Chapter Fifteen

“How’s Ella?” I asked Dr. Little the next day after my presence was requested in his office. Claus wasn’t on the shelf behind him. Today Claus and his glass home were positioned at the front and middle of his desk, and I couldn’t help but stare at it and smirk with the realization that I was sitting across from two figures with hearts of stone.

“She’s disappointed, as can be imagined,” he said, “but physically, she’s going to be just fine. We still have high hopes for our surrogate program, despite one minor setback.”

“And you should have told me she was pregnant.” I said, leaning across the table.

He folded his arms against his middle. “When it comes to the surrogate program, we were in a trial phase with one volunteer. Why burden you with that knowledge? One of my primary goals is to keep you happy.” He smiled and nodded at Claus.

“Well, I’m not.” My knee hit the underside of his desk, giving Claus a little shake.

“There are plenty of reasons to be happy.” He moved Claus to a shelf on his right. “We’re willing to meet all of your needs and wants, within the terms of the contract, of course. Our budget is unlimited. I’ve also given you someone from your past. Clone or not, Travel is a familiar face. We were lucky. He was cloned nineteen years ago, making him the perfect age to be a father and a friend, and he was living right here in this division.”

Nineteen. That was too young to be a father. I was too young to be a mother. I set my palm against my stomach. And how convenient was that? He was already living in this division? Maybe too convenient. “By the way, how did you know about—”

From under the desk, he brought out a yearbook and placed it on the table, already opened to the page with a photo of David and me. “This was in your cryonic chamber.”

The photo was taken the day before David Casper asked to be my boyfriend, the day before I had to tell him I was moving away, and the day staffers were going around the quad at lunch, snapping pictures for the yearbook. Someone shouted “smile” in our direction, and before I knew what was happening, David grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his side. In the photo, we were both laughing and looking into each other’s eyes.

My grandfather knew how much I’d valued that one semester of real school. He must have gotten his hands on a yearbook and put it in my chamber.

“Does Travel know?”

“No. You can tell him if you like. It won’t affect the program.”

“How do you know he won’t be mad, knowing he was selected just because I knew his DNA donor?”

“I’m 100 percent sure that trivial fact won’t bother him. He has the opportunity to be a father—a real father. Nothing will pull him away from that opportunity.”

“Ah, it’s time for another visitor.” As he looked up from his L-Band, the door opened and a middle-aged man entered with two security guards.

“Miss Dannacher, let me introduce you to the president of our region, President William Gifford.” He stood and shook the president’s hand.

“Hello,” I said, unimpressed.

“It’s a pleasure and an honor to see you again.” He smiled.

Again? And then I remembered what I’d been told. He was behind one of the almond-shaped windows during my awakening.

“Thank you, I guess.”

“Dr. Little tells me that you don’t quite understand the significance of the opportunity that’s been given to you. The public will come to know you as a proud representative of the Van Winkle Project.”

Proud? “I thought the public wasn’t supposed to know about me.”

“Not now, but once the project is grounded and in its third year, you’ll come to be known as our savior, our giver of life. You’ll be an inspiration to all as you are to us right now.”

Give me a break. “How can I be an inspiration if I’m trapped at GenH1?”

“Through interviews, speeches, and weekly reports via Liaison One. Within weeks, you’ll be a household name.” His arrogant tone made me sick as he leaned across the desk with a haughty smile.

As if they could buy my happiness with unlimited credits and fame—yeah, right. Yup, that’s why they wanted me happy—so I could lead a team of surrogates and all of my children into a life of false freedom while honoring our humble region. Three years wouldn’t be enough time to convince me to do that.

“You’ve wasted your time. I’ll never willingly help you lead a pack of women into a government-controlled baby mill.”

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“That’s your opinion,” I snipped. “Are we done?”

“We’re done,” he said, giving me, and then Claus, a wink.

“It’s been a pleasure to see you again,” said the president, who stood when I did.

Dr. Little and Gifford followed me to the hall. The SEC followed me as I walked briskly, anxious to get as far away from the two men as possible, but when I turned at the end of the hall and heard them speaking, I stopped. The SEC, as dumb as a rock, waited while I pretended to tie my shoes.

“VW-1 has caused enough problems,” said the president. “I don’t think she’ll change.” VW-1? That’s what they call me behind my back?

“Neither do I,” said Dr. Little. “And VW-4 will end up having the same attitude as her mother.”

“No doubt. But that doesn’t matter, as long as our clock to extinction stops ticking.”

“What about the other two presidents? Do they know?”

“Still in the dark,” said Gifford smugly, “but once we jump to part two of our program, that won’t matter either.” Part two? The contract detailed seven phases. I didn’t read anything about a part two, and I’d never heard a part two mentioned by anyone on the team. “Whether she’s a willing participant or not, this will be the most influential region in the world.”

“She doesn’t want power. She wants freedom.”

“But she understands her power over us,” said President Gifford.

“Not to worry. We’ll have more control after the exchange.”

What exchange? Were they planning to move me to a different location? As I retied my shoe for the fourth time, the echo of footsteps bounced up the hall and around the corner. An A.G.-lift opened at my right, and I made my escape, the SEC in tow. The lift’s door closed just before Dr. Little and President Gifford turned the corner.

Whew! That was close.

When I approached my apartment door still flustered and full of questions, Travel was in the hall with a SEC at his side.

“Hey, have you been to the hospital’s gift shop yet?” he asked when he saw me. “They actually have some cool stuff in there.” He held a small, pink bag, fastened with a white bow.

“No, I haven’t. I’ll have to go there sometime. What did you get?”

“Something for you.”

“For me?” I asked, surprised.

“For you.” He smiled, presenting the small bag.

