The Upgrade from Old to New

by William Quincy Belle

Part 1 appears in this issue.

conclusion

The first tube was empty. The second had a lump of what resembled a putty-like material, suspended in a bubbling liquid. In the upper left-hand corner of the monitor, he saw a name and an I.D. number.

Teddy regarded the third tube and jerked in surprise at the sight of an adult human, suspended in liquid, with the occasional bubble floating to the surface. Stepping around the tube, he peered through the glass case, examining the body from different angles. It appeared fully formed.

Comparing the lump of material and the body, he pursed his lips as he tried to comprehend what was going on. Was this possible? That seemed like a foolish question as he was here, standing in front of it and able to see it with his own two eyes. Yes, this was possible.

Teddy looked up at the monitor but had to move closer to read the small print. Name: Robert Morley.

Teddy gasped, and his mouth hung open. He glanced at the body, then stared again at the name. His mind raced to understand all that he had seen.

Voices sounded in the hall.

Startled, Teddy stumbled over a stool on wheels as he raced to the far end of the laboratory and stood in an alcove with a counter and sink.

He heard the door open, followed by two voices and squeaking wheels. With his heart pounding, he put his head to the edge of the alcove and peeked out to see the two orderlies with a gurney. They stopped at the tube with the body and fiddled with the equipment.

“Let’s drain it.”

“Right.”

“If we can get this done in the next two hours, the morning shift can take over and get this guy ready for post-op. I do not want to put in any overtime. I already spend too much time in this place and need all the R&R I can get.”

“All work and no play. Is that it?”

They swung open the top of the tube.

“Get the gurney lined up.”

Each of them grabbed something out of sight.

“Ready? One, two, three!”

They lifted the dripping body out of the tube and laid it out on the gurney. Various wires attached to skin sensors arched back to the tube.

“Charge the paddles.”

One of them took hold of two devices, paddles, and held them over the chest.

“Ready?”

“Charge!”

The orderly pressed the paddles on the chest, and Teddy heard a thump. The body jerked.

“Anything?”

The other orderly leaned toward a monitor. “All good. Heartbeat, respiratory functions. We’re ready.”

They detached all the sensors, hanging the wires on clips on the side of the tube. They patted down the body with towels, then they spread out a sheet over the body and brought it up under the chin.

“Stage two, here we come!”

The two orderlies wheeled out the gurney. The door clicked shut, and a calm returned to the room.

Teddy let out a long exhale and felt the tension ease out of his body. That was a close call. But he still didn’t know what was going on. He was both fearful of what he might discover and curious to find out the explanation of his predicament.

He stood in the alcove for a moment, contemplating his next move. What was post-op? The nurses had come from an upper floor.

He left the laboratory and retraced his steps. At the elevator, he consulted a listing showing post-op on level four. He pressed the up button and waited, feeling restless. A clock over the check-in area showed 5:30 a.m. How much time did he have until morning staff showed up? He couldn’t wander around like this forever.

Teddy rode to the fourth floor and stepped out into subdued lighting. It was nighttime, and people were sleeping. That seemed logical.

On the opposite side of a small area in front of the elevator were twin doors marked Ward A. Teddy passed the card in front of the scanner and opened the door, took a step inside, then held the door to let it slip back into place.

He crept down the hall, vigilant for staff. Each door was closed with a name plate and a wall mount holding a clipboard.

The first door showed Janice Roberto. He glanced at the clipboard, then picked it up and stood under the beam of a nightlight. Janice. 64 years old. Stage 3, Recreation 30.

Teddy stared at the number thirty. What did that mean? Thirty years old?

He put the clipboard back and continued down the hall, looking at each door.

In the center, he found a nurse’s station. A figure sat, leaning over a desk with her head down on her folded arms. Teddy stared at her, wondering if he could chance it. Could he tiptoe well enough?

Taking soft, measured steps, he walked to the station. The person didn’t move. He glanced at a huge monitor fixed on the wall at the back of the station. It listed names, room numbers, and readouts for heartbeat, respiration, and other things he didn’t understand. On line five, he saw Edward Bachmier, room 13.

He looked at the juncture of the hallways and saw arrows marked with room numbers. He glanced again at the sleeping figure, then continued straight ahead.

At room thirteen, he saw his name on the nameplate. He pulled out the clipboard and read it over. His name, his address and contact information, other medical details he didn’t recognize. Recreation 30.

Teddy pursed his lips. Thirty years old?

