Clone, page 8
Alvin scratched his ear and frowned. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted.
‘But you must know something!’
Well, only what I told you.’
‘But how did you come to be mixed up in it? You’re not a recalcitrant, are you?’
Alvin didn’t know whether he was or not, so he compromised by describing as much as he could remember of what had happened from the moment Norbert and he had left Aldbury.
Cheryl listened attentively. When he had finished she said: ’Then why did you tell me you were staying in Bristol Street?’
Alvin looked down at his boots and felt his ears turning a hot, bright pink. ‘I just didn’t want to lose you,’ he mumbled.
She remembered something else. ‘And you said you’d seen me yesterday! That was another lie, wasn’t it?’
’Oh no,’
’ cried Alvin. ‘I did see you! I did! Only it wasn’t like it was when it happened. I thought you must have been someone from Before. But you can’t be, can you?’
Even though Cheryl had no idea what he was talking about, the sheer intensity of his denial made a tiny shiver run all the way up and down her backbone.
The clone looked wonderingly into her face and then slowly raised his eyes until he appeared to be contemplating a point somewhere in the air above her left shoulder. ‘You were sort of bending over me,’ he murmured. ‘And you were smiling,’
For no reason at all Cheryl shivered again. ‘You really are a nut, Alvin,’ she said.
‘But it will happen!’ he insisted. ‘One day it will,’
’That’ll be the day,’ she grunted. ‘Now hadn’t you better trot along and find out what’s happened to your chimp friend?’ ‘Oh my goodness!’ cried Alvin. ‘He’ll be terribly worried. He’s meant to be looking after me.’
‘You’re sure it isn’t the other way round?’ she observed wryly. ‘He doesn’t seem to be doing much of a job so far.’
‘But that wasn’t his fault,’ said Alvin stoutly. ‘I think he must have been hit on the head or something. He didn’t seem to remember where we were supposed to be going.’
‘Well, why didn’t you remind him then?’
Again Alvin blushed. ‘I don’t know,’ he muttered.
‘Don’t you?’ murmured Cheryl. ‘Really?’
Something most peculiar was happening to Alvin’s knees, causing his legs to behave rather like a pair of warm wax candles. He would in all probability have subsided on to the carpet at her feet had he not been suddenly petrified by an eidetic vision of Doctor Pfizier at his most censorious. ‘Norbert!’ he gulped.
As though lit inwardly by tiny emerald flames, Cheryl’s eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘What about Norbert?’
‘Must go and find him. Must, mustn’t I?’
For a long, long moment she appeared to consider this, then she sighed faintly. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Come on, I’ll take you down. I’ve got to do some shopping anyway.’
She disappeared into the closet to emerge, a moment later, wearing a dark green cape and hood. She looked so utterly delectable that Alvin was temporarily bereft of speech. Before he could recover the use of his tongue she had steered him out of the apartment and slammed the door firmly behind them.
FOURTEEN
Bristol Street was not a modern residential development. It had been built in the early years of the 21st Century at least a decade before the invention of ‘skylighting’ had ushered in the gargantuan ’Tower’ units which now dominated London. Its two hundred modest storeys were a mere four apartments wide and its lateral stability was derived from the intricate system of pedestrian-interlink hollow buttresses which connected it to Mount Street on one side and Alford Street on the other. Cheryl had once compared it to three long thin slices of mouldy bread skewered together by aluminium knitting needles—a simile which, though fanciful, had considerable visual accuracy.
Her own balcony apartment was on the 174th floor and her immediate neighbours were a masseuse, a Dream Palace transvestite, two freelance Authenticity Spectators, and a small time professional gambler. She knew them all, but was on really friendly terms only with Joe and Chrissie the two So-Vi spectators. On several occasions, clutching a forged A.S. union card and tricked out in a blonde wig and dark glasses, she had accompanied them to the London stadiums. There at the bidding- of the Crowd Director she had whirled a rattle and screamed till she was red in the face while the teams of brilliantly-shirted footballers performed their ritual skills in the remote arena far below.
