Clone, p.18
Clone, page 18
As the others approached, this hemisphere expanded outwards and upwards until it was occupying an area roughly ten yards in diameter. Overcome by curiosity Cheryl stepped forward and stretched out her hand. ‘Hey!’ she exclaimed. ’This thing’s real! SolidI’
As she was speaking the dome edged outwards another couple of feet and she found herself being pushed gently but firmly backwards. She felt extremely surprised and, truth to tell, a little hurt, for she was not a girl who took kindly to being excluded from anything. She sat down on the sand and braced her back against the dome, only to find herself being quietly bulldozed along on her bottom as the hemisphere drew in yet another breath and puffed itself up some more.
As soon as she had come to rest she burrowed her fingers down into the sand and discovered to her astonishment that the dome continued underground. She pressed her nose up against the transparent surface and peered in like a child squinting through a sweetshop window. ‘Hi, there!’ she called. ‘You inside! What’s going on?’
If the clones heard her they certainly gave no sign. In fact, as far as she could judge, they hadn’t moved an inch. Furthermore they didn’t even appear to be breathing!
Cheryl gave a disgusted snort, climbed up off her knees and slapped the sand from the seat of her tunic. ’That’s gratitude for you,’ she grumbled. ‘Risk your neck flying them out into the middle of nowhere and what thanks do you get? What are we supposed to do? Freeze quietly to death? Besides, I’m starving.’
’There are some emergency rations in the helicopter, Miss,’ observed Norbert,
Cheryl brightened immediately. ‘Why didn’t you say so before?’ she cried. ‘Come on, chimp!’
The three of them turned their backs on the mysterious, glimmering dome and set off towards the helicopter. By so doing they effectively deprived themselves of a unique opportunity to witness the transcendental advent of a teleported clone. He arrived, complete with white burnous, some ten seconds after they had left the scene. His point of materialization was both the precise epicentre of the transparent sphere and the exact locus of the equilateral triangle.
THIRTY-FOUR
At 18.30 hours the ten European Chiefs of State were once again summarily convened and informed, first by their President and then by General Pretzel the Head of EUROSEC, of what had taken place at Umm el Raha. Naturally none of them believed it. They were then shown Sergeant Schulze’s filmed record of Desmond’s execution, together with a commentary supplied by Colonel Potzdammer, and ten fertile seeds of doubt were planted.
‘Colonel Potzdammer is absolutely trustworthy, gentlemen,’ said General Pretzel. ’That is why he was selected for this particular mission. He has tendered me his resignation, which, naturally, I have refused to accept.’
The Council of Ten nodded collectively to signify their approval.
‘An’ what do we do now?’ enquired the amiable Mr. O’Duffy. ’Exorcise de spot?’
‘“Exercise le sport”?’ queried the French Premier elevating the famous Traubert eyebrows. ‘Quoi? Explique moi.’
’Exorcise,’ repeated Mr. O’Duffy. ‘Sprinkle around de holy water an’ what not.’
‘Ah, exorciser! Je comprends. C’est une plainstanterie irlan-daise. Ho ho!’
‘If you’ve got a better suggestion me boyo, let’s be afther havin’ it.’
Herr Buber decided to intervene. ‘Since receiving Colonel
Potzdammer’s report we have succeeded in locating the stolen helicopter. If you please, General,’
A map of North Africa appeared on the ministerial So-Vi screens of Dublin, London, Berlin, etc. General Pretzel tapped it with his swagger stick. ‘Here, gentlemen,’ he said, ’is Umm el Raha, and here’—moving the point some two hundred scale miles westward—’is the helicopter. It has come down in the middle of the desert, having, presumably, run out of fuel before it could reach its destination.’
‘Smart work, General,’ said Sir Peter Whiplash. ‘Congratulations.’
General Pretzel touched his moustache with the tip of his cane in discreet acknowledgement of the compliment. ’As far as we can tell,’ he said, ’the occupants are still in the immediate vicinity.’
‘Alors? Qu’est-ce que nous attendons?’
‘Might we remind Monsieur Traubert that the language of this assembly is officially English?’ said Sir Peter.
‘Pardon!’ M. Traubert writhed his lips in a bitter smile. ‘I ask vot are ve vating for? You understand, Sir Peter?’
