The Curran Sea

Can of Worms

Besides, he didn't know that they could be programmed, to that extent. Making Judah, Arthur, Samuel, and Jasper super dads had simply required focusing on an intent he already had. If a mer was truly set on leaving the sea, he didn't think that they would be alterable, in that regard. Perhaps, if they were undecided, they could print one to stay behind, by focusing on all that they loved about the sea.
   But to tell them that would be to open the can of worms he'd sealed shut, so long ago.
   "And then, there is the question of souls," he continued. She wasn't listening, though. He could tell, by the faraway look in her eye, as she wandered around the lab.
   "My father wishes to know if you could bring his daughter back to us."
   The look, then, was communication, not daydreaming.
   He shook his head, tears misting his eyes. "I cannot. I can only recreate the living, not the long gone. They have to be able to stand on the pad, to be cloned."
   "This pad?" she asked, having found the small, four by eight pad in a far corner.
   He did not react, other than to say "I decline to comment."
   "That's a yes." She stepped onto the cloning pad--the wrong side of it--and waited, head thrown back, eyes closed.
   Nothing happened.
   He walked toward her, holding his son, and sighed heavily. "That is no toy, niece. As I say, 'tis blasphemy."
   Besides that, it wasn't plugged in. Out on the arm, they hadn't found a way to hook into the mainframe. There was enough power for life support, and basic functions, but he would have to return to the ascend/descend beam, to reconnect to higher energy processes. The chute wouldn't reach them, so it had no material components for printing.
   Not only that, Hal hadn't scanned her. It would simply print another Ibrahim. He had handicapped it over a decade ago, and never bothered to input another template.
   "Then why do you keep it close by?" Those distinct eyes sparkled up at him.
   "For inert materials--if anything He Created could be called such. Simple elements, for use in my other work.
   "That reminds me. Hal, when am I due for my next vitamin shot?"
   The bot hovered nearby. "Thirty minutes ago, sir. I did not think it wise to interrupt."
   He took the med pen it held out, stuck it to his side, and pressed the activator, without taking his eyes off of his unpredictable niece. He handed it back to Hal, watched her eyes follow it back to the material recycler. They couldn't run it, until they reconnected with the mainframe, but she was interested in the bot, itself.
   "Hal, do you care for my uncle all of the time?"
   It did not respond. It was still trying to decide whether or not it was wise to do so.
   Ibrahim waited, to see which way the wind blew, and was strangely relieved to see it take his side. He apologized to Nora, hoping Hal knew to maintain its course.
   "Hal is only programmed to respond to certain voices. It doesn't even always work with nonverbal cues. We thought it prudent to restrict its independent functions, to avoid potential overstep. And when I say 'we', that includes Hal, itself. I would not attempt to coax it into taking your side. On anything."
   She didn't speak, but he could tell that her mind was working. If she was as bright as his mother, that only spelled trouble.
   "Why does this machine blaspheme?" she asked.
   Yep, there it is, he thought.
   "It prints copies, nothing more. Worse still, we think that it takes a part of your soul to do it, which the clone then has to grow into their own. The donor also has to regrow the harvested portion, which is... not an easy process."
   "We would have soulless mer, for a time, then? Grandfather does not like this."
   He clasped her shoulder again, turned her toward him. "Do I look soulless, child? I say again, it does grow back. I have yet to have a clone turn sour, with a partial soul. I have, however, been exceedingly careful with them."
   "But you are the original. Of course you would not be soulless."
   He released his niece before he did her harm, by squeezing too hard. "It has been fifteen years since I cloned this body." He sighed tiredly. "And even then, it was the second printing."
   Her chin jutted out. "Your soul does not seem diminished."
   "If you met Judah..." He turned, to take a few steps away. "If you met him, you would know what I could have been. He was cloned from me, yes, but he had nearly three years to recover, before he got his new body. I had less than a year between replacement bodies. The second body spawned two more clones!"
   He stopped, then, staring out at the projected image of water. He hadn't told Hal to stop. "That's why it was such a dark time, wasn't it, Hal?"
   The little orb wiggled. "Of course, sir! We never connected all of the variables, but it makes... oh, sir, you mustn't do that again."
   He spun and glowered at Nora. "One does not meddle lightly in the affairs of God, child. The cost is too great."
   The mer who remained reacted to his invocation of the Lord's name. He hoped it was not negative, else he was more cursed than he already thought.
   "Talk to Judah. You will see that he has a complete soul." He sat, then, on the med bed, to feed his smallest child.