The knowledge that she was breaking the law by impersonating a union member never caused her even a momentary qualm. On the contrary it constituted a major element of her pleasure, for it produced in her the delicious epidermal tingling which she had long ago found she needed almost as much as other less fortunate people needed her deadly toxins. This was the appetite which she had been indulging when she had twitched Alvin from under the nose of Minisoc. One day, no doubt, she would go too far, but until that happened she had every intention of continuing as she had begun, appeasing her hunger for excitement whenever she felt the urge to do so.
The truth of the matter is that Cheryl, like so many millions of others before her, was still trying to discover who she really was. It was not that she had any particular ambition to re-bake the social cake, but she did want to discover the particular slice of it that she was certain was meant for her alone. So she nibbled around wherever the opportunity presented itself and, as a result, her short past was already littered with the crumbs of a surprising variety of experiences, which, had she chosen to talk of them, would certainly have astounded her parents.
At this moment, steering Alvin down the passage towards the elevator rank, she found herself wondering just what it was about him that had so far prevented her from simply shooing him out of her life like any other stray biped. True he was the first of his particular species that she had encountered, but since she had no knowledge of his genetic peculiarities, this could hardly be said to count. Yet undoubtedly there was something there that intrigued her. Even when she wasn’t actually looking at him she couldn’t help being aware of him. He was like some fiddling little task which you go on putting off while, at the back of your mind is the nagging realization that one day it will have to be attended to. Yes, she decided, he was a sort of spiritual loose thread who would be for ever catching on her until finally she would be compelled either to snip him off or darn him in. ‘What’s your other name, Alvin?’ she asked.
‘I haven’t got one,’
‘Why not? I thought only apes had one name,’
Alvin squirmed under her scrutiny. ‘Doctor Pfizier never gave me one,’
‘And who’s Doctor Pfizier?’
‘My godfather.’
’Then who’s your real father?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Alvin. ‘I don’t think Doctor Pfizier is,’ Cheryl eyed him curiously. ‘You mean he adopted you?’
‘I suppose he must have done.’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘Well, you see, I only remember from Aldbury,’ explained Alvin uncomfortably.
Cheryl glanced up at the elevator indicator and saw one of the lights change from 198 to 195. She walked to the appropriate control and pushed the button. ‘No, I don’t see,’ she said.
Alvin’s face went bright pink and he scrubbed his straw-coloured hair furiously. ‘Well, before that—was, well…Before,’ he explained in a throttled sort of voice.
‘Before what?’ persisted Cheryl.
Alvin made a choking noise. ‘Before I was,’ he gulped.
’That’s crazy,’ said Cheryl. ‘You weren’t born there, were you?’
‘No,’ said Alvin.
‘Well then?’
‘Doctor Pfizier said I wouldn’t remember anything from Before,’ said Alvin. ‘He said if I did it would mean there was something wrong with me.’
‘He sounds a pretty sinister sort of creep to me,’ said Cheryl. ‘Come on, here’s ours.’
’Oh no, he’s not,’ protested Alvin, following her into the pressurized elevator capsule. ‘He’s good. Really good.’
‘How do you know he is?’ said Cheryl, sealing the doors and setting the lift plummeting groundwards. ‘He told you so, I suppose?’
‘Yes,’ said Alvin simply. ’Often,’
‘And if I told you I was good, you’d swallow that too, I suppose?’
’Of course you are,’ said Alvin. ‘I know you didn’t mean that about wanting to kill me.’
‘I didn’t, huh?’ nodded Cheryl. ‘No doubt you think Samaritans are paid by the government to go round saving people’s lives.’
Alvin laughed. His laughter had always been one of his most endearing features and Cheryl found it remarkably infectious. ‘You’re out of this world, Alvin!’ she cried. ‘You really are!’
They were still giggling when the elevator began to slow, thrusting them down into the grubby horseshoe shaped foam couch. ‘Hey!’ gasped the clone. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I suppose you’re going to tell me you’ve never been in an expressavator before.’
