CHAPTER 13

Your former boss Fred Straker must have been really upset, I observed one day when Julius D. Nibble suddenly appeared at the barn door as I was splitting fire wood... timing his visits, I thought, when he knew I'd be working, for he seemed to enjoy nothing more than baiting me about the fact that because I was a human I had to work... whereas he as a dog led a life of leisure! After a long discussion about the pros and cons of being a dog or a man, however, he finally decided to continue his story.

"Yes, Straker was really mad at the loss of my research papers... just imagine the gloom at Combinant Technologies Inc's headquarters when Rostov, McKantor and Straker gathered to watch Gloria's show."

'That old bitch is going to ruin us,' Straker squirmed uncomfortably in a suit he'd grown too fat for.

' I told you she was at the bottom of Irving's defection,' McKantor spluttered, his face a mask of anxiety.

'You mean you were at the bottom,' Straker glared, 'you were the one who mentioned Irving to her.'

'That's easy for you to say, it was the Greenfield Foundation who was funding his work...'

"Straker sucked on this cigar and grunted as the three conspirators watched a replay of the Gloria van Dam show in silence. When it was over, McKantor observed nervously that it was quite a performance, trick dogs and all."

'Didn't cut a thing... Goddamn!' Straker yelling, perspiring with rage. 'We have to sue them... she's got those papers, don't kid yourselves that she hasn't. We have to get them.'

'Wonder where she keeps 'em?' McKantor mused.

'We have to have them...break into her house if necessary.' Straker shouted.

'You think she's stupid enough to hide them in her house?' Rostov said.

'Cranks usually hide things under their mattresses, don't they?' replied McKantor shrewdly.

'Dimitri,' Straker said, "I'm going to put you in charge of this operation.'

'Really, you know, I don't think I'd be very good at burglary.'

'Well, you'd better learn fast,' Straker grumbled, 'too dangerous for outsiders to be involved, besides they wouldn't know what to look for...no, you're going to have to get those papers yourself, Dimitri, and we're going to demand equal time on television to denounce this woman... matter of national importance... National Security... You'll have all the money you need but you must succeed.'

'But...' interjected Dimitri.

'No buts,' Straker yelling again...'You keep telling me you can't remember anything even though you were right there all the time with Irving. You've been saying repeatedly we have to have his research notes. If you want to finish Irving's work and get the credit you'll have to get off your ass and do something.' Straker struggled out of his suit jacket. Large blotches of perspiration dampened the underarms of an expensive shirt.

'Is it really true the Russians are working along these lines?' McKantor mixing drinks at the office bar.

Dimitri chuckled. 'In a way I guess... there's strong evidence they've successfully cloned about ten thousand copies of a six foot three Cossack, particularly sadistic chap... very low IQ. These clones should be about eight years old now. Its been rumored they've also cloned a number of copies of Lenin and Stalin from DNA samples.'

'Is it possible?' Larsen McKantor whistling through his teeth, 'could Abraham Lincoln be cloned from his remains?'

'Possible,' Dimitri shrugged. 'Of course, the field's wide open now...anything is possible.'

' Could our slaves compete with their clones?' McKantor asked.

'Clones are subject to human weaknesses like desire and greed. They might revolt. Our slaves will not...all we would have to do is make them bigger.'

'Stop calling them slaves,' Straker hissed, 'it confuses people...from now on we must call them Helpers.'

' You're the one who first called them slaves,' Dimitri snapped. "In any case our Helpers are not really human, maybe only twenty percent. There won't be any question of them having their own emotions, or not taking orders and so on...and don't forget, ours live on waste... the Russians will have to feed their Clones.'

'I've heard that the President has now become interested in this whole matter,' McKantor adjusting his tie in a mirror. 'He's supposed to be considering issuing and executive order to force Rae to turn over her papers to the Government."

