When children are born, they have no concept of gender. But soon after birth, they learn the rules. Pink is for girls and blue is for boys. Girls play with dolls and boys play with action figures. Girls have piggy tails and boys have short hair. Girl wears pants, dresses, and skirts. Boys wear pants. Girls have friends who are girls. Boys have friends who are boys. Girls whisper secrets. Boys kick each other. Girls braid each other's hair and giggle. Boys start imaginary wars and burp.
When it comes to little girls, the Fixer has had to repair thinks that involved rainbow slides and pet ponies that appear out of nowhere. The Fixer once came across a little girl who had a think that resulted in having her place of residence located inside the local shopping mall.
When it comes to boys, the Fixer has interrupted plenty of wars. One boy wanted to be really tall, so he grew to be over seven feet in height in one night. One boy ran around so much, using his hand to make a weapon (sound effects emitting from his mouth), that his arms turned into machine guns.
Have you noticed that in movies, when stunts are being performed, that it's so embarrassingly obvious that it's a stunt double and not the actor? Well, it's not always a stunt double. Sometimes little boys want so much to be like their buff, action movie stars that they think themselves into the movie at the most pivotal, dangerous stunts.
However, fantasy is part of what keeps this world running.
Many of the last century's best known things were originally thinks by science fiction writers. Robots, lasers, super computers, landing on the moon.
Cloning.
It doesn't take much to turn fantasy or science fiction into horror.
Matt's black Labrador was rolling on its back, basking in the sunlight. Matt picked off a stringy booger from the dog's face and let him lick it off his finger. Bored, he picked a dandelion and sung to himself, “Mama had a baby and it's head popped off.” On cue, Matt popped off the top half of the dandelion and was left holding the stem.
Brian, Matt's older brother, found a dead crow earlier that day and was currently trying to fashion a necklace out of its bones, “Hi Shadow #3.” The dog wagged its tail.
“Stop saying that, this is the same Shadow we've had all along. Look there!,” Matt pointed towards the dog's ear. “Same patch of fur missing.”
“Mom and dad replaced him again,” replied his brother Brian. “Feel that perfectly square bump near his ear. Remember when we were babies and a van hit Shadow? And Mom and Dad brought him to the vet?”
“Yeah, he came home the very next day,” Matt traced the square with his finger.
“No, we got Shadow #2 back the very next day. A whole new dog, just with the same genes. And then it got hit by another vehicle and smashed to smithereens again last week,” Brian flipped up the label of his shirt so it stuck out and started to scratch the back of his neck.
“Did you even see the dog get hit?”
“I was there, I had a front row seat. Cloning is possible, you know. At least, with some animals such as dogs. No way a dog could have survive having its brains splattered everywhere. Some of it landed on a tree. If you want, I'll show you where.”
“No. Shadow is fine now.”
“Yes, Shadow is fine now. He's so incredibly okay now that he doesn't even have a cast or a limp. And they found all the bits of his brain and used a funnel to insert it back into his skull. Not!”
Brian bent down and pointed out the square bump, “Feel that perfectly square bump near his ear.”
“I already touched it,” Matt started to rub Shadow #3's belly, “No, Shadow. I don't believe him. I don't believe him.”
Matt stood up and watched his brother string a bone onto a piece of cord. “You know, you really shouldn't touch dead things. Did you really find that bird or did you use your sling shot to killit?”
Brian, not looking up, “Doesn't really matter. If there's a puppy farm full of Shadows, then certainly this stupid bird can be replaced by one of its clones.”
“I could tell Mom what you're doing, you know,” Matt threatened.
Brian stopped stringing, looking deep in thought and replied, “Bet you five dollars that Shadow #3 will get hit by a car too, just like his clone and the original.”
“You're boring me. I'm going inside,” he left the backyard and Shadow #3, using its back foot to scratch at the square-sized lump.
He found his mother stacking plates in the dishwasher, “Go kiss Grandma, she's not having a good day today.”
Grandma came to live at his house less than a year ago, to be taken care of by his parents. She lays in bed mostly, sleeping. The children aren't allowed in her room unless granted permission. Not that the children really enjoyed being in the company of an old woman with sunken eyes and more liver spots than a firehouse dalmatian has spots, but they kept up the occasional appearance to please their mother.
