Brave New World
Chapter 7: Welcome Home
Cosima grew accustomed to the routine quickly. The facilities in which she was kept followed a strict schedule.
Every morning, the lights in the cells were turned on at promptly 7:00 am. She had no clock or view of the sunlight to judge the time by, but after a while, Dr. C. took pity on her. She gave in and answered Cosima's questions when they didn't call for classified information.
At 7:30, an orderly would come by and drop off her breakfast. It came in the form of a "smoothie" that was scientifically concocted to be a nutritiously balanced meal.
For the rest of the morning, they left her alone to pace a square path around the inside of her cell. The thick socks on her feet slipped on the tile just a little bit every time she took a step.
At 12:30, she was brought her midday meal, which was immediately followed by a visit from Dr. C. to draw her blood.
It didn't take long for Cosima to come to the conclusion that she was in the hands of the people who were, in all likelihood, her creators. There was no other reason she could think of that would cause a lab facility such as this to kidnap her and hold her hostage.
What she couldn't figure out was why they'd felt the need to lock her up. Was it because she'd become self-aware? Did they know that she knew about the others?
Cosima hunched over as a bout of coughing took hold of her body. Her lungs rattled as she gasped in a few hard breaths. Whatever this illness was that she had, it was only getting worse. She sat against the back wall with her knees pulled up to her chest and, with effort, regulated her breathing a bit.
Maybe that was the reason they'd taken her. Maybe they knew she was getting sick and just wanted to help her.
She cast her eyes down, unable to believe in her own optimism.
She coughed again, into her sleeve. When she pulled her arm away from her face, there was dark red stain.
It was mid-afternoon when he came to meet her. He pulled a fold-out chair up just in front of the glass and sat for several minutes, just looking at her.
When he finally did speak to her, he did so as if they were meeting under the most pleasant of circumstances. He leaned forward in his chair and surveyed her with an unnerving gaze. His voice was odd to listen to; it was as if he was talking normally, but the volume had been turned down. Like there was a filter somewhere between his vocal chords and his mouth that blocked its full power.
"Hello, Cosima. I can't tell what a pleasure it is to finally make your acquaintance."
Cosima took a step further into the back of her little room and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. She made no indication that she planned to respond.
He didn't appear to be bothered by her silence. "You know, it is truly fascinating to see you in person. I've heard so much about you, but of course, words rarely capture the essence."
Cosima's arms dropped to her sides as her hands curled into fists. "Those are some pretty words for a guy who could be facing serious kidnapping charges if I ever get out of this cell." She struggled to put as much animosity behind her voice as she could, but even as she spoke, she knew that her tone was weak and her threat empty.
The practiced grin that hovered over his lips widened a bit at her spite. He sat back in his chair and crossed his ankle over his knee. "You've got spunk, that's good." He paused, and Cosima's eyes narrowed at the mirth evident on his face at the silence's pregnancy.
Cosima huffed and took a few steps forward. Giving in to his ploy to get a reaction from her, she approached the glass. She leaned as close to it as she could without getting herself electrified and said with a grunt, "What exactly is it you want from me?"
He breathed an ugly chuckle and rested his chin on his fist. "You don't beat around the bush; that's another good quality to have around here. I think we'll work well together."
Cosima's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Work together? What the fuck are you talking about?"
He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward as he spoke. He seemed to speak with intention, as if he was reading from a script. "We believe that you have a unique and… valuable perspective on the projects and work that we do here."
Cosima crossed her arms and stepped back from the glass. "What work would that be?"
"Dear Cosima. I think we both know you're more astute than that."
"Fine. But you've got to answer a few questions for me." He cocked his head, and she continued. "You know who I am. How?"
He stood and clasped his hands behind his back. "You're trying to ascertain whether or not we know that you're a clone. The answer is, obviously, an unequivocal yes."
Cosima was taken aback at his bluntness. "What do you want with me?"
"Your help." He raised his hands as if he were asking an old friend to help him move some furniture.
"I don't mean to be rude," she spat in return, "but it seems to me like you've got a pretty good handle on whatever the hell you're trying to do here. What do you need me for?"
He shrugged, and his mouth twitched. "Oh, it's simple, really. We just need you to help us get in touch with your sisters."
Cosima couldn't contain her sneer. "I'm an only child."
His eyes sparkled unnervingly. "Of course. I mean to say, your genetic identicals. Your clones."
A chuckle forced its way from her lungs. "You want me to just hand them over to you? Are you kidding? I don't care if I'm stuck in here the rest of my life, I'm not going to help you kidnap more people. Especially not my friends."
Cosima fell into a coughing fit. She covered her mouth with her hand and stared for a moment at the dots of red that were left on her fist when the hacking in her chest subsided.
He looked on with an expression resembling satisfaction. After a moment, Cosima wiped the blood off of her hand onto her sweatpants. His eyes only twinkled further as he said, "I think you'll find we can offer you an incentive."
Cosima glared at him through the glass. Her frustration and desperation and fear were biting at her eyes in the form of tears. Her nails bit into her palms where her fists tightened. She cleared her throat. "And, just to clarify, 'we' is… who?"
He slid his hands into his pockets and gave her a grin that made her want to crawl out of her skin.
"Come now, Cosima. You don't need me to answer that for you."
DYAD. The word flashed through her brain without warrant.
He glanced at a watch on his wrist. "All you need to know is this: we know your illness well. If you
cooperate, we can help you." He folded up the chair he'd been sitting in and began to walk back down the hall.
Cosima, her voice struggling for freedom from the thickness in her throat, called out to him, "Wait! I never caught your name."
He turned to look at her over his shoulder. "I'm Dr. Leekie. I'm sure you've heard about me from your friend Delphine."