He swiped his card, then pushed open the door to find the room almost dark. A soft nightlight illuminated the space well enough to navigate. He tiptoed to the bed and stared at the sleeping figure, but couldn’t quite make out the features. He weighed the options. A digital clock on a side table showed 5:45 a.m.

After a moment’s hesitation, he strode two paces back to the door and flicked on a wall switch. An overhead fixture lit up the room.

Teddy stared at the sleeping man. He resembled him. A younger him?

The man’s eyelashes fluttered. He took a deep breath, shifted in bed, and opened his eyes, blinking. “Oh, hello, doctor.”

“Good morning. Sorry to disturb.”

“No problem.”

“Would you mind telling me your name?” Teddy had an inquisitive expression.

“Edward Bachmier.”

“Where do you live?”

“Ten Oakburn Crescent.” Edward looked confused. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, just standard procedure.”

“You wake people up in the middle of the night to ask questions?”

Teddy half-smiled. “This is of personal interest to me.”

Edward stared at him and yawned. “Do I know you?”

“Yes and no.”

“I’m not sure I’m awake enough for riddles.”

“My name is Edward Bachmier,” Teddy said.

“That’s quite a coincidence.” Edward scrunched up his face.

“It’s more than a coincidence. I believe I am you. Or rather, you are me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do, either. But I believe you are my clone.”

“I beg your pardon,” Edward said.

“Clone. Copy. Reproduction.”

“I know what a clone is.”

There was a click, and the door opened. The two of them turned to find a distinguished gentleman, followed by two unfamiliar orderlies.

“Good morning, Edward and Edward,” the man said.

There was a moment of silence as everyone sized everyone up.

“I’m guessing,” Teddy said, “you are Dr. Wilmut.”

“Yes, I am. And I hear you’ve been quite busy, Mr. Bachmier.”

“Oh?”

“The I.D. card leaves a record of the doors you’ve opened, and security informed me of your movements. My mistake for leaving it behind.”

Teddy shrugged.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Wilmut said.

“I assume the orderlies are to make sure I follow orders.”

“I need to be sure.”

Teddy pulled out his tag. “I’m also guessing I’m here because stage three has not been done.”

Wilmut made an offhanded shrug.

“I trust it’s painless, unlike stage one,” Teddy said.

Wilmut sighed. “That is unfortunate. But we warn our patients, so they know what they’re getting into.”

Edward propped himself up in bed. “I’m not sure I know what’s going on.”

“Your memories will solidify over the coming week. The memories are there, but it takes time for the conscious mind to retrieve them. All of this will become clear in the coming days.”

“Why can’t I remember?” Teddy asked.

“The stage one memory mapping causes short-term memory loss, possibly because of the pain. You learned of our services only in the past week. The initial consultation, the signing of our contract, and the start of treatment happened only in the past few days. Those memories are lost.”

“Forever?”

“We’re not sure,” Wilmut said, “but it doesn’t matter with stage three.”

“Termination.”

“That’s right. Although, that word doesn’t make it sound good.”

“What if I change my mind?”

Wilmut pursed his lips. “I don’t think you want to do that, Mr. Bachmier.”

“And why not?”

“The people who come to us have exhausted all other avenues of medical science. They are desperate. You have an inoperable cancer and one or two months to live. You came to us hoping to prolong your life, even double it.”

Teddy gestured toward Edward. “So, ‘recreation thirty’ means thirty years old.”

“That’s right. Thirty is the standard age. Some choose older or younger, but the vast majority agree thirty is the optimal age.”

“Thirty?” Edward appeared perplexed. “I’m seventy-two.”

Wilmut pointed to Teddy. “He’s seventy-two. You’re thirty.” He went to a nightstand, pulled a hand mirror out of a drawer, and handed it to Edward.

“But what if I change my mind?” Teddy asked.

“Why would you want to do that? Do you want to face a painful death? We are offering you a way out, a second chance.”

“Second chance?” Teddy tilted his head at Edward. “He gets to live. I get to die.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Have you done this?” Teddy said in an agitated tone.

“I’m sorry?”

“Have you gone through this procedure? Have you been cloned?”

“Well, no.”

“How can you say you know what it’s like? It’s not like my mind has been transferred into a new body. You’ve cloned me; you’ve copied me. Buy a new car; get rid of the old one.”

“True. But an old car can become defective; you must replace it. The concept of a car continues even though the underlying nuts and bolts change. You are defective, Mr. Bachmier. You have cancer and will die. But now, the concept of Edward Bachmier will continue even though the underlying nuts and bolts will change.”

