Firstborn
by Nancy Brown (nancyelizabrown@aol.com)
copyright 1996, 2001
Disney and Buena Vista own the castle and most of the characters
this is in no way intended as being disrespectful or derivative of
their property. Michael McAlpin belongs to the continually growing
universe of Tara O'Shea, specifically her incredible story "Blood From A Stone".
For the gang on inlink. With apologies.
***
"Very nice work, Anton," Xanatos said as he slowly walked
around the tank, looking on with approval. "When will he be
ready?"
Sevarius did not immediately respond, and Xanatos turned to
see his prize geneticist engrossed in reading a monitor.
"Anton?"
"Oh, yes. Our boy will be born in another week, assuming no
further complications."
"How much more training will he require?" Considering the
amount of programming that this particular project had already
received, it had better not be very damned much.
"The kind of training I can't slip into his thoughts while he
sleeps. You'll need to teach him the finer points about adjusting
to life in the real world. For example, although he knows the
exact ingredients, preparation, and caloric content of every item
on the menu at all the restaurants in the city, someone will need
to show him how to use a fork." Sevarius' mouth twitched in
obvious amusement at that mental image. Xanatos refrained from
scowling, but silently added another strike against Sevarius; if he
racked up too many black marks, he was going to disappear, genius
or no. Loose cannons sank ships. Or something like that.
"Keep me advised of his progress." Giving Sevarius a
carefully calculated look of disapproving authority, he left.
Only when he was safely in the back of the limo, pulling out
of the Gen-U-Tech parking lot, did he allow himself to smirk.
Owen's eyes glanced up into the rear view mirror. "May I
assume the project is going according to schedule, sir?"
"You may so assume. Within a month, I predict we'll have him
running the place." There was no flicker of emotion in the
mirrored glance. Not that he actually expected one. "So, what's
next on the agenda?"
"You have a teleconference scheduled at eleven with Michael
McAlpin, concerning the castle in Scotland." The note of distaste
in his voice did not go unnoticed. Owen had been quietly opposed
to this particular purchase from the onset, and even more so to
dealing with McAlpin. Although his work had never wavered an iota
in quality, he made it known, albeit subtly, that he disagreed with
Xanatos on this matter. "At three, you are to meet with Mr. Malone
at the usual location. When we return to the city, you have a
dinner date with Fox."
Well, one out of three wasn't bad, when the one was the most
beautiful woman in New York. In his opinion, at least. He leaned
back into his seat, and began reviewing the situation with McAlpin
in his mind.
The project opened its eyes and looked around in muddled
confusion. Xanatos opened his mouth, but Sevarius beat him to the
punch: "It's alive!"
Xanatos glared at Sevarius, added another mark, then turned
his attention towards more important things. A miniscule part of
his psyche continued pouting, complaining, "I wanted to say that!"
He pushed away the childish thought, and concentrated on his
new creation. It was, indeed, alive. *He* was alive. In a way,
this new being was his son, his firstborn.
"Hello, Sotanax." His clone.
The other man looked to be his brother rather than his twin,
but the differences were only superficial. Sotanax had never been
out in the sun, nor to a tanning salon, and so was a pale, almost
sickly color. His hair was nearly as long as Xanatos' own, but his
beard was far more scraggly and unkempt. Something about shaving
being difficult in the middle of a protein-laden goo, he imagined.
The important things were the same: the quick brown eyes; the firm
mouth and chin; the muscle tone, which while not quite matching hi
own was certainly impressive for someone who'd literally never
lifted *anything* in his short life.
"You are Xanatos," said the clone, his voice weak from disuse,
but filled with the same resonating sounds he'd come to know as his
own, and changed, too. Sotanax sounded like himself when speaking
on tape or television, a shade softer than the voice in his head.
Mentally, he knew the difference stemmed from the reverberation of
small bones in his own ears, picking up vibrations that never lef
his skull. Emotionally, he could not avoid a weird sense of
discontent at hearing another voice from his own lips.
"Yes."
The face, his face, turned. "Anton Sevarius, Ph.D. Genetics,
Massachussetts Institute of Technology." Another turn. "Owen
Burnett." Owen inclined his head. The clones eyes shifted,
as if trying to retrieve a memory that wasn't there. Failing, he
closed his mouth.
"Sotanax," said Xanatos, "How many seconds are there in a
day?"
"Eighty-six thousand four hundred."
"What is the capital of Thailand?"
"Bangkok."
"What is the First Rule of Acquisition?"
"Once you have their money, you never give it back."
