Clone City

This was not an assignment Laia had requested. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she wondered why she had given in to Zuriko. If only she had asked for time to think about it. Foolishly, it seemed now, she had accepted the urgency of the situation as Zuriko explained it. She said Darvin had asked her personally to choose someone, an expert, and who better than an old friend, the one everyone poured their heart out to. No, there was no time to lose, it had to be today. Yes, this afternoon. You must find out everything you can about what he did on the Outside. Yes, it’s very important! Please, please Laia! Only you can do it! Don’t worry, he’s had a medical and a Watcher will be present. You’ll be rendering a great service. Thank you so much, I’ll never forget this, she had said overwhelmed with gratitude.

Laia did not have the heart to refuse. After all, they were both orphans and had once been like sisters despite... Her thoughts stopped there. She did not want to think about that. She had locked that memory away and had no wish to agonize over it again.

She was biting the inside of her lower lip as she glanced at the time. He’ll be here any minute now, she groaned. Oh Codes! Why couldn’t they have found a sex servicer to do this? Why in the name of Dovan had she agreed to it! Even if the clone hadn’t caught anything, he was deconstructing. How could she have been so stupid! She gripped her head to stop from screaming out loud.

She got up to brush the mess she’d made of her hair. It may be important, she thought, but it has its down side. She put the brush down. Oh, she thought, the down side is so bad. She hoped it would not affect her reputation. Up to this point, she had risen through the ranks of the Aesthetics School from student to courtesan by dint of effort and talent. When she’d gained an A-class rank, she was independent of the School. The next step was to become the consort of a director or noble. Life then became so much easier. However, the request to become a consort could only come from a member of the Directorate. She knew Arron adored her and was not surprised when he asked her to become his consort. She happily accepted. He was a good man in every respect and she especially liked his gentleness. He had told her that the formal announcement would take time because he needed to follow the correct procedures. Arron was never one to rush, but she felt sure that he would soon be able to tell her the day of their civic declaration. But now? Here she was being thrown together with a clone! What in the name of Dovan would he think of this? How would he react? Would he know that the Chairman was behind the request? Oh, Codes, she whined. All I ever wanted was a place of peace and quiet since mama… She gulped.

Taking several deep breaths, she struggled to calm herself. She told herself to be positive and thought, if I succeed in getting the information they want, perhaps everything will be all right. But then, she shook her head. She had a bad feeling about this. Despite herself, she felt resentment swell up. Zuriko’s a manipulator. How could you have forgotten? You’re head in the clouds dreaming of a civic union with Arron! She doesn’t have to give orders: she just ties you up in knots till you’re so confused you don’t know what you’re doing.

A buzzer brought her crashing back to the present. She took a deep breath and went to the door. A screen above it showed a clone flanked by a Watcher. With a heavy heart, she opened the door.

‘Good afternoon. As requested, here’s the Packer,’ Warton said, as he eyed Laia up and down. ‘My orders are to wait outside,’ he said, looking so frankly into her face that she felt offended. He then gave Ord a shove that sent him stumbling into the room. The Watcher gave Laia one last leer before closing the door.

Thinking of how crudely he’d stared, Laia was glad he’d not stayed. But when she turned and saw Ord standing with his arms hanging limply at his sides, she shuddered.

Ord gave a start. He recognised her. She was the beauty he had seen on that fateful day he had submitted the C80. Her long, shapely legs, well-proportioned figure, full-lipped, wide, sparkling blue eyes in a soft baby face were just as he remembered.

‘Sit down,’ Laia said with a faint smile, wondering if he would understand this simple request. Either way, she decided to get this over with as quickly as possible.

Ord stood motionless taking in his surroundings – the roundness of the room its saffron colours and subdued lighting.

How he wished his former self were here now. Today, and the day before, he had not eaten and his spirits were low, lower than he had ever known them to have been. Two Watchmen had come at the crack of dawn. They had pushed him round his room for breaking the order to remain in his clone district. The one who had brought him here had slapped him about the head. Unused to violence, Ord was terrified. But this? Why had they brought him to an A-class courtesan?