’Oh, rather!’ said Sir Peter genially. ‘Just protocol, you understand. Nothing personal. Myself I’m happy to parlay fronsay any time.’
Herr Buber coughed. ’There would appear to be two answers to Monsieur Traubert’s question. The first is that Libya happens to be situated in North Africa and not in Europe. The second is that OMEGA has advised proceeding with extreme caution.’
‘Still, that didn’t stop Potzdammer having a go, did it?’
‘No, Sir Peter. But there we were taking a calculated risk on both counts. The Libyan attach^ was informed the moment we learned that Colonel Potzdammer’s mission had failed.’
’Oh, yes?’ said Sir Peter. ‘How did he take it?’
‘Diplomatically.’
‘An’ how about de other fella?’ enquired the Irish Premier. ‘You are referring to OMEGA, Mr. O’Duffy?’
’That’s right.’
’The computer’s reaction is less easy to summarize. In the circumstances. I thought it advisable to arrange for you all to put your questions to it directly. Do I have your permission?’ Nobody objected and the closed circuit was accordingly let out a further notch to include the pride and joy of European Security. ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ it said. ‘Can I assist you?’ ‘You’ve heard what happened at Umm el Raha, I suppose?’ said Sir Peter.
The computer remained silent.
‘Well, have you or haven’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said OMEGA. ’Of course I have.’
‘Well, what do you make of it?’
‘You wish for an explanation of the phenomenon of teleportation?’
’Tel e-what?’
’Teleportation. Derived from the Greek tele—“far off” or “distant”—and the Latin portare—“to carry”. Hence “carry far off”. Teleport.’
‘Well, I’m damned,’ said Sir Peter. ‘You mean it actually happens?’
‘So it would appear,’ said the computer.
‘Well, what do we do about it?’
‘You wish to experience the phenomenon for yourself?’
‘Good Lord, no! I mean what do we do? How do we cope with these—what-d’you-call-its?—clones? Dammit, they might pop up anywhere!’
‘I am inclined to believe that it is now too late to do anything about it. The events at Umm el Raha have merely confirmed my earlier analysis. Extrapolation suggests that further moves of a similar nature may well provoke unforseeable consequences.’
‘Are you trying to tell us that these chaps really are dangerous?’
‘Insofar as all superior life forms present a threat to all inferior life forms, that is certainly true.’
‘But vat could zey do?’ asked M. Traubert. ‘Kill us?’ ’Undoubtedly.’
’Then why didn’t they kill Potzdammer?’ demanded Sir Peter. ‘Presumably because they chose not to. As a demonstration of their power, what they achieved was equally effective.’
Signor Umberto now spoke for the first time. ‘You say the other three are at present in the desert?’
‘I have been given this information,’ said OMEGA. ‘I have not cross-checked it.’
‘It’s true all right,’ said General Pretzel. ‘Sky Bird picked them up and we’ve identified the aircraft.’
‘Bene,’ said Signor Umberto. ’They are now in the desert. By now, I assume, we have their precise coordinates. We also have Vulture intercontinental thermonuclear missiles in Malta and Cyprus. Do I make myself clear, gentlemen?’
‘Ah sure now,’ said Mr. O’Duffy, ’isn’t that goin’ from one extreme to th’other? These fellas haven’t hurt anyone. All they’ve done is hijack a helicopter. Sure you can’t atomize them just fer that.’
‘And what do you suggest, Mr. O’Duffy?’
‘Well, let’s at least talk to them or somethin’. Ask ’em t’give ’emselves up. Thass only fair. Besides I don’t suppose the Libyans would take so kindly to us poopin’ off our Vultures into their desert wi’out so much as a by-your-leave.’
‘You have heard OMEGA’s assessment of their potential, Mr. O’Duffy,’ said Herr Buber. ’The threat they pose is in every sense a real one.’
‘So he says,’ said Mr. O’Duffy. ‘Sure he’s just a bunch o’ wires.’ ’Ovonics,’ corrected OMEGA primly.
‘Well, I still don’t see what we stand to lose by fist talkin’ to them,’ protested O’Duffy.
