Clone City

There are moments in every life that are critical. They can feel like crossroads in the way they compel a decision as to which direction to take. As Q’zar stood upon the Watchtower in the pale primrose light of early morning, he felt the weight of such a decision. Seeing the sun shoot its first bright lances, his hawk-like features drew tighter as he wracked his brains for an explanation of the events of the previous forty-eight hours.

He felt stunned. A clonicide. The first ever. Then this... He shook his head in disbelief as he eyed the report he had placed on the bench behind him. Forensics had confirmed that the arm belonged to a clone called Url. Of that, there could be no doubt. DNA had proven it. It was the same clone who had suggested changes to the way goods should be stacked at the Hub. Coincidence? Q’zar shook his head. He had no idea.

The prompt completion of the report had given him time to contact Darvin and get his begrudging permission to call an emergency meeting on the morning after the banquet. He knew no one would thank him for this. Darvin had gone on endlessly about how everyone would be tired and in no mood for a meeting. After all, it was only a clone. Surely it could wait, he had pleaded. He had made every conceivable objection until Q’zar lost his temper and yelled that it was just not that simple. Only then did he dither and mutter that a brief meeting might be possible.

Q’zar knew his political career was at stake. If Url’s murder turned out to be inexplicable and there were no further incidents, then he would have to step down. Even the few allies he could muster would not forgive him this. He sucked the cold air between his teeth as he weighed the implications. But no, all his training told him that to delay would be a grave error.

How, in the Name of the Codes, he swore, could Darvin cite tiredness as a reason not to call a meeting? Slapping his hands down onto the rail, he blamed it on so many years of peace. It had lulled everyone into a false sense of security. How, he wondered, can I make them see the seriousness of the situation? The thought that those who would resent this meeting most were members of his own class made Q’zar survey the streets below with a sense of foreboding.

Now, as if murder were not enough, the main suspect had escaped. Q’zar had hoped to inform the meeting that a suspect had been arrested. The clone had a motive: he was deconstructing because of Url’s new rules and had taken revenge. He did not believe Ord was the murderer, but intended to use him as a decoy. The stupidity of the guards! He clenched his teeth in an effort to control his rage. While they pledged allegiance drinking toast after toast outside, the clone had walked free!

Ord’s untimely escape had placed Q’zar in an awkward position. To convince the committee that the draconian measures he wished to introduce were needed, he had to be seen as above reproach. Any admittance of negligence would give them just the excuse they needed to undermine his authority. He decided he would say nothing about Ord. In any case, he would soon be caught. Unless he’s gone to the Outside, he thought, tilting his head at this possibility.

But then, recalling the main issue, he told himself he had to get everyone on the committee behind him. Feeling the burden of responsibility weigh even heavier, he turned, picked up the forensics report and left the Watchtower thinking, if I fail, I fear for this city.

Q’zar was the first to reach the committee room. The door was open so he entered and stood at the far end of the room. As he waited, all the instincts of his training as a security expert told him something was threatening Joypolis. He did not believe a clone could be the perpetrator. He had ordered his arrest to distract Media. He sensed the truth was something far, far worse. Forensics stated that the arm had been torn off with a force that was not human. The report was unable to specify what could have torn it off, but noted that teeth and claw marks were absent. Traces of a metallic substance suggested a machine. What, in the name of Dovan the Great, could it be?

After he had calmed himself, Q’zar returned to pick up the thread of his thought. Whatever it is, it’s roaming the streets, he said to himself. NewsTalk can’t have this. They’d blow it out of all proportion. Could cause a panic and that’s the last thing we need. How much of the report should be divulged, he wondered.

Before he could answer that question, someone entered the room. Turning, Q’zar saw it was Gorvik. They nodded to one another and were about to exchange a few words when the others came shuffling in led by Darvin. They were laughing about the previous night’s revelry. If only they knew, thought Q’zar, noticing one or two yawning between laughs. As they went to their seats, it became clear that everyone was present except Valchek and O. It was unusual for Valchek to be late, thought Q’zar. And how could O not bother to attend an emergency meeting!

Once seated, Q’zar looked at each person around the table. Darvin’s face was puffed from drink and lack of sleep. Even Arron, usually a paragon of moderation, looked off colour. Probably worried about that Drovny woman, he thought. Not a lot I can do about that right now. He looked over at Sovran. She sat sphinx-like, her intelligent brow raised, waiting for an explanation. Like a vulture, he thought. Beside her sat the only other woman on the committee – Lara. She was trying to stifle a yawn. What a contrast to Sovran, he thought. Only Gorvik and Sovran looked their usual alert selves. But where was Valchek?

