Posts filed under ‘UNPUBLISHED WORKS’
SCHUYLKILL HAVEN: A HORROR SHORT STORY PART I
I’ll be posting short stories for a while again. The story I’m posting next has not been published. It will appear in seven parts.
WARNING
This story contains an ‘F Bomb’ which, in today’s publications, is not a rare occurrence. If you read The New Yorker, among other publications, you are aware of this. Also, sensitive people may find the theme of this story disturbing.
HAVEN OF HORROR
Jeff and Karen were recently married. Not much later Jeff accepted a better job than he had with more pay. They needed to move. With great anticipation they now were on a road trip to explore the area which would be their new home. Jeff loved wandering down roads he had never traveled, and for him this trip was a treat. A new area to be visited ripe for exploration.
As they drove along, not really sure where they were, Karen said, “I’m tired and hungry. Let’s stop at the next town for some rest and food.” They had been on the road for several days driving from California to Pennsylvania. Today, they had been driving for ten hours and they both needed rest and food.
Jeff spied what looked like a seldom used road, “Let’s go down that road. It must lead to somewhere.”
Karen looked at him as if to say, ‘Give me a break’ for it looked like it would lead to nowhere. The newness of marriage had not yet dissolved, but it was getting there.
Karen glanced at the maps they had brought along, “Jeff, this road is not on the map!”
Jeff’s response was, “Great.” Karen just shook her head. And off they went down an unmapped road hoping to find food and perhaps lodging for the night as the sky was steadily darkening the landscape. He looked at Karen and wondered if the stop would lead to ‘cuddling’ – and perhaps more. He wondered how long those episodes would last. He had heard stories.
With Karen constantly complaining about how tired and hungry she was, they approached a small town. Jeff was hungry too, and ready for some nighttime activity. As they entered the town it was as if they were visiting a page out of history. There was not a modern structure. It was like something of a lot for filming an old movie. There was a gas station with only one pump. An old guy in a chair was leaning against the building.
The old man waved and said, “Hi. Don’t see many strangers here.”
The town was Schuylkill Haven.
THE DRIVING LESSON: A COMEDY
An unpublished story
THE DRIVING LESSON
Many years ago, while I was in high school, Sam Franks was my driving instructor. He was a good instructor, easy-going and fun. Then one day I had an instructor change: a change from hell.
I was a junior, and every Thursday, during, my study hall I was scheduled for a driving lesson. Mr. Franks taught me to drive a Honda, equipped for student drivers; I loved driving that little car.
The morning of my fourth lesson arrived and I went out to the parking lot to meet Mr. Franks, but he wasn’t there, and the Honda was nowhere in sight. I walked around the lot looking lost when I heard my name called out. I turned to see a man approaching, a stranger to me, and someone who seemed out of place in a high school parking lot. He appeared to be in his sixties, tall and thin. What really made him stand out were his clothes. He wore faded bib overalls, stained with oil and grease and a mixture of other things better left unknown. Under his overalls he wore a white sweatshirt, or at least a sweatshirt that was white at one time years ago. On his head he wore a faded green John Deere cap rimmed with sweat stains. Long white hair emerged from beneath the cap. Work boots completed the outfit. His heavily whiskered cheek bulged with what I thought was the largest piece of gum I had ever seen anyone chew.
As he approached he shouted, “Can I help you? Looking for a driving lesson?”
“Well, yes”, I replied,” I’m looking for Mr. Franks.”
“Well, you found him, “came his answer. Now my Mr. Franks was in his thirties, kind of preppy while this guy was old enough to be his – father. The fact that this man knew my name at first puzzled me, but I started putting two and two together – fast. “I guess you expected to see Sam Jr., well, he ain’t here, gone to Pittsburgh to interview for another job and I’m filling in.
“Are you a teacher?” I asked with an unsteady voice.
