Forever is Quite a While

by conked

Posted to Stories on 2002-09-30 00:38:00

Parent message is 294351
My William S. Burroughs clone was activated at shortly after midnight, his icy gaze struggled for focus as he scanned each of us in turn.
“Good Morning Mr Burroughs”, I said by way of introduction, “I am Dr Orwell and you are on my state of the art cruise ship the S.S. Interzone”.
Burroughs cleared his throat, the sound was a muffled “thunk”. He rallied himself and addressed me in his dead pan monotone, “This is highly irregular”, he began, “I want to know exactly what the fuckenhell you think you are doing ?”.
“You, Mr Burroughs”, I stood directly at the end of his bed and fixed my eyes upon his, he appeared to be staring right through me “are an exact clone of yourself at fifty two years of age. The year is 2002 and providing our tests over the next few days confirm all is well, you will be free to recommence your life as you see fit”.
Burroughs pondered this information, our instruments suggested that the desired level of cerebral activity was beginning to peak. “What do you mean a cruise ship, doctor, what sort of Mickey Mouse outfit is this?”
“Ahh yes, … you see Mr Burroughs, research of this nature is, shall we say, not entirely endorsed by the powers whom regulate such activity”. Burroughs was processing this information but was clearly waiting for more. “In light of this we have leased the S.S. Interzone, installed a state of the art laboratory and are carrying out our … er ‘procedures’ in international waters, beyond their gaze.”
Burroughs paused as he pursed his lips while deep in thought. “Dr Orwell” he said, his voice grave and low, “I approve of this arrangement, but not unreservedly. Now I need details. You will apprise me of all the salient facts, I need precise medical and scientific data.”

More than he needed information, my patient needed a respite. My nurse offered him a selection of potentially comforting chemical solutions. I placed a slim dossier of papers beside his bed, and left the room.

Several days later Burroughs, wrapped in blankets, was sitting on deck sipping at a brandy and gazing toward the sea and nearby ice floes. “Why of all places on all the seven seas must we be in this godforsaken frozen wasteland?” he rasped.
“Ah, simple, proximity to penguins Mr Burroughs”, I replied. “That particular bird has a rare level of naturally produced Alpha Zygote platelet that may prove valuable should your cloned cells go into amorphitriaphic shock.”
“Clearly I have more reading to do” Burroughs replied coolly.
“There is something else, of a rather delicate nature, that you need to know” I added.
“I have no doubt, doctor” Burroughs replied, with a particularly sinister emphasis on my title.
“This procedure you have undertaken may need several attempts to perfect it”.
“I see” he replied, the final vowels trailing off to low growl.
“In, fact we have noticed several irregularities already” I continued. “Your sunglasses” I gestured toward them.
“Whaaaat?” Burroughs demanded.
“This morning we removed the lenses from your sunglasses, the glare off those icebergs would be intolerable to the naked eye”.
“arrr, mmmm. thunk. apparently”.
“You cannot see, can you ?” I demanded.
” There does seem to be a certain optical deficiency” he conceded.
“I will be frank with you er, William, This is a long-term project and we anticipated some initial problems with …uhh …the first efforts” I was being frank but it was an unpleasant moment.
“Am I to take it that my own current situation is … expendable?”.
“No not at all William, we have several more … er .. examples of yourself undergoing the process as we speak, but you are welcome … no, required, to remain on the ship, in your new quarters while subsequent clones of yourself are produced, refined and compared.”
“Compared !?” he spat.
“Ah yes, with yourself, er .. this self. Naturally Mr Burroughs we need to ensure that every new batch is an improvement on the last, not to mention the first”. I retreated a pace to see what reaction this might produce.

“Dr Orwell”, Burroughs began calmly, “This is unacceptable, not only is this an act of force against myself as a cellular identity, but clearly your scientific premises are flawed”, he remained still for several seconds and then quietly added, “and the food is intolerable”.
“It may well be Mr Burroughs but it has other ultrabiogenetic properties that you needn’t be concerned about at this point.
“Sooo…” he drawled, “I am an indefinite prisoner to be kept, replicated and studied for as long as you see fit, ad infinitum – that is forever, in one form or another?”
Burroughs’ turned his head toward the ice masses he could not see, a muffled “thunk” was audible from his chest cavity.
“I think there is a chance we understand each other” I replied as I turned and headed for my laboratory.