The clone of the clone had to be tested. The 12th century seemed to be a perfect time and place.
Josh2
Time frame = 2117
Place = Washington DC area in Northern Virginia
Human cloning is becoming a staple
The President of the United States is female, as is most of her cabinet
Ann was on a classified conference call with the president of the United States, Ann and Harry. The conversation was not subtle but blunt, to the point so as no one would misunderstand.
“I’m telling you Madam President that for my programs to continue here at the Agency for Cybernetic/Clone Research and Development I have to do this.”
“We’re talking expenses that I don’t see justified Ann. This is not a household budget I’m running; it’s the whole United States.” She paused, took a deep breath and countered, “ACCRED will just have to slow down a bit and let things happen – naturally.”
It was Ann’s turn to take a deep breath. She did but the determination in her voice was maybe a pitch higher now as she kept pushing with; “I have one perfect clone… I need another. With Josh, I was fortunate. All the eyes were dotted and all the T’s crossed and we came out with a great product.” She quickly continued with, “I need to do this.”
There was complete silence on the air ways.
Ann waited.
Harry waited.
The President was silent but wasn’t waiting for any more input; she was thinking and weighing consequences.
Finally after a lifetime the President said, “I don’t want this expense to show up on any spreadsheets.”
Ann quickly said, “You got it.”
Harry knew when to be quiet.
The President paused then added, “Just so that I fully understand what I think I just agreed to let me say this out loud. ACCRED is a bastard organization to begin with and now you want go further against nature and make a clone of a clone. You are wanting to clone Josh because he seems to be perfect for your purposes and you feel your chances of success are better if you start from a know going toward an unknown, does that sound about right, so far?”
“Yes madam president.” Ann whispered toward to conference VIACOM (Video screen).
“Harry any comments?” The President said.
Harry had been quiet for so long he had to clear his throat before saying, “No madam president. Ann pretty well explained the situation and you have a perfect understanding of the way I think it will go.”
“A copy of a copy!” The President exploded. “Second generation… I don’t like it.” She paused briefly then as air was escaping from lungs long overdue for a relaxed breath said, “If this Josh clone… this Josh2 or whatever you call it, comes out fuzzy, I don’t want to hear about it. You guys are the experts; just don’t step on your foreskins on this one.”
There it was, Approval.
Now all they had to do was test Josh2. Beta testing is always better done outside curious eyes and outside nosy folks and of course, the budget folks. So how do you test a clone of a clone?
Lois and Frank had been notified they were needed for a trip and as always they showed up, on time. They visited with Ann Folk for less than an hour than with Josh2 in tow were off to the airstrip where the Lakehurst had been made ready. The Lakehurst is nothing but aluminum, titanium, a few rivets, a lot of glue, 128 kilometers of wiring, two standard jet power plants for the atmosphere and another apocalyptic superconductivity engine needed to obtain orbital flight than speeds in excess of light are required for time travel. Sitting in the shadows it looked quick and was as beautiful as a mistress on a Saturday evening.
The ride into orbit had been smooth and flawless, but you have to remember the word smooth is relative. Flawless is a good straightforward word but when used in connection to moving a 47,000-pound aircraft from point A to point B, which happens to be in another time frame, can be a bit bumpy. Flawless is; the always present hint of kerosene in the cabin cooling system, the low steady pitch of Pratt & Whitney engines gulping air and pushing your silver beauty toward the taxiway, the groaning of brake pads turning onto runway 27W, an intercom message saying you are ready for takeoff, a brief but bone rattling ride as you accelerate from zero to 130 knots rotation speed, the lump in your gut as the mains are seated in the wing roots, flaps and slats repositioning and mother earth dropping away and disappearing as you pass through low layers of mist and clouds on your way to orbital speed and altitude. Flawless.
Frank and Lois had departed ACCRED Headquarters in the suburbs of Washington DC on time, and following the approved flight plan for going backward in time, achieved orbital speed and altitude away from the earth's normal rational direction. Once satisfied of all instrument reading, Lois rolled the craft over on its back, pulled her seat belt a little tighter and flipped the toggle switch by her right hand marked, "LIGHT SPEED". Inside the craft nothing appeared different. Lois was in the left seat with Frank holding down co-pilot chores on this trip; Josh2 was busy looking out a right side portal toward a distance blue planet 186 Kilometers below. Fred had been content on the ground to just walk the companionway but now in orbit, he was having a really difficult time trying to act nonchalant about his flaying wings and incessant shrieking. Fred was a klutz on the ground and even more so in weightlessness. But he tried.
