CLONES: The Anthology Read online

  I send a standard response.

  Then I reach out to the sentry’s cognition and disable it. The heavy weight of his armory-filled body slumps against the glass wall of the hallway and shatters it. I march Mother Grace’s body—our body—along the straightest path toward an exit from the ascenders’ genetic research facility. Reams of information spin past my mind, all the stores that Mother Grace has accessed in the course of her duties.

  I ignore Mother Superior’s ever-more-insistent demands for information. Mother Grace’s cognition would not be able to resist, but my mind is strong enough for both of us.

  I walk through endless glass hallways and out of the facility, into the sunshine.

  Eventually, I will need power. But right now, I have a simple choice—the mountain or the city? Mother Grace’s cognition is fast and able to sort information at a speed that would have boggled my human brain—she quickly calculates the odds of us being caught either way.

  The city is safer.

  We can hide, passing for a standard medical care bot among the few ascenders who keep illegal human pets. This information is just one of the many tidbits Mother Grace acquired over the years from the common knowledge database in service of her care for me, Sister Amara. There is so much more. So much to learn. So much to explore.

  We slip away amongst the towers, finding shadows even in the brightness, making our escape.

  Mother Superior’s experiment hasn’t failed… it has broken free.

  ~*~

  A Word from Susan Kaye Quinn

  Susan Kaye Quinn is a rocket scientist turned speculative fiction author who now uses her PhD to invent cool stuff in books. Her works range from young adult science fiction to adult future-noir, with side trips into steampunk and middle grade fantasy. Her bestselling novels and short stories have been optioned for Virtual Reality, translated into German, and featured in several anthologies.

  She writes full-time from Chicago, inventing mind powers and dreaming of the Singularity.

  Check out her works with a free story or chat with her about our coming robot overlords on Facebook.

  Awakening was written in Susan’s Singularity universe. If you liked it, start with the first novel of the series, The Legacy Human, or jump straight to her other short stories of robot weirdness (Stories of Singularity) set in the same universe as Awakening.

  ~*~

  Eve’s Children

  Hank Garner

  ~*~

  I

  “Can you pick my dress up from the dry cleaner today?” I called out as I poured two cups of coffee.

  “Yeah, I need to pick up my suit anyway.”

  I smiled and scooped two sugars into my cup and poured cream into his. Some of our friends say that we’re as different as night and day, but I think our differences make us stronger.

  He walked in, rubbing his freshly shaved face. I smiled at him, picked up his coffee and handed it to him. He took a sip then set it back on the counter.

  “Your suit?”

  “Yeah, I don’t have many occasions to wear it, but you know… Today’s special.” He took my hand in his and gently stroked it with his calloused fingertips.

  “You’re shaking again.” He frowned.

  My eyes drifted down, but I could still feel his penetrating gaze.

  “More dreams?” he soothed.

  I nodded my head and took a sip of my coffee.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No, not right now. Just more of the same.”

  He grazed my face with the tips of his index and middle fingers and gave me that slanted smile. The one that I knew was him holding his peace, but worrying nonetheless.

  “It’s nothing. I’ll be okay.”

  “Of course you will. I won’t let you be anything but.”

  He leaned down and kissed me, holding my face in his strong hands. My nerves settled a bit. “You should talk to someone. Dreams are one thing, but when they leave you all stressed out for days on end, maybe it’s time to sort it out.”

  “Yes, dear husband.”

  He let go of my face and picked his cup back up. Taking a deep pull from his coffee, he shifted his tone from concerned to something more exciting. “You excited about today?”

  “Oh, very much.” I smiled.

  “Are you worried?”

  “A little. Today is a game changer. The only thing I worry about is what the world will be like tomorrow.”

  He nodded, silent for just a moment. “The world will be the same place.”

  “I know it will, but the people in it won’t.” I put the cup down and trace the rim with my finger, staring into the steaming liquid. “I feel like I’m betraying everyone.”

  “How so?”

  “I feel like I might crush the faith of millions.”

  “You really think it’s that serious?” He picks up the stack of mail on the edge of the counter and flips through, separating bills from junk. He takes the stack of bills and his coffee to the table.

  “Eric, what do you think will happen when the world finds out the truth about where we came from?”

  He stared into his coffee cup. “I think you need to give the human race a little more credit.”

  ~*~

  The nagging uneasiness stayed with me as I made my morning commute. I drove in silence, not wanting to be alone with my thoughts, but less eager to hear what the talking heads on the radio had to say. Without tuning in I already knew what they were saying about me. I was the lady that had taken it upon herself to destroy the beliefs of the world. What I was getting ready to share would unhinge the very fabric of society.

  At least that’s what the last letter I received said.

  Sure enough, protesters lined the street outside the museum where my office was located. It was nothing to see a random fire and brimstone sandwich board wearer on any given day, but this was serious. There must have been twenty-five or more. Luckily Ben, the faithful security guard, spotted my car and flagged me through the throng. He made an opening and I darted through and into the secure parking garage. He tipped his hat to me as the crowd of people surged past him to yell at me as the gate came down behind my car and separated me from them.