‘You lose the element of surprise,’ said the computer.
‘Ah, why don’t you go an’ fuse yeself,’ muttered the Prime Minister of God’s Own Country.
The discussion continued for a further forty minutes and then Signor Umberto’s proposal was put to the vote. Five supported the motion and five opposed it. Whereupon Herr Buber communed with his conscience and decided, with some misgiving, that, in the interests of inferior humanity, all that remained of the Ancient Palace of the once Mighty Kings of Zub should forthwith be blasted back into the dust from which it had arisen.
Just as he was about to announce on which side he had cast his vote, there was a sort of gurgling gulp from the computer and there, blinking out from ten Prime Ministerial stereo-So-Vi screens in ten different European capitals, were those amiable booby features which Nature in her inscrutable wisdom had selected for the next great leap forward of the human species. Was the face Alvin’s or Colin’s or Bruce’s or Desmond’s? The question was no longer meaningful. It was simply the face of tlie clone.
‘Gentlemen,’ it said, and each Head of State heard himself being addressed in his own mother tongue, ‘I must ask you to forgive this intrusion which, I assure you, I had hoped would prove unnecessary. I am here only to prevent you from committing a grave error of judgement. Your computer has pronounced me to be a threat to humanity—a verdict which, within its own terms of reference, is certainly justifiable. But what it has understandably overlooked is that, in my own case, its terms of reference can no longer be held to apply. The ant cannot pass meaningful judgement upon the eagle for they belong to different species. The wisdom of the one is not the wisdom of the other.
‘Nevertheless, from one point of view, your computer’s assessment has undeniable substance. I do indeed constitute a threat to you, but this threat comes not from me, but from yourselves. You cannot destroy me, but in attempting to do so you will assuredly destroy humanity’. Since I have no wish to annihilate either you personally or the society which you represent, I will explain briefly what steps I intend to take in the event of your proceeding with your present plan. When I have concluded I will ask you to put the question once more to your computer. My hope is that though you may not believe me, you will be prepared to accept the advice of an impartial, logical intelligence whose reasoning processes are modelled upon your own.’ The clone paused and seemed to gaze directly into their uneasy hearts. ‘You intend to launch a Vulture missile strike against me from Malta and Cyprus. The instant the rockets leave their launching pads I shall screen them from all external interference and redirect them. One will explode over Moscow, one over Pekin, and one over New York. The inevitable retaliatory strike will incinerate four fifths of the population of Europe and trigger off an immediate escalation which, by midnight tonight, will have effectively destroyed all the existing major world powers and most of the minor ones. But it will not have destroyed me. That is all I have to say, gentlemen. Will you now be so good as to check what I have said with your computer? I shall return in five minutes.’
The clone had barely faded from their screens before OMEGA spoke. ‘Basing my calculations upon such evidence as I have so far been able to correlate, I am convinced that he is perfectly capable of doing exactly what he says he can. Furthermore I estimate that, if he chose, he could at this moment detonate every single nuclear warhead in the world’s armouries.’ There was a moment of appalled silence, broken abruptly by an explosive guffaw from Mr. O’Duffy. ‘Well if dat don’t beat everythin’! So he was de one wid de eliment o’ surprise, heh? An” which way was you thinkin’ o’ castin’ yer vote, Mr. Chairman?’
Herr Buber was no moral weakling but on this occasion he chose to ignore the Irish Premier’s question. ‘In the circumstances, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I think we might well be advised to put Signor Umberto’s proposal to the vote once more.’
‘I wish to withdraw my proposal,’ said the ashen-faced Italian Premier.
‘In that case,’ said Herr Buber, ‘the discussion is once more open.’
‘I propose,’ said Mr. O’Duffy, ‘that we just sit on our tails and hold our tongues for three minutes, until we hear what dat young fella wants t’ tell us.’
‘Hear, hear!’ murmured a number of voices.
Herr Buber nodded gratefully. ‘The Council will recess until 19.20 hours.’
Precisely to the second the clone reappeared. He did not wait to be told what they had decided. ‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I was sure that once you had had an opportunity to reflect on the matter you would appreciate the cogency of my case. All that remains for me now is to wish you a very good evening and to apologize for having taken up so much of your valuable time. Once more, then goodnight, gentle—’
‘Hey!’ called Mr. O’Duffy as the clone’s face was beginning to dissolve from his screen. ‘Hey, just a moment, mister! Come back, please!’
