The Christ Clone Trilogy 01 - In His Imagery
By
James Beau Seigneur
Christopher
Twelve years later — Los Angeles, California
"Is it very much farther?" Hope Hawthorne asked her father as they drove down
the exit ramp of 1-605 in Northern Los Angeles. "No, Babe, just a few more
miles," Decker answered.
Hope turned on the radio just in time to hear an announcer report the current
temperature, "It's 78 degrees; another beautiful day in Southern California."
"Seventy-eight degrees! Is this heaven or what? It was thirty-seven and raining
when we left D.C.," Decker commented as Hope tried to find some music. They had
flown in that morning from Washington, D.C. to visit Professor Harry Goodman,
who was about to announce a major breakthrough which could prove to be a cure
for several types of cancer. The discovery was a result of research with the
C-cells (as Goodman had come to call the cells from the Shroud) and, in
accordance with the agreement they had made twelve years earlier, Decker was to
be given an exclusive report on any C-cell research two weeks prior to any
formal announcement and press conference. To this point the research had not
been nearly as successful as Goodman had hoped.
Decker had seen Goodman only once since their initial discussions about the
origin of the cells. The other time had been in the summer of 1996 when Goodman
believed he was close to developing an AIDS vaccine. What he found was a dead
end. Most humiliating was that Goodman had discovered the error in his research
two days after Decker's article reached the newsstands. The article had gotten
national attention for Goodman's work and Decker's newspaper, only to be
followed the same week by embarrassment.
Decker turned the rented car down the narrow street and stopped in front of
Goodman's house. They were greeted at the front door by Mrs. Goodman. Decker
politely reintroduced himself to the woman who smiled warmly at her two guests.
"Oh, I remember you," she said brightly. "And this must be Hope." She reached
over to give Hope a grandmotherly hug. "Harry said you were bringing your
daughter with you. Such a pretty girl!" she continued. "How old are you, dear?"
she asked.
"Thirteen," Hope answered.
"We decided to mix pleasure with business," Decker said. "We're going to drive
up to San Francisco this afternoon and visit my wife's sister for a few days.
Elizabeth and our other daughter, Louisa, flew out there three days ago."
"Yeah, but I had to stay in Washington and take a math test," Hope interjected.
"In the news business things are very mercurial. It seems that our vacations
have never worked out as we planned, so we just try to take a few days whenever
we can. Sometimes that means that the kids have to miss a few days of school,"
Decker explained.
Mrs. Goodman looked at Decker with disapproving puzzlement on her face. "Your
daughter is in school in Washington? I thought you lived in Tennessee. Do you
really think that a boarding school is appropriate for a girl Hope's age?
Especially so far from . . ."
"Hope's not in a boarding school," Decker interrupted. "We moved to Washington
two years ago after I sold my newspaper in Knoxville and went to work for
NewsWorld Magazine."
"Oh, forgive me. I didn't realize. It's just that, well, my parents sent me to a
boarding school when I was 12 and I hated it. Anyway," she said, changing the
subject and turning her attention again to Hope. "I'm glad you were able to come
along, dear."
"Harry is out in the back yard playing with Christopher. They probably didn't
hear you drive up. I'm afraid the professor's hearing is not what it used to be.
I'll tell him you're here." Decker and Hope waited as Mrs. Goodman went to call
her husband.
"He'll be right in, Mr. Hawthorne," she said as she returned and then excused
herself to the kitchen.
A moment later Professor Harry Goodman appeared. "How are you, Decker? How have
you been?" he continued, not waiting for an answer. "You look like you've put on
some weight and lost more hair." Decker cringed a little at Goodman's
recognition of what was obvious to everyone but himself.
"And you must be Hope," he said, looking in her direction. "I'll bet you'd like
to meet my grandnephew, Christopher." Goodman turned toward the back door where
a young boy was standing with his nose pressed against the screen, looking in.
"Christopher, come in here and meet Mr. Hawthorne and his daughter Hope."
Decker had never seen Goodman so animated or in such a good mood. "I'm very
pleased to meet you, Mr. Hawthorne," Christopher said as he extended his right
hand.
"It's very nice to meet you as well," Decker responded, "but we actually met
about four years ago when you were seven. You've grown quite a bit since then."
Martha Goodman emerged from the kitchen with a plate full of chocolate chip
cookies. "Oh, good, I love chocolate chip," said Professor Goodman.
"They're not for you," teased Martha. "They're for the children. Hope, would you
and Christopher like to come out in the backyard with me and have some cookies
and milk?" Hope — who didn't like being thought of as a child but who did like
chocolate chip cookies — nodded and went with Christopher and Mrs. Goodman to
the backyard.