After everybody had settled down, Darvin cleared his throat. He looked at his watch. He, too, was puzzled at Valchek’s absence. Must have drunk too much, he thought. Shrugging his shoulders, he began to speak.

‘Ahem, I think we had better begin without the Head of Personnel. Doubtless, he’ll be along shortly. Probably having some difficulty deciding what to wear,’ he said drily. Lara tittered and one or two others also chortled their amusement. ‘I’m going to skip the usual formalities. I beg your indulgence for this breach of protocol, but I’m going to hand the whole proceedings over to Q’zar, since it was he, and he alone, who demanded that we hold this extraordinary session at such short notice and at such an inconvenient time. Q’zar.’ So saying, Darvin slumped back into his chair with a little less control than he would have liked.

‘Fellow committee members, I have in my hands a report from forensics. It is of the gravest import and I believe you will all share my concerns on hearing its content. Approximately thirty-six hours ago an arm was discovered among the reeds of the lake in Happiland Park. A severed arm. This report states categorically that the arm belongs to a clone called Url. A clone has been murdered.’ Q’zar watched them stir uncomfortably in their seats. He waited until the full significance of his words sank in before continuing: ’But that’s not all. The report goes on to say that Url was murdered at least three days ago.’

Q’zar decided on the spur of the moment to convey more of the report to shake them out of their stupor. Only by hammering home the full horror of the crime, did he think he would get their permission to put into effect the drastic security measures he believed necessary.

Gorvik broke in: ‘Why weren’t we informed of this earlier. Presumably, he went missing? Why wasn’t that reported?’

‘Only Valchek can answer that question categorically, but as far as I am aware from an inspection of the Hub’s record of work attendance, the clone was given permission to take a few days off because of influenza. We questioned the dormitory chief and he assumed he was in his room resting. When Valchek arrives,’ Q’zar said with weary sarcasm, ‘we shall find out if anything has gone unnoticed.’

‘You said the report states about three days ago. Why isn’t it more exact?’ asked Sovran.

‘The fact that the arm was partially submerged made it difficult to put an exact date on the crime,’ replied Q’zar.

‘Could it be possible the crime was committed the day prior to the banquet? When the arm was discovered by…’ Arron’s voice petered out.

‘No, the report is clear that it was probably two or three days prior, and...’ Q’zar looked up, turning toward the Chairman, ‘...Url was down for duty on the maintenance stairways on the night of the banquet. On that day, the dormitory chief reported that he could not be found.’

Darvin leaned forward with an expression of absolute incredulity. ‘Do you mean to say that some clone, impersonating Url, possibly his murderer, was in the Tower on the night of the celebrations?’

‘It looks like it,’ answered Q’zar with equal distaste.

‘It can’t have been a clone,’ Gorvik stated in his usual matter-of-fact tone. And before Q’zar could answer, he continued: ‘Clone coding prevents them harming anyone.’ He paused as he wondered if there was anything in this that could pose a threat to his proposals for reforming the Clone Laws. He then said, ‘It’s impossible.’

A silence fell upon the group as the bizarre nature of the crime began to register in their minds. Suddenly, Darvin, burst out angrily, ‘Where is Valchek?’ He picked up his telecom and barked an order for someone to go find him. He then looked back at Q’zar and, in a slightly more conciliatory tone, asked, ‘Do you have any idea who the murderer is?’

‘We’re searching the entire city. All Watchers are on full alert. Of course, their number is few, but we will find the murderer.’

‘Would that still apply if a clone began to deconstruct?’ Sovran asked Gorvik. The story of Laia’s shocking encounter with a deconstructed clone was still fresh in her mind. She was contemplating using it as the lead story for tomorrow’s tablets. She had decided the time had come: she wanted to use the story to bring the whole issue of cloning into the open. But how, she rued, could she turn Laia’s encounter into a pro-free clone campaign with a clonicide in the background?

Arron winced on hearing this question and began to think that all these events were conspiring against his wish to have Laia as his consort. Just before coming to the meeting, he’d had a furious argument with his secretary. He had learnt that she had not informed him of Laia’s repeated efforts to contact him.

‘You think that clone, one of our old models, the one you arrested, could have done this?’ asked Darvin hopefully.

