August 28, 1999
He spun the pencil in his hand. It was considered a skill, pencil-spinning. That showed how bored the scientists were, who competed in pencil-spinning contests. That, of course, was only when they were really bored, like right now.
"A year ago," a voice drawled in the air, "We discovered an eyelash of the legendary pokémon, mew. There was sufficient DNA from this eyelash for creating a clone of mew, and more than enough funding from Giovanni. And so we began our research, our struggles…"
He tried to ignore the voice. He stopped spinning his pencil and instead held it tightly, waiting for the man to finish.
"Many attempts to clone this legendary failed, but-"
SNAP! he tossed the broken pencil aside and rose from his seat.
"They were not just attempts," he said.
"Mark, not now," his friend pleaded, rising from her seat.
But he had already gotten the man's attention; the lead scientist stopped his recording, and turned to look at Mark, the neon lights glaring off his glasses, which stood on a long, thin nose.
"They were unsuccessful," the man said slowly.
"They were still alive," Mark shot back. "You can't just push them aside and say 'oh, they were just failures, no big deal'. We did create them, sir- we just didn't succeed in developing them. I want that made clear."
The man stared at him. Mark couldn't see his eyes beyond the light's glare, but assumed the man was glaring as well. A snarling lower lip confirmed this. Instead of continuing their argument, the man looked back at the computer screen and pressed the record button.
"...Many attempts failed, but we now have two subjects left...."
Mark sat down gruffly. "Bastard," he muttered.
"Don't be like that, Mark," she whispered back. "Give him a break. He lost his daughter, after all... twice."
"He lost a clone of her," he hissed, "not his real daughter. You know that as well as I do."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well... he doesn't know the difference. So lay off him, alright?"
Mark leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Debbie, the day I let a man treat the dead like a statistic is the day I let you scold me while having PMS. Like right now."
Debbie smirked at him. "You're an ass, you know that?"
"One of the best," he agreed.
The computer clacked as the man stopped yet again. "Will the two of you stop bickering? I'm trying to record our progress."
The two just smirked at each other, and then Mark waved at the man. "Go ahead, Dr. Fuji."
Mark Douglass was the youngest of the team working on the mewclones. In fact, while many at this stage of their profession were having a middle-age crisis, he was playing video games in his spare time, like any twenty-one year old. But now his games had grown in caliber; the scientists had signed a contract with Giovanni in order to fund their project- creating a clone of mew. To fit the needs of the syndicate leader of Team Rocket, this clone was being mutated to be more powerful- the strongest pokémon in the world, some would say. Team Rocket would be the ones using their invention. Mark wasn't comfortable with this, but now that he was under contract, he couldn't back out without facing harsh consequences.
Creating life wasn't easy, and Mark had only joined them halfway amidst their 'attempts', but as of now they hadn't been closer. Out of a batch of eleven embryos- some not related to mew, one related to Dr. Fuji- two clones had survived to this point. This was considered a great success, for their last attempts had died in much earlier stages. Hopefully there wouldn't be any more roadblocks in preserving these lives, and at least one of the clones would live to adult age, which would only take a few more months, at most a year... if neither lived, they would have to start from scratch, and Giovanni was an impatient man.
Mark had only been working with this team of scientists for half a year, (well, less than half,) but felt that he'd influenced this project more than Dr. Fuji realized. In fact, if it hadn't been for him, there would only be one clone left, not two.
Fuji had finished his oral report, and had given them permission to move to their stations. Mark ignored this order and strode to one of few windows, staring out at the view.
Civilization stood at the horizon, separated from Mark by the outstretched sea. The team was working in isolation, on an island barely big enough to hold their building. He had expected an overachieving prodigy like himself to be working on a decent vacationing island in Fiji, not some bleak blot dully-named "New Island".
But then, nothing went right in Mark's life. Maybe it didn't need to. Then again, maybe Debbie was right, and he just needed a girlfriend.
Mark saw his reflection in the window, and couldn't see a girl stand beside him. His dark black hair (as if black wasn't dark enough) and black eyes, dark circles beneath them, worry lines beyond his true age… If he had something cute or attractive about him, like freckles or muscles, anything besides his skinny framed body and glasses… no, he was just too much of a jackass nerd. The only guy he'd known to actually find someone with this two word description was Dr. Fuji- and his marriage had ended badly, after his daughter's fiasco.
Dr. Fuji walked up beside him on cue, arms crossed. "Aren't you supposed to be doing something?"
Mark shrugged, keeping his eyes on the ocean view. "Yeah, I'm supposed to be in a hammock drinking vodka."
"You've got some high expectations, then," the man replied.
"I learn from the best," Mark said coolly.
"Will you get to work?"
"Only if you say the magic word."
Dr. Fuji raised an eyebrow.
Mark raised his own. "Don't remember? It starts with a P, has two syllables when you beg..."
"Paycheck," Fuji warned.
"Right, I'm on it," Mark said, turning and walking off.