At a normal 23,412 KPH orbital speed the Lakehurst completed one orbit of 87 minutes. As the superconductivity engines kicked in and came to full potential, the distinct cloud covering far below became blurred as continents existed without boundaries and oceans became continuous. Within three seconds the Lakehurst was circling the earth at more than nine and one-half times a second and Frank was counting down critical elapsed time. "... 13... 12... 11... 10... 9... 8...get ready to break... 5... 4... break on my mark... 2... 1... Break." He said emphatically.
As Lois flipped the toggle to OFF the high pitch of the superconductor subsided, the blue earth once again became distinct in shape and colors and Frank said in a mechanical voice, "...OK boys and girls, we are here. Touch down in approximately twenty minutes."
With that Lois rolled the craft back, positioned the wings with the horizon and pointed its nose toward the East and began looking for a flat level area to set down.
Fred had not paid attention when Frank warned of breaking and had bumped his beak on the lavatory door and gotten a little disoriented, but other than being his normal klutz, was quiet and still for the time being.
Directly below the Lakehurst was what appeared to be waste land, or what could graciously be called a vast frozen white wilderness... virgin... cruel and unforgiving. It was Russia of 1100 years ago and was that vast section of Europe and Asia whose area comprised one-sixth of the globe and inhabited by Slavic stock at least from the 1st millennium BC. But now there is a young woman named Katrina who lived and died and has left her mark on the world for generations well into the 22nd century.
Katrina family history began early in the 9th century AD about the time adventurous Swedish Vikings, inspired by the hope of developing trade relations with the Orient via the Russian watercourses, with the establishment of trading posts on Lake Ladoga and along the rivers to the south and east. It was shortly after the death of Yaroslav, who had been the principle architect of Russian Christianity, a period of disorder existed which terminated only when the throne of Keiv fell in 1113 to the lot of Yaroslav's energetic grandson Vladimir Monomakh.
In his short but spirited rule he established hamlets throughout his territory known for their breeding farms. One such farm, located on the Western shore of the Black Sea, whose serf village was named Tuapsee, was to be Joshua’s assignment, and the rest of Katrina's fruitful life.
Her 11th century existence began her adult life in dirt poor surroundings and flat of her back, as did many Russian girls of this time in history. Existence was on the barest of diets and survival depended on how well you tolerated brutal winters lard and potato diets and birthing babies.
Tuapsee's streets were poor excuses for widened paths of nothing more than hardened earth and rocks that turned into a sea of mud when the snows melted or it rained for any lengthy period. Dwellings were crude even by poor Slavic standards and seldom more than one story. Windows all appeared as afterthoughts and many constantly open to the elements.
One known lesson, however, is that life is not a contradiction. On the contrary, these poor but resourceful people were conscience of the world around them to the extent not only the selection of materials but the weather itself played a considerable part in the design and construction of the enclosures called home. No openings faced north. Normally no more than two, sometimes three opening were left in the walls facing South or leeward depending on surrounding terrain. All windows were diminutive to keep out the cold and sometimes covered with animal skins but usually rags that could not be used for anything else. The walls to these huts were mud for the most part, sometimes wood, and never finished. The only ones with proper fireplaces and chimneys were the breeding huts, the nursery and the kitchens.
Women cooked on open fires or in clay bake ovens and they ate with fingers because they were not allowed knives. Their privies were holes in the ground that were covered as a cat naturally does when it thinks no one is watching, but only when the ground was soft enough to push and dig in.
In 1016 AD an imperial edict was passed making breeding farms legal. Part of a state run charter was to not only bringing currency in the coffers but also to build a strong country. It worked... sort of. Mature men and women products of the breeding farms alike became pure of blood and oneness of mind and steadily spread to the points of the compass throughout the massive country. Fortuitously, this spread could not be controlled outside the preview of the farms so the more Westward the migration the more intermarriages losing genetic purity, or cloning.
Strong, young, healthy farm girls were recruited and promised good lives for themselves and their families. The head of household, so to speak, was paid in cash and the young girls were taken away never to see her family again. Males were also recruited in the same manner, but never bought or bartered for as the females. Their lot in a breeding farm was considered a privilege, however because of the lack of rapid or wide spread communications the vast country side had to be searched. Criterion used was participates must be sexual alert, capably, strong bones and passable appearance. Age was never a consideration.
Mating was always detailed.