“Listen, I taught Sam Jr. how to drive a tractor. If I could teach that lunkhead son of mine to drive a tractor I sure as hell can teach you to drive a car. The principal of the school said I needed a teaching credential but I had a year to get it, so I figured what the hell, I’ll make some money for a year and then I’m out of here. Now let’s get your butt behind the wheel.”
That was the other problem I immediately identified, there was no car. I guess from the look on my face, Mr. Franks Sr. knew what I was thinking. “Sam Jr. loaned that little Honda to another teachee, so I had to bring my own vehicle.” With that, Mr. Franks pointed to a pickup truck older than me. Between the rust and the patching, I found it hard to determine the color, but I think it had once been blue. Now the Honda I loved had three peddles – a gas pedal and two brake pedals. The truck had three peddles also, but they were all on the driver’s side. This damn old piece of crap had a standard transmission.
“I can’t drive a standard transmission,” I said.
“Oh yes you can,” came Mr. Franks reply.
“What about the instructor’s brake?” was my next question?
“I got long legs,” he said, “and I figure after I squash your foot a couple of times you won’t make any more stupid damn mistakes.”
Did I want to go back into school or what – but the lessons were paid for and Mr. Franks did not look like the kind of man that would give refunds. When I entered the cab of the pickup I got a sickening feeling that it wasn’t gum that was bulging his cheek. There, attached to the dash, with a piece of coat hanger, was an old coffee can, which he wound up using often during the lesson. Reluctantly, I sat on the bench seat of the pickup, and with some difficulty, attached the lap belt. The next the thing I knew, Mr. Franks was shouting, “Damn it, what in the hell are you doing messing up the seat belts?”
“I’m using it,” I said firmly.
“I had them all laid out so nice and now you screwed them up,” he groaned, “don’t let it happen again.”
With the seat belt part of the lesson out of the way, I started the engine. We immediately lurched forward and the engine died. “What in the hell do you think the clutch is for, decoration?” he screamed. I thought maybe he could teach me the use of the clutch, but I kept that idea to myself. I felt a demonstration would be helpful and it was soon in coming. “Put your foot on the clutch,” he said, and I did. Before I knew it his size twelve work boot had smashed the clutch peddle, along with my foot, down to the floor. “You step on the clutch when you start the engine and when you change gears, you idiot.”
I will not describe the next fifteen or so minutes because it has taken me years trying to forget. I finally got the truck started and sort of found most of the gears. The fact that I didn’t have to wear a neck collar for months after the lesson was a miracle. By the time we made it out of the parking lot, my lesson was more than half over. “We’ll just do a little driving and then head back,” he said. After a little time on the road, I gained some confidence, although confidence might be too strong a word. We were driving along when I noticed that the light at the intersection about half a block away had turned yellow. I started to gently ease off on the gas when Mr. Franks’ size twelve mashed my foot and the gas pedal down to the floor. People dove for the sidewalk as we barreled through the red light. I sat waiting for the explanation for this maneuver and it was soon coming. “You heard about defensive driving?” he asked. I nodded yes. “Well remember this; the best defense is a good offense.” I rolled my eyes. Mr. Franks was into offensive driving, what a surprise.
The next thing I knew he grabbed the wheel and jerked it to the right. I felt a slight thump, thump as the wheels ran over something. “Stop the truck,” he yelled, “I think we nailed him.” I looked in the rearview mirror and could not believe my eyes. A squirrel lay dead in the street. Franks hopped out of the truck, retrieved a burlap bag from the truck bed, and bagged the poor critter. “Won’t have to go shopping on my way home now,” he said. “You know,” he went on, “all you need to do is skin ‘em and gut ‘em. The wheels act as kind of a natural tenderizer – breaks up the bones and the meat just melts in your mouth.”
I was going to be sick.
That was my first lesson with Sam Franks Sr., but not my last. I finished the course with him and went on to get my license, but I was never quite the same.
