The Cloned Identity (12 page)

“Is that the probe?” I asked.

“Yes, that's it, Roger. Now can you hold Jack's head again, just as before?”

I pulled the hair out of the way, and clamped the head as tightly as I could. The Professor dipped the probe in a jar of colourless liquid. I watched as he bent over Jack, the light fixed to his forehead highlighting the area of the incision. When I saw he was just about to push the probe in, I looked away. My fingers trembled, and I felt the cold sweat in my armpits.

“Won't he feel any pain?” I asked.

“No, not at all. The brain is completely insensitive to pain. In fact, in the past I've put the probe into a chimp's brain when he has been awake.”

“Really?” I said.

“Right, it's in place now, so try and keep his head as still as possible.”

I looked down. All that was visible was a small black box with the wire coming out. The Professor pulled a chair over and started to tap away at the keyboard. He then sat back and put his hands behind his head.

“The program is running all right. It will take about ten minutes.”

“What does the program actually do?” I asked.

“Well, it establishes Jack's brain pattern. I need to know the pattern before I can put any data in. During the time I was working with chimps I realised that something was blocking what I was trying to put in. I found in the end that the brain was running a sort of defensive shield, blocking any data entering other than what came through the normal channels. Anyway, I found the source of the blockage and discovered a way to get round it. In fact, I can now add my own shield to prevent anyone else adding data. I don't know if the human brain has a similar defensive shield, but Jack's brain pattern should tell me if there is likely to be a problem downloading.”

The Professor turned back to his computer and started tapping the keys again. My hands were getting tired. I relaxed my grip, one hand at a time and flexed my fingers. I looked down at Jack. I could see from his chest moving that he was still breathing. What would I do if he stopped – certainly not mouth-to-mouth.

My thoughts were interrupted: “That's finished now,” said the Professor as he pushed the trolley away and stood up.

He leant over Jack and slowly pulled the probe out. I watched fascinated. I expected a jet of brain matter to spurt out of the hole – but there was nothing. The Professor carefully cleaned the probe in the clear liquid and replaced the cover before putting the probe back in its box. He then picked up something I couldn't see with a pair of tweezers and leant over Jack again.

“There! What do you think?”

I leant down and looked.

“Bloody marvellous!” I said, looking at him with a smile on my face. “As you said, it looks just like a spot. Can I let go now?”

“Yes,” the Professor replied.

I gently turned the head upright, and with a sigh stood back.

“What now?” I asked.

“We just wait until he starts to wake up; then we can put him back in his own room.”

I walked over to where the Professor was tapping away at the keyboard.

“I'll be glad when this antiquated thing has been replaced,” he mumbled.

I stood and watched for a few minutes. I was starting to feel like a spare part. I scratched behind my ear, just to check there were no spots. Something was bugging me. I looked over at Jack. I walked over and looked down at him. He was still breathing. I leant over and looked closely at his face.

“You know, Professor, I noticed when I was holding his head that, although he has a mop of hair on his head and he doesn't shave, there's no stubble.” I gently ran my fingers over his chin as I spoke.

I looked over to the Professor and realised I had been talking to myself; he was totally absorbed in what he was doing. I looked down at the rest of Jack's body, noticing the gentle rhythm of his chest as it rose and fell. I thought for a moment, then I carefully pulled up the baggy multicoloured jumper, undid the buttons on the check shirt and pulled it open. I stared for a moment, then I turned to the Professor.

“You'd better come and see this.”

Something in the tone of my voice stopped him working and he looked up at me. He got up and came over and looked down at Jack.

“Good God!” he exclaimed. “How on earth? It's a woman!”

“Yes, you are right there,” I said as I looked yet again at the pair of lovely firm round breasts as they rose and fell.

A feeling of guilt suddenly flooded over me and I leant down and did the shirt up and pulled the jumper down. I expected Jack to suddenly wake up and scream rape. We both backed away to the other side of the room.

“What should we do now?” I whispered.

We both stood staring over at the figure lying on the couch.

He at last broke the silence: “Nothing.”

I looked at him enquiringly.

“Nothing?” I repeated.

“Yes,” he said. “We just carry on. It doesn't matter, male or female. In some ways it couldn't be better.”

“How do you make that out?” I asked.

“Well, all the data I have is more suitable for a man, but that's no problem. Roger, we wanted an opposite, but it never occurred to me to have the opposite sex. Just think: a women who thinks and behaves like a man! It's an exciting challenge. Just think: we could take data from Jack's brain and give it to a man.”

I could see from the sparkle in the Professor's eyes that it would be a waste of time my arguing. Mind you, what would I argue about? As the Professor said, what difference did it make? I sat on the table and watched Jack, while the Professor messed about with his computer.

Fifteen minutes went by and I noticed Jack was beginning to stir. I called the Professor and we walked him (or should I say ‘her'?) back to the kitchen and sat her down. I stood by her side, supporting her, while the Professor put the kettle on. She finally opened her eyes and the Professor started talking to me just as he had been when we first took her out. She looked around, a little puzzled.

“Another cup of tea, Jack?” the Professor said, putting the mug down in front of her.

She lifted her hand up to her head. “I feel a bit dizzy,” she said.

“Probably all that food,” I joked. “Tell you what: drink your tea and I will take you out for a walk. Perhaps you've been stuck indoors too long.”

That seemed to perk her up a bit. I looked at the Professor, who gave a little nod of approval.

The tea finished, I took her out into the grounds. She took a few deep breaths.

“Feeling better now?” I asked.

She nodded.

“I can tell you don't like being cooped up, but, don't worry – it's not for long, then you can be on your way.”

We walked along in silence.