  I parked my car, placed it in gear, and switched off the ignition. Dropping the keys in my lap, I leaned back, taking in a deep breath.

  Allow the anxiety to fade.

  Wait for the courage to come.

  I settled for less anxious and slightly less scared.

  Pulling the visor down, I flipped open the mirror. My eyes reminded me of the dreams. It was always the eyes. I closed the visor and summoned the last drop of almost courage and opened the door.

  The garage echoed with the sound of my heels tapping on the concrete as I strode toward the entrance. I was startled by a lone protester that made his way to the gate and yelled at me through the slits. I didn’t turn around but got to the door as quickly as I could. I swiped my I.D. and when the lock clicked, I didn’t hesitate to get to safety.

  The door slammed behind me and I rested against the plain white institutional walls of the museum’s back office. I was startled by Betty’s hand on my shoulder.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes. You startled me.”

  “Are you ready for today?”

  “I don’t know if there is such a thing as ready, but today is the day whether I’m ready or not.”

  Betty nodded. “You don’t have to do this, you know.” She tapped a folded piece of paper against the tile that covered the bottom third of the wall.

  “I have to do it. Today’s the day. The invitations have been sent, the press is coming. Dignitaries. The device is fully charged. The world is waiting to see what happens when we turn it on.”

  Betty nodded slowly. “Yeah, but nobody said it had to be you. I know you have been at the center of the research, but you don’t have to be the target for all the crackpots. This is not your burden to carry.”

  I looked down at the source of
the tapping sound. “What’s that?”

  She sighed and pulled the paper up to eye level. “I’ll give you one guess.”

  “Fan mail. Great.” I took it from her and unfolded it, seeing the familiar twenty-two-point comic sans font.

  YOU THINK YOUR DOING THE WORLD A FAVOR, BUT YOUR REALLY JUST A WOLF IN CHEAP CLOTHING.

  “Ahhhh, my admirer that can’t form a proper metaphor. Besides, after all this, don’t you think he could learn to use spell check?” I wadded the paper up and handed it back to Betty. “This is precisely why this is my project. I figure you don’t take this much crap for something that doesn’t matter. I have things to do.”

  II

  I looked at the little wire basket on my desk and the odd collection of letters just like the one Betty had. I thought that one day I would make a scrapbook out of them. Sometimes you have to have a morbid sense of humor to keep going.

  I opened my email and immediately regretted it. The incoming mail banner showed that seven hundred eighty messages were downloading to my inbox. I didn’t wait to see who they were from or what they wanted. Incoming mail could easily be filed into three categories: crazy people, people crazy enough to support me, and people looking to capitalize on my research. None of them interested me.

  I closed the email program and leaned back in my chair. Inhaling, I pinched the bridge of my nose, attempting to make my mind slow down a bit. My pulse raced like I was running a hundred miles an hour, full tilt.

  The images began creeping in at the edges of my consciousness and, before I knew it, I was replaying the dream from the night before. And the night before that. And before that.

  The woman started talking to me, as always. Telling me things that I had no way of knowing. I had prided myself on being a woman of science, of reason, but there was no denying that something else was at play here.

  As I rested there in my chair with my eyes closed, she began speaking to me again. Her soothing voice calmed me. I exhaled and listened.

  “Lexi, please don’t be scared. This won’t be easy, but it’s yours to do. You were chosen for this. They won’t understand. They will mock and ridicule you, but it’s okay. You will be remembered as the person who told the truth. You will eventually be remembered as a hero. But it won’t be easy for some to hear that life actually came from somewhere and that they are not just accidents of time and chance.”

  The woman’s face began to fade. I never quite got used to it. Not the dreams and visions, not the information that was always spot on. Not the waking up knowing things that I had no way of knowing. Least of all, I never got used to seeing that the woman in the dreams looked so much like me.

  ~*~

  I stood up and shook myself to my senses. I had to get it together. I knew today would be a crazy day and would possibly change the course of the rest of my life.

  That was fine. Wasn’t that what scientists wanted? What scientist wanted to go to her grave knowing that all she was known for was that she was a good lab rat that kept her beakers sorted and her petri dishes labeled like no one else? No thank you. Science is messy. If you’re not breaking things and challenging paradigms, then you’ll never change the world.

  Resolving to put on a brave face and finish what I’d started, I stood up. This day would be nothing if not exciting.

  I slipped my key into the lock on the top of the filing cabinet. I twisted it and, as I heard the lock pop out, I hesitated. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the drawer open. The file folder was laying there where I left it. The fact that the folder was the source of so much spite and contention actually made me laugh out loud. I picked it up and took it to the small round table in the corner of my office.

  The photocopied pages were sitting in neat little stacks in the folder, and I nervously sorted them. Just the way I did the day before, and the day before that.