Laia was wondering why Ord had not moved. Looking at him, she thought he was neither good- nor bad-looking. He was in the middle, a sort of everyman. His hair was close-cropped and a sandy brown colour. His build was neither heavy nor light but in proportion to his height which was neither tall nor short. She could see from the hurt in his eyes that he had suffered. There was also a bewildered, hunted look about him that made her feel nervous. His sallow complexion and sunken cheeks bespoke a frail state of health. Poor clone, she thought, but quickly reminded herself that she had to get information, not sympathize. It was sympathy that got me into this mess in the first place, she reminded herself.

‘Sit down,’ she said, indicating a place on a sofa near the door on a lower level of the floor. ‘Would you like something to drink?’

Ord moved to the spot she had gestured and sat, eyes cast downward.

‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked again, thinking he had not heard.

‘Yes,’ he replied, looking up momentarily.

After fixing him a healthy protein-rich drink and handing it to him, she stood in front of him, watching him take a few lacklustre sips. ‘Cheer up,’ she said sweetly. ‘It’s not the end of the world, you know. Look what a fine day it is,’ she said, going to a window and pulling a curtain back.

‘Do you watch the sun?’ he asked.

‘Watch it? Isn’t that dangerous?’ Laia said with a smile.

‘It’s life-light,’ Ord answered.

‘Do you watch it, then?’ Laia asked, trying to coax him out of himself.

‘Yes, mornings and evenings.’

‘Did you watch it on the Outside, too?’ she asked, sitting down on a chair opposite him. She knew she was broaching the subject far too quickly but didn’t care. All she wanted was to get this over with.

Instead of answering, Ord said, ‘I’ve seen you before.’

Surprised, Laia drew her head back a little and said, ‘Oh, I don’t think so…’

‘Yes, it was almost a year ago. The day I submitted a C80. I was walking down the Hub stairway. I stopped. I decided to turn back. I was afraid. What I was doing was unclonelike, too individ.’

As Ord spoke, Laia noticed he was holding his glass with both hands so as not spill any. She wondered what his mental state was. She remembered there was something on the news about a clone going berserk. Was it him? She hoped not.

‘I wish I’d turned back now,’ he mumbled. ‘If you hadn’t come down the stairs I would’ve. It was your beauty that stopped me.’

Laia looked down. If it had not been for Ord’s gentle tone, she would have called the Watcher. He did not speak in a threatening manner, but in the far away manner of the lost. She said nothing. She did not remember him, but she thought it might have been possible. She often used that staircase when she met Arron for lunch.

After a while, Ord continued: ‘I didn’t know what to do, so I filled in a C80. But what does it matter? Nobody cares. I carried on as best I could.’ He stopped, put the glass down, held his head and began to sob.

Instinctively, Laia’s hand reached out to him, but just as quickly she pulled it back. This is not going to be easy, she thought. He’s in a bad way. She wondered if she ought to call the Watcher in.

After a few moments, she asked tenderly, ‘Did we speak?’

‘No,’ choked Ord.

Laia got up and pushed some buttons. Some music began to play. ‘This music may help you to relax,’ she said.

Ord looked up at her. She was beautiful. But so was Eva and they had listened to music the last time they’d met. How he yearned for her.

Relieved at seeing him recover a little, Laia thought she would have one last try. ‘Tell me about the Outside. You went out there, didn’t you?’

Ord heard the lie behind the play-plea and realized in an instant why they had brought him here. He looked at Laia, now seated, fiddling with the folds of her dress as distress swept across her face. For a split second, he saw Eva’s face appear between them. As it dissembled, his spirits sank with the realization that he would never see her again. He could hear Laia’s sweet, coaxing voice. He shut his ears and eyes. He felt his head begin to spin – pictures, memories, faces, boxes, bits of this, fragments of that, until everything was spinning in the vortex of his mind’s eye. Unable to bear it, he sank to his knees and clutched his head. Resembling a supplicant in a Renaissance painting, he looked up and howled from the pit of his being.

Laia had no need to call the Watchman. Warton was already signalling to her to open the door. He rushed in, grabbed Ord by the collar and dragged him out, pausing only, as he turned to close the door, to wink at Laia.