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A löngu síðan á Íslandi ..... [13] and last :)

Silja Henningsdottir's picture
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Three hours earlier...

Dr. Helen Phillips was busily preparing the examination room. She stood back for a moment and mentally went through the list of things required. She smiled, all was ready. The Benefactors would be so proud of her; success was within her grasp, a new “master race”. A Brave New World where beautiful people held sway over all they surveyed. Immortality in a designer world. And she, Doctor Helen Phillips would be lauded as ......

Her thoughts were interrupted by the double-doors opening.  She turned to face her destiny.

Framed in the opening, the two lab porters stood either side of a thin eight year old girl. Phillips took in the scene.

“Ah, Silja. Come here, oh I am so sorry to hear about your Momma.” Phillips offered a hand to the little girl, smiling a plastic smile and offering her fake words of condolence.

Silja stepped slowly forward.  Her bright eyes now dulled, reddened by hours of crying and lack of sleep. Her golden tresses hung now like dreary curtains, framing a tearstained face streaked with tear marks.

The girl’s defiance, gone. Her irrepressible spirit, gone. The hallmark impudent smirk, wiped. Silja walked to Dr. Phillips in a dirty orange coat, she dragged a battered teddy-bear at her side.

Philips patted the examination table. “Come on, jump up. Let’s get those dirty clothes off and a nice nightie for you, hmm? I just have to check you over to make sure you are all healthy and, well make sure that no germs have got on you. Is that okay?”

Phillips face showed the most insincere sympathising, as she gently lifted Silja into place. Silja just sat there, allowing the doctor to undress her, her defiance crushed. It was only when Philips tried to take Teddy away from her that she rebelled, clutching tightly on to the one thing she had left that was her own.

For the next couple of hours Silja’s mind only focussed on counting colours she could see in the lights shining down on her from above. All this time Dr. Phillips had swabbed, measured sampled and whatever else. No words came from either to the other, except for Phillips’ faux bed-side manner.

As Phillips busied herself at testing stations and microscopes, computers or whatever. Silja tried to think herself back to her home in the hills. Her mother, her father, the animals. That idyllic life which she had been torn away from. Silja felt warm tears run down the side of her face and into her ears.

“Right!  Almost done” Silja opened her eyes to the plastic smile and duplicitous voice of Dr. Phillips. “Just a tiny injection... and you can go, hmm?”

Helen Phillips heart beat like a piston deep in her breast, Oh this was sooo good so so good! , the kid had perfect genes. Imagine this scruffy little urchin will be the template for the future of mankind. Phillips felt the surge of  triumph, it felt so good, ‘Oh my it feels even like its arousing me’  she thought, smiled..’ shhh, almost there’

She tapped the air out of the liquid in the syringe; the amber anaesthetic filled the tube. Phillip could feel her hand shaking as she picked up the thin arm of the girl and pushed the point under her skin. Phillips pushed the plunger down slowly. Watched the girl looking back up at her, Philips observed the pupils slowly start to dilate. Phillips smiled.

She was shocked out of her deliberations, by the double-doors crashing open, it seemed like slow motion, she turned around. She saw Malansky, she heard him roar, and she became aware of something large and red approaching her rapidly from her left side.

Ten kilo’s of water encased three kilo’s of steel, swung with furious rage by a strong adult man all adds up to a lot of energy impacting on an unprotected skull, first it pushes the plastic spectacle frame into the eye socket, the glass shatters and shards embed themselves into the tender eyeball. The impact to the skull forced the head abruptly sideways but the brain, being mostly liquid, takes longer to accelerate, thus forcing it to compress before it rebounds back to its original form. By this time the skull has fractured and is weakened. The jaw dislocated. The rebounding brain tissue then causes severe haemorrhage. Various liquids and tissues force the fractured skull to split and some if the material will escape. Blood, brain tissue, skull fragments, hair, red paint. These become deposited in surfaces around the scene, on tables, the floor, the bed. And the body of Dr. Helen Phillips. 

Malansky dropped the fire-extinguisher as he rushed past the twisted remains of Phillips to the bedside and Silja. He checked for a pulse; saw the mostly empty syringe in her arm. There was still a pulse, albeit very feint. But Malansky made the calculation, the size of the child’s body. The amount of anaesthetic used. He knew he was too late. Malansky roared anguish.

There was only one chance. Malansky scooped up the limp body and ran into the corridor. Twenty meters away, was his lab and the cloning apparatus. He rapidly put Silja’s fading form into the machine, punched a few instructions into the console, closed his eyes and pushed the lever.

Ten minutes later, as he sat on the lab-stool, he thought about Silja Henningsdottir. He smiled ruefully at the Icelandic naming system. He softly apologised to her. His eyes teared up at the now lifeless form in the cloner.

“You’re in the system now. I don’t know when or how you will come out. I don’t know what sort of world you will inherit when you do. But where ever you come out, Silja Henningsdottir, I wish you God’s speed, and a happier life than this we forced on you. I am sorry.”


Malansky sighed, lifted the pistol barrel to his temple, and pulled the trigger.


Joe Spivey's picture

((Hi hun. Looks like my comment from yesterday didn't make it through the site being down. Well, what i told you last night still holds. Silja's story has been a powerful and heart-tugging journey. Well done on the whole thing and particularly this ending which is graphic (loved the fire extinguisher scene) and full of pathos.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Silja Henningsdottir's picture

((  Thanks for your Comment Joe. As you know writing this had not been so easy, and thanks for your advice along the way. I can sit back now and feel proud of my work.

I hope those that come accross this story will take the time to read whole thing from start to end. If you do,  thanks !

Iss eggsackertly wot I said .....    Idd-eee- oot !

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