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One last check in the mirror unit. Perfect skin, bright blue eyes, streaming golden hair, wide smile. I'm looking good. Wait to hear my cue on the communicator; then enter joyfully.
"And now, Mr. and Mrs. Brady, a chance to meet your unborn daughter."
Door opens. Nicely high-tech professional office. Smoothly morphing baby pictures on the video catalog. Dr. Klendenning, gray-haired and distinguished, as if he just slithered out of a Novabirth TV commercial, and the Bradys, smiling nervously, both a bit too well-fed, and overdressed in the latest Neo-seventies costume - incredible that leisure suits have been revived after their fifty-year hibernation.
"Hello there. I'm Ramona. I'm what your daughter will be when she's nineteen . . . twenty years from now."
They seem pleased with me. Of course, they'd better be elated if we want them to pay a million for one fertilized egg. And we do want them to. Little Ramona can use her one-sixth share. Make that one-third - never forget the share I inherit from dear Mom and Dad, may they rot in Hell. They've been dead three years now - how delightful, since according to them, I was the one who should have died.
Let it be! I need to smile . . . be the perfect daughter.
"Let me tell you a little about myself - and how Novabirth can guarantee the child you want. When I was conceived in the year 2010, my fertilized egg - from birth parents of superior stock - was genetically engineered to remove any possible defects. It was then split repeatedly, producing a cohort of sixteen identical, readily implantable embryos. For future customer protection, my particular embryo was implanted in a surrogate mother, while the others were carefully stored. By allowing this test batch to be born and to mature, Novabirth could evaluate the quality of the genetic material."
Your turn, Doc. Let's hear the sales pitch.
"Novabirth's quality assurance program has revolutionized childbirth. Our procedure is costly, but it protects you from any possibility of unfortunate mutation. A new way of procreation began with the new millennium. As you can see, this batch was a success: attractive, intelligent, athletic, and charming. Ramona is the earliest born of an extremely popular model."
Very nice, Doc, right on cue. I'm a top-of-the-line item.
"But what happens after birth? Were the parents that raised you really an ordinary couple like us?"
You aren't ordinary, my dear Mrs. Brady. You have a million you're willing to spend on a perfect child like little old me. So here come my compliments for you.
"Actually, Mrs. Brady, with you as mother, your Novabirth child would have a far better result. Government regulations require that the test embryo not be placed in a superior environment. To avoid distorting the results, my chosen parents were neither rich nor especially intelligent. They saw me as an investment, since test parents earn a 1/6 commission on future embryo sales. Even in that atmosphere, I prospered. Their IQs and that of their genetic daughter Angel were low normal; mine is 149. They worked at menial jobs; I am a biometric analyst here at Novabirth, the youngest ever certified. Unlike my foster parents, I do not smoke, drink, or use drugs. Other than a broken arm as a child, I have never needed medical attention. I've been fortunate in my heredity - and with the superior environment you could provide, your daughter can do even better."
Your child can do even better, at least if you don't break her arm. It was nothing serious, nothing needing medical attention - what if Novabirth found out? - just a few casual reminders that I should study hard and improve myself, become a superior product. Dear old Mom and Dad deserved their reward.
"Your parents must be very proud of you."
"Thank you, Mr. Brady. I've been fortunate."
A bit of modesty might seem appealing - and diplomatic. Don't let them know I'm an orphan. What if being orphaned were part of the package? Never frighten the clients.
"My husband and I have read your records. You've done so much. You are everything parents could want in a daughter."
Not quite, Mrs. Brady, not quite. There were other things my parents wanted - like my death. Even if it did cost them all that lovely cash. I can remember dear Father snarling, "There isn't enough money to pay us for this. You think you're so much better than us, but what are you? A monster. You know what you should do? Test batch . . . test bitch. . . ." Mother was certain no man would ever want me, and no parent would ever want my clone. I've proven her wrong now . . . how many men? At least I can count the clones. Six sold and nine to go.
"And you hear about such troubles with children. That's why my wife and I decided against more traditional parenting - your guaranteed Novabirths are so much more dependable. But what problems might we expect? What do the other parents say? How have their children developed?"
I want to hear how Klendenning handles this one. He can't very well quote my folks: "The only problem with you is that you were defrosted. It isn't fair. Angel's dead, and a freak like you here to remind us. You're the one who should have drowned. What gives you the right to act the way you do? Do you know what you've done to us?" Or will he talk about the six happy buyers, each with the same model baby. Go ahead, Doc. Tell them. Let's hear about the others.
"We have had absolutely no problems with the genetics, the pregnancies, or the products in this cohort. Remember, Ramona here isn't just similar to the others, she is guaranteed to be identical to them, an identical twin, as it were - though, of course, an older one."
Good job, Doctor. You pulled it off - and without even lying. Well, now my turn at salesmanship.
"By the way, Mr. and Mrs. Brady, if you do choose my model embryo, I will be available for consultation. You can see how I continue to progress. Feel free to contact me any time that you feel my advice might be helpful."
Right. I'm the perfect person to give advice to parents. After all, I remember all that my parents taught me . . . "Why do you act like this? The wrong girl died. But it's you that's wrong. You think you're so perfect, such a superior product, you know what you should do . . . give up . . . kill yourself . . . hide . . . go away . . . die. . . . Someone like you should never have been born - if you can call that being born."
"Ramona, my wife and I would certainly appreciate any advice you could give. We want to have this child the right way, and I'm sure this is it. . . ."
Wifey is nodding her head. I think we have a sale here. . . .
"Let me give you my card, Ramona, if you ever want to reach me. And we will keep in touch."
Nice fellow, unless he's coming on to me - a little surrogate incest, Pops? Well, at least he did simplify things. This time I needn't hack my way into company records. I can keep track of the pregnancy, bring an appropriate gift when the baby arrives, and then complete my task. I am coming, little sister, I am coming.
Carolyn Farkas teaches English at Cecil Community College and occasionally publishes nonfiction. This is her first short story.
Andrea Balinson is an aspiring writer-illustrator of children's picture books who works as an editor in New York. She feeds her animal fixation by volunteering at the Central Park Wildlife Center.
Clonaid - fact can be stranger than fiction.
Cloning: A Special Report - New Scientist gateway to articles covering cloning ethics, biology, and future directions.
Cloning - has extensive links to online resources and articles. Part of the Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America's Genomics site.
Cloned Creations - discusses cloning sites on the Web, from genes to animals. From HMS Beagle.
Techniques for the Inadvertent Mismanipulation of Samples and their Relevance to the Ethics of Human Cloning - a slightly different take on the ethics of human cloning. From HMS Beagle.