I’m married now and have a daughter who wants to learn to drive and wants me to teach her. She doesn’t think her dad has the patience. We’ve gone driving a few times now. Our seatbelts are always buckled, and when we approach a yellow light I make her stop even if she thinks she can make it. I’ve cleared most of Mr. Franks Sr.’s unique habits from my teaching techniques. But I still harbor the memory of that poor little squirrel.
Suddenly a squirrel darts out onto the road, I have a sudden urge, but I keep it under control.
THE END
INVASION: A SCIENCE FICTION SHORT STORY
This story has not been published. It was written in 2006. That was when NASA was launching probes to Mars. When to vehicle reached the planet balloon-like appendages were deployed, and upon reaching the surface, the vehicle would bounce until coming to rest.
INVASION
I am the protector of the ‘king and living god of Zyron’ and I have just witnessed the unspeakable.
We inhabitants of Zyron are a peaceful lot, enjoying our quiet lives in the planet’s interior. Fierce conditions make the surface uninhabitable for more than a short period of time. Violent storms engulf the planet, blowing clouds of red dust into the arid air, making a stroll on the surface most uncomfortable. We Zyrons enjoy the warm moist interior of the planet formed many millions of years ago when violent earthquakes opened the ocean floor draining the surface dry. Then, another few million years passed, and our surface atmosphere changed to what we have now, conditions that will not support life for an extended period of time.
On the neighboring planet, Gothor, life is less peaceful than ours. In our language, Gothor translates to blue sphere, a tranquil looking place but tranquil it is not. We have witnessed their many wars and constant conflicts. They foolishly broadcast their audio and video signals into the atmosphere giving information of their civilization to less friendly inhabitants of other planets. Gothorians know nothing of our civilization on their neighboring planet. The existence of the Zyonions is kept secret, our communications, shielded by the surface of our planet, cannot be intercepted by prying civilizations. A recent development on Gothor had given us even more information of the planet. They have developed a network that connects their computers, and with the increased knowledge we have gleaned for this network, we marvel at how much they achieve while so many of their number lack a sense of purpose, a need to contribute to their civilization.
Professions that do not, in some way, serve the good of society are shown little respect on Zyron. That is why the Zyronians find some of what they learn of the Gothians to be comical. So many of their society do nothing but serve themselves. They also require something they call self-help books to further their decline into shallowness.
When Zyronians greet one another we give our name and value to society. I would say, “I am Gorn, protector of the king. Others would give their name and say that they were the cleaners or the scientists or the meat keepers. When we Zyrons meet, we bow to one another, and the depth of the bow depends on the value one lends to society. If I were to say, “I am Gorn the poet,” the bow I would receive would be deep indeed. And if I were Gorn the teacher, the bow offered must be so deep that the small horns on our heads must touch the surface on which we stand.
We know a great deal about the lives of the Gothorians and some of the ways they spend their lives. If a Gothor revealed some of the professions that exist there to a Zyonian, the back of the Zyronian would remain ridged. If I were to introduce myself on Zyron as Gorn the telemarketer or Gorn the E Bay zapper, no bow would be given. Our cultures even have different perceptions of the same profession. On Zyron, if I am Gorn the athlete, I receive a customary bow, but the athletes from Gothor may merit a slight bend of the back, for on Gothor in many cases, the game is secondary to financial rewards.
We Zyronians know the inhabitants of Gothor are giant creatures and are yet dwarfed by less intelligent creatures that inhabit other worlds. Our king stands no more than six of Gothor inches, and his line is the tallest on Zyron. Our king and his subjects closely resemble animals known as lizards living on Gothor, but their lizards are dumb beings where we have the advanced intelligence responsible for the culture that thrives on Zyron. Unlike the lizards on Gothor, we on Zyron walk upright, and possess appendages referred to as hands, similar to those of the Gothorians.