Decker and Goodman settled in for a long conversation. "Professor, you look
great," Decker began. "I swear, you look ten years younger than the last time I
saw you."
"I feel great," Goodman answered. "I've lost twenty-four pounds. My blood
pressure is down. Hell, I'm even regular most of the time," he added with a
chuckle.
"That's another thing," said Decker. "You seem... well, almost jolly. What's
going on?"
Goodman looked toward the back door. Christopher was standing there with the
screen door part way open, watching as Hope and Mrs. Goodman inspected some
flowers. Certain he wouldn't be missed, Christopher ran into the living room to
his granduncle. From his shirt pocket he pulled two chocolate chip cookies.
Goodman took the cookies and accepted the hug that came along with them.
Christopher put the side of his index finger to his lips to signify a pact of
silence, and then went over to Decker and reached back into his shirt pocket. As
he did, he saw the results the hug had on the two remaining cookies. Looking at
the badly broken cookie remains he offered them apologetically to Decker. Decker
accepted graciously as Christopher gave the same code-of-silence signal and ran
out the back door before he could be missed.
'"What's going on?'" Goodman said, repeating Decker's previous question. "That's
what's going on." Goodman nodded toward where Christopher had made his exit. "I
may look ten years younger, but I feel like I'm forty again." Decker knew from
his last visit with Goodman that Christopher's parents had been killed in an
auto accident. His closest surviving relative was his grandfather, Goodman's
older brother, who was unable to take care of him because of his failing health.
So Christopher had moved in with Harry and Martha.
"Originally, I thought we were too old to take care of a child, but Martha
insisted," Goodman continued. "We never had any children of our own, you know.
Christopher has been the best thing to ever happen to Martha and me. But, I was
right — we were too old. So we just got younger."
Decker smiled.
"Well, let's get down to business," said Goodman. "This time I think we've
really got something. Let me go get my notes." Goodman left the room for a
moment and returned with three over-stuffed notebooks. Two hours later it was
clear to Decker that Goodman was right. Goodman had developed a vaccine for
treating many of the viruses which can cause cancer, such as Rous sarcoma and
Epstein-Barr. Further testing was necessary to determine if the vaccine
development process was universal, and there would have to be actual testing in
humans, but all of the tests to date had been remarkable, proving as much as 93%
effective in lab animals.
"So what you've done is to grow and support massive cultures of the C-cells, and
then introduce the cancer virus in vitro," Decker said. "Li that environment,
the virus attacks the C-cells, which respond by producing antibodies, resulting
in the complete arrest and ultimate elimination of the virus."
"Li a nutshell, that's it," Goodman concluded. "And if the vaccine development
process proves out, it will probably be just as successful with any other virus,
including AIDS or even the common cold. Admittedly, those will be a little
tougher because of all the mutations of the AIDS virus and all the varieties of
cold viruses."
"This is fantastic! I think I can guarantee you a major story on this. I'd be
surprised if my editor doesn't put your picture on next week's cover."
"So, we'll go with the same plan as before to explain the origin of the
C-cells?" Decker asked.
"There's no reason to change it that I know of. I'll say that I developed the
C-cells through genetic engineering and that I can't say more without revealing
the process."
"Good," Decker responded. "I'd like to spend some more time looking over your
notes, but I promised Elizabeth we wouldn't be late."
"I'm way ahead of you," interrupted Goodman. "I've already made copies. Just
make sure you keep them under lock and key and call me if you have any
questions." Goodman gathered his papers and the conversation soon turned to
small talk.
Decker told Goodman that after visiting with Elizabeth's sister for a few days,
he'd be going to Israel for six weeks to relieve the News World reporter
covering the recent Palestinian protests. "By the way, do you remember Dr. Rosen
from the Turin expedition?" Decker asked.
"Joshua Rosen?" Goodman asked. "Of course. Seems I read something about him
somewhere a couple years back."
"That was my story in News World" Decker responded. "I sent you a copy."
"I remember it now. It was something about him leaving the U. S. and going to
Israel after they cut his program from the defense budget."
"Right. Well, he's still there. They finally granted him citizenship. I'll be
staying with him for a couple days."
"That's right, I had forgotten about that. He wanted to become an Israeli
citizen but they wouldn't let him," Goodman recalled.
At that moment Martha Goodman, Hope, and Christopher came in the front door from
a long walk. "Would you and Hope like to stay for supper?" she asked Decker.
"I'm sorry, we really can't," Decker answered.
"Are you sure? I know that Christopher would enjoy Hope's company for a while
longer."
"Thanks, but Elizabeth and Louisa are expecting us," Decker explained.
