Fic: Clockwork Man; Jenny, Cutter clone, Lester; gen; 12
Author: reggietate
Title: Clockwork Man
Characters: Jenny, clone Cutter, Lester
Rating: 12
Genre: gen
Disclaimer: They're not mine, they belong to Impossible Pictures
Summary: Cutter's clone survived the bomb. Now she has to decide what to do with him.
A/N: written for Fic Challenge No. 62: "You're a human being - you have a choice."
The clone sat motionless on the edge of a bed in the infirmary, back straight, hands on knees, staring ahead. No one knew quite what to do with this imperfect copy of Cutter, with the real Cutter stuck in hospital for some time to come, and half the ARC in ruins. How it - he - had avoided death at all was a mystery. The clone's face and clothing were blackened by soot and his hair and eyebrows were slightly singed; apart from that, he seemed to be unhurt. Before being loaded into an ambulance, Cutter had extracted a promise from Lester that his copy should not be harmed in any way.
"He was programmed to complete this one task ... I don't think you'll have to worry about anything after that..."
Nevertheless, Lester had a guard put on the door of the infirmary, which was in the part of the ARC not seriously damaged by the bomb blast that had taken out the operations area and Cutter's laboratory. Until they knew exactly what they were dealing with, he wasn't prepared to take any chances.
Personally, Jenny thought the precautions unnecessary. Though more intelligent than the 'cleaner' clones, this fabricated Nick Cutter seemed to have little or no will of his own. Doctor Vickers had ascertained he was capable of performing basic bodily functions. When given simple instructions, he would follow them uncomplaining. Otherwise, he simply sat, gazing at nothing. Jenny found it unnerving. The clone looked so like Cutter, yet everything which made Cutter the man he was, did not exist in this fleshly copy. He was a void, an empty space, waiting to be filled. But with what?
"Doctor Vickers says it's in perfect health," Lester remarked. "So if Cutter needs a transplant, at least we know where to find a donor."
"That's not very funny, James."
"No, I suppose it isn't. So, what are we going to do with it?"
"Him. He's fully human."
"Only from the neck down. There doesn't seem to be much between his ears." Lester tapped the side of his head. "Though given a choice between him and Cutter on the rampage, I'm not sure I wouldn't prefer the clone."
"Has anyone tried talking to him? I don't mean just 'do this, do that'. Actual conversation."
Lester raised his eyebrows. "What's on your mind, Jenny?"
"I was thinking, perhaps we should just try asking him what he wants."
"What a novel idea. Supposing he wants the impossible?"
"Given his obvious limitations, I can't see that happening, but in any case, if it's impossible, he won't get it."
They were in what currently passed as Lester's office - he had already given his opinion that it more resembled a broom cupboard, but Jenny knew the acerbic remarks merely masked his general concern for the well-being of the ARC and the anomaly project. Jenny's own 'office' currently consisted of a laptop, and a table and chair in the bunk room. Jenny knew Lester could easily have got himself a portacabin, but he was roughing it like everyone else to help raise morale. She liked him better for doing that.
"I suppose we probably ought to question him, at least. See to it, would you?"
His slightly dismissive request gave her a free hand, which was what she'd hoped for. This clone might not be much of a substitute for the real Nick Cutter, but that didn't mean she wanted to see him treated like a lab rat, or worse.
An hour later, Jenny entered the infirmary with a carrier bag containing some socks, underwear, jeans and a tee shirt. The clone still sat unmoving on the bed at the end of the room. As if waiting for something. Or perhaps, someone.
"Has he said anything?" she asked Vickers.
"Not a word. Doesn't even move unless you tell him to. Frankly, it's a bit unnerving. I'd appreciate it if you find another place to keep him as soon as possible."
What other place was there? she wondered. She could hardly take him home with her like a stray dog. She went over to the clone and stood in front of him.
"Hello," she said. "I've brought you some clean clothes." She took them out of the bag. "You can put them on now if you like."
The clone's faded blue eyes focused on the small pile of clothing in her hands. The expressionless face, so like and yet so unlike Cutter's, did not change at all.
