, one under a desk drawer, and seven in a bookcase. Several of them were a type that hasn’t been made in more than a century. It is hard to believe that the Director’s Office hasn’t been swept for electronic surveillance devices in all that time. For a Top Secret facility, that amounts to criminal negligence. Sure, GLAD is in the middle of nowhere, but that’s no reason for them to let down their guard.”

“President Snodgrass has taken a personal interest in cloning automatons,” asserted Congressman Udall. “He is anxious to take credit for improving and expanding the automaton project and has raised the prospect of exporting them to other NAFTA countries. No doubt he is counting on its success to win him a second term in office. But he won’t be able to go public with a classified program. I doubt it will be a hard sell. Since both the Army and the intelligence agencies are part of the Executive Branch the transfer might not require Congressional approval.”

“I cannot guaranty you much time. My men are growing antsy and, quite frankly, neither them nor me trust politicians. We’ve been burned before,” said Captain Manning as he stood face- to-face with Congressman Udall as both of them searched for any signs of duplicity on the part of the other.

“This is a win-win situation, so don’t blow it. You and your men revert to active duty and I perform an economic miracle for a sector of Nevada devoted to seasonal, non-taxable agriculture and subsistence ranching. I plan to run for Governor in 2086,” insisted Representative Udall, launching into campaign mode by force of habit. “Only the spooks stand to lose because they don’t lobby Congress.”

Captain Manning spotted the group leaving the Constructive Memory pavilion and suggested they rejoin it.

“Wait a minute,” urged Congressman Udall. “Take this camera and snap some photos of the technicians working in tents and other wretched working conditions in the cavern. Send them to my office. I might need them to document our position. And do not bother returning the camera. I get a discount by buying them in bulk.”

Captain Manning glowered at the micro camera Congressman Udall handed him and chuckled, “you would have made a fine spook.”

“I never considered it. Besides, I make three times their salary as a member of the House of Representatives,” Congressman Udall retorted. “And I didn’t need a fancy university diploma to do it,” he added as they hurried to rejoin the group.