A set of quick footsteps sounded from around the corner of the hall. It was Michael. He stopped when he saw us and diverted his eyes to the ground. Under his arm, he carried a box labeled “Ascendancy.” Did he honestly think he would win me over with a board game? I’d told him to stay away from me.

I couldn’t control the fact that I still cared for him, and thinking about being in his arms set my insides on fire, but at the same time, I couldn’t forgive him for his deceptions and “untold truths.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, shifting his gaze to the shiny gift bag.

“Hey, Dr. Bennett,” said Travel with a cheery voice I knew I couldn’t replicate.

“Travel.” Michael’s shoulders fell. “I, um, got off on the wrong floor. I’m supposed to be…” He gave his L-Band a fake glance. “Anyway, I better go.”

“See ya,” said Travel, still holding out the bag, oblivious to the thick tension in the air. “Will you open it now?” he asked after Michael disappeared.

“Sure,” I said, leading him into my apartment.

“Come on. Open it,” he urged when we entered the living room and sat down.

“You know you didn’t have to get me anything. What’s this for?” As I set the bag in my lap, I hoped he didn’t notice my shaking hands. Darn you, Michael, for showing up like that.

“You’ll see.”

The bow fell away from the bag with a soft tug. Within a fold of pink tissue paper shined an opulent lacquered box. “What is it?”

“Just open it.” Travel spoke and smiled softly. “It’s for good luck during your pregnancy.”

Inside was a gold ring with a small golden egg at the top. The egg had a frosty, matte finish and the setting, inlaid with a circle of tiny white gems, sparkled around the golden egg like a nest for a pair of royal birds.

“The egg is a symbol for fertility. A lot of women wear them as a means to perpetuate the hope that one day we’ll be able to, you know, but you can already do that, so I thought…you know…” He stuttered.

He thought wrong, but there was no way I’d refuse it and hurt his feelings. And wearing it could possibly fool Dr. Little into believing I’d suddenly become complacent. Ella and Dr. Love would probably like the gesture, too, equating it to a sign of respect toward all clone women and their unfortunate malady.

My gaze shifted from the ring to my stomach. Did my belly look less flat today? Maybe. It was hard to tell. She was only about four inches long at this point, so I couldn’t expect my belly to have a bulge or that I could feel her moving inside me. But as much as I didn’t want to be pregnant, I found myself spending much of each day wondering if she was okay or if I’d end up miscarrying like Ella.

The crystals surrounding the tiny egg glistened as I brushed my finger across the top of the ring. Like Ella said, it was the only egg they had. The thought took me back to the prenatal ward and the man with the hooked tool removing dead babies. The cry of a chimp in pain followed as it sat on its haunches and swayed back and forth in its cubicle. A mighty dose of guilt came next, led by the possible truth that I was being selfish with my eggs and my body.

My cage took up an entire city block, and my baby was firmly attached to a real placenta. Shouldn’t I be happy?

“Thank you. I love it,” I lied, slipping the sad reminder of my fate on my finger and then giving him a hug.

The warmth of the back of his neck against my arms and his soft breath upon my shoulder reminded me of David. I pretended it was him and didn’t want to let go.

“So, did you hear about Ella?” I asked, using the question to break my hold.

“Yeah. Dr. Little told me about it this afternoon. He said you didn’t know she was pregnant until it happened.”

“No, I didn’t know. Did you?”

“Nope, not until Dr. Little told me about the miscarriage.”

“They should have told us.”

Travel’s reaction was basically no reaction with the exception of placing a hand on my shoulder. “You’re right. They should have told us, but on the other hand, the next phase does include a surrogate program. It’s not like we didn’t know it was going to eventually happen.”

“That’s not the point. They kept information from us. How are we supposed to trust them if they’re not honest with us?”

“I trust them.”

“Well, I don’t. I don’t think I ever will.” I blinked away a tear.

“Come on, Cass. It will be okay,” he whispered, his voice soft and melodic. Pulling me into a loose hug, his chin resting on my shoulder, he proceeded to sing me a song of hope, a song of love, a lullaby paying tribute to the gift of life. Singing me a song was something I could never imagine David Casper doing.

“That was beautiful, Travel,” I said as we parted.

“My mom used to sing that song to me when I was little. She died last year from liver and kidney failure right here in this hospital. Her last transplants didn’t take.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. What about your father? Does he live near here?”

“Not anymore. He died when I was twelve.” Travel dropped his head.

“From what?”

“Bad genes. You name it—he had it. He was sick for a really long time, so sick that when my parents applied for a second child, they were almost denied because of my father’s health.”

“So you have a—”

“Brother. His name is Trail. He doesn’t live in this region. He’s in Region Three, Sector Nine. That’s where we were born and raised.”

“Region Three, Sector Nine. That has to be Australia. I recognize your accent.”

“I don’t have an accent.”

“Yeah, you do.” I smiled, walking to the couch and sitting down.

“After my father died, I was really depressed,” he said, taking a seat across from me. “I hated the world and got into a lot of trouble at home and at school. I should have been there for Trail. I should have been the responsible older brother, but I wasn’t. He had a hard time growing up under my bad reputation. Anyway, once Mom died, we just kind of stopped calling each other. I should call him, though. He’s probably pretty lonely. He’s not married and doesn’t have any kids. The last I heard, his dog was his best friend.”

No bloodlines, no bond. For the pre-plague world, genetic lines established royalty and leadership. They designated heirs and guided wills. They predicted appearance, intelligence, and athletic ability. A pregnant woman wondered if her baby was going to have her own delicate features or get stuck with Uncle Bob’s large nose. Everything was different for a clone, but now that I was here, Travel was going to experience those things.

As much as I loathed what was happening to me, I was happy for him.