Alvin shook his head and wondered where his stomach had gone. ‘I haven’t,’ he said. ’They only have ordinary lifts at Aldbury.’
Cheryl stood up, unsealed the doors, then pulled the clone to his feet and led him out of the vestibule into the thronged service area. ’Our flow-way’s been out of action all week,’ she said. ‘It’s always going wrong. But it’s only about five minutes walk from here.’
She guided him down the crowded alleyway to the brightly lit arcade whose shops supplied the everyday needs of the denizens of Bristol Street and they emerged, a few minutes later, in Park Lane. ‘Well, there you are,’ she said. ’That’s the Park straight ahead.’
Alvin looked at her in dismay. ‘Aren’t you coming with me?’
Cheryl eyed him pensively. To snip or not to snip, that was the question. ‘You don’t need my help,’ she said.
‘But what if he’s not there?’
‘Why shouldn’t he be?’
‘Please come, Cheryl.’
She held her mental scissors poised. One swift clip and the job would be done.
‘Please, Cheryl.’
’Oh, all right,* she said grudgingly. ’There’s a gate up there.’
There was no traffic for them to bother about. Apart from government vehicles, all urban transport had long since been either buried underground or trellised high in the air. The ten-lane freeways which had once so nearly strangled the cities to death had vanished along with their infernal freight, their passing lamented only by those statisticians who mourned a magnificent contribution to the monthly mortality figures. Where once pedestrians had gone in fear of their lives there was now little more to be heard than the sound of human and anthropoid voices, punctuated by the brisk cloppity-clop of a Security prancer or the benevolent hiss of A-G jets as some public servant whistled across the City.
Even so there were still many areas of the vast metropolis where the average citizen was careful not to venture after sundown and where the Guards went in twos or threes if they went at all. After dark safety lay with the crowd and the brightly lit precinct. So it was not simply reluctance to involve herself further with Alvin that had caused Cheryl to hesitate, but an instinctive disinclination to attract the attentions of the Night-people.
However, as the officials were obviously still working at the scene of the Protest Massacre, Cheryl reasoned that, with all the activity going on she and Alvin would surely be safe. So keeping a wary eye on the shadows she stepped through the gateway and, grasping the clone firmly by the arm, hurried him over the damp grass towards the Minisoc floodlights.
FIFTEEN
As Alvin and Cheryl re-entered the Park, Norbert and Professor Poynter were just leaving it via an escalator which was bearing them aloft to the Kensington Expressway platforms. By an incredible fluke of which they were both unaware, they had encountered neither ape nor human in their trek from the Serpentine. Had they done so the chances were that their journey would have ended there and then.
Norbert discovered that a train calling at Richmond was expected to depart on the southern circuit within the next quarter of an hour. He turned to Professor Poynter and asked her whether she thought she would be able to manage on her own.
‘You have been most kind,’ she murmured. ‘Most kind.’
‘Not at all, ma’am,’ responded Norbert modestly. ‘Did not the Good Lord say that we must help one another in times of trial and tribulation?’
’Trial and tribulation, yes,’ nodded the Professor. ‘A religious faith must be a great standby at such times,’
’At all times, ma’am. His ministers are everywhere about us. Why, only a matter of minutes before we met, my young companion Alvin was carried up to Heaven by an angel, and I too was privileged to enjoy a somewhat shorter flight.’
Professor Poynter passed her hand across her brow. ’Forgive me,’ she murmured. ‘I thought for one moment that you said “Alvin”.’
‘Indeed, I did, ma’am. And what sweeter, purer lad e’er drew 84 breath? Wherever he may be I shall always think of young Alvin as the flower of Aldbury.’
Professor Poynter’s hands reached out and clutched the ape by the wrist. ‘Did you say “Aldbury”? Aldbury near Aylesbury?’ ‘Why, yes, ma’am. Do you know it?’
‘You come from there?’
‘Indeed I do.’
‘And this lad—Alvin—would he be moon-faced? with prominent ears? and pale blue eyes? and hair like straw?’ .
Norbert smiled delightedly. ‘Why, you have drawn his portrait to the life, ma’am! But how is this possible?’