'That must not happen,' Straker rising to his feet. 'He smells money, lots of it, just wants to get in on the action... I'm sure once we explain things to him the President will be on our side..., after all you can't escape the fact that our Helpers could earn the US billions in the export market. However...If we don't find those fucking papers before he signs that Executive order we'll be in deep shit. Rae will give them to The President and he'll give them to the highest bidder... like IBM or something.'

'Let's assume you're successful in getting them,' McKantor ventured, 'You'll still have to face the objections of your largest stockholder, Miss Greenfield, who is obviously out of control.'

'We still control the majority of Combinant stock.' Straker mumbled, 'The Greenfield Foundation has the largest minority position.'

'Not for long I fear.' McKantor objected

'You mean a take over?' Straker raising his voice, 'Don't tell me the Greenfield Foundation is...'

' Not the Foundation, I wouldn't let that happen. No, It's Miss Greenfield herself.'

'Enough,' Straker yelled. 'Dimitri, your work is cut-out for you, Get those papers...no holes barred. We have to work as a team and she has to be publicly discredited.'

'Well she's very rich...whether she likes it or not,' McKantor observed, 'and people hate old misers.'

'Good angle,' Straker sneered, 'From now on I'll use that line, yes, miserly old crank not worth listening too.'

Rostov smirked, 'Unfortunately, she doesn't come across that way on the tube... in case you haven't noticed She comes across as hilariously funny... quoted and discussed everywhere...even these Black and Tan Hounds are becoming popular.'

'Perhaps she could have had an accident,'Straker suggested.

'That would be nice,' Dimitri replied, 'It would solve everything.'

Larsen McKantor's face paled

'Well, she's almost sixty, isn't she?' Straker ignited a fresh cigar... "heart attacks, strokes, they aren't that unusual, or automobile accidents for that matter.'

Interrupting his reconstruction of these events, Nibble scratched vigorously at one ear until at last a large black ant fell out. "Big ears, big problems," he observed.

You were saying Miss Greenfield got the President to go out with her and visit your old Lab in Connecticut, or what remained of it. Did you go along?

"But naturally and Crystal and Hopkins too. Rae never went anywhere without us."

That must have been a weird experience for you.

"Weird?" Julius D. Nibble yawned "... yes, like returning to the scene of a crime you mean...yes, it was. We drove out in Rae's Silver Streak. The President was arriving from Hartford where he'd been speaking at a prayer breakfast of insurance executives. As we arrived at the lab's above-ground reception center, we could hear his helicopter circling and stood with Rae outside the car waiting for the President and his wife to disembark. As soon as the President reached the turf he came over to Rae and shook hands."

'Fine looking pair of coon hounds, Ma'am,' he said in a voice imitating that of the actor Ronald Reagan, 'glad you brought 'em along... Caught your TV show - couldn't take my eyes off those dogs,' he patted me vigorously.

'Why thank you, Mr. President,' Rae smiled benignly . 'May I present Julius D. Nibble and his fiancée, Moon 'n Dew.?'

"We cocked our heads at the President and stared cross eyed at him. He cocked his head and stared back at us cross eyed. I could see the President didn't miss a trick."

'I just love hounds,' the First Lady cooed. 'Look at those long silky ears, those long eyelashes... aren't they cute, big but cute?' And chucked us under our chins.

'Joleene comes from hunt country,' the President drawled.

"I gazed at the President... a handsome young hulk if ever there was one... certainly this was not the President I remembered. I nuzzled Crystal. 'Has there been an election recently, I whispered?"

'Of course, silly. Don't you remember June telling us all about it?'

"Is he Latino? His skin is so dark and look at all that wavy black hair."

'Irish, black Irish they call them, black hair and blue eyes...and tan from all the vacations he takes...good looking man.'

"Very."

'And isn't Joleene beautiful?'

"Ravishing."

Crystal sniffed. 'I overheard Gloria van Dam talking about her with Rae, said Joleen's left ear is reconstructed.'

"I peered cautiously at the First Lady's ear. Reconstructed? You'd never know it."