“Sounds good,” Teddy said, “in theory.”

“We could debate the philosophical implications of this all day, Mr. Bachmier, but you signed the paperwork. We have a contract. You agreed we do not leave two of you existing at the same time. Besides, it’s the law. The Cloning Provision Act forbids the existence of two identical people at the same time. The very fact you are standing here right now violates that law, and I could get into a lot of trouble.”

“Who am I looking at?” Edward held the mirror at different angles. “I guess that could be me at a younger age.”

“It is you at a younger age,” Wilmut said. “You’re a clone, a replica of yourself, but at a different age. The same genetic material, the same memories, heck, the same fingerprints. We have the legal paperwork to prove you are, in fact, Edward Bachmier.”

“Then what am I?” Teddy asked.

“A mistake, an unfortunate mistake.”

“You say I’m thirty,” Edward said, “but I remember my seventy-first birthday.”

“As a clone,” Wilmut explained with a patient tone, “you retain all the memories of your previous life. You have the unique opportunity of reliving your life from thirty years of age onward.”

“Why doesn’t everybody do this?” Teddy asked.

“It’s an expensive process, and most people can’t afford it. So, this is something offered only to those with deep pockets. When you think about it, you are actually getting two lives out of one.”

“This sounds incredible if not crazy.”

“Your wife didn’t think so,” Wilmut said, smiling.

“What about Dorothy?” Teddy and Edward spoke at the same moment, then stared at one another, startled.

“She was delighted to discover our services. The two of you had several meetings together to discuss the process, and she decided to undergo the procedure herself.”

“She did?” Teddy and Edward spoke in tandem.

“You’ve forgotten,” Wilmut said, “and you’ve not yet remembered. While Mrs. Bachmier is in excellent health and could live for another twenty years, she thought it best the two of you be on an equal footing. She didn’t think she could keep up with a husband forty years younger than she, and she didn’t feel it fair if you had a partner forty years older than you. Normally, cloning is for those facing grave circumstances, such as a fatal illness or a debilitating condition but, sometimes, one decides there are other pertinent reasons to justify such a course of action. Your wife is booked for next week.”

There was a prolonged silence in the room.

“We certainly had a good time together in our thirties,” Teddy said.

“You have a unique opportunity,” Wilmut said, nodding affirmatively.

He looked at Edward. “Your wife is coming in this morning at 10 a.m. to check up on you.”

“Can I see her?” Teddy asked.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re not supposed to be here, and I’m sure your wife would be quite shocked to see you.” He gestured to the door. “Shall we go?”

Teddy clenched his teeth, his gaze darting around the room, while his mind whirled in a fit of desperation.

“Don’t, Mr. Bachmier,” Wilmut said in a stern voice.

The two orderlies took a step toward Teddy.

He held up a hand. “Okay, okay! I don’t want to make any trouble.”

He paused, then walked toward the door. Wilmut and the orderlies stepped back to let him pass.

“I hope I remember all this.” Edward still held the mirror, staring at himself. “This is quite incredible.”

Distracted, Wilmut and the orderlies turned back to look at the Edward in bed.

Teddy yanked open the door and darted into the hall, slamming the door behind him. He took off in a half-jog down the hall toward the nursing station. At the juncture, he scanned the signage and turned left, puffing at the exertion, as he rushed down the length of the corridor toward a door marked Exit. Fight or flight. An uncontrollable fear had taken over him, and he wanted to escape at all costs. Voices yelled behind him.

He slammed into the crash bar and burst onto the balcony overlooking the atrium. He bowled headlong into two nurses enjoying the view, twisted to get out of the way and lost his balance, his forward motion tipping him over the railing.

For one brief moment, Teddy was surprised, unable to comprehend his predicament.

* * *

“Goddammit!” Wilmut stood at the railing, looking down at the body sprawled out on the floor of the atrium. He then glared at the two orderlies, livid with anger. “Don’t just stand there! Get that body back to the morgue before somebody sees it!”

They stumbled against each other before hurrying off in a panic.

“You’re Dr. Wilmut?” Veronica asked.

Marjorie and Veronica stood to the left, looking over the edge.

“We saw him earlier but thought nothing of it,” Veronica said.

Wilmut rubbed his temple. “God, what a mess. Stage three is supposed to be humane and dignified.”

After a moment, he stepped to the door and scowled. “This is a world-class institution delivering top-notch, professional service. Let’s see if we can get through the rest of the day without any more screw-ups!”