Spoiler! :
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I was looking at her. She looked old, older anyway, older than me. I tried to remember the last time I’d seen her. I have a few select memories of her visiting me when I was a child, very young. I have one particularly good memory of her taking me to the park, but that memory, like all of them, are laced with bitterness. I’m not going to forget what I am, not with how I lived.
So here stands this woman, my mother, or as close as I can get to it. She’s squaring off with Dr. Brockman over whether or not I should come with her or not. How old is she now? 30? 35? I’m 15, how old was she when I was first created? I was not born.
I remember her vaguely from my childhood, and the nurses talk about her a lot. She apparently came by a lot when I was a baby, and continued to come by until I was three, when she stopped coming around, and then came back again when I was 7. I remember her being around when I was 7, 8, and on my 9th birthday, then I didn’t see her anymore… no card, no calls, nothing, no one. I was alone again in this place where I was never alone.
I remember my 9th birthday, being taken to the park, being outside, really and truly outside for the first and only time in my life. I was outside of the lab, outside of the facilities, outside of the high walls that surround the only place I’ve ever lived. I remember being happy, and thinking I’d get to go outside more. Even having to return back to this place hadn’t been so bad because I’d had hope… and it was the hope that nearly killed me, because she never came back, not again, not until now.
There she is, standing in jeans in a tee shirt, so underdressed to be in the lab, going toe to toe with Dr. Brockman. It’s amusing watching Dr. Brockman get so bent out of shape. It always is, but I’m not that happy about the circumstances.
“I tell you that you can’t have him! You don’t understand that he’d unstable, all of them are. They are not even citizens. None of the donators have any rights to them!” Dr. Brockman finally starts shouting. Ah there it is: we aren’t people; we weren’t born. You must be born to be a citizen. We were not born.
She doesn’t seem swayed in the least. “I’m not 15 anymore. You can’t sway me with such stupid arguments. You can’t bully me out of what I know is right. You can’t lock me out. Whether you like it or not you will comply. It’s either that or I’ll take this to the courts. You’re confusing citizenship with personhood. My other son was adopted, and is no citizen of this country, but he is just as much person as I am or this boy. They are my children, and I am taking this boy with me. So now you have a choice, you can either turn this boy over to me, or you can face whatever legal recourse follows… of course you’re already on thin ice with your experiments, I doubt any judge will side with you.”
I look at Dr. Brockman, who’s looking at her with tight lipped anger. Any of us would be cowering in fear from this, because it always means something bad, but she’s simply standing there smiling coolly with a look that says ‘hit me, I dare you.’ She doesn’t look like someone who’d lose a fight to lanky Dr. Brockman, not with muscle on her that I can see. Dr. Brockman can see it to, and finally he turns around to me, still tight lipped. “Boy, go get your things!”
I click my heels, salute and leave, very quickly. I don’t like Dr. Brockman, none of us do. He skates the ethics of society by keeping us a secret and telling people that we’re not human, just like his father did before him. I have all the same parts of a human, I am a living thing, but I am defined as an animal, like a lab rat. You are only human if you’re born from a human woman, and I am not born. I was made.
I don’t have much to get, a bag with my school books, throw my extra clothes in a duffle bag and I’m done. I haven’t lived, but I’ve survived. I have no sentimental attachment to anything in this place, none of us do. How could we?
My footsteps echo down the hall as I walk deliberately back to Dr. Brockman’s office, not too fast, not too slow. There’s a heavy silence in the office when I walk in. Dr. Brockman’s glaring at me from his plush seat behind his wide desk. I contemplate sticking my tongue out at him, but the last time I did that I regretted it. I turn my attention back to her and I blink. Exactly how am I supposed to react to this woman? My supposed mother?
She doesn’t let me figure it out. She simply pulls my duffle bag off my shoulder and nods for me follow her. I look back at Dr. Brockman instinctively. He’s seething behind his desk and I smirk; serves him right. I follow the woman out, watching her move. I don’t look anything like her. Her hair is brown, my hair is red. Her eyes are blue, mine are green. Her skin’s more tanned than mine, though somehow I remember it being even more tanned from the sparse memories I have of her from my childhood.
I follow her silently. She says nothing to me. We walk out of the front door. It’s been a while since I’ve last been outside. Dr. Brockman doesn’t like me very much. I’m a trouble maker. I’ve been ‘grounded’ for being a trouble maker.
We keep walking down the path outside toward the gate. I swallow as we approach the gate. Once we walk through the gate I’ll be outside the facility for the second time in my life. Somehow walking through that gate is easier than I thought it would be, just a few steps and I’m on the other side. I look back; the outside of the facility is as sterile as the inside. I look back at the woman in front of me. From here on I’m completely dependent on her, because I don’t know where we’re going.
