Aphasiac

Chapter Nineteen

Dr. Harold Donnelly hadn't heard from Clarendon Memorial (or any hospital for that matter) for almost three months now. He had given them his notice and never looked back. Early retirement. He just wanted some time for himself. That's what he had told them. Yeah, right! This cloning business had grown at such an enormous rate with such an enormous income that he didn't need his job at the hospital to stay afloat. In fact, he didn't need any job to stay afloat. He had paid into a retirement plan since he was twenty-two and probably could have lived a comfortable life on that alone. He had chosen not to, of course.

With his cloning lab he couldn't stop to enjoy retirement. Not as if he was really troubled by that at all. There was too much to enjoy in his lab. Who needed a nice condo and trips to Europe and cruises? Not Harold Donnelly, that's for sure. Besides, he had his monthly trips to central Africa. Trips he kept quiet so as not to arouse suspicions. Trips that usually brought in tens of thousands of dollars for him each time.

Darlene, his daughter and his pride and joy was doing incredibly well with her adoption agency. An alarming number of children passed through her doors yet no one bothered to question the substantial difference in the local statistics. People brushed it off as just another step in social evolution. Abortion was no longer the answer that was pounced upon. There was, instead, an increasing lean towards adoption. This new respect for life left the local woman's activist groups baffled and abortuaries near bankrupt. It was like a new, exciting fad, spreading across the nation quickly and efficiently.

Harold got a kick out of this. It gave him one more reason to believe that what he was doing was not wrong but benefiting the entire world. Like a sign. A good omen.

Because the children he provided caused such a jump in the number of adoptions people read this as the faultiness of abortion. Women began to come out with their horror stories and emotional scarring. Darlene loved it. With the increasing popularity of adoption she could run a successful and influential agency. She was hope for so many people now. People that, four years ago, she would have had to turn away because abortion took all her potential adoptees. She held her father dear for what he was doing for her business and for all the new parents his children made so happy.

Sutton's Supply
September 6, 2000

Harold was alone in the elevator with his thoughts. It was the way he preferred it. It was the way it had always been. As it would always be so long as he maintained control of his existence. He was making that slow climb to see Jack. He had decided it would be wise to sell Jack on the idea of adoption. Jack was his partner and it only seemed right. Harold was also feeling a little bit nervous lately. Four years he had pursued this project. Four years without a glitch. Basically. How much longer did he have? There was no way to tell. One week? One year? Forever? With Jack as a knowledgeable parent to one of his clones, he could be saved. Jack would be his safety net. His security if, God-forbid, this project ever landed him in court. Harold was pleased with his plan. He had already assured himself that Jack would be agreeable. Molly would be his only hitch. He had always thought of her as a pushover, though. Jack would make this work. He had to.

Harold was smiling as he left the elevator and made his way down the hall to Jack's office door. He was smiling still when he passed Marlene, Jack's now so ancient secretary, who was choking on who knows what. He didn't notice her asking for water until he was already at Jack's door but by then he had decided that he was too late and she could take care of herself.

***

Jack Sutton was pleased with himself and with the world. He no longer felt that lingering guilt each time he entered his building or walked down the street or went to bed or just existed. Since that day when Harold had shown him the children he felt exhilarated each time he set foot into Sutton's Supply because he knew he was standing over what very-well may be the greatest thing in the history of man. The greatest thing in the history of the world. Or so he liked to think. He liked to think that he was an intricate part of it. He was not, but found it easy to convince himself, in moments of self-gloating, that without him Harold's project could not go on. This was not true. Harold could put up shop successfully anywhere he went in the world. Jack chose to ignore this, of course. He liked to ignore anything that made him feel like less than he believed he was. And he had been thinking a lot of himself these last few years.