Jenny laid the clothes on the bed. Should she tell him to remove what he was wearing, first, or would he understand he had to do that? Well, there was only one way to find out. "Put them on, please."
Without embarrassment or concern for her presence, the clone stripped naked, laying aside the grimy and tattered clothes he'd been wearing, and dressed himself in the things Jenny had brought. Once that task was completed, he remained standing, arms hanging loosely by his sides, awaiting further instructions.
"Come with me," Jenny said.
The grounds of the ARC, to the rear of the building, were the usual bland mixture of trimmed grassy areas, unappealing shrubs, and concrete pathways, surrounded by low grass banks topped with trees tp provide privacy screening. But in one place there was a wooden bench that overlooked a small flowerbed, kept lovingly tended by someone - she had no idea who - and now and then in sunny weather, Jenny would sit out there to eat her lunch. It made a change from eating at her desk, or in the rec room, where she was as likely to find Connor playing on his X-Box as she was anyone taking a rest break. Not that she minded Connor's company, even when playing computer games, but there were limits.
She told the clone to sit down on the bench. He obeyed, sitting as he had before, hands on knees, back straight. She wondered if telling him to relax would do any good. Probably not. She sat beside him.
"I'm going to give you a name," she said.
"I have a name," he said. "I'm Professor Nick Cutter."
"No, you're not. You're - " she was going to say 'just a copy', but that seemed unnecessarily cruel. "That's what Helen may have told you, but you aren't. You just look like him. You should have your own name, one that really belongs to you."
How much, she wondered, did he really understand? He turned to look at her, and for the first time she saw a hint of personality in his face, one that wasn't stolen from the man whose identity he wore. The faint vacancy in his eyes was replaced by something closer to curiosity, even interest.
"From now on I'm going to call you..." For a moment she stalled, because she hadn't really given it much thought beyond his not being called 'Nick'. "Alan." Cutter had once mentioned that his father's name was Alan, so it seemed vaguely appropriate. "From now on you're Alan Smith."
"Alan Smith," he repeated obediently. "I'm Alan Smith. Are you going to kill me now?"
She stared at him, startled and slightly horrified by his matter-of-fact tone. "No one's going to kill you. What makes you think we would we do that?"
"I killed the other one - the one I look like. I told him to save himself. Then I set off the bomb."
"Why did you tell him to save himself?"
"He called me a human being. He said... that I had a choice. But I didn't. She made me. I had to obey her instructions. I'm just a..." his face worked, as if he was trying to remember. "... a living photocopy."
Had Helen said that in front of him? Jenny was appalled by the woman's casual callousness. Of course, Helen hadn't regarded the clone, her creation, as human, or thought that he had any feelings to hurt. A few minutes ago, Jenny had almost believed that, too. Now, looking into his eyes, she realised just how wrong she was. However limited were his mental processes, he could still feel, still need.
She put her hand on his, where it still rested on his knee. "Helen might have made you, but you don't belong to her any more. Any connection you had to her came to an end when you set off the bomb."
"Why?"
"Because she expected you to be destroyed in the explosion, along with everything else. She has no idea you survived. That means you're free of her control. And you didn't kill Cutter, you know. Helen shot him later, when he tried to rescue her and the artefact - but he's still alive. He's going to be okay."
Was it relief, she saw in his eyes? Alan - she must get used to thinking of him as Alan - seemed to relax a little. "Then I have no reason to exist any more. He said life is better than death. Is it?"
"I think so, yes. In fact, most people do."
"Why?"
For a moment Jenny had no answer. Then she looked at the flower bed a few feet in front of them, filled with brightly-coloured flowers, red and yellow petals fluttering gently as the summer breeze drifted over them. A sparrow darted overhead, twittering to its friends gathered in the trees behind them. Ordinary, everyday things, far removed from clones and bombs and dinosaurs.
"Because death is nothingness, for longer than you can possible imagine. And life is this, and so much more that I don't know how to start describing it to you. And because if Cutter told you life was better than death, it wasn't just to save himself. He wanted you to have a life as well."
"What kind of life?"
