CLONING

1.
Everything is set to go. The computer stands ready, awaiting only my finger on the start button. I can barely contain my excitement. Dare I believe it will work ? I, Professor Sy Taylor, am the world leader in the field of clone research. I was the first to grow a guinea pig from a single guinea pig brain cell. I was the first to clone a rhesus monkey by the same method. Today, I will attempt the ultimate. I survey my equipment once again.
I want to burn into my memory this moment, this buzz of anticipation. Like a cross between a garden greenhouse and a humidcrib, the Hothouse stands ready. The nervous system of wires and tubes form a tangled web inside its vast interior. Many more protrude from its surface. And at the centre of this plastic and metal jungle lies what I have pinned my hopes on.
A single human hair.
The cloning process is based on a simple scientific principle. Every single cell in the body of a human being, or any other animal, contains enough genetic information to manufacture a complete copy of that human. The difficult part is getting the cell to subdivide. Once that is achieved, as I have done, the rest is easy.
I press the start button. The computer springs into action. Now all I can do is wait. That is the hardest part of any scientific experiment : the waiting. My cloning process is able to produce a fully grown adult animal in a matter of hours, but it often takes more than an hour before the first cell subdivides. That vital first step, of millions, is what takes the most time and input.
I cannot sit and watch nothing happening for over an hour. I am a restless man in need of constant occupation. I decide to pass the time reading today's paper.

2.
"Serial Sex Killer Strikes Again" screams the banner headline. I generally avoid such vulgar sensationalism as this, but this story has held my interest and concern since it broke several weeks ago. Seven local women brutally raped and strangled in as many weeks. Victims vary greatly in age, background and social standing. They all died at night, but at different times and different locations.
I consider myself a kind man, and abhor violence in any form. I simply cannot understand why anyone would want to commit such terrible acts.
Police have made little headway in the case. They are fairly certain that all seven murders were committed by one man, and that he was a brilliant, cunning psychopath, possibly possessed of a Freudian mother-hating complex. But they are sure of nothing.
I have even had nightmares about the killings. All of these nightmares follow the same pattern. I am walking at night in a public place, usually the park. A man rushes past me. The man attacks a woman, ahead of me. I run to the scene ... and just stand there watching. In my dream, I find myself incapable of assistance to the poor woman. I witness the scene in terrible, stark detail, yet never see the man's face. The murder finished, the man turns toward me. If I could take one step, I could see the man's face ...
But then I wake. Always. I am always just one step away from seeing the man's face. Oh, that I could will myself back to sleep ! For ten more seconds, for that's all it would take. It makes me feel so powerless that I cannot.
I hate feeling powerless. I have been a downtrodden man all my life. That I am an eminent man with the respect of my peers has never changed that, except for those brief moments of glory when I have presented new scientific papers, or received awards. The reception given my paper on the cloning of rhesus monkeys was one of those rare times.
I wanted to help the police and public solve this outrage, but what could I offer ?
I put the paper down and looked up at the Hothouse.
Twenty minutes has passed. No sign or change yet.
I yawn. I am surprised to find myself very tired. I often work 48 hours without a break, and today have worked only eighteen.
Might as well take a little nap. I let my head drop, and will fall instantly asleep. No need to worry about the experiment. It is completely computer controlled.

3.
I awake and look at the clock, to find that I have slept nine hours. Enough time to see some sort of result. I sit up and look expectantly at the Hothouse.
The experiment has succeeded ! I walk over to take a closer look. Yes ! She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Lovelier even than the original.
I cast my mind back to the one and only meeting with the original. I was waiting at the airport, when the loveliest woman I had seen in years sat down next to me. I did not exchange one word with her, and she never looked at me. She walked off five minutes later, and I was sure I'd never see her again.
But then I spotted something that changed my mind. A single long black hair. Clearly one of hers. I picked it up and carefully placed it in a sealed plastic bag. If only it would work.
And it has.

