Samantha's Journal

From the journal of Dr. Samantha Jane Wilkins


January 2 2010


Today I met with Elsie Jones for the first time. I had been held up in another meeting and so came to the gathering room in the annex of the Human BioGenetics Institute complex much later than I wanted to. Standing by the window looking out was a tall woman. At first that was all I could tell about her for the sun shining through the window behind her blinded me and made her all but impossible to truly discern.


"I'm sorry I'm late," I said, putting down the stack of papers with all of Elsie's test results on a nearby table.


"I understand," she replied. "You scientists are busy people and I am after all just one of the lowly guinea pigs." She had a rich, deep contralto voice. A voice that could never speak quietly, but was meant to soar like a beautiful organ.


She turned and walked towards me. My first thought was that here was the quintessential Earth Mother: she was larger than life and at the same time sparked with, exuded life. Her hair which went almost down to her waist formed a honey colored cloud of curls that moved, swirled with a life all of its own. Her face was round with a rosy glow and her nose was small; smaller than I would have expected. It was a little snub nose like you might see on a young toddler or even on a baby. In contrast to her nose her mouth was large and full with red lips, even though I could see that she wore no lipstick. Indeed she wore no makeup of any kind. It was her eyes that were the most arresting: they were blue-green with tiny sparkles of gold as if some eldricht faerie had thrown faerie gold dust in her eyes and it had magically remained there ever since.


She was tall and big boned with wide hips: the kind of hips that meant bearing children would be easy; the kind of hips that meant there should have been dozens of children. But this earth mother had none at the age of thirty- two. Her waist was small and her bust in proportion to her hips. If the fashion wasn't for muscular and thin, she easily could have won a dozen beauty contests.


She sat down in one of the chairs in front of me. I took another across from her. "You know why you are here?" A silly question, I thought, even as I asked it; for after almost a year of both physical and psychological testing and being told exactly by half a dozen different people what was going to happen, she should know very well why she was here at the HBG.


"I am here because I saw a notice on the bulletin board in the social services office that promised one hundred thousand dollars in return for my having a baby," she said this calmly with a little smile. "I didn't know I would be living here though."


"Does that bother you?" I asked.


"I've seen the apartment in which I will be living. It is very beautiful. But I worry about my house. Who will take care of it while I am gone?"


"The Institute has hired a couple to live in it and care for it until such time as you return," I said. "There is one more thing you should be aware of. I am going to be living with you for at least the next two years."


"Don't they trust me alone?" she laughed, a series of musical notes ringing through the air.


"They want to make sure that you have all the support that you need; that you have someone to talk to and to confide in at all times." I paused for a moment. "This whole experience maybe more difficult than you think it to be."


"And more dangerous." she said softly. "Don't think that I have not noticed the guards and all the strict security. Don't think that I don't notice how deep within the complex our apartments are hidden. I know there are lots of folks who are against what you are doing here, and some will use violence to prevent you from doing what you are doing."


"How do you feel about what we are doing?" This was the one question she had not been asked. The one question that would allow her to remain in the project or send her home.


"you ask a difficult question," she said as she stood and walked around to stretch and, I figure, to think about her answer. "How do you know you can trust my answer? I could just tell you what you want to hear because I want that hundred thousand promised to me."


"I think you will be honest," I said. "Because I know that you can not be anything but."


"Then this is my answer: I think what you are doing -the cloning of human beings- is both good and bad. That is all I can say so far. I have to go through this experience of bearing a clone to decide how good or how bad it is."


"That makes sense," I said. "It is about time for lunch. Shall we?"


We went to the dining hall where the others of the group of six women and those like myself who were there to be guardians, to be friends, to be confidants waited for us to join them.

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