"I have no idea." She stood up and held out her hand. "Shall we go inside and find out?"
Title: Clockwork Man
Characters: Jenny, clone Cutter, Lester
Rating: 12
Genre: gen
Disclaimer: They're not mine, they belong to Impossible Pictures
Summary: Cutter's clone survived the bomb. Now she has to decide what to do with him.
A/N: written for Fic Challenge No. 62: "You're a human being - you have a choice."
The clone sat motionless on the edge of a bed in the infirmary, back straight, hands on knees, staring ahead. No one knew quite what to do with this imperfect copy of Cutter, with the real Cutter stuck in hospital for some time to come, and half the ARC in ruins. How it - he - had avoided death at all was a mystery. The clone's face and clothing were blackened by soot and his hair and eyebrows were slightly singed; apart from that, he seemed to be unhurt. Before being loaded into an ambulance, Cutter had extracted a promise from Lester that his copy should not be harmed in any way.
"He was programmed to complete this one task ... I don't think you'll have to worry about anything after that..."
Nevertheless, Lester had a guard put on the door of the infirmary, which was in the part of the ARC not seriously damaged by the bomb blast that had taken out the operations area and Cutter's laboratory. Until they knew exactly what they were dealing with, he wasn't prepared to take any chances.
Personally, Jenny thought the precautions unnecessary. Though more intelligent than the 'cleaner' clones, this fabricated Nick Cutter seemed to have little or no will of his own. Doctor Vickers had ascertained he was capable of performing basic bodily functions. When given simple instructions, he would follow them uncomplaining. Otherwise, he simply sat, gazing at nothing. Jenny found it unnerving. The clone looked so like Cutter, yet everything which made Cutter the man he was, did not exist in this fleshly copy. He was a void, an empty space, waiting to be filled. But with what?
"Doctor Vickers says it's in perfect health," Lester remarked. "So if Cutter needs a transplant, at least we know where to find a donor."
"That's not very funny, James."
"No, I suppose it isn't. So, what are we going to do with it?"
"Him. He's fully human."
"Only from the neck down. There doesn't seem to be much between his ears." Lester tapped the side of his head. "Though given a choice between him and Cutter on the rampage, I'm not sure I wouldn't prefer the clone."
"Has anyone tried talking to him? I don't mean just 'do this, do that'. Actual conversation."
Lester raised his eyebrows. "What's on your mind, Jenny?"
"I was thinking, perhaps we should just try asking him what he wants."
"What a novel idea. Supposing he wants the impossible?"
"Given his obvious limitations, I can't see that happening, but in any case, if it's impossible, he won't get it."
They were in what currently passed as Lester's office - he had already given his opinion that it more resembled a broom cupboard, but Jenny knew the acerbic remarks merely masked his general concern for the well-being of the ARC and the anomaly project. Jenny's own 'office' currently consisted of a laptop, and a table and chair in the bunk room. Jenny knew Lester could easily have got himself a portacabin, but he was roughing it like everyone else to help raise morale. She liked him better for doing that.
"I suppose we probably ought to question him, at least. See to it, would you?"
His slightly dismissive request gave her a free hand, which was what she'd hoped for. This clone might not be much of a substitute for the real Nick Cutter, but that didn't mean she wanted to see him treated like a lab rat, or worse.
An hour later, Jenny entered the infirmary with a carrier bag containing some socks, underwear, jeans and a tee shirt. The clone still sat unmoving on the bed at the end of the room. As if waiting for something. Or perhaps, someone.
"Has he said anything?" she asked Vickers.
"Not a word. Doesn't even move unless you tell him to. Frankly, it's a bit unnerving. I'd appreciate it if you find another place to keep him as soon as possible."
What other place was there? she wondered. She could hardly take him home with her like a stray dog. She went over to the clone and stood in front of him.
"Hello," she said. "I've brought you some clean clothes." She took them out of the bag. "You can put them on now if you like."
The clone's faded blue eyes focused on the small pile of clothing in her hands. The expressionless face, so like and yet so unlike Cutter's, did not change at all.