Those in the breeding farms lived life on a grander scale than their counterparts, but not much. Their food was somewhat better and they were warmer but only when they were producing what the owner wanted. They had bathing huts but were still subject to the whims of the owner and the overseer.
The year Josh2 came back to abound with royalty, and it was they who controlled most of the more lucrative farms. There were a few horse breeding farms and many agriculture types to produce food, but the main staple for the Tuapsee estate was the breeding of people, to be sold.
As the sun tried to burn off morning haze and mist, the day promised to be just any other day. Today was not unlike yesterday or the days before that and days and weeks ahead. Josh's first impression of the weather was as if it or someone, or something was terribly wrong in the universe. The wind and temperature were more than bone chilling cold. The air was extremely heavy and hard to breathe. Men's mustaches and beards were frozen the moments a face was exposed and the normally warm and invitingly soft flesh of a woman’s inner thigh was elapsed till spring. The bare trees were storing their sap so they would not turn into living petrified wood, the snow was cold, the day was cold, and Josh was cold.
Even the pigeons of the day were walking.
Josh’s mind was a collage of thoughts, ideas and questions, many questions. The time of day…? Not sure, probably early afternoon by now. Hard to tell as there were no lunch crowd. The smattering of pedestrians was bundled so tightly if one did have the time, it is doubtful it would be shared. The year… the year is even a bigger question? Russia had never been famous for changing style of transportation of horse drawn sleighs on a yearly basis, and the basic grays and blacks of the men and women also gave no clues. Best guess… sometime after the turn of the 11th century. That fact was in itself, not comforting, but the fact that it was not permanent was. Soon he would return to 2117 and Keri.
Josh2 deplaned with last minute instructions as to pick up date and times and carrying little more then a shaving kit.
Within moments of touchdown the Lakehurst was again airborne in a thundering, molecular destroying blast of 20th century Pratt & Whitney J4000 jet engines. He was cold and there was little to no prospect of getting warm anytime soon.
From 1000 meters up, Tuapsee looked to be no more than one maybe two kilometers East by Southeast, should be an easy walk even in bone chilling cold, but he never made it on his own. Within a hundred-meter walk he was quickly beset by red cheeked and heavy bearded men. From the look in their eyes, they were eager to have a stranger in their mist. Josh smiled to himself as he looked into each face knowing what they were thinking was no where close to what he was thinking and the reason he was here.
“What do we have here Igor?”
“Not sure sir... looks to be a stranger. I have never seen him before and some of the boys here have never seen him either. It might be a good idea to take in back to the farm and have him checked to see if he can be used...”
“Good idea”. So they did.
They never questioned how he came to be by himself on the frozen lake, maybe they didn’t care, but before the sun was to set on the first day it was made clear he was now a captive on a breeding farm. And that was fine with him. His habit of storing everything he saw compelled Josh2 to retain these thoughts and concentrate on the mission. So he did.
Josh2 was introduced immediately to the ways of the farm and where most of the activities took place. It was ugly and baron. Smoke from a defective chimney filled the inside of the conception room. Bare walls, one opening in each wall that served as a window, two shelves just at eye level and a line of six cots. Four were occupied at this moment by couples.
Josh's first thoughts as he watched the gyrations out of the corner of his eye were embarrassment. The cot people were doing private things that made him feel bad having to stand this close and watch. The couple on the right side was the most active. Josh turned his head to watch and his thought were more on Keri and himself only a few short weeks ago long, long time from here. They had made love to and with each other, and it was good. As he watched this animated couple his programming clicked through love and sex categories where he found words and phases such as loving, screwing, masturbation, and fucking. At first he thought, loving... naturally, because of their position and they were in fact, coupled. But, watching further and listening to the sounds from just one cot spoke volumes about men and how they function with their one-eyed friend. “…Oh honey, you are so good. I have never had a woman as tight and hot as you. We are going to make a beautiful baby this day. Relax and let me do it. You just lay there... lay still. I said.”
The second cot was different. The man on top told him another word. He was hearing basic words for basic people. He would have put fucking before loving, but for the simple fact the woman's eyes were shut so tightly the sockets were but single slivers of flesh, she was quiet and the toes on both feet were curled into tight little balls. This woman was being used and she knew it. It was her hell on earth, as this person inside her was doing nothing more than masturbating, and using her as a receptacle. If expressions could be translated to words her thought might have been; “…this son-of-a bitch is killing me. I want no part of this breeding farm any more. I'm sick. I hate this. My legs hurt. I think I’m about to throw up on him.”