Matt opened the door, stepped in and walked up to the side of her bed.
“Hi, Grandma,” he whispered. She didn't awake. Good, he thought. He didn't actually want to kiss her cold cheek.
The door flew open and Brian walked in. “Hey, Matt. Hey, Grandma! How are you doin'? Seeing any dead relatives yet?”
Normally, a comment like this would only manage to provoke a rolling of the eyes from Matt. But something was amiss. “She looks deader than usual, don't you think?”
“That's 'cos she probably is. Get a mirror or something with a reflective surface and we'll see if she's breathing.”
Matt sorted through a dresser drawer. “All I can find is this,” he holds up a metal toenail clipper.
“Bring it here,” Brian takes it and held it under her nose. “Nothing.”
“You can't really tell,” concluded Matt. “Too small.”
“Mom and Dad will probably make a trip to the Granny farm later tonight and pluck a new one, with all her memories downloaded inside her brain,” Brian popped open the clipper and made an impromptu back scratcher.
“How is that even possible?”
“Look for signs, little things that are different about her tomorrow. You'll see.” Brian took the nail clipper and started to cut the label off of his shirt.
The boys were watching television when Mom came in, running a brush through her hair, “We're taking Grandma to the doctor this evening. Just a little check-up, no worries.”
Brian raised his eyebrows and gave his little brother a knowing look.
Grandma returned sometime during the night. Before the cereal could even be poured, Brian and Matt asked to see Grandma. “We want to welcome her to the family,” explained Brian.
Mother gave him a puzzling look. Matt clarified, “We want to welcome her back home.”
“Oh, okay. But only pop in for a second, she needs her rest.”
Grandma was just as still and cold as the day before.
“Looks the same, but is she? Look for clues.” Grandma opened her eyes, Brian was quick to say, “Oh. Hello. How are you?”
“I'm fine, but my neck is itchy. Can you fluff my pillows?”
The boys looked at each other, glaring at each other to be the one to touch Grandma.
“She's tired, boys. Let Grandma get her sleep,” Mother walked in as the boys retreated out. She bent down and put her hand on the wrinkled forehead of her own mother, “Mom, how are you feeling?”
Grandma looks up with cloudy eyes, “I'm fine, but my neck is itchy. Can you fluff my pillows?”
Brian closed the baseball player postered door and sat on the bed, “Ah, not a clone this time. But just wait a few more days until she kicks the can and you'll see.”
“Actually, I spotted a clue. She isdifferent,” Matt insisted.
“Yeah, what was it?”
“She said her neck was itchy.”
“Yeah, so?”
“You've been itching your neck since the dog got hit by a car.”
“The tag's been bugging me.”
“Let me look at it,” Matt insisted. Brian obliging turned around for him. The boy's skin protruded a square shaped lump of stretched flesh. “It's a chip!”
Matt swung around and felt the back on his neck. “No, can't be. It's just a zit.”
“You know, there are a few other weird things that I've kinda noticed lately. Grandma kept repeating things.”
“Yeah, she's old.”
“But you're not. You've been repeating stuff. There's only one way to find out if you're a clone. You have to tryand remove the lump.”
Brian used his fingers to try and squeeze the chip out of his freckled skin like a pimple.
His attempts were fruitless. “You have to break the skin,” prompted Matt. “Try the nail clipper.”
Brian tried but the nail clipper was much too dull. Brian let his arms fall down. He thought about this for several moments, then responded, “Get me a knife.”
Name: Brian Lincoln
Location: International Falls
Think: Human and animal cloning
Thing: Clone-dog (black Clone-himself.
Status: fixed
Labrador). Clone-Grandma.
pending as isComments: Got to the boy just before he tried to remove the chip and quite possibly, would have erased all his memory. Might experience some glitches, such as mixing up dates of events and names of faces with similar features. Should live a fairly normal life, as normal as it can be for a clone.
Nail clipper-very interesting tool, purchased one for my tool kit. I understand it's primary purpose is to shorten nails but I thought that was what teeth were for?