Jenny laid the clothes on the bed. Should she tell him to remove what he was wearing, first, or would he understand he had to do that? Well, there was only one way to find out. "Put them on, please."
Without embarrassment or concern for her presence, the clone stripped naked, laying aside the grimy and tattered clothes he'd been wearing, and dressed himself in the things Jenny had brought. Once that task was completed, he remained standing, arms hanging loosely by his sides, awaiting further instructions.
"Come with me," Jenny said.
The grounds of the ARC, to the rear of the building, were the usual bland mixture of trimmed grassy areas, unappealing shrubs, and concrete pathways, surrounded by low grass banks topped with trees tp provide privacy screening. But in one place there was a wooden bench that overlooked a small flowerbed, kept lovingly tended by someone - she had no idea who - and now and then in sunny weather, Jenny would sit out there to eat her lunch. It made a change from eating at her desk, or in the rec room, where she was as likely to find Connor playing on his X-Box as she was anyone taking a rest break. Not that she minded Connor's company, even when playing computer games, but there were limits.
She told the clone to sit down on the bench. He obeyed, sitting as he had before, hands on knees, back straight. She wondered if telling him to relax would do any good. Probably not. She sat beside him.
"I'm going to give you a name," she said.
"I have a name," he said. "I'm Professor Nick Cutter."
"No, you're not. You're - " she was going to say 'just a copy', but that seemed unnecessarily cruel. "That's what Helen may have told you, but you aren't. You just look like him. You should have your own name, one that really belongs to you."
How much, she wondered, did he really understand? He turned to look at her, and for the first time she saw a hint of personality in his face, one that wasn't stolen from the man whose identity he wore. The faint vacancy in his eyes was replaced by something closer to curiosity, even interest.
"From now on I'm going to call you..." For a moment she stalled, because she hadn't really given it much thought beyond his not being called 'Nick'. "Alan." Cutter had once mentioned that his father's name was Alan, so it seemed vaguely appropriate. "From now on you're Alan Smith."
"Alan Smith," he repeated obediently. "I'm Alan Smith. Are you going to kill me now?"
She stared at him, startled and slightly horrified by his matter-of-fact tone. "No one's going to kill you. What makes you think we would we do that?"
"I killed the other one - the one I look like. I told him to save himself. Then I set off the bomb."
"Why did you tell him to save himself?"
"He called me a human being. He said... that I had a choice. But I didn't. She made me. I had to obey her instructions. I'm just a..." his face worked, as if he was trying to remember. "... a living photocopy."
Had Helen said that in front of him? Jenny was appalled by the woman's casual callousness. Of course, Helen hadn't regarded the clone, her creation, as human, or thought that he had any feelings to hurt. A few minutes ago, Jenny had almost believed that, too. Now, looking into his eyes, she realised just how wrong she was. However limited were his mental processes, he could still feel, still need.
She put her hand on his, where it still rested on his knee. "Helen might have made you, but you don't belong to her any more. Any connection you had to her came to an end when you set off the bomb."
"Why?"
"Because she expected you to be destroyed in the explosion, along with everything else. She has no idea you survived. That means you're free of her control. And you didn't kill Cutter, you know. Helen shot him later, when he tried to rescue her and the artefact - but he's still alive. He's going to be okay."
Was it relief, she saw in his eyes? Alan - she must get used to thinking of him as Alan - seemed to relax a little. "Then I have no reason to exist any more. He said life is better than death. Is it?"
"I think so, yes. In fact, most people do."
"Why?"
For a moment Jenny had no answer. Then she looked at the flower bed a few feet in front of them, filled with brightly-coloured flowers, red and yellow petals fluttering gently as the summer breeze drifted over them. A sparrow darted overhead, twittering to its friends gathered in the trees behind them. Ordinary, everyday things, far removed from clones and bombs and dinosaurs.
"Because death is nothingness, for longer than you can possible imagine. And life is this, and so much more that I don't know how to start describing it to you. And because if Cutter told you life was better than death, it wasn't just to save himself. He wanted you to have a life as well."
"What kind of life?"
"I have no idea." She stood up and held out her hand. "Shall we go inside and find out?"