We view the Gothorians as having a hostile purpose towards our planet. Many times they have sent missions to our planet, devices that orbit our planet seeking information. We had developed a ray that disabled many of their machines, but we could not doom them all. One day a machine landed on the surface of Zyron, bouncing uncontrollably until it came to a halt. The device opened, revealing another machine that set forth on the surface of our planet. This was a true invasion, our planet violated. We Zyrons observed the machine until we detected no further transmissions to Gothor, we then retrieved it for examination.
Since the first bouncing machine landed there have been other probes sent from Gothor to orbit our planet with instruments, taking photographs and other measurements of our surface, trying to detect our presence but the Gothorians will never discover us and will probably succumb to some other civilization of some planet waiting to use the vast resources contained on their blue sphere.
Then one day it was decided that we would attack Gothor, and I was a witness to the catastrophe that precipitated this decision.
Our beloved king, on occasion, would roam the surface of our planet and gaze at the stars and wonder of the world his ancestors inhabited so many million years ago. It was on one of the ventures to the surface that the most horrible fate beset our king.
I, along with two other guards, accompanied the king on his journey to Zyron’s surface. We walked a short distance when the king halted and gazed at the stars in the cold Zyronian night sky. We guards followed the king’s example when we all detected a strange movement in the blackness. A speeding light approached, it flamed, and then the flames extinguished but still the light approached. It grew in size until the realization of another invasion from Gothor became apparent. It was another bouncing machine. It landed a great distance away, then began its haphazard bouncing along our planet’s surface. The king and we guards ran, scattering. Once the device came to a halt we reformed but could not find the king. We separated, searching for our ruler. I will never forget the wail of the guard who discovered our poor monarch. The huge bouncing device from Gothor had squashed him. We carried his limp body, for most of his bones were broken, down to his kingdom and placed it on his throne.
His son, our beloved prince, was enraged with grief and full of hate for Gothor. “Enough of this invasion of Gothor,” he yelled. “I seek revenge.”
Zyron had developed a ray, a death ray. We kept the ray for use against attacking civilizations, and now the new king demanded, “Prepare the death ray; we must retaliate.” All Zyronians knew that any planet exposed to the ray would suffer grave consequences. The area of the sphere exposed to the ray would be destroyed.
There was a fringe of land from which the Gothorians launched their devices. This would be the target. The new beloved king waited for Gothor to revolve, exposing the target.
THE END
GENISIS: A SCIENCE FICTION SHORT STORY
This is an unpublished story.
Even endings need a beginning
Genesis
Dan Holbrook spent hours of his life looking up at the night skies. It was his job and his passion. He taught astronomy at a small university located in the high California desert. The location offered spectacular views of the universe, a universe that was about to change his life and the future of the planet, forever.
Dan was thirty-six, tall and lean, with a scruffy appearance, not a slave to fashion. He married his college sweetheart, Amy, right after graduate school ten years ago. Now they were a family of four with two daughters: Jenny age eight, and Heather six. His daughters loved exploring the desert during the day with their mother, searching for minerals and lizards. At night they studied the sky with their dad.
With a PhD in astronomy, along with the reputation for making significant contributions to the field of asteroids and comets, Dan earned a small amount of personal time on the telescope at Caltech. On one clear winter night Dan was studying the asteroid belt beyond Jupiter when something caught his attention. It was a fuzzy dot where none had been before. When he brought it into focus, he realized that it had passed Jupiter, and was now closer to the Earth. This was not unusual, for asteroids were often found between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter. He made a record of this sighting in his notebook and snapped a picture. He noted that its apparent magnitude, or measure of brightness, was +25 – extremely faint.
Dan decided to keep track of the asteroid remembering how in 2002 Asteroid 2002-MN passed within seventy-five thousand miles of the Earth. It had been the size of a football field. He doubted there was any danger, but he always believed ‘better safe than sorry’.