As the miles rolled by and the highway scenery grew redundant, Hope told her
father about her visit with Christopher and Martha Goodman. "We had a lot of
fun," she said. "He's really a nice kid. It's a shame he'll be thirteen in a
couple years."
"Why's that?" Decker asked.
"Because thirteen-year-old boys are so obnoxious," she answered.
"Obnoxious?" Decker said. "I thought you saved that term for your little
sister."
Hope didn't answer but her father's comment reminded her of something. "Mrs.
Goodman said that it's tough on Christopher because he doesn't have any brothers
or sisters to play with and there's no one else his age in the neighborhood. She
said that she and Professor Goodman were both only children, too, and that I was
really lucky to have a little sister. I told her I didn't think so. So, anyway,
if it's all right with you and Mom, I told her she could have Louisa to keep
Christopher company."
Decker rolled his eyes. "Real funny," he responded.
"Yeah, Mrs. Goodman didn't think you'd go for it, either."
As they continued their trip Decker's thoughts went back and forth between his
discussion with Goodman and his planned trip to Israel. He looked forward to
visiting with the Rosens and he especially looked forward to spending some time
with his old friend Tom Donafin who had joined News World magazine a few weeks
earlier. He was not, however, looking forward to being away from Elizabeth,
Hope, and Louisa for so long, although they would be joining him in Israel for
Christmas.
They were now about a hundred and twenty miles from Los Angeles. The temperature
was near perfect. The sun would be setting soon. Suddenly Decker took his foot
off the gas pedal and let the car drift to a stop on the shoulder of the road.
"What's the matter, Dad?" Hope asked. But Decker didn't answer. For a long
moment he just stared as if in shock. "How could I have missed it?" he asked
himself out loud. "What?" Hope asked.
"We're going back," he said finally. Hope tried to object but it was fruitless.
Decker forgot all about his promise to Elizabeth not to be late. Two hours later
they were back where they had started at Goodman's house, with Hope, who was
still operating on Eastern time, asleep in the back seat. Decker went up to the
front door and knocked.
Goodman and Christopher opened the door together. No one spoke for a moment;
Goodman just stared at Decker in confusion. Christopher stood beside him dressed
in pajamas, his hair still damp and freshly combed after his bath.
"Did you forget something?" Goodman asked finally. But Decker had already
stooped down to Christopher's level and was closely examining his facial
features.
"Hi, Mr. Hawthorne," Christopher said. "It's so nice to see you again. Can Hope
come in and play some more?" The intensity in Decker's eyes began to melt away,
until he looked back up at Goodman, who was staring down at him.
"What on earth is the matter with you?" Goodman asked. Decker stood up again.
"You did it. Didn't you?" "What are you talking about?" Goodman said, trying to
appear calm and in control.
"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" Decker answered without hesitation.
Goodman felt like a rabbit in a snare. Dozens of thoughts suddenly raced through
his head: short and pointed thoughts. All of them colored by fear. Could Decker
have meant something else? he asked himself.
"The cloning!" Decker blurted
"Christopher," Goodman said as calmly as he could, "Mr. Hawthorne and I need to
talk for a while. Go back in the house. Tell your Aunt Martha I'm on the front
porch."
Decker waited until Christopher closed the door before speaking again. "You
cloned the cells from the Shroud!" Decker said in a whisper so loud and emphatic
he may as well have been shouting. "Christopher isn't your brother's grandson!
You don't even have a brother! You were an only child!" he said out loud,
abandoning any pretense of discretion.
The night was warm and the moonlight shone on Mrs. Goodman's flowers; their
fragrance filled the air, but it went totally unnoticed by the two men. Goodman
looked closely into Decker's eyes and examined his face for any sign of a twitch
which might signal that Decker was bluffing. He found none.
Decker hadn't flinched, but he had been bluffing, at least a little. While he
now knew that Christopher could not be Goodman's grandnephew, that certainly was
not conclusive evidence that he was the clone of the man on the Shroud. The
story about Goodman's brother might have been created for dozens of other
reasons that had nothing at all to do with the Shroud.
"Decker, you can't tell anyone. You can't," Goodman pleaded. "They'll make him a
zoo specimen. He's just a little boy!"
Decker shook his head, stunned that he had been right. "That's why you named him
Christopher, isn't it?"
"Yes," Goodman answered, realizing that the damage had already been done and
hoping to inspire a cooperative spirit in Decker.
"After Christ!"
For a moment Goodman honestly didn't understand what Decker meant, then it hit
him. "Christ!... Hell, no!" he said. "Columbus ... I named him after Christopher
Columbus."
"Why in the world would you name him after Columbus?"