"How can you tell the difference between cubic zirconia and
diamond at a glance?"
"F*ck if I know!"
Xanatos stood back, startled. Owen's eyes widened, but he
made no move.
"Anton?"
Sevarius swatted the clone on the head.
Sotanax looked confused. "I did wrong?"
"Very wrong," said Xanatos. "You are not to use that language
in front of me or anyone else, is that understood?"
The clone considered his words. "No. Why?"
"Because you were created for a very specific purpose. You
are to represent me during meetings and public events when I have
more pressing business to attend to. You've been programmed with
the business acumen of myself, Trump and Rockefeller combined, with
the scientific knowledge of Anton here and all his predecessors
back to the time of Aristotle. You were *not* programmed to use foul
language." He turned to Sevarius. "Was he?"
"If so, it wasn't intentional. I've been very good about ... "
He trailed off and did not continue as he checked something on his
terminal.
"'Good about' what?
"Oh, nothing," he said in a sudden distraction. "That was
probably just an anomaly. One can never tell, and with Sotanax
being the first viable clone of a sentient being, a myriad of
possiblities could go wrong." He nodded to himself. "I'd suggest
you take him back to your office, get him acquainted with things.
I'll stay here and see if I can figure out what happened."
Xanatos looked at his clone again. An anomaly. Perhaps
Sevarius was right, and it wouldn't happen again.
"Owen, bring the car around. Let's take our boy home."
***
The Eyrie Building stood up stark against a leaden sky,
filling him with a kind of ominous dread. The unfinished
scaffolding at the top only served to make the vision more
imposing. Still, it represented that his dream was growing a
little closer each day. The deal for the castle had finalized with
the telecon. There were already crews disassembling the blasted
thing in Ussex; meanwhile the gargoyle statues, carefully packed as
per his instructions, would be shipped within a few days. All that
remained was for him to make room at the top, so to speak.
Sotanax gazed up at the building in awe. "Is that our home?"
Xanatos smiled indulgently. "That's our little shack. Do you
like it?"
"Oh, yes," breathed the clone. "It's f*cking amazing!"
Xanatos had not been amused at the beginning, and was even
less amused now. "Sotanax, I told you to cease using profanity.
If you were in a meeting and said that, we would look bad in the
eyes of our competitors." And the gods help us all if you do that
in front of the Illuminati.
"I'm sorry," said Sotanax with enough contrition that Xanatos
forgave him instantly. After all, this *was* his boy. He'd simply
have to take on a more guiding role in his life.
They went in through a private entrance to avoid questions, at
least from passers-by. Sotanax was bubbling over with curiosity
about everything they saw, and through his young eyes, Xanatos was
able to see his building as a magical place on its own. By the
time they had reached what was currently passing for his office,
the clone had won his way fully back into Xanatos' good graces.
There was a message from Sevarius waiting.
Owen dialed the lab, then put the not-even-remotely-good
doctor up on the viewscreen. He looked distinctly nervous.
"What's the verdict, Anton?" he asked without preamble.
Sevarius attempted a smile and failed miserably. "There seems
to have been a slight problem with Sotanax's programming."
"And that would be?" he prompted.
"It seems that, ah, one of his educational tapes was not what
we originally thought it would be." Xanatos felt a knot growing in
his stomach. "The tape that was supposed to instruct him how to
interact with children, the Baloney tape." Sevarius began to sing:
"I is for imagine, M is for me ... "
Xanatos held up a hand. "I'm familiar with the tape. How
would listening to," he shuddered, "Baloney give Sotanax the clone
equivalent of Tourette's syndrome?"
"That's the funny part." This time he tried to laugh. It was
a weak effort. "You see, sir, I'd brought in a tape of my own to
listen to one evening while working late. I never had a chance to
actually listen, and I misplaced the tape afterwards, until just
now."
In a low, dangerous voice, Xanatos said, "Tell me what you put
into Sotanax's program."
Sevarius looked at him, a hangdog expression written on his
face. "Andrew Dice Clay."
This was *so* not good. "Is there any way to fix it?"
"Possibly. I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
"Do." The transmission ended.
Owen looked expectantly at him. "May I ask what you wish to
do with Sotanax next, sir?"
That was a good question. Sotanax was poking around the
office, picking up the stapler and turning it in his fingers with
wonder. "I guess we show him the ropes and try to keep him from
hanging himself with them."
"Yes sir."
Sotanax began singing to himself: "Jack and Jill went up the
hill, each with a buck and a quarter ... "
"Shut up! Just shut up!"