'Totally plastic. She was kidnapped by a gang of terrorists. Held for ransom, which her father refused to pay even though he was a billionaire...after the terrorists sent him her ear, he changed his mind and paid up.'

"Interesting. She looks like she might have had a bit of work done elsewhere, too, look at the size of those breasts."

'You should see him in a bathing suit,' exclaimed Crystal. 'Really built, constantly photographed on his surf board."

"Just then, Straker, McKantor and Rostov materialized from the above ground facility. Fred's odor preceded him and I struggled to remain cool.

'Good morning, Mr. President, Straker said jovially, pumping the President's hand as he presented McKantor and Rostov. And good morning, Miss Greenfield,' he added, glancing warily in my direction. Rae nodded."

'If you'll just leave those dogs in your car,' Straker said,' we can proceed to the lab,'

'Oh , we can't leave them behind,' the First Lady smiled. '... just can't take my eyes off them... they're so comical looking... Please, I just love hounds.'

"Straker rolled his eyes in my direction. I knew he was afraid to turn his back on me so I stared at him, wagged my tail, curled my upper lip so he could see my teeth and strained on my leash."

"Conducting us to a second elevator we descended into a glass cube in the center of the large subterranean reception room. After a moment, during which we were fumigated, glass panels sunk into the floor and as we strolled out into the thickly carpeted lobby, spacey music waffled through the humidity-controlled air. The walls were hung with American masterpieces from the Greenfield Foundation...yet another underground I thought to myself, remembering Ts'u Tsi' and Hitler."

'Very impressive,' declared the President, nodding at Rae.

'Hmmm, yes,' Rae replied, looking around. "I'm seeing it for the first time myself - quite amazing.'

'You've never been here before?' asked the First Lady ingenuously. 'I'd think you'd want these beautiful paintings in your home, Miss Greenfield, and those sculptures too. Ken honey, just look at that Greek athlete - why he's world famous!'

Rae stared coldly at Larsen McKantor. 'No one ever informed me this place existed. Guess I've been traveling in the wrong circles.'

'Why, Rae, looks to me like you're in pretty good shape,' exclaimed the President. 'I admire that... you must exercise a lot.'

'I do.'

'Into surfing myself,' grinned the President '... nothing like it... a little tough on my boys here though...' he gestured at his Secret Service men. 'But they're learning.'

'Whoever planned this was a freak,' Crystal grokked me.

"I have to take the blame for that, I grokked back. It's meant to awe the visitor into submission... and a very safe place to store those priceless works of art as well. Then I thought of Ts'u Hsi's underground chambers, again shivered and began to see Straker, Rostov and their associates as Calicoes and Persians."

"We were entering a long hall which descended in a ramp toward the heart of the complex. On one side, the laboratory which I'd destroyed lay in shambles behind triple glass walls. Further on in other cubicles, researchers were busy working. Straker led the way, conducting us to my old office which had been turned into a briefing room. The walls were now covered with framed photographs of the slave project, accompanied by marketing and feasibility charts."

'Mr. President,' Straker began, drawing the attention of the young Commander-in-Chief. 'On this wall is the history of our project from its modest beginnings in Dr. Allen's farmhouse laboratory to the birth of the first Helpers. Here are photos of the genes taken from various animals and humans which were recombined. And over here are the first two creatures... Adam and Eve you might say and then the next generation, and so on... a typically American success story.'

"The President grinned at the photos."

'These charts speak for themselves,' Straker continued. 'As you know, just as we were about to go into full production, the project was sabotaged by its author.'

'Heard something about that, guess that was his Lab we passed.' Rae observed.

'That's correct ma'am, and it's going to cost a fortune to put it together again.'

'What's involved in getting this project off the ground?' the President asked... 'or maybe I should say 'above ground?'

'Unless Dr. Allen's papers are returned to us,' Straker replied and stared meaningfully at Rae, 'it will mean several years delay. Dr. Rostov here was Dr. Allen's assistant but he was never let in on the final crucial steps.'