’Of course/’ cried the Professor. ‘Norbert! How incredibly obtuse of me! Doctor Pfizier said you were bringing him to London! Do you mean to tell me he wasn’t killed? That he’s survived? Oh Norbert! Norbert! Can this be true?’
A tear moistened Norbert’s kindly eye. ‘Ma’am,’ he explained sorrowfully, ‘I fear that my recent unhappy experiences have impaired my memory. I recollect very well that Alvin and I left Aldbury this morning, but the purpose of our journey, alas, escapes me. Shortly before he was translated Heavenwards he informed me that we were here on holiday, and knowing the lad to be incapable of uttering a falsehood I can only conclude that such is indeed the case.’
Professor Poynter was now trembling as violently with excitement as, previously, she had trembled from shock. ’This angel you speak of,’ she said. ‘Can you describe it?’
‘It was a she-angel,’ said Norbert, ‘and surpassingly comely to behold. About five foot four and slender as a peeled willow wand. Her wings might well have resembled those of the lesser hover-fly; I recall that they made a distinct hissing noise. She informed us her name was Cheryl.’
‘Cheryl?’
‘Yes,’ said Norbert. ‘A name almost as beautiful as the fair creature who bore it’
‘Did she have a belt?’
‘A girdle of the purest silver encircled her slender waist—with shoulder straps to match,’
‘But how did she find you?’
’Unworthy though I am she came in answer to my prayers,’ said Norbert simply. ‘Not a sparrow falls but they know about it up there,’
’Then you didn’t—well, phone or anything?’
‘God’s videophone, ma’am,’ replied Norbert gently, ’is the pure and humble heart,’
The faint undertone of reproof in his words warmed Professor Poynter’s numbed soul like a mouthful of Five Star Eroticon. In full view of several hundred shocked or amused travellers she raised the ape’s lined pink hand in both of hers and pressed it to her lips. ’Oh Norbert,’ she murmured brokenly, ‘I believe you are an angel.’
‘Alas, no, ma’am,’ he replied. ‘But it’s good of you to say so,’
‘I do say so,’ affirmed Professor Poynter. ’Oh Norbert, my dear, you have restored my faith in natural goodness. Together we will battle against the forces of evil that are abroad in the land! Together we shall overcome them! Say you are with me, Norbert!’
Always quick to respond to sincerity, Norbert was deeply touched by the appeal. Taking her hands solemnly into his he shook them warmly. ‘I only wish you could have met Alvin, ma’am,’ he sighed. ‘You and he would have got along like a house on fire.’
‘But I have met him!’ she laughed. ‘I’m Professor Poynter! You were bringing him to see me at the M.O.P.’
Norbert blinked. ‘Why, yes’ he murmured slowly. ‘I remember now. The M.O.P…I’ve got all the papers…’. He looked round vaguely for his briefcase then frowned and rubbed his wrinkled forehead. ‘Balls,’ he whispered wonderingly, ‘Balls, balls, we want balls.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Professor Poynter. ‘I didn’t quite…/
‘We were in a march, ma’am,’ said Norbert hesitantly. ‘Alvin and me. We were trying to get to Croydon. And then…and then, the next thing I recall is the lad giving me a drink of water out of a boot and all around us more dead bodies than when Samson fell upon the Philistines.’
Professor Poynter shuddered with sudden violence. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘It is a miracle you both survived.’
‘Did you come to look for us, ma’am?’
She nodded. ‘By sheer chance I happened to see Alvin’s face on the So-Vi screen this evening. I went along to try to find him. The experience proved rather more than I could take. At which point, I’m afraid, my own recollection becomes a little hazy.’ A train slid into the station beside them and its doors purred open. ‘Come along, Norbert, my dear,’ said the Professor. ‘We two have much to learn from one another.’
’Thank you, ma’am,’ said the chimp and stepped beside her into the train.
SIXTEEN
One of the Security Guards caught sight of Alvin and Cheryl approaching and warned them to clear off if they knew what was good for them.
