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10:13 Thursday 31 October 2069
A storm was brewing above an old farmhouse on Dartmoor, in the county of Devon. Some might have considered the farmhouse to be off the grid but it wasn’t so remote that it didn’t enjoy the home comforts of running water and mains electricity. Inside one of the barns, there was a hive of activity as what appeared to be a small group of children were putting the final touches to a complex piece of scientific equipment that they had been assembling. As the storm intensified and the first bolts of lightning started to light up the sky, the irony was not lost on Tommy, the leader of the group of young Recarns that had been waiting eagerly for this moment.
“This is ridiculous. All we need now is for Christopher Lee to fly in through the window as a bat and for Vincent Price to start playing the organ, and we’ve got ourselves a bona-fide Hammer Horror film set.”
One of the other children quipped.
“It’s more Frankenstein than Dracula.”
In a room inside the farmhouse, a clone of Philip Armstrong, the tall lad who did most of the driving for the group, had now reached its twenty-fifth day of existence. Probably the most critical information that Peter, Jenny’s previous incarnation’s twin brother, had managed to get to them before he died, was that the Growth Hormone Inhibiting Hormone, Somatostatin, had to be applied on the twenty-fifth day of the clone’s existence. With this information, they could reproduce the conditions that had allowed the creation of Marcus Gallagher, which in turn meant that they could bring back the true Pindar.
The equipment was almost ready, all that it needed now was the addition of the two vital components - the clone body and the introduction of the Pindar’s soul. The clone body had been grown from one of Philip Armstrong’s stem cells. After a long discussion and several people volunteering, it was decided that, as Philip was the biggest and strongest of them, it would be a good idea to place the Pindar’s soul into what could potentially be the healthiest specimen. Philip volunteered to be one of those to take care of the clone, being fascinated to discover what he was going be like when he became a man, as well as feeling a sense of biological kinship with it.
The door to the barn opened and Philip entered the building, supporting as best he could what could pass for his older brother, the clone naked except for a blanket wrapped around him. The clone had been dressed until he had grown to the same size as Philip, but they couldn’t keep making trips to the local village for clothes. It was risky enough getting food and provisions. As a group, they were very grateful for online shopping and drone deliveries, but to start buying clothing every day – and the size of that clothing increasing each day – could have aroused too much suspicion.
The sight of the clone brought back bad memories for Tommy, who, as Professor Ingrams, had suffered one of the early Illuminati experiments and occupied a clone body himself for twenty days. His clone body was one of those whose rate of growth hadn’t been able to be reduced and he had asked Michelle to kill him to put him out of his misery. But this clone, which they had named Philip 001 (old habits die hard) would develop normally and hopefully live to a ripe old age.
Philip led his doppelganger to the soul transfer equipment that almost filled the barn, and he and Jenny removed the blanket. The clone was unaware of his nakedness, as he operated only on instinct having none of the finer sensibilities that the soul provides. Jenny looked the clone up and down and made Philip blush.
“I’m going to have to stick close to you Philip. I like what I see and what you’re going to become.”
The clone was helped into the receiving chamber and lay there, perfectly peaceful. It had no reason to be otherwise. Nobody was hurting it, it wasn’t feeling any pain. It was just existing. Two of the children reached up and closed the transparent lid. Still, the clone was unperturbed.
Tommy picked up a thermos flask sized capsule that had been sitting on top of a nearby table. He walked over to the soul transfer apparatus and clamped the capsule in place inside the donor chamber. He was a little nervous. The equipment that they had constructed was an exact copy of Marcus’s apparatus; at least, as far as they knew. They were relying on their memories from working with the original equipment and trusting that they hadn’t forgotten anything important. The introduction of the vessel containing Nathan was a new addition, one for which they had had to make some alterations to the donor capsule, particularly the introduction of a mechanism to remove the capsule lid so that the true Pindar’s soul could be released.
Tommy pulled the chamber lid closed, creating an airtight seal.
“Here goes nothing.”
A nine year old boy with a crew cut touched a control and the capsule lid was removed, releasing the previously trapped soul. The movement of the invisible soul was monitored by the boy as it floated around the donor chamber, trying to find a way out. The soul found its way into the connecting tube between the donor and recipient chambers and headed towards the receiver pod, where the clone was patiently waiting. Once inside the recipient chamber, the connecting tube was closed, constraining the soul within the clone’s chamber. With nowhere else to go it enveloped the clone and seeped through its pores.
A tense couple of minutes followed as the clone showed no visible change, still laying back in the chamber perfectly calm. Suddenly the clone blinked furiously and tried to sit up. Unable to do so, it started panicking.
Tommy rushed forward and unfastened the release clamps of the lid of the recipient chamber, allowing the lid to spring open. The clone sat up and then proceeded to haul himself out of the confines of the chamber. He stood up and looked around him, a curious look on his face as he became aware that everybody in the room was a child.
“Are there any adults here?”
Tommy spoke for the group as a whole.
“No, My Lord Pindar, sir. We’re all Recarns. Recarns that were killed by Marcus Gallagher in the course of soul transference experimentation. Some were volunteers but many were not. Like myself.”
Jenny passed the clone a jump-suit, the only adult clothing that they had at the moment. The clone put it on and then continued with his orientation.
“Who are, and more importantly, who were you?”
“I’m Tommy Mullery, my Lord. I used to be Professor Ingrams. I was killed by Marcus Gallagher, the clone who usurped you.”
“Ingrams. Yes, the name rings a bell. So who’s in charge here?”
“I suppose that would be me. I traced these people here and gathered us all together.”
“So I’m King Arthur and you’re my knights of the Round Table.”
“In a way, yes my Lord.”
“Right. I need a name. Who’s the kind person that supplied the stem cells to create this marvellous body?”
“That would be Philip Armstrong, sir.”
Tommy beckoned Philip to come to the front.
“He’s the biggest, tallest, and strongest of us. For his age that is.”
“Thank you, Philip Armstrong. I’ll keep your surname – it’s a strong name, no pun intended - but I’ll change the Christian name, to avoid confusion. I like the name Ethan. I shall be Ethan Armstrong.”
Ethan shook Philip’s hand. Philip beamed with pride. He felt like Ethan Armstrong was an older brother, something that none of the others could say. Of course, he kept this thought to himself. To do otherwise would be a sign of disrespect.
“I shall now take charge of this merry band, but please dispense with the ‘my Lord Pinder’ stuff. When I regain my true place as head of the Illuminati, then it will be correct to refer to me as such. But until then, please call me Ethan. Now, who’s going to make me a cup of tea?”