The following year, Dan once again was given the opportunity to observe the heavens from Caltech. Early that day, he reviewed his notes from the previous year’s observations. He had forgotten about that faint speck between Jupiter and Mars and wanted to observe it once more. That night, peering through the telescope he easily found his quarry, but now it was slightly brighter with an absolute magnitude of +20. Dan became excited, and said out loud, “Holy shit, I may be witnessing an important event.” He knew he had to follow its progress and write it up for a journal article, needed to ensure his notes were meticulous, and then contact other observatories to confirm his sighting.
The next year he published an article describing his findings and continued to keep track of his discovery, and at every viewing the object grew in brightness. There was only one explanation for this. Dan decided to contact a colleague and friend, Ralph Warner, to explore ideas.
After a few attempts, he finally reached Ralph. “Hey, buddy, how you doing? I’ve got something I’d like to pick your brains about. I’ve spotted a distant asteroid and wondered if you could study it using your telescope access?”
Ralph said, “I read your article just the other day and found it interesting.”
Dan asked, “Can’t you just take a peek at Jeneather?”
“What’s that?” Ralph asked.
“That’s what I call the asteroid, named after my two daughters.”
Ralph had limited access to the Hubble and Chandra orbiting telescopes. It was with these instruments that Dan wanted Ralph to ‘take a peek’.
Ralph answered, “Dan, do you know how precious time is for the Hubble and Chandra? I can’t just peek at things. I know this was your discovery, but the opportunity to observe it has to stand in line, a very long line.”
“I appreciate how valuable time is on the orbiting telescopes, but your observations may be able to figure out exactly what this object is and, more importantly, determine its future.”
Ralph replied, “Dan, follow its progress; when you know more – maybe then.”
Dan could hear the frustration in his friend’s voice, but he harbored just the hint of hope that Ralph might try to ‘take a peek’. Neither of them would know that in the future, all eyes on the Earth would be following the course of Jeneather’s progress.
One night the following year Dan had his daughters in the backyard looking up at the sky. He enjoyed pointing out the constellations to them and the visible planets. Their enthusiasm warmed his soul. The two girls, now eleven and nine, were in awe of the sky and would compete to see who could name whatever their father pointed out.
While looking skyward, Jennifer asked, “Where is Jeneather, Dad?”
Dan said, “Honey, you can’t see it without a telescope. Then he pointed to a region of the sky where someday he thought the object might appear.
Jenny screamed, “I can see it, Daddy. I can see Jeneather.”
Dan stood there, perplexed. The asteroid, which should not yet be visible, was there. He knew that was it, for there should have been nothing else in that little piece of the sky, at least not visible with the naked eye. He told his daughters, “Let’s go inside, it’s almost bedtime and Daddy has a lot of work to do.”
Both girls protested, “We want to look at Jeneather,” but Dan had much on his mind and the girls were ushered inside.
“Time for bed girls and Jeneather will still be there tomorrow.” Leading his daughters into the house, he yelled, “Amy, could you get the girls ready for bed? There’s something I need to do.”
Without waiting for a reply, he went to phone Ralph. Ralph was expecting a call from Dan; he picked up the second ring. “Ralph, you can now see the asteroid I discovered in the night sky without a telescope.”
“Yes,” Ralph said, “The object now has a brightness of -5, as visible as Venus. I’ve been expecting your call. Things are being kept quiet for now, but soon the entire planet will be watching the sky. Dan, you discovered a rather significant asteroid.”
“Dan, the speculation from the scientists who have closely studied this object is that the asteroid you discovered collided with another asteroid in deep space. That collision resulted in a change of both their orbits. Your asteroid is on a journey through our solar system.”
Dan paused, and then said, “That’s what I thought. It’s heading toward us. That’s why it’s getting brighter. And that’s why we can now see it in the sky. How close will it come to Earth?”
There was a long pause from Ralph, and then he said, “We’ve been tracking the asteroid’s progress. Right now, we feel it will pass between the Earth and the Moon, closer to the Moon.”