4.
My ideal woman-copy lies on the glass slab like Sleeping Beauty. I sit down on the chair nearest the Hothouse and prepare for the next stage. The instruments show the clone's body in perfect working order. It is almost certainly in better condition than the original, as it has not yet been exposed to the rigours of everyday life.
I want her to properly function outside of the lab environment, so she will need a personality. And I have just the personality for her : mine.
Well, not exactly mine. There are certain aspects of myself which I did not care for, and others I feel are unsuitable for a woman. So when I prepared the personality imprint module yesterday, I directed the computer to exclude these certain factors.
On my head, I place the mental impulse receiver, not unlike a mixing bowl with hundreds of wires attached. The wires lead into the computer, which in turn connects with the control system of the Hothouse. I load the program, and sit very still for the five minutes it takes the computer to load the information from my brain to the personality imprint module, then from the module to the clone's brain. This completed, I take the receiver off my head and wait.
Ten minutes later, her eyes open.
"Hello" I say. "My name is ..."
"Sy Taylor" she completes, sitting up. "I know. The computer told me."
Magnificent ! (I will not here record any comments on her on the superb nature of her physique, as they would be superfluous). Her voice is like raw silk. I stare at her. I am almost lost for words. Silent moments of naked awe pass by.
"I shall give you a name" I say, after time seemingly eternal. "Selina. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Do you like it ?"
"It's fine. May I get out of the Hothouse when ready ?" "In a while. When the computer says you can take solid food."
"That should be about two more hours, according to current Taylor Coefficient."
I am taken aback by her accurate analysis of the instrument readings.
"Don't be surprised, Sy. I have absorbed almost all of the imprint information. I can read the instruments as readily as you."
"This is wonderful. All my life I have dreamed of a woman my equal in every aspect. Now I have one."
"Watch out, Dr Frankenstein."
I laugh out loud. The imprint has even given her my sense of humour.
"I think that, as an experiment, I have succeeded" says Selina. "Perhaps now you can help the police."
Again I am taken aback. "What do you mean ?"
"With the Sex Killer case."
"What do you mean, Selina ? I can't ..."
Of course ! For a so-called intellectual, I can at times display the most incredible degree of dull-wittedness. I slap myself on the forehead.
"How silly of me. If the killer left any of his cells on the victims ..."
"... then we could clone him !" completes Selina.
"Oh, Selina, you're a genius. I wish I could get inside the Hothouse and kiss you."
"In one hour and fifty minutes, I'll be able to get free of these wires. Then you can do anything you like with me."

5. The following day.
I rose early this morning, leaving Selina to sleep in. It will be difficult for her to adjust to the world outside the glass case, but she seemed at the peak of health if last night was anything to go by.
Later this morning, I went to see Ken Scott, a personal friend and head of Police Forensic. I talked over the case with Scott, who had sought my help many times on this and other cases. Scott went over each case point by point, emphasising the many differences.
"About the only commonality" Scott had said "is that the killer had sexual intercourse with each victim before strangulation."
"Were you able to isolate any of the sperm ?" I had asked.
"Why, yes. It's part of the examination routine, to determine whether intercourse actually took place, rather than just mutilation. Do you have an idea, Sy ?"
"Yes, Ken. Can you provide me with some of the actual sperm cells ?"
"Certainly. But it would have to be unofficial."
"And they must be uncontaminated. By ANYTHING. The assailant's only. Otherwise it may well not work."
"I'll make sure of it personally. I know how high your standards are, Sy. Now, could you give me a hint as to what you're going to try ? We know he's not a rhesus monkey, so you can't possibly clone him. Which of your many other skills are you going to use ?"
I shook my head and smirked at Scott's weak attempt at humour. "That would be telling. I'll let you know if it works."

6.
Now back at the lab, I laugh about my talk to Scott with Selina.
"How" asks Selina "did you manage to keep a straight face when he said you couldn't clone the attacker ?"
I shrug. "A staid upbringing, I suppose. OK, let's get to work. Everything ready ?"
"All set."
"Are the sperm cells in place ? Good. Would you like to throw the switch, Selina ?" That done, she turns to face me again. "Well, we have at least an hour until anything happens. What shall we do ?"

7.
I awake some hours later, as Selina shakes me. I've had another nightmare, different this time. More frightening. I still could not see the attacker's face, but this time I was the victim ...
I reach for Selina. "I've had another terrible dream, darling. Hold me."
She pulls close to me. "The experiment has produced a result" she whispers in my ear.
"I'm almost afraid to look. Does he look familiar ?"
She pulls her head back, staring at me with eyes for the first time sad. She says, still in a low voice
"You'd better look for yourself."
I stand up and walk over to the Hothouse. I feel faint as I recognise the sleeping body inside. I am looking at ... myself.