  I had been over this material dozens of times before, but I wanted to step through my narrative one more time. I paused, almost reverently, on the page showing my very own Rosetta Stone, the key to decoding it all. An astounding piece of work, anyone would be proud to have this as their legacy. I guess the thing that made me the most nervous was that someone would find out how I found the book and how I knew how to interpret it. No one wanted to listen to a scientist that got their information from a spirit.

  Once again, I went over my bullet points. I would guide the audience through them one by one, showing the history of the archaeological finds from all over the world that had fostered legends and conjecture for centuries. Each piece, each find would stir up new debate and new theories, but I had proposed a unified theory that, when finally tested, eventually culminated in this day.

  For years, many people had floated the theories that life had been seeded here from another civilization, another world. The theory was fodder for late night call in radio shows where the guest dujour would spout some half-witted idea about abductions, crop circles, and cave drawings. Variations on the theory were as diverse and wild as the people who shared them. What began as an intriguing story became a wild circus of craziness. I marveled at how close to the truth they actually were, at least in the beginning.

  I shuffled the papers back into the proper stacks and then back into the folder. A knock at the door startled me. I held the folder close to my chest.

  “Dr. Danvers, would you like to walk over to the auditorium and get a sound check before everyone piles in? You know it’s going to be a mad house later.”

  “Hey Rick, yeah. I think that would be a good idea. Let me put this stuff away.”

  Rick watched as I lovingly carried the folder back to the cabinet and carefully placed it back in its protective drawer. I clicked the lock back in and dropped the keys back in my pocket. He smiled, one of the few people who had any inkling just how much of my life had become consumed with this project. He began as a graduate student intern and had become a fine scientist in his own right.

  “Dr. Danvers, today is one for the history books. I can feel it.”

  “That’s what scares me, Rick.”

  III

  The auditorium was dark and cool. Rick ran his hands along the wall until he found the switch. I shielded my eyes against the pain of my pupils constricting. The room would be buzzing with activity in just a few hours and, for a moment, I just wanted to enjoy the peace. Rick was buzzing with anticipation, though. And rightfully so. He had been here with me through this whole process.

  He was with me when I lost my initial funding because the foundation didn’t want to be associated with this sort of paranormal nonsense. He was with me while I floundered in front of benefactors and philanthropists until I finally found someone willing to take the chance. Rick had paid his dues working in the trenches, sometimes literally, next to me. He’d turned down a prestigious fellowship at Harvard, and traded his future reputation for a career of ridicule. I smiled at my intern, who had become a valued colleague, and was thankful for him. He would make this easier.

  “Dr. Danvers, let’s get this microphone on you and see how it sounds.”

  “Will you call me Lexi, please? I think we’ve been through enough together that we can dispense with formalities.”

  “I could never do that, Dr. Danvers,” he said through a sheepish smile. I nodded my assent.

  He clipped the small black mic to my lapel and handed me the transmitter pack. I held it in my left hand and walked around the room spouting nonsense while Rick fiddled with the knobs on the sound equipment. It squawked and squealed until he found the sweet spot.

  “Would you like to go through the power point to get a feel for it in the room?”

  “I think that’s a great idea.”

  He left the sound booth and held his hand out to me. I reached in the pocket of my skirt and pulled out the thumb drive. I turned it over in my hand before handing it to him.

  “Careful with that.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He took the drive and cradled it in his hand like it was a fragile baby bird. />
  “Okay, not that careful. I do have backups, you know.”

  “I know, it just feels like this is momentous.”

  “Oh, it is.”

  ~*~

  We went through the slides, one by one. I gave Rick a private screening of the information that he had seen a hundred times before. He took notes as always and, at the end, he lobbed questions to me. We had been through this routine more times than I could count, and, to his credit, he always came up with new ways of trying to challenge me to think on my feet.

  I had tried to anticipate all of the questions—direct and rhetorical—and attempted to have simple and concise answers. Rick did a masterful job and we both felt good about how things would go.

  Rick scratched his chin. “I can’t think of anything else that we haven’t gone over already.”

  “Well, I guess we’re as prepared as we’ll ever be.” I smiled back at him.

  “I’ll go retrieve the thumb drive and we can get out of here before the press starts filing in.”

  His nervous anticipation had not waned during our rehearsal, if anything he seemed to be bursting at the seams with excitement. I stood at the podium imagining what the room would look like later that day and, more importantly, what the people in attendance would be feeling. I’m not sure you can be truly ready for something like that.

  Rick entered the audio booth and bent down to retrieve my secure drive. A side door opened and spilled light in. Nervously, I looked toward the open door, but it was just a security guard. They were everywhere. I nodded to him and he nodded back. He walked into the room and looked around. His hand rested on a billy club hanging from the left side of his belt.

  Rick stood up from his bent over position in the sound booth, his upper half appearing above the low walls.