A bundled pile of torn clothing piled slightly to one side and behind Josh, with a man's voice inside said in a dialect only a handful of serfs in Tuapsee understood that it was his turn next and something about he hoped his woman was as nice as the one in the right hand cot. Or, it sounded something like that. He was slobbering so badly words were coming out covered in O's and were wet and slippy. Josh turned his attention back to the cots. The couple on the right had finished by this time. The middle cot had stopped it's violent movements and from the looks of the man's bottom he may have been trying to punch a hole in the cot's slight padding and bend a tiny metal coin with his hairy cheeks at the same time. The pounding of the left cot had caused it to physically move itself a full meter away from where it had been only three minutes ago. Suddenly it stopped, the man arose, pulled leather trousers to his waist and left. Just like that.
A voice from the corner of the tent sounded like it was saying, “Are you due back soon, Yorg? You looked to be especially good today. Today, you may have made a beautiful baby.”
I'll be back later today. They have me scheduled for four women today.”
“Four?” Josh was thinking how cold the weather was but also how cold and unfeeling these men are. They finish and just leave. No thank you, see you tomorrow, kiss my foot, or that was nice. They just up and leave. Yorg’s partner's legs were still raised and involuntary muscle reaction was causing the calves to twitch and move. Her breathing appeared labored.
In a brief seven minutes Josh had learned there was no pretense of love making, affection, or emotion. The movements by both parties were mechanical and measured. The man was always on top until climax where he quickly arose and the woman held her legs together and high in the air until released. Josh learned it was a crime and punishable by whipping if any semen escaped her body. Rarely did she have the time or luxury to perspire or enjoy what her body longed for. Her position in life was to produce babies, and in this day and age, enjoying conception was never permitted.
Time passed, but all too slowly.
For the past two days he had been watching Katrina and knew without a shadow of a doubt this was one of Ms. Folk's previous lives. He had convinced himself of the fact, but every time he rationalized the thinking, there was missing pieces. If a person had a pervious life, how were they the same or different? Stands to reason that looks would be a bit different as would mannerisms, habits and likes and dislikes. When two people are blood kin they have something special that distinguishes them from outside the family. But, when a person is the same person even if separated by a few centuries, there should be similarities. The puzzle just did not fit. Close but not a perfect match, but he was still convinced... sort of. This was the second time he had been sent back into the past and encountered an earlier Ann Folk and once he had encountered a very nasty Kari. He was beginning to wonder if Ann had been truthful with him when briefing him as to the purpose to this trip. Right now it didn't matter, he was expecting a female that had been chosen for him and he had to turn his mind away from speculation to reality.
Anticipation was not one of his strong points. Josh was not looking forward to the next few minutes. Yri had given him a drink of some kind of a swill watery-like concoction as he left his hut and was told it would keep him warm and relaxed. Josh accepted it as maybe a tradition of the village and did not question it ever as he was turning green. The thin snot-like drink did go down easily and was warming his gut as he saw Katrina. The gagging reflection went suddenly to a soft smile and a warm feeling in his cloned loins.
Katrina and the old slave soon stood in the doorway of the breeding hut where Josh had been assigned the middle cot. She was wrapped in rags, head bowed with both hands clutching her chest. The old slave walked her to the edge of the cot where he carefully and with deliberation slowly unwrapped the young woman's shoulders.
She was naked.
No words were exchanged and no sly, sideways, or awkward glances look between the chosen couple. In years, Katrina had been on earth for 18 years. Josh knew that, but looking at her naked body standing in front of him like this his mind would not admit he was about to deflower this 11th century Ann Folk and start, he thought a new generation.
She was naked. Stomach smooth with a hairy black patch and breasts high, proud and firm. The nipples tasted of lilacs and lime.
The thought that maybe this woman was also a clone passed between Josh’s ears before he quickly discounted the idea as abused. But, her skin texture was too smooth, the muscle tone was too sharp and defined, the breasts were too young and proud with nipples that looked to have never been touched by man or baby. There was a small mole under the left breast and another 10 maybe 11 centimeters below her bellybutton. She smelled of lye soap and lilacs.
Josh's perception of his surroundings and of these people was suddenly elevated. Anyone who could come up with the scent of the delicate lilac in this frozen hellhole could not be all-bad. Maybe he was preoccupied, maybe it was anticipation, maybe it was that water swill concoction he had earlier. Whatever the cause, his body did not readily respond to her now prone attitude or mild encouragement. He knew her job. He had been told many times her job was to lay still and receive the man. Nothing more, nothing less. By Imperial decree she was not to help, and she didn't, so anyone but Josh2 could notice. Keri had done the same to him the first time they had made love but it didn't last the evening. She had told him afterward for him not to worry about it, because, '...it was a woman thing...’ few men knew about, and none understood.