'So?'

'So, no matter how much money we raise we must first get back our papers.'

The President turned to Rae. 'I'm a great fan of Gloria van Dam and always catch her show. I've been watching you... you're great. You could run for public office.'

'I'd run all right', Rae smiled, 'the other way!'

The President guffawed, 'you're a natural, Rae... natural performer.'

'Then you agree with me?'

'Not exactly,' he replied. 'We could wind up banning these slaves ... sorry, helpers...'

'Atrocities,' Rae declared.

'...whatever. We could ban them here in this country and still export them... we do that already with a lot of chemicals... the rest of the world has fewer scruples about the use of these toxins. But we could certainly use them in outer space. Wouldn't that satisfy everyone?'

Rae stared blankly at the President.

'Enough of photos and charts,' announced Straker. 'I have a surprise.'

"The President looked at him as though he might be going to pull a rabbit out of the First Lady's hair."

'Follow me, please,' Straker requested.

'What do you think he's got up his sleeve?" Crystal grokked.

"Dunno, I replied as we walked through the maze of corridors. He's taking us toward my old slave compound."

'Your what?'

"Where I kept the slaves, my creatures. And where I disposed of them."

"Pausing in front of the safety glass partitions that divided the corridor from the compound, Straker raised his arms. 'Now, of course, everyone knows how Irving Allen went crazy and shot all the recombinants he'd created,,, about a hundred and fifty of them.'

"The President and First Lady nodded dutifully."

'But what you don't know,' said Straker dramatically, 'what no one knows... is that two of them survived.'

'Well,' chuckled the President. 'Doesn't that solve your problem - didn't you say that they ... err ... reproduced like rabbits?'

'The problem is that not only are they sterile females, both of them, Mr. President, but as their external bio-cybernetic control system - Artificial Intelligence - was destroyed too, they aren't as sharp as they could be..."

"A gasp, which came out as a sort of groan, issued from somewhere inside me. How could I have overlooked these two?

Straker continued. 'Even though they're both females, had they been fertile we could have implanted cells from one into the eggs of the other but as it stands now, this is impossible we could try cloning them, but they have been recombined and cloned so many times in Dr Allen process... no telling what might happen.'

"The President's optimistic expression faded."

'Would you like to see them?'

'Why sure,' declared the President.

"I growled ominously."

'If you can't control that dog, Mr. Hopkins,' snapped Straker, 'you'll have to take him out of here... he may react negatively.'

"Hopkins shortened his hold on my leash. The First Lady suddenly squealed."

'How adorable, how perfectly adorable!' she squealed with delight.

"Crystal and I pushed forward between the legs of McKantor and Rostov and peered through the glass."

'Do you see what I see?' Crystal grokked.

"I stared in amazement... Bizarre... wouldn't you know he'd dress them up in designer jeans."

'Aren't they just adorable, Ken?' cooed the First Lady. 'Just look at that silky golden brown fur... and that beige skin.'

The President winced. 'Somehow I thought they'd be a lot smaller. Are you sure they wouldn't become .... err.... unmanageable?'

'Our experiments over five years, Mr. President, have shown them to be extremely submissive,' replied Straker. 'You might even say masochistic. The secret of how this was achieved is in the papers that Miss Greenfield possesses.'

'Very interesting,' the President said thoughtfully.

'They're also weak emotionally, have a very low pain threshold and easily programmed,' remarked Rostov.

"Kocker ashter manish futt... or something like that, commanded Straker and on the other side of the glass the two creatures looked at each other nervously, twittered and, with a worried glance at Straker, knelt down and groveled."

'What was that?' whimpered Crystal. 'Irving, what on earth did he say to them?'

"I explained that we had developed a special control language for the creatures which one of our computers had thought up."

'But what did he say to them just now.'

"Something like kneel down or I'll club you."

"Crystal almost bit me. 'How could you?' She yelped... 'I mean it's disgusting, perfectly disgusting!'