“We’ve dodged the bullet.” Ralph could hear the relief in Dan’s voice.
“Dan, this asteroid is irregular in shape, but at its widest part, it has a diameter of over 500 miles.”
“Christ, Ralph, what will that do to the tides and the tectonic plates?”
Ralph was quiet for a while, and then said, “We are still trying to estimate the scale of the damage this asteroid might cause, but between you and me, we’re in for a rough ride.”
“I just can’t believe it. Life could be changed, forever”. Dan’s voice was shaky. “Thanks for the update, and please keep me informed.”
Ralph responded, “I’ll tell you what I can, and keep this to yourself for now until we have a better handle on what we’re facing. We don’t want to cause undo panic.”
The conversation ended and Ralph sat silently in his office.
He could not tell his friend the truth; he was sworn to secrecy. The asteroid would be a catastrophe to the Earth as it passed. But that was just the tip of the destructive iceberg. Once it passed the Earth, this massive asteroid would impact Venus, perhaps obliterating the planet, or perhaps propelling Venus into the sun. This would cause a change in the influence of the gravitational pull of the Sun on all the remaining planets. The Earth could possibly change its location to replace Venus.
Unless measures were taken, unprecedented for an endeavor where all people must work together for the benefit of mankind, humanity was doomed to extinction. Even now, all the major industrial nations of the world were in secret talks. They knew the timetable. They had five years to save mankind.
THE END
MY ATTEMPT AT WRITING POETRY
This poem was never published. I’m sure the
places where I usually sought publication would
not welcome it.
TWO LOVERS
She fondles the syringe
As she was once fondled
By a lover long ago
For this is her love now.
The product of her first love
Gently moves within,
The product of her new love
Scars arms and thighs.
Her child kicks,
Struggling for life,
She forgets the past
As the child is robbed of a future.
She sends her new love coursing her veins,
The child trembles then is still.
All is quiet as the night begins,
All is quiet,
As the endless night begins.
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: WHAT DID YOU THINK?
In my most recent post I concluded my unpublished short story, The Superior Species.
Did you enjoy the story?
I ask this because I have a trove of unpublished short stories. Most have been rejected by publishers. The comments I receive about The Superior Species will help me decide whether to write some of these stories on my blog. They failed the publishers test, of course, so did The Superior Species. So let me know your opinion.
On a happy note, I have recently had two short stories accepted for publication.
YELLOW MAMA accepted my short story Revenge and Redemption. The story will appear June 15 in issue 104.
Creepy Podcast accepted Beetle Mania for broadcast. I don’t know when that will occur, but as soon I find out I will let you know.
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART VII, HISTORY IS REPEATED
HISTORY IS REPEATED
When news of the existence of the two Neanderthal children became known to the scientific community, Gold was overwhelmed with requests to study them. The boys were now ten and possessed all the characteristics of the typical Neanderthal physique. They were short and extremely muscular with prominent brows and wide nose associated with their kind. It was their mental abilities that Gold found both interesting and disturbing.
Gold taught the boys to read. Now they devoured books. They were sponges for knowledge. Fielding still visited the boys. On one such visit he told Gold, “You know Carl, physically, the Neanderthals are developing precisely as expected. It is their mental faculties that I find intriguing.”
“I share your amazement,” said Gold. “They have a thirst for knowledge that far surpasses what their human contemporaries demonstrate. It’s almost as if they are making up for thousands of years of extinction.”
* * *
A wild storm raged as Gold drove to the Neanderthal residence. They were fifteen now and had become something beyond human.
Gold entered the living room to find Adam and John reading. They were always reading. Gold stood drenched before them. He reached into his pocket and produced a revolver.
Adam said, “I fully expected this to happen someday. I expected history to repeat itself. You fear us. I have read all that has been written about Neanderthals. I know the conjectures your fellow scientists have about our intelligence. I knew, early on, that you realized how wrong those theories were.