***
They gave him the grand tour of the office, the meeting rooms,
and the temporary living area. Owen whipped up some soup for
lunch, basic tomato with just a hint of spice. Perfect. As Sevarius
had predicted, Sotanax was a gourmet. As he had also predicted, he
needed instructions on basic table manners. Xanatos found a grim
humor in showing his double how to drink from a glass without
spilling.
When Sotanax used his spoon for the very first time, Xanatos
was careful to show him how to hold it, and how to put it into his
mouth without spilling. On his second try, he forgot to blow on it
and burned his tongue. The sudden pain was greeted by a string of
profanities that would never be heard on the Disney Afternoon an
would most likely land a certain Ms. Brown in jail now that the
Telecommunications Decency Act is law.
Xanatos scolded him again, and did not finish his soup.
The next few hours followed much of the same pattern, with
Sotanax being very good until something shocked or hurt him.
Another call to Gen-U-Tech informed them there would be no new
breakthrough in anything less than a week.
The day had drawn into afternoon. Evening would be arriving,
and with it Fox, who was dropping by for dinner as she had every
night this week. The thought of her gave him a little more
patience with the clone. She'd have to leave for L.A. soon to
finalize things for the series premiere next fall. At least he'd
managed to get Pack Media Studios operational in time for
production; it would keep her near. He tried picturing a future
with her in it all the time, and found the image enticing.
He was brought back into the present by Sotanax's inquiry as
to why the sky was darkening so.
"You've never seen a sunset, have you?" The clone shook his
head. "All right, let's go up top. You can't get into *too* much
trouble on the roof."
Leaving Owen to finish up things for the day, Xanatos led
Sotanax to his personal elevator, and took them to the roof. It
was cluttered with building materials and metal fingers reaching up
angrily into the purple sky. To him, it was art waiting to happen.
"This is beautiful," said Sotanax, peering over the edge like
a child.
"Isn't it, though? This is *our* city, to control and to play
with as we see fit, *if* you can behave yourself."
"I can! Just give me a chance. You'll see!"
There was a sound from the elevator shaft. He turned to see
the door open again, and from the darkness within, Fox emerged
followed by Owen.
For the first time that day, happiness filled him. He took
her hands gently in his and bent down for a kiss. "Hi, Beautiful."
"Hi, Charmer," she answered in that seductively low voice of
hers. He shivered in the warm evening air.
Her attention was suddenly caught by Sotanax. Her eyes opened
wide. "David?"
He squeezed her hands reassuringly. "Fox, my dear, meet
Sotanax. He's going to take my place at meetings, building
openings, that sort of thing. Leaving *us* free to pursue more
interesting things."
Her smile matched his own. "I see." She extended a hand to
the clone. "It's nice to meet you."
Sotanax said nothing at first, merely stared at the hand, the
at the arm, and then at the body attached to the arm. Too late,
Xanatos realized something. Sotanax was based on him, his own DNA,
his own thoughts, his own desires. And he was having the same
response to Fox that Xanatos always did.
The clone opened his mouth. Xanatos didn't think himself
easily shocked, and he *knew* Fox didn't shock at anything less
than 10,000 volts. This wasn't easy shocking material. In the
space of less than a minute, Sotanax had suggested things to Fox
that *they* hadn't tried yet, for various reasons, and he managed
to relate these particular ideas in words Xanatos hadn't heard
since his days on his father's fishing boat among a few ex-Navy
personnel.
What had irritated him before now brought him to fury. It was
bad enough, *more* than bad enough, that the project had proven
unstable and not fit for its designated use. It was another thing
altogether when that project was making sexual advances towards his
girlfriend in a manner that was beyond vulgar and well into
twisted.
"Sotanax," he warned between gritted teeth.
"What?" asked the clone. "You and four-eyes there care to
join us?" He then began to describe exactly how.
The long day finally snapped something inside of him. Before
Fox or Owen could stop him, he grabbed Sotanax and pushed him,
hard. His double fell backwards, towards the edge of the building,
then tangled on his own feet.
Xanatos came to his senses an instant too late, and scrabbled
for a hold. His hand clutched only air as Sotanax fell off the
skyscraper.
Xanatos heard "Oh SH************T!" fade away into space, and
he was gone.
For a long time, he stayed there, staring. Fox tried to
comfort him, leaving only when the first police helicopters arrived
to arrest him on charges of making an obscene clone fall.
The End
The death threats may now commence.
Running for the hills ...
NancyB.
(
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