I suddenly thought, ‘What happens when the Professor has finished? What will happen to her then? I hadn't given that a thought before. I made a mental note to ask him.

“Jack, have you ever been married?” I asked.

“No – got no time for that sort of thing,” she replied. “Of course, some of the people on the road do get married sometimes, and I've watched them posh dos they have in churches – good pickings they are.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you hang about at the back of the church hall and there's always tons of food being chucked out.”

“Yes, I suppose there is. Tell me, Jack: do you ever think about settling down? I mean, one day you will be too old to wander about. What will you do then?”

She didn't answer.

I thought to myself, ‘I wonder where tramps go when they are too old.'

We made our way back inside the building. My stomach was informing me that we had missed lunch, so I was pleased that in our absence the Professor had made some sandwiches. We all sat round the table like a little family. The Professor gave Jack a special mug and we soon had her tucked up in bed.

We went back into the lab. The Professor said that, if he worked all evening, he should have the data ready in the morning.

“Tell me,” I said: “what sort of things are you going to input?” I don't know why, but it seemed important for me to know.

“Well, Roger, I've given that a lot of thought while you were out walking. I think, apart from making her more intelligent and improving her general knowledge, I want to try to change her values. Basically, I'm going to try to make her the direct opposite of what she is now.”

“But, Professor, won't she notice such radical change?”

“No, I don't think so. My expectation is that everything will seem normal and natural to her.”

“Another thing, Professor: when your new data contradicts existing data, which will be the data she acts on? I mean, you as good as said that's what could have happened with Susan.”

“Yes, I agree, but with Susan we only took data out. In Jack's case, I intend not only to erase existing data and add new data, but I shall give the brain information to substantiate the new data.”

“OK, Professor, you say you will erase the existing data, but what about the basic data – you know, the data that tells the brain to move a leg or arm, go to the loo – that sort of thing? How can you be sure you won't erase that as well?”

“A good point, Roger. There is a small chance of losing data of that kind, but I am confident that the brain will quickly relearn those things if it needs to.”

We talked on for a while, and I realised I was starting to get silly, trying to catch the Professor out. I couldn't think why I was behaving like that, so I made an excuse and left for home.

The next morning was a repeat of the previous morning. Jack was drugged and we connected her up, and downloaded, as the Professor called it. I watched with apprehension as I held her head. I could swear her head was swelling up as the data was transferred.

‘My God,' I thought, ‘what if her brain explodes!'

I realised I had not checked that the Professor had got Jack to sign disclaimers. It seemed like a lifetime before the Professor was satisfied and began the disconnecting procedure. I heaved a sigh of relief as I let go of her head. Now we would have to wait. I saw the Professor preparing a syringe.

“What's that?” I asked.

“I want her to stay under for a while – keep her relaxed so that her brain can devote all its time to absorbing and sorting the new data.”

The Professor produced a stretcher and we took Jack back to her room and put her to bed.

“How long will she be out?” I asked.

“Some hours yet. Could you make us some lunch? I want to do some more work,” said the Professor.

I was grateful to have something to do. While I was preparing the lunch I kept popping in to see how Jack was. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, showing no signs of the turmoil which might have been raging in her head.

The Professor and I ate our lunch in silence. Perhaps he was more worried than he showed.

After lunch he went back to his work. I found a paperback and went and sat in Jack's room.

It was about four in the afternoon when she started to stir. I wasn't sure whether to go and fetch the Professor, or stay. I thought she might fall out of bed or something, so I decided to stay. I watched as she moved in the bed. What if she woke up mad, and started leaping round the room, screaming? The memory of when I was a green young copper trying to deal with a man having an epileptic fit, and the mess I made of that, suddenly entered my mind. Perhaps I should have had a tranquilliser gun. Jack's movements were becoming more and more frequent.

Suddenly she sat up, rubbing her eyes. She spotted me.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“We were worried about you, so I was just making sure you were all right. How are you feeling?”

She stuck her tongue out. “Yuck! My mouth feels drier than a duck in an oven.”

“Would you like a cup of tea?” I asked.

“God, yes,” she replied.

“I'll go and make you one in the kitchen. Come along when you are ready.”

I left the room and paused in the corridor to take a deep breath. Well, she looked all right.

I had just put the kettle on when the Professor came in.

“Oh, I thought Jack was up – the bleeper.” He tapped his pocket.

“Oh,” I said. “No, that was me.”

The bleeper only worked when someone left the room, so he didn't know I had gone in there.

“I've been sitting with her, but now she has woken up. I am making her a cuppa. She will be along soon.”

“How did she seem?” the Professor asked.

“Well, OK. That is as far as I could tell, but she was still in bed when I left her, so…” I shrugged my shoulders.

The Professor said he would come back when he heard the bleeper again as he was just in the middle of something tricky.

I had made the tea and poured it out, but there was still no sign of Jack. I was getting a bit worried and was out in the corridor on my way back to her room when she appeared.

“I was just coming to tell you your tea was ready.”

We went back to the kitchen together.

I pointed to her mug. “I haven't put any sugar in,” I said.

She sat down, then the Professor came in.

“Are you all right, Jack?” he asked.

“Yes, fine. Well, I feel a bit woozy. I've probably being inside too much.”

The Professor and I drank our tea and watched Jack's every move, but she seemed the same to me. Perhaps the transfer had gone wrong or something.

Jack finished her tea and got up and put the empty cup in the sink and said, “I think I will have a bath; I feel a bit grubby.”

“OK, see you later for tea,” I said.

We stood in silence until we heard her door close; then the Professor turned to me, eyes sparkling.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked.

“It hasn't worked,” I said. “She is still the same.”

“What about wanting a bath?” the Professor asked.