Your One & Only(12)
“The Inga wanted to give you something human. Fathers are something humans had. I never had one—none of us do. I’ve done the best I could.”
Sam used to read to him, before Inga died. Not from the novels that Jack liked, the ones Sam called human, but from the histories, his physiology books, and the books that had taught him to be a doctor. The clones didn’t get sick, but he’d read to Jack about setting a limb and treating a concussion or infected wound. When they’d all lived in the cottage, Jack remembered Sam sitting in the creased leather chair studying textbooks and psych manuals, discussing with Inga how humans lived their day-to-day lives. Occasionally Sam would see something in the books and then abruptly declare some new activity, like reading aloud together or throwing a ball outside. Jack still remembered Sam dressed in his lab coat and black shoes, chasing after the balls Jack threw.
“It must have been tough, pretending to care for the sake of your experiment.” Jack heard the venom in his own voice. “Acting human, like some kind of animal.”
“I care about you, Jack. More . . . more than I should. It has been difficult. My brothers don’t understand. It’s put distance between us, and you don’t know how hard that’s been.”
“So what now?”
“The Council will meet about what happened. I don’t know what their decision will be for your apprenticeship. Why did you have to bring the guitar, Jack? What were you thinking?”
“You’re not even going to stick up for me, are you? You’ll abandon me like always. Like you did today.”
“I have to do what’s best for Vispera.”
“So go, Sam. Go away and leave me alone.”
“Please, listen—”
Jack didn’t want to be mad anymore. Instead his voice was almost gentle when he said, “You can stop trying to be a father. You’re not very good at it, and I don’t need one anymore.”
Jack thought he saw something in Sam’s eyes, but he turned away too quickly to see what it was. He looked up only when the lab door closed and the sound of the latch, this time unlocked, rang through the room.
Later that night, Jack lay sleepless on his bed in the dark, his eyes sore and his head aching. Light from flickering lanterns outside shone through the tiny window above the bed, mottling the floor of his room. Distant voices floated in with the pattering of rain over the wide jungle trees.
With the Declaration over, the Gen would be holding their monthly Pairing Ceremony now. He could picture the girls in the circle of the Commons, each choosing her partner. In his mind he saw a girl with dark curls walking down the path to the Pairing tents, teasing and playful, hand in hand with a boy who couldn’t possibly grasp how much it meant for her to take him in her arms, their bodies lost in a pile of quilts and tapestries.
Jack curled into himself, burying his head under a pillow in an effort to block out the soft laughter of the strolling couples outside.
Chapter Three
ALTHEA
Althea-310 gazed out the window of Remembrance Hall. She was only a few weeks into her apprenticeship, and she was already forgetting to pay attention to the minutes she was taking of the Council meeting. Remembrance Hall was the oldest building in all three communities. It was the very building where the Original Nine had lived and slept, before there were dorms. Inside the meeting room, mahogany walls framed tall windows that looked out on the Commons. Althea sat at a desk in the corner while the nine members of the Council, one representative for each model, sat at a long table, the gold badge of the Council, embroidered with the words Harmony, Affinity, Kinship, sewn into their clothes.
In contrast to the hushed voices and shuffling papers in the meeting room, the Commons outside was a flurry of activity. The Gen-310s would have their Pairing Ceremony tonight, and all day the four boys and four of the five girls would hardly be able to concentrate on their apprenticeships as they looked forward to the coming celebration. One of the girls always hosted, and this month was the Meis’ turn to sit out the Pairing and instead plan the décor and menu for the evening. They’d already converged to hang lanterns and garlands from the kapok tree in the center of the Commons, and they’d encircled the huge trunk with lighted, colored stones, a new decoration they’d created that Althea knew they were particularly proud of.
Altheas tended to choose Hassans at the Pairing Ceremonies. Since the Gen-310s had turned sixteen and celebrated their first Pairing a year ago, the Altheas had chosen the Hassans half the time. Althea-310 turned her attention back to the meeting, but she studied the Samuel at the conference table while her fingers flew over the letter machine, recording a conversation about the rice mills. Perhaps the Altheas could choose the Samuels tonight. They were pleasant, and more decisive than the Hassans, who tended to be timid.
Althea shook her head. It was impossible. The Kates had already made it known that they were choosing the Samuels, and Althea’s sisters had made a specific decision for this month’s Pairing. The Gen-290 Altheas had had a long discussion with them about how conspicuous it’d become that the Gen-310 Altheas never chose the Carsons at a Pairing.
“I don’t understand why your generation seems to have a problem with the Carsons,” Althea-298 had said. “The rest of the Altheas are fine with them. You’ve hurt their feelings. It’s causing problems.”