itself?” Reggie laughed at her own joke.
“That joke’s been told a million times, Reg. It’s easy. More with the times than the flip phone.”
“Marcus, the flip phone is still in the box. I haven’t figured it out. The smart one better be smart.”
“Well,” Marcus said. “Everything will be very easy after your set up and lessons. The guy is making a special trip to get you up and running, show you how to use them and get you situated with the Wi-Fi.”
“I don’t have Wi-Fi.”
“Yeah, you do. Your dad told me. He got it so Seth could play his video games.”
“I have internet?” She looked at the computer guy. “Hey, I have internet.”
“Imagine that,” Computer guy replied.
Reggie returned to her call with Marcus. “How is this supposed to fill my nights?”
“Wait until you discover the online slots. Plus. I’m always online. You can talk to me even when I’m working. And text. You need to learn to text, Reg.”
Reggie watched the guy unload boxes “This is so great and expensive. I feel bad. I only got you a set of black T-shirts.”
“Well, it’s my gift, too. I’d like being able to communicate with you anytime.”
“Cool.” Reggie smiled. “Hey, Marcus? You think the computer guy can be my gift too?
“Reg,” Marcus said calmly, “stop hitting on the computer delivery man.”
“All right,” Reggie said continuing her survey of the man nonetheless, “I’ll stop. So, let’s talk. How’s what’s his face? Devante?”
“Progressing. You’ll see for yourself when you get here next week. You are still coming, right?”
“Yes. Our Christmas.”
“Good. And speaking of Christmas, I have to go; everyone’s leaving for the holidays and I have to man the lab 24/7 for the next two days. I don’t want to miss it.”
“You really think it’s going to happen on Christmas?”
“I feel strongly about it, yes,” Marcus answered.
“You don’t think it has anything to do with what you cloned?”
“It may. Or my fear of more controversy.”
Reggie smiled. “That’s funny. Controversy never bothered you before.”
“Reg, this is a scary kind of controversy. It’s not settling right with me. It even crossed my mind to abort the whole thing. But I just couldn’t.”
“It’ll be all right, Marcus. I promise you.”
“Yeah.” Marcus sighed. “I have to go. I’ll call you in a bit to see how you’re progressing.”
Reggie laughed.
“With the computer, Reg. Not the computer guy.”
“Call me if it happens.”
“You know I will.” Marcus paused. “Fingers crossed it will be nothing more than a quiet Christmas Eve.”
Westing Biogenetic Institute - Chicago, Illinois
Soft Christmas music played in the observatory lab that Christmas Eve night, praising voices singing Silent Night and Away in the Manger as Marcus munched on a bologna sandwich. He sat before a computer in the lab itself, away from the observing office, chuckling at Reggie’s crude attempts at texting. But he enjoyed it since, in a sense, he was sharing Christmas Eve with her.
The Christmas songs began to get on his nerves. He stood up abruptly and paced over to the other computer that played the music. Before he reached it, he sensed a change outside. He opened the blind to see, not the usual, screaming protesters, but masses of people holding candles and singing. Marcus’ first instinct was to open the window and yell at them all to go home and spend Christmas with their families. He was almost nostalgic for his old nickname of ‘Heathen boy.’ Now, thanks to Rev. Bailey, Marcus was known by a new title: The Deliverer.
The beep of the phone brought Marcus back for Reggie’s return text. In transit he paused to look at the large artificial womb that contained Devante.
Devante hadn’t grown in eleven days. He remained a long figure with partially formed body parts, his heartbeat was a steady sixty beats per minute. No movement. No sound. Except the hypnotic quiet of
“That joke’s been told a million times, Reg. It’s easy. More with the times than the flip phone.”
“Marcus, the flip phone is still in the box. I haven’t figured it out. The smart one better be smart.”
“Well,” Marcus said. “Everything will be very easy after your set up and lessons. The guy is making a special trip to get you up and running, show you how to use them and get you situated with the Wi-Fi.”
“I don’t have Wi-Fi.”
“Yeah, you do. Your dad told me. He got it so Seth could play his video games.”
“I have internet?” She looked at the computer guy. “Hey, I have internet.”
“Imagine that,” Computer guy replied.
Reggie returned to her call with Marcus. “How is this supposed to fill my nights?”
“Wait until you discover the online slots. Plus. I’m always online. You can talk to me even when I’m working. And text. You need to learn to text, Reg.”
Reggie watched the guy unload boxes “This is so great and expensive. I feel bad. I only got you a set of black T-shirts.”
“Well, it’s my gift, too. I’d like being able to communicate with you anytime.”
“Cool.” Reggie smiled. “Hey, Marcus? You think the computer guy can be my gift too?
“Reg,” Marcus said calmly, “stop hitting on the computer delivery man.”
“All right,” Reggie said continuing her survey of the man nonetheless, “I’ll stop. So, let’s talk. How’s what’s his face? Devante?”
“Progressing. You’ll see for yourself when you get here next week. You are still coming, right?”
“Yes. Our Christmas.”
“Good. And speaking of Christmas, I have to go; everyone’s leaving for the holidays and I have to man the lab 24/7 for the next two days. I don’t want to miss it.”
“You really think it’s going to happen on Christmas?”
“I feel strongly about it, yes,” Marcus answered.
“You don’t think it has anything to do with what you cloned?”
“It may. Or my fear of more controversy.”
Reggie smiled. “That’s funny. Controversy never bothered you before.”
“Reg, this is a scary kind of controversy. It’s not settling right with me. It even crossed my mind to abort the whole thing. But I just couldn’t.”
“It’ll be all right, Marcus. I promise you.”
“Yeah.” Marcus sighed. “I have to go. I’ll call you in a bit to see how you’re progressing.”
Reggie laughed.
“With the computer, Reg. Not the computer guy.”
“Call me if it happens.”
“You know I will.” Marcus paused. “Fingers crossed it will be nothing more than a quiet Christmas Eve.”
Westing Biogenetic Institute - Chicago, Illinois
Soft Christmas music played in the observatory lab that Christmas Eve night, praising voices singing Silent Night and Away in the Manger as Marcus munched on a bologna sandwich. He sat before a computer in the lab itself, away from the observing office, chuckling at Reggie’s crude attempts at texting. But he enjoyed it since, in a sense, he was sharing Christmas Eve with her.
The Christmas songs began to get on his nerves. He stood up abruptly and paced over to the other computer that played the music. Before he reached it, he sensed a change outside. He opened the blind to see, not the usual, screaming protesters, but masses of people holding candles and singing. Marcus’ first instinct was to open the window and yell at them all to go home and spend Christmas with their families. He was almost nostalgic for his old nickname of ‘Heathen boy.’ Now, thanks to Rev. Bailey, Marcus was known by a new title: The Deliverer.
The beep of the phone brought Marcus back for Reggie’s return text. In transit he paused to look at the large artificial womb that contained Devante.
Devante hadn’t grown in eleven days. He remained a long figure with partially formed body parts, his heartbeat was a steady sixty beats per minute. No movement. No sound. Except the hypnotic quiet of
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