Carlson and Whittiker cautiously opened the lab door. Everything seemed still and silent inside. Carlson stepped into the room, turned to the other: "It looks okay. Come on in."
"Sure it's okay," Whittiker said, his face pale. "Why wouldn't it be? It wasn't any sort of superhuman creature, you know. Anymore than you--or I."
They walked side by side across the lab floor to the door on the far wall.
"I don't understand," Whittiker said. "What went wrong? I thought we had everything down pat. But when he--it woke up. God that wild, frightened, totally enraged look on its face."
Carlson recalled only too well. The clone had leapt up from the table, yanking out the tubes and monitoring wires, and proceeded to trash the lab. They somehow manhandled the creature into the freezer unit and got the door closed and locked. Then they cleaned up the lab as best they could and decided to let the freezer take care of the clone.
That had been five hours ago. They had waited impatiently in the lounge, and now it was time to make sure the creature was no longer alive.
"Let me do it," Carlson said, reaching for the freezer handle.
"No," Whittiker said. "As much as I dislike doing so, it has to be me who takes the first look." The first clone of a human being had been a dismal failure. Whittiker pulled the handle and the door wheezed open, letting out the cold air. He stuck his head in and felt the frigid air freeze his face.
Carlson placed his hand lightly on Whittiker's shoulder. "Is it dead?"
"Yes," Whittiker replied in a tremulous whisper. The clone crouched, frozen solid, on the floor of the freezer, not five feet from Whittiker. He stared for a long moment into his own upturned cloned face, then turned to Carlson.
"Do you think you can manage to handle the cremation alone?"
"Sure it's okay," Whittiker said, his face pale. "Why wouldn't it be? It wasn't any sort of superhuman creature, you know. Anymore than you--or I."
They walked side by side across the lab floor to the door on the far wall.
"I don't understand," Whittiker said. "What went wrong? I thought we had everything down pat. But when he--it woke up. God that wild, frightened, totally enraged look on its face."
Carlson recalled only too well. The clone had leapt up from the table, yanking out the tubes and monitoring wires, and proceeded to trash the lab. They somehow manhandled the creature into the freezer unit and got the door closed and locked. Then they cleaned up the lab as best they could and decided to let the freezer take care of the clone.
That had been five hours ago. They had waited impatiently in the lounge, and now it was time to make sure the creature was no longer alive.
"Let me do it," Carlson said, reaching for the freezer handle.
"No," Whittiker said. "As much as I dislike doing so, it has to be me who takes the first look." The first clone of a human being had been a dismal failure. Whittiker pulled the handle and the door wheezed open, letting out the cold air. He stuck his head in and felt the frigid air freeze his face.
Carlson placed his hand lightly on Whittiker's shoulder. "Is it dead?"
"Yes," Whittiker replied in a tremulous whisper. The clone crouched, frozen solid, on the floor of the freezer, not five feet from Whittiker. He stared for a long moment into his own upturned cloned face, then turned to Carlson.
"Do you think you can manage to handle the cremation alone?"