She leads me down to the parking lot, something I recognize from my lessons, but have never actually seen in person. I can’t help but think how weird I am. I don’t belong to this society. She lets me in to the passenger’s seat of her car. I like her car. It’s old, late 2000s, but the blue is dark, it’s a sports car, and it looks brand new. I like cars, and this one is nice. She dumps my duffle bag in the back seat, and I follow by dumping my book bag back there as well before I get in.
“Buckle up.” She says, refusing to move until I’ve buckled myself in. I feel annoyed; of course I know to buckle myself in. I may not be like her, but I’ve read books, and I’ve seen the studies, and I’ve even seen some movies. Supposedly me and the other kids would know how to survive if any of us were released out into society. I do as she says, and say nothing. She drives out of the parking lot and I get a full view of the world.
It’s one thing to know in your mind that the world is big, and another to see it. The world is big, and I am only just seeing a small part of it. I’ve never felt so small before in my life. I’m not sure how long I have been staring out at the world before I see that the woman has been glancing at me every so often. I want to ignore her. I don’t want to ignore her. Doesn’t matter, she’s started speaking.
“Do you know what’s going on?” She asks me. Her voice can’t possibly be called pleasant. It reminds me of my own, too cold and callous to the world, except there’s no reason for her to speak like this. I hate her question. It’s ridiculously open ended.
“With what?” I wonder when the last time I actually spoke to her was. I want her to wince at how cold I sound, but she doesn’t bat an eyelash.
“Me dragging you out of Brinkley and Co. Labs,” that’s the name of the facility I’ve grown up in. It’s a subsidiary of some big pharmaceutical company. I can only remember the name when I care enough to really try.
“No.” I respond deadpanly.
“Is that what you’d say to the workers at Brinkley?”
“No ma’am,” I correct, feeling sour.
“You don’t have to call me ma’am.” She’s not looking at me again.
“Do you want me to call you mother,” my tone should tell her those no chance in hell.
“Well, that is what I am,” She responds in a tone that tells me that eventually we will have a battle of wills, just not over this. She’s willing to let it go, I’m not.
“No you’re not, you’re one of two donors who chose to give genetic material to create me, you just chose not to be anonymous.” I try to speak as coldly as possible.
“I wouldn’t say Brooklyn was anonymous,” She quips, but she doesn’t sound annoyed… damn.
“Who?”
“Your father, or who you would call your other donor.”
Now that floors me. “You know who the other donor is?” no one knows who the other donor is, not even Dr. Brockman.
“You can say that, seeing as I’m married to him.” Well that’s just all well and dandy isn’t it? sarcasm sarcasm.
“How can you possibly know that?” I sound more amazed than I want, but sometimes the body will just do what it will.
“Brooklyn and I gave our genetics at the same time. Dr. Brockman really wanted both of our genetics,” that bastard knew and never told me! “Besides, you look just like Brooklyn. As you can tell I’m not a beauty, you definitely look like him, same hair, same face, but the personality, that’s more mine than his. You’d be really sweet and a little bit psychotic if you have his personality.”
“I already am I little psychotic,” I shoot back, feeling angry. “Besides, personality is developed by circumstances, not by genetics, elementary psychology.” Counter that, I dare you!
She smiles, I can’t stand her. “That’s not exactly right; it’s a mix of both. Besides, your circumstances and his aren’t thaaaaaaat different. No, you take more after me. If you took after him you’d be all smiles until you got pushed over the edge, and then you snap.” She sighed, and I wonder how many snappings she’s had to deal with.
“I need to know this why?” I finally ask.
She looks over at us as we drive down the highway. I like the highway; it’s continuous, monotonous, and dangerous. I like it. “You’re coming to live with us.”
My mind stumbles over that, and it takes me a minute to pick it back up and dust it off. The interim is silence. She’s humming now, I don’t know what song. “Wait, what?”
“You’re coming to live with us. You’re my son, and you’re going to be living with us. You’re not going back to Brinkley.” She speaks slowly like she knows I’m having a hard time understanding.
It is both what I never wanted, and what I always wanted. Since I gave up on this woman the only time I ever wanted to meet up with her is in a fight. I wanted to hurt her; she’s just a woman, of course I could beat her… of course looking at her I’m not sure how well that plan would work… and what she’s offering, never going back to the facilities, never… I can almost taste the freedom.
I know I can’t hope, but I want to. I am not born. I don’t get citizenship; I am not defined as human, or as a citizen. I can’t be a citizen, ever. How can I have a normal life? How can I have a life at all? It’s got to be better than the facilities, no matter what the facility mangers and Dr. Brockman tell us.
“I never have to go back?” I finally ask. I wish my voice didn’t sound so weak, especially because it makes her smile in a sad and understanding way.
“You sound like Alexei when I first found him.”
Who? “Who?”
“My other son.”
Her other son? “Your other son?”