The question surprised Goodman, who thought that the answer was obvious.
"I told you I had made the greatest discovery since Columbus discovered the New
World. I wasn't just talking about finding the cells or the possible medical
benefits. I was talking about Christopher. I had already successfully implanted
the cloned embryo in the surrogate mother, and she was several months into an
otherwise normal pregnancy. The C-cells proved so resilient that transfer of the
genetic material to the surrogate's egg was greatly simplified. I was going to
tell you about it then, but you got so damned bent out of shape when I mentioned
cloning that I didn't dare tell you.
"Damn it, Decker, I've proven that somewhere out there in our galaxy there's
life! The man in the Shroud may have come from the same race of people who first
planted life on this planet four billion years ago. I thought if I could clone
the man on the Shroud, I could learn more about them. I hoped it might lead us
to that master race. I hoped that like Columbus, Christopher might help lead us
to a new world: a better world.
"After Christopher was born I studied him. I watched him. I tested him. And you
know what I found? . . . Not an alien; not a god. What I found was a little
boy."
"He's not just a little boy, though. He's the clone of a man who lived nearly
two thousand years ago."
"But he has no memory of any of that. For all he knows, he's just a normal
eleven-year-old."
"And you're saying that there's no difference between Christopher and any other
kid?" Decker asked incredulously.
"Yes, all right, there are some differences. He's never been sick and when he
gets a cut or scrape he heals quickly. But that's all." "He seemed pretty damned
intelligent," Decker countered. "He is intelligent," Goodman conceded, "but not
exceptionally so. Besides, both Mrs. Goodman and I have spent many hours working
with him at home, in addition to his school work."
"Mrs. Goodman?" Decker asked. "Does she know about Christopher?"
"Of course not. After he was born I paid the surrogate and dispatched her
immediately back to Mexico to prevent any problems that might arise from
bonding. I rented an apartment and hired a nurse to take care of him. I know it
sounds terribly irresponsible now, but I had absolutely no plans about what I
was going to do with him as he got older. I was so involved with the overall
project that I didn't think about the child as a person. By the time I realized
my responsibilities, he was nearly a year old. I couldn't just leave him on the
doorstep of some orphanage, so I left him on my own doorstep. I put him in a
basket, left a note, the whole nine yards. Martha had always wanted children,
and after a few days of taking care of him while we 'considered what to do,' it
wasn't very difficult to convince her that we should keep him in case the mother
ever came back looking for him. Later we made up the story about him being our
grandnephew and I had a birth certificate and some other papers forged to cover
our tracks.
"Decker, maybe it was a mistake to go through with the cloning. If you'd like,
you may say'I told you so.' But I don't regret it. He's been like my own son. If
you report that Christopher is a clone you'll destroy three lives: his, mine and
Martha's. Christopher will never have another normal day in his life. You can't
do that to him. You have children. Can a story in some damned magazine really be
worth that much?"
Goodman waited for Decker to answer, but Decker didn't like the answer that came
to mind. No, he didn't want to ruin Christopher's life, but there had to be some
way to tell the story and still protect those involved. The standard promise of
anonymity wouldn't work. It was too big a story. Someone would figure it out.
And if he didn't use names and explain the circumstances, no one would believe
the story anyway. There had to be some way around it. He needed time to think.
Goodman provided the answer. He had waited so long for Decker's response that he
began to worry he wasn't going to get the answer he wanted. "Look," he said,
"why don't you come back here next week and spend some time getting to know
Christopher better?" Goodman hoped that once Decker got to know Christopher he
wouldn't want to risk hurting the boy no matter how big the story. It sounded
like a good suggestion to Decker as well, but for a different reason. It would
give him the time he needed to think, and if he did figure out something he
would have a lot more information for the article.
Decker's answer was implied, "Can't do it next week. I'm going to Israel,
remember?" Then a thought hit him. It was a long shot but Decker's career had
been built on long shots and being at the right place at the right time. "How
about if I take Christopher with me to Israel? Who knows? Maybe it will jog his
memory a little."
Anger swept over Goodman's face. "Are you crazy! Absolutely not! How would I
explain that to Martha?!"
"Okay! Okay! I just thought it would be a neat idea."
"Well it's not!" Goodman shot back.
"Look," Decker said, preparing to strike a bargain, "I'll keep my mouth shut for
the time being. I'll be back from Israel in January, so plan on having me around
for at least a week or so."
Goodman swallowed hard. He was thinking more along the lines of a few hours, a
day at most. He agreed anyway in hopes of arguing later for a compromise.
Decker and Hope were soon on their way again, nearly six hours later than they
had planned. Decker wondered how he was going to explain to Elizabeth why he was
so late.