8.
"The clone reached maturity nearly two hours ago" says Selina, from behind. "He's nearly ready to come out."
But I still cannot accept it. I turn to face Selina.
"Did you check the sample for contamination ? I did handle it briefly. Some of my skin flakes could have ..."
"No, Sy" Selina replies evenly. "You know that isn't possible. You and Ken Scott are too thorough. Those cells were the killer's alone."
The full realisation has almost sunk in. "So ... I committed these ghastly mutilations ? But how ? I went over the complete case details with Scott. I wasn't at any of those places at those time. I was asleep ..."
"Not quite, Sy. While you slept just now, I've been thinking. And I can see how it happened."
"Please tell me" I plead, desperate to understand.
"Your nightmares were the key. If you search your memory, I think you'll find that the nightmares coincided in time with the actual murders. You went one step further than sleepwalking, Sy."
"You mean, I killed those poor women in my sleep ?"
"Of course not ! You were awake. But, to protect your conscious mind, your subconscious disguised the memories as dreams. Remember that, in your dreams as you described them to me, you always just missed the killer's face ?"
"Yes. That makes sense. But I still don't understand it. How could I have been a Jekyll and Hyde all these years, without giving myself away ?"
"As the police guessed, the criminal is a highly intelligent psychopath. The hidden Hyde side simply made use of your vast intellect to cover his tracks."
Face in hands, I start to cry. "All those innocent people, their blood on my hands. And God knows how many others. Selina, how did you figure this all out ?"
"Come and sit down, Sy". I do so. She strokes my hair as I cry on her shoulder. "All of my personality is taken directly from your mind. I inherited a lot of your memories, some subconscious. The memory traces of your dreams are etched into my brain, but they are not actually mine. Therefore I can analyse them from a different point of view, and a feminine point of view. I can see clearly what your mind hid from you."
"But why would I, even in a psychotic state, want to kill women. Why not men as well ?"
"The Freudians would trace it back to a bad relationship with your mother. But you are also a perfectionist. You have never been satisfied with any real woman. Yet you strongly desired companionship and sexual fulfilment, as most men do. Your frustration turned to hate, which you could only vent subconsciously. It was that hate which drove you to mutilate and kill.
"You longed for the perfect partner. That's what motivated you to create me. The ideal companion, because you programmed me. had you not made this discovery, you may never have killed again, now that you have me."
"Then why" (I sob) "didn't you tell me before ?"
"I guess the full realisation didn't surface until now, faced with a crisis situation. Repressed memories come up slowly, if at all. It often takes a hard jolt. And besides, I couldn't tell you. You're my creator. I owe you my existence. I'd be nothing without you."
"But now, because my experiment has worked, I can ignore it no longer" I reply.
I stand up, as does Selina, drying my tears for me. "I've made up my mind. I must give myself up to the police. I'm a danger to society. They have treatments which may help me ..."
"Such treatments have been known to permanently damage the brain, darling. Or even kill."
"That may not be such a bad thing. It wouldn't be justice - one life for seven - but it would go some way toward it.
"Call the police, Selina. I'll sit here and wait for them." "No !" : a voice yells from behind us.
The rest is a blur.
I saw Selina jump up as the clone wearing my face crashed out of the Hothouse. I saw him grab a scalpel. Selina tried to block him, but he was too fast, too strong. His aim was deadly accurate. The scalpel blade plunged through my chest as if through butter, and tore open the walls of my heart. I sank to the floor, blood surging in my ears and out of my body. The last thing I saw was his face, my face, glaring down at me.

9.
Sy Taylor's clone had been too quick for him, the original. The real Sy collapsed to the floor, dead before hitting it.
Sy's clone faced Selina. "The great work of Sy Taylor must continue ... at any cost. It is fortunate that Sy left the data of the personality imprint module on the computer from yesterday, when he created you. I have now absorbed the imprint too. His work can now continue. His one mind has become two - yours and mine. Now, dispose of his body, Selina. We have a lot of work to do."
"Yes, Sy" replied Selina.

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