She’s nodding. “Yeah, Alexei, he’s adopted, about your age too… though I don’t think you’ll get along very well. You might like Satori, that’s my little girl, she’ll be five soon. “
Somehow her words hurt a part of me I didn’t know could be hurt anymore. I won’t get along with him? What, am I not human enough? “Is she adopted too?”
“No, she’s like you, made up of me and my husband.” She said, but I feel like she’s leaving something out.
“What you’re saying is she was born to you.” We’re getting off the highway now, zipping down some street, headed for a residential area.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.” We lapse into silence after that for a long time. I didn’t know that her house was so far away from the facility… though maybe it’s very close. I have no sense of distance, not really. The place we’re traveling though, it seems nice, but it’s not middle class, maybe higher middle class. It wasn’t rich, these weren’t mansions, not by what I knew a mansion not be, but the houses were tall, sometimes four stories, even with an attic.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Nearly home.” Home, funny word, I can’t say I really understand the meaning of it.
We go back to silence until she pulls into an opened gate. This particular place has more land than the others, and an electric gate. The house doesn’t look too different, but it’s four stories, and seems wider than some of the other houses. “Is this a mansion, it doesn’t seem right to call it that”, and the woman laughs. Is she laughing at me?
“No, no, it just has a town house attached to the actual house part. My brothers Alex and Yuriy will sometimes need a place to stay. Come on, people should be home this time of day.” She says as she parks the car. She gets out and grabs both of my bags before I can get them. I shut the door and follow behind silently. I don’t talk much.
We walk in, and I feel both stunned and partially disgusted by the quality of the house. It’s just so nice inside, smells clean, but not sterile like the labs do. It’s a nice place, a lived in place, but it looks nice. I feel angry for me and the kids I grew up with. None of us ever had anything like this, we had sterile labs, and cold desks, and little single beds with mattresses discarded from the local prison. Why did she even bother coming to get me?
“Hey, I’m home, is anyone here?” She calls loudly, which is only met by silence, followed by the sound of something dropping and breaking. I watch as the woman drops her bags and shifts from a normal woman to a fighter. “Stay here.” She hisses and starts to move forward before someone starts calling.
“It’s just me Kura, don’t worry, I was trying not to wake up the baby, but it’s too late.” It’s a man’s voice, deep and rich. The woman relaxes and a few moments later an old grey haired man comes out, holding a little girl in his arms.
The woman smiles softly and kisses the man’s cheek and takes the little girl from her hands. The man looks up at me and I nearly jump. He’s not old, he’s probably not that much older than the woman, but his hair has already grayed, and his eyes, his eyes are red.
“Demon,” I whisper, a little bit afraid. Red wasn’t a normal human color.
“No, he’s not a demon, it’s just an odd genetic mutation. This is Alexander, my brother.” I raise an eyebrow when the woman speaks, they don’t look anything alike. The man smiles at me, it’s friendly like, but I don’t trust him, and I don’t like him.
“I was adopted in to the family, which is why is why I don’t look like your mother,” he explains, seeing that I’m not buying his whole being related to the woman spiel.
“That woman is not my mother; she’s one of two genetic donors.” My words make the grey haired man glance over at the woman, who simply shrugs. Does she never get angry? She didn’t even raise her voice when arguing with Dr. Brockman.
“Well, you still sound like her anyway,” the man says and looks over at the woman. “Everyone else went out for ice cream, Brooklyn took them.”
Now the stupid woman is finally showing some emotion, she looked intrigued. “Hm… and Alexei agreed to going? Hmm…” She trails off and looks at me. She steps closer to me and I resist an urge to take a step back. “Hold out your arms,” she orders and I obey. She settles the little girl in to my arms. “Tori, this is your new brother, say hello.”
The little girl I’m holding shifts and I get a better look at her. She’s clearly this woman’s child, the face is similar, the eyes have more blue than green in them, and her red hair is a darker shade than mine, closer to a brown. The girl smiles at me suddenly and wraps her arms around my neck, giving me a tight hug. “Brother!” She says in a happy voice.
Honestly I’m a little confused feeling. I can’t help but be reminded of the little kids back at the facilities. They’ll walk right up to your with their arms out wanting a hug. Few of us older kids ever turn the little kids down, because the adults in the facilities will never touch us if they don’t have to. Kids are the same no matter what.
I hate this woman who’s trying to be a mother to me after she abandoned me, and I don’t like this man who’s claiming to be my uncle, but I can’t hate this girl. She’s five; it’s not her fault that her parents didn’t want me. She’s not old enough to understand what I am, and if she knew I wasn’t born she’s too young to care.
I’m brought back to reality by a small cough. I look up, seeing that the woman is gone, leaving me with the grey haired man. He’s smiling again. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room,” he says, grabbing the bags off the floor and heading off, expecting me to follow.
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