‘No, I don’t,’ said Q’zar. ‘But we must make it appear, for the meantime at least, that he is the culprit.’ Q’zar turned to Sovran, holding up the report. ‘You can’t have a free hand on this. If the contents of go viral, we’ll have a panic on our hands. That must be avoided at all costs.’

‘It’s a little premature to be demanding censorship, don’t you think?’ said Sovran, with a toss of her head. ‘Every time there’s some newsworthy event, you think NewsTalk and JT have to act as if it didn’t exist. No, I don’t agree. I think wild rumours are far more likely to create a panic than an informed article.’ Inwardly, Sovran felt she had already crossed the Rubicon and was in no mood to kowtow to Q’zar’s demands.

Arron would normally have sided with Q’zar on this issue, but, acutely aware that Laia was still under house arrest with a guard outside her door that even he could not get pass, he felt little inclined to do so. The sooner the news became public, the sooner Laia would be freed and the sooner the process of saving her reputation could begin.

‘I can see the sense in that,’ Arron acknowledged, nodding his approval in Sovran’s direction and subsequently looking toward the Chairman for his agreement.

Darvin pulled himself up from the position he had slumped into. He seemed on the point of saying something, when he remembered that Valchek had still not turned up. He picked up his telecom and shouted to his secretary to go and find out what the blazes was keeping him so long. The secretary was unable to reply that someone had already been sent to find him before Darvin cut the line.

While Darvin was shouting into his telecom, a tap at the door had gone unheard. O entered. At first, no one recognized him. But as he walked toward his chair, memories were jogged and images of the man who had turned his back on politics and privilege began to re-assemble.

Q’zar was astounded at the change in his appearance. He had lost so much weight that his jowls hung from his rosy cheeks like two bags. However, his mop of silvery grey hair was as unkempt as ever. His clothes were the sort that less well-off citizens wore and his jacket was even patched at the elbows. Q’zar had always thought him eccentric, but now he wondered if he wasn’t half-mad. But, more to the point, why now, after so many years of avoiding public life, should he turn up?

‘I’m sorry to be late,’ O said, in a voice so refined that it conveyed to everyone the nobility of his line. Resting his hands on the back of his chair, he looked along the table and said, ‘I bear the saddest of news and I should not have troubled you with this unexpected appearance had it not been of the utmost seriousness. Valchek has been murdered in his apartment.’

A gasp reverberated around the room. For a moment, no one spoke and then everyone did except Darvin who sat mouth agog. Q’zar was ashen-faced. He felt stunned. A noble murdered in his penthouse suite!

O continued softly: ‘There is something among us, something not human. On the night of the banquet, I was walking to my old apartment on the Topround to fetch a book. My eyes have grown weak and it was not brightly lit at the time, but as I walked I thought I saw a clone walking behind a director. I couldn’t be sure who the director was because of his extraordinary attire. But now I feel sure it must have been Valchek and that the clone, if it was a clone, is the thing that is among us.’

‘Why didn’t you report this?’ asked Darvin, lowering his head as if he were addressing a child.

‘I did.’

Q’zar stirred uneasily. ‘Probably hasn’t been processed yet. Everyone was assigned to the celebrations.’

O continued: ‘I decided to stay overnight. I was about to leave this morning when I heard a scream. I stepped out into the corridor and seeing Valchek’s door open, I went to see what the matter was. A secretary lay on the floor. She must have fainted. As I leaned over and helped the woman to her feet, I saw Valchek’s headless body. He has been decaptitated.’ He paused and took a deep breath before continuing in a silence that a pin could have been heard to drop. ‘The thing we seek is neither clone nor human. It’s possible it has come from the Outside and has returned there. But if it is still among us, we are in danger. It has penetrated the innermost sanctuary of Joypolis.’

Every member of the committee sat riveted as O said, ‘Q’zar, put guards at all the elevators and stairways. Limit all clones to their work area and living quarters. If the thing is among them, it must not enter the Tower.’

Q’zar responded by rattling off the list of measures he had prepared. He realized that all eyes were upon him now. He knew he needed to calm their fears by reassuring them that Joypolis was safe.

Gradually, an atmosphere closer to normality returned as questions were asked. Q’zar’s request for more personnel to man the watching devices was quickly granted. Everyone offered personnel from their departments without argument. It was one of those rare occasions when the camaraderie of the directors rose above the petty squabbles of committee politics.

Darvin sensed it might be the right moment to end the meeting. He thanked Q’zar for his foresight, welcomed O back and suggested that Security and personnel details could be sorted out informally between the various secretaries of respective departments. Finally, he pronounced the meeting formally closed.