“At the same time, we both realized that you would not accept us as merely different. Because of your human egos, we appear threatening, superior. John and I are ready to accept the only outcome this experiment could produce.”
Gold shot twice with the realization that he was the savage were and the Neanderthals were the superior species.
THE END
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART VI, REALIZATION
REALIZATION
From the time of their births, the babies struck Gold, Fielding, Sanders, and Mark as odd. The infants appeared tense, as if they had an inherent fear of Homo sapiens. The only time they relaxed was when they could see one another.
“Strange,” Gold noted, “it’s as if they know they are alien to us.”
The babies grew into muscular toddlers and were walking at six months. Gold and Fielding closely followed their development. Sanders and Mark occasionally inquired as to the progress of the children, but other projects quickly took them out of the picture. Their major concern was when Gold would go public with the astounding accomplishment. They were eager for the recognition their work would bring. Gold would answer their inquiries by saying, “Soon, very soon.”
Fielding spent hours observing the Neanderthal infants, monitoring how their bodies developed as they matured. They were far more agile than he expected, nothing like the lumbering brutes commonly associated with Neanderthals. As expected, their frames indicated that they would develop into adults of short stature compared to modern man. Their physique began to fill out, becoming more muscular than that of human babies. Gold, however, would uncover the true mysteries of the Neanderthals when he studied their psychological development.
The infants began talking at eighteen months, and not with the fumbling birth of knowledge of speech associated with human children. Gold discovered them talking one day as he entered the room where they slept. He was stunned, for he never heard them parrot sounds as children do to develop speech. The Neanderthals did possess the high nasal voices predicted by the bone structure of their skulls. Gold found the sound of their voices annoying.
Studying their psychological development, Gold thought, these infants are progressing far more rapidly than human toddlers of comparable age. Gold began recording his conversations with the Neanderthals. During one of his sessions with them they both seemed withdrawn. He asked, “What do you boys think about?”
The Neanderthal born first was called Adam, the other John. Adam answered, “Why, he asked, ” are we so different from you and the others we meet?”
* * *
It had been four years since the Neanderthals were cloned and Gold became more and more ill at ease about what the experiment had created. Fielding and Sanders wanted the results of the experiment to be published. Mark preferred to be left out of the picture.
One night Fielding and Sanders visited Gold in his study, site of the initial plans for the project. Fielding asked Gold, “Carl, don’t you think it’s time to publish our Neanderthal results?”
Sanders added, “The boys have shown none of the signs of premature aging that many of the animals clone in the past have exhibited.”
Gold said, “The boys are coming along fine. In fact, their intelligence level, given their age, is remarkable. But I still feel we should wait to publish. There is something strange about the boys. I would prefer to let them develop further before we go public.”
In the end, Fielding and Sanders persevered. A manuscript was prepared and sent to Science.
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART V, THE BIRTH
THE BIRTH
Bill March had three women he had used as surrogate mothers in the past who refused to see the babies for whom they had made life possible. They were ready to perform the function again. All were young, in their mid to late twenties and all were single. They were all paid for their service and all three shared similar feelings about their pregnancy. They wanted to provide a family to couples who needed help.
The three women were each implanted with two of the Neanderthal embryos. They were all told that the fetuses belonged to a very wealthy couple, and that they would be paid well for their services and their confidentiality. When it came time to deliver the babies, the births would take place at the couple’s country estate. All preparations had been taken to equip a room at the estate with the criteria of a delivery room, all the latest equipment necessary to handle whatever emergency might occur.
Two of the women miscarried.
These miscarriages revived the doubts March originally felt about the project.
Pat Meyers carried the last two fetal Neanderthals to term. She knew she was pregnant with twins, but she grew no larger than she had when she carried a single child. This disturbed her. She also knew she carried two boys. Even with her doubts, it made her happy to know she was bringing joy and creating a family. She was making it all possible.