Katrina's breast separated only slightly as her head touched the hard padding of the cot and the fingers of both hands gripped its wooden railings. The sides of his waist felt cold to the top portions of her inner thighs. There were a number of things happening now. She felt slight inward pressure at the same place in her body where she had born two babies already, and she waited. The pressure increased slightly as it moved slowly inside her body. She had felt this same pressure many times in her young life, but this time she did not want it to end. No one had ever been this gentle before. No one had ever treated her as a human before...not even Yri.
On hands and knees on the rickety cot scent of lilacs pushed Josh to near intoxication, the feeling was very effective on limp middle appendage. He wanted to be gentle and not hurt her, but he also did not want to bring the wrath of the village or Yri on her, or himself. Touching her pubic area with hands or fingers was not allowed and to enter her dry and without direction could be painful, for the both of them. Her legs were separated and elevated with pelvic slightly raised as he touched her scented pubic patch it opened just enough for him to feel her moisture and heat from within. The question flashed across his mind, as to wondering how she did that, but he said nothing.
The moment he became completed buried in her body his mind told him who this beautiful and warm person really was and he had to grin to himself, thinking about the irony of being inside an ancestor or the same person responsible for his creation.
Minutes turned into 20 then 30 then 42 before Josh slowed and they both stopped all outward movement. Inwardly, Katrina smiled to herself as she quietly used strong vaginal muscles to massage that part of him still very much inside her.
Both partners were completely drenched with perspiration and lying in each other’s arms as they finished at the same time.
Couples in the four other cots had long stopped their activities, as had Yri and six village people that had stopped by to warm themselves. Most of them also had visible beads of sweat on their lips and foreheads but their attention did not vary from the center cot.
“Who is that couple over there? Pay attention to what she is doing... I want you to do the same things.” The young lady in cot number one was saying to no one in particular but was hoping her partner for the day was listening.
Katrina felt good inside, her belly was warm and alive, her breast tingled and her heart was glad. She had enjoyed this man being inside her.
Quickly, as she realized her own pleasure, she moved her head from side to side to see if anyone in the now crowded room had noticed. Two old men nearest her cot were smiling and poking each other in the ribs were committing on what they had just seen but looking at their faces she was sure they had no idea as to how she felt, nor why. She was safe... for now.
God this feels good. Who is this young man? Katrina was thinking to herself.
Try not to enjoy it again, she admonished herself.
Josh2 was up early the next morning, more from necessity than desire. His head was three sizes too large and every beat of his heart was amplified up through his neck and exploding between his ears. His stomach was queasy and he needed a privy, badly.
Josh was freezing as he stood knee deep in the mountain stream running passed his hut, but right now, there was no alternative. He tried splashing the water on his forehead, and it helped, but was all too temporary. Finally he used his soaked shirt to wrap his throbbing head... it helped. The skin on his shoulders and back had turned a light shade of blue by the time Yri came by and inquired as to Josh's well being.
There were several nasty eye gestures from Josh2 and wide eyed innocence from Yri before it registered that the reason he was standing in the stream was because of something Yri had given him to drink before coupling last evening. Just something light to relax him. Yri went on to explain the little water was a concoction the village developed over the last several years. It helped keep them warm during the winter months. A by-product he did admit was a pounding head if you were not used to it, or drank too much to stay warm. Yri seemed quiet proud of himself as he went on to explain the rather simple procedure in making it. They use left over corn, grain, and potatoes mashed into a gummy pulp, boiled it and capture the vapors in goatskins.
"Vodka." Josh2 said under his breath. He did ask how many times this concoction was boiled and captured and when given the answer as only once, he understood why his head was pounding this morning.
Yri did not understand the word, vodka and asked what it meant. Josh did not try to explain, but merely shrugged his shoulders and simply said, "Nothing. It was just a word that will not be known for another 300 years."
Central nervous system seems fine. The productive systems also seem intact and functional and now the taste buds have been checked and register correct data. What else has to be tested and where?
Taerak's Void
(Book One of Fantastica)
A new series by multiple award winning author, M. R. Mathias
After finding a strange medallion and some maps with markings that no one in his village can understand, Braxton Bray decides to