"I hung my head, remembering my indignation at Hitler and the Cat scientists. Guess I really screwed up, didn't I? But you have to remember that exposure to computers often induces powerful delusions in the brains of those who use them... I was a victim."

'Some excuse,' Crystal growled.

'Come,' said Straker, 'we'll go in now.' The glass door slid aside and we crowded into the room.

'Why... they have no odor at all,' the First Lady said, sniffing the air. 'You know how most animals can have strong scents.'

'They're very clean,' Rostov responded. 'Toilet trained too.'

The First Lady beamed. 'I think they'd make lovely pets.'

'That's the idea... a pet who'll do your work... who knows, they might even replace dogs.' Straker glared at us.

'Very interesting,' said the President. 'Maybe if you called them pets, people wouldn't object... Slaves, well let's face it... has a lot of nasty associations, doesn't it, and Helpers is too weak."

'They're so sweet,' purred the First Lady. 'Just look at the expression in her eyes. Can I pet her?"

'Better not,' Straker warned.

'Strange combination of features,' the President clearing his throat, 'I mean those human bodies, those scales, the combination of skin and fur and those big round pink eyes, you really like 'em, Joleene?'

'I think they're precious, just precious,' the First Lady replied. 'the combination of skin and scales is real trendy."

' We will be able to change their look to suit the customers, a limitless selection of models' Dimitri said, 'That was Dr. Allen's plan.'

'Well. Gentlemen, I can tell you this, if Joleene here likes 'em, you can bet there'll be millions of gals out there who'll feel the same way,' he turned to Straker, 'What'll they cost, Fred... I mean if you can get back into production and all that what would they retail for?'

'Well, until we absorb the cost of starting up again, the price would be high, Mister President, Within a few years, however, they could be turned out for the cost of your average 19" TV set.'

' How long do they - ah mean what is their life span supposed to be,' the First Lady inquired.

'Ten to fifteen years possibly less, Madam,' Rostov replied. 'They mature rapidly, have about a decade of intense physical capability and then die. You might say that they work themselves to death.'

'Sounds like a good investment,' The President reacted cheerfully, 'That is if people would really buy 'em.'

'Oh they'll buy 'em all right,' exclaimed The First Lady, 'Cute things like that...what do you think Miss Greenfield?'

"Rae's facial muscles tightened as she slowly surveyed the room."

'I think they're disgusting, perfectly disgusting. The whole project is Sorcery, 21st century sorcery, that's what... and I'm going to commit all the resources at my command to stopping this project before it ever starts up again. I must say I'm sorry Dr. Allen didn't finish these two off as well.'

"I nuzzled Rae. The First Lady smiled patronizingly."

'Well I know the average American housewife, Rae, and these creatures are just different enough to catch on.'

'Imagine the new markets, the service industries these pets will create, Mr President,' Straker exclaimed.

'I can see that,' The President agreed

'Yes, our streets, our parks, the countryside, all our public places crawling with them,' Rae muttered.

'How would you keep people from breeding them on their own?' The President inquired.

'They're sterile, can't reproduce.' Dimitri smiling.

'What did you say they ate?'

'Waste, organic and inorganic... plastic... toxic spills and radioactive waste, they eat it and neutralize the radiation.'

'Yes,' Rae replied, '... so if there's some kind of nuclear disaster, they'll be the only ones left.'

'I believe rats and cockroaches might also survive,' Dimitri smiling.

" My blood ran cold thinking of the rats in Tz'u Tsi's dungeons."

'Have you approached any of the industries which might benefit from these creatures for further funding?' The President ignoring Rae's views.

'No sir.' Straker replied. 'We're just getting into that.'

'Which is why this project must be quashed right now before it proliferates, Mister President,' declared Rae. 'I don't believe for one moment these mutants wouldn't eat anything they could get their hands on, including us. After all, everything in the world is food for something else, it's the law of nature. These men have used The Greenfield Foundation as a smoke screen for their nefarious activities. I appeal to you to stop them. They were given money to study the extension of human life, clone vegetables, investigate cancer cures, not this. Dr. Allen had made great strides in those areas...'