The clone solidified once more. ‘Yes?’ he enquired politely. ‘Mr. Seamus O’Duffy, isn’t it?’
‘Aye, it is,’ said Mr. O’Duffy. ‘And who might you be, sir?’
The clone blinked. ‘Well, do you know,’ he said, ‘I’ve never really thought about it.’ Then his brow cleared. He smiled. ‘My name could well be Adam,’ he said. ‘Adam Clone.’
‘I’m very pleased t’ make yer acquaintance, Mr. Adam. An’ I’m sure that goes for the lot of us.’
Thank you,’ said the clone. ‘You are extremely civil, Mr. O’Duffy.’
Mr. O’Duffy grinned. ‘Ah well,’ he said, ‘I know what it’s like bein’ a small fish in a big pond. Ye have t’ stick up fer yer-self—have faith in yerself.’
‘Indeed yes,’ said the clone thoughtfully. ‘That is very true,’
‘An’ what’re ye plannin’ t’do now, Mr. Adam? If ye don’t mind me askin’.’
‘Not at all,’ said the clone. ‘We intend to devote ourself to the delights of kyef.’
‘Kyef?’
‘It is a word which, I regret, does hot translate satisfactorily into English. The best equivalent I could offer might lie somewhere between “repose”, “contemplation” and “indolence”/
‘Ah, that’s a great ambition for a man,’ sighed Mr. O’Duffy reverently. ‘An’ whereabouts, if I may ask, will this be takin’ place?’
‘In the analogous continuum at Zub, Mr. O’Duffy,’
‘Did ye say “Zub”?’
The clone nodded. ‘It is the site of the original Garden of Eden.’
‘Is that so? Sure an’ I never heard tell of it before. But there I’m a terribly ignorant man.’
‘You do yourself a grave injustice, Mr. O’Duffy. I know that you are very far from ignorant.’
‘Well, I can tell milk from porter,’ said Mr. O’Duffy, ‘an’ that’s a fact.’ He raised his index finger, laid it alongside his nose, and lowered one eyelid. ‘An’ can we take it that you’ll be droppin’ in now an’ again t’ pay a visit, Mr. Adam?’
‘I should have said that was unlikely, Mr. O’Duffy. But it is not entirely out of the question. Shall we say—it all depends?’
‘Sure an’ I take yer meanin’, Mr. Adam. An’ you take it from me, that goes fer the lot of us. May I say that it’s been a very great pleasure t’ me personally, meetin’ you like this? An’ on behalf of us all may I be after wishin’ you long life an’ much happiness?’
Thank you very much indeed,’ said the clone. ‘Believe me, I shall look back on our conversation with great pleasure. And now, for the last time, gentlemen, I must beg to take my leave,’
The screens dimmed and then brightened again. The clone was gone.
‘Now that’s what I call a truly remarkable young man,’ sighed Mr. O’Duffy.
‘D’accord,’ said Monsieur Traubert.
THIRTY-FIVE
‘Where on Earth?’ exclaimed Cheryl
‘Well more or less’ said Adam
‘But te helicopter? It’s gone’
‘Only relatively speaking’ said Adam
‘Where is the place?’
‘Zub’ replied the clone.
THIRTY-SIX
Across a sky as blue as a baby’s eyes, cloudlets like plump silvery cherubs popped and spluttered and pursued one another endlessly.
A perfect rainbow rose like a leaping dolphin and looped the heavens.
A breeze ran its fingers through a grove of slender birches.
Snow white doves cooed moistly.
Norbert stood upon a little grassy knoll and scratched his thinning hair with a right hand which for thirty-two years had been a left hand but was so no longer. ‘And there were the four rivers,’ he said. ‘I can’t remember their names but I know there were four of them. I suppose you could move the lake over a bit and take one off from each side.’
’That’s a bit too mathematical for my taste,’ said Adam. ‘How about taking one out of this end of the lake, flowing it up the back of the hill and then down over the top? That way we could have a waterfall too. I’ll show you.’