Two weeks before her due date, she was moved to a country estate in northern Connecticut. The house belonged to Gold and had been in his family for many years. Mark told the two nurses who would assist in the delivery, “The babies may seem somewhat peculiar. You will be paid to overlook anything out of the ordinary. After all, we must be sensitive to the parent’s feelings.”
Pat went into labor and had an extremely easy delivery. Although she had carried the babies to term, both were less than four pounds at birth.
Each nurse cared for one of the infants. The boys were covered with a fine down of black hair. One of the nurses whispered to the other, “Look at his head. It’s so misshapen after such an easy delivery.”
Once the babies were settled in the nursery, the nurses left the estate. As they walked to their cars one said to the other, “Those infants were indeed peculiar with their misshapen skulls and covered with hair like an ape. But the one thing I will never forget about them was their eyes. They weren’t the eyes of any baby I’ve ever seen. They had a weird look to them, like intelligence. I felt they were looking right through me.
The other nurse responded, “Did you also get the feeling that they feared our touch. I’ve never seen that in a newborn before.”
THE SUPERIOR SPECIES: PART IV, THE CLONING
THE CLONING
John Sanders received the frozen tissue samples from Gold. As he gazed at the sample packed in dry ice, he could not believe he was peering into a box containing a tissue sample of a ‘man’ dead thirty thousand years. Sanders’ ego did not get the better of him. He knew he had been out of the lab for too long to attempt the important work that lay ahead. He employed a promising PhD candidate, Michael Rose, to do the actual work. He would tell Rose as little as possible about the nature of the experiment. The meeting at Gold’s study had left him with the feeling that he was involved in a conspiracy rather than an experiment, the fewer people that knew about the true purpose of the experiment, the better.
Sanders’ first meeting with Rose went well. “Michael, I would like you to help me in a special project.”
“Certainly Dr. Sanders. I’m a little desperate for a new project now that the study I’m working on is going nowhere.”
Sanders said, “It’s a cloning experiment.”
“Fantastic,” said Rose. “What will we be cloning?”
Sanders hesitated, and then answered, “A non-human primate.”
“Has that ever been done before Dr. Sanders?”
“Not to my knowledge. We would be making history.”
Rose could not believe his luck. He was going from a dead-end research project to an historic experiment.
“When do we begin?”
“Immediately,” Sanders said. “I already have a tissue sample from which you can extract the DNA for the cloning. I also have a list of references I want you to read and extract from them the method used to fertilize the egg and develop it into an embryo.”
* * *
Two weeks later Rose had the DNA extracted and the materials he would need for the union of the egg and extracted DNA to begin their journey to a living entity.
Sanders called Mark, “Bill, we’re ready to implant the DNA into the eggs.”
“I’ll ship them out by express mail,” said Mark. “Good luck!”
The eggs arrived in a container of liquid nitrogen. The paperwork indicated that there were ten eggs contained in the container. When all was ready, with Sanders at his side, Rose began the cloning experiment.
The eggs were rapidly thawed. Once thawed, Rose removed their DNA and inserted the ‘primate DNA’ he had prepared. Each egg was given its own petri dish of life sustaining fluids and put into an incubator.
Both Sanders and Rose periodically checked on the eggs. Initially, all ten began to divide. But soon four of the small balls of cells died. The remaining six progressed to a point where they could be slowly cooled, then frozen and stored in liquid nitrogen until they could be implanted into a uterus.
Rose was excited as he entered Sanders’ office. “Dr. Sanders, the embryos are frozen. I’m looking forward to seeing the results of the experiment.”
Sanders said, “I’ll let you know how things progress.”
“Do we have the monkeys that will carry the embryos to term here?”
“No Michael, the implantation will be done at another institution.”
After Rose left, Sanders sat at his desk and thought, You’ll be told the embryos all died after implantation. For you, this experiment is over.
Strangely, Sanders found himself feeling envy for Rose. His dreams had recently been haunted by what this adventure might produce.
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