'If we gave out Dr Allen's life extension serum to everyone,' Straker objected crossly, 'all our social institutions would collapse... think of people on Social Security for hundreds of years. It's feasible but we have to have these slaves first, sorry, helpers, pets, whatever you want to call 'em... once we have them we can afford the luxury of extending human lives as long as we want.'

'You think life with them running around all over the place would be worth extending?' Rae murmured incredulously.

'People get used to anything.... adapt,' Straker growled.

'I don't know, Rae,' The President now seriously pontificating, 'these are hard times... I have to consider anything that will turn a profit. With these 'helpers' America could become prosperous again. Think how much energy they'd save. Fred, how much would you say it would cost to get you back into production?'

'To go into full production, Mr President, at least sixty billion. We'd have to buy out certain interests like Miss Greenfield's Foundation...'

'You mean my Grandfather's...' Rae corrected him.

'Not an unreasonable amount,' The President amiably overruled her.

'I'll see what I can do...meanwhile Miss Greenfield...I'm going to suggest that you hand the papers over to the Supreme Court...let them decide just whose property they are...I'd prefer you do that on your own, but if I have to I'll issue an Executive order to that effect... The President then flashed his famous toothy grin. 'No hard feelings, Miss Greenfield, but there's a question of National Security involved here too... we have information the Russians are...'

Rae interrupted him. 'Them again, why is it always the Russians, why do British and American politicians always drag the Russians out of the closet whenever they want to scare people into giving them money? '

'What was that again?' The President snapped, unused to being talked too in such a tone

'I said them again, the Russians. Why must they always be made the excuse for doing all these ghastly things, when in fact the real reason is Money Making, isn't it?'

'Brave woman,' Crystal whimpering, touching noses with me.

'Miss Greenfield, your very own Grandfather did terrible things too... polluted whole regions... a strong economy has always been America's first line of Defense.'

'Mr President, we his heirs are only too aware of what he did... my Grandfather, that's why the Greenfield Foundation was created to make up for what he did... I only hope you realize how important your decision in this matter will be... how far reaching. You could be remembered as the President who unleashed a new threat to mankind or who stopped it."

'At least I'd be remembered, wouldn't I?' The President grinned.

"Everyone laughed as we retraced our steps through the Lab to the reception hall. I was in a rage I could hardly control... My sacrifice... What I'd gone through to put an end to this project and now for nothing. How could I have forgotten to destroy these two? Why hadn't I destroyed my research papers Why did I send them off to Miss Greenfield? A spasm of guilt overwhelmed me, my tail went between my legs and my ears drooped. I could see the handwriting on the wall... yes,The president would subpoena the papers and see that they went to the highest bidder probably the Saudis or the Chinese. Neither Straker nor Rostov would ever see a dime for their efforts. I longed to sink my sharp hounds teeth into Fred Straker's big butt... Dimitri I would only cripple for life."

"As the President and the First Lady were bidding Rae farewell, I managed to fix Straker with a withering stare. He glared at Hopkins and moved quickly to the President's side.

'Well...certainly has been an interesting morning,' The President observed and hugged Joleene as they mugged before the cameras.

'We were hoping you'd stay for lunch, Mr President.' Straker smiled unctuously.

'That's sure nice of you, Fred, but we're due down in Westchester for a game of golf and some Jet Skiing You'll be hearing from us soon though and Rae... keep up those TV appearances. You're doing great...I'm jealous...you could have your own show soon.'

" As The Commander-in-Chief's helicopter lifted off, without waiting to talk with anyone, Rae hurried us to her car and we sped off. On the way home Crystal and I decided we would start guarding Rae in shifts full-time as the President's sly behavior had placed her in great danger and it was certain that Straker and Rostov would now try to get my papers away from her before the President issued his order... and might even try to kill her.

© Elwyn Chamberlain 2009