Robin Cook - Abduction

“Arak will see to their accommodation,” Sufa said. “Each will have his own bungalow.”

“We were hoping to stay together,” Suzanne said.

“But you will,” Arak said. “This palace and its grounds are just for you visitors. You’ll take your meals together and if you want to double up in the lodges for your sleeping arrangements, that is up to you.”

Suzanne’s and Donald’s eyes met. Donald shrugged. Assuming that left the decision up to her, she climbed out of the hovercraft. Sufa followed. A moment later the saucer silently moved across the lawn to stop at a neighboring cottage.

“Come on!” Sufa encouraged. She’d started up the walkway but had turned back when she was aware that Suzanne wasn’t behind her.

Suzanne took her eyes off the hovercraft and hurried to catch up with her host.

“You will be meeting up with your friends for a meal shortly,” Sufa said. “I just want to be certain your accommodations are acceptable. Besides, I thought you’d like to take a quick refreshing swim before eating. That was my first wish when I emerged from the decon experience.”

“You experienced what we went through?” Suzanne questioned.

“I did,” Sufa said. “But it was a long, long time ago. Several lifetimes, actually.”

“Excuse me?” Suzanne said. She assumed she’d not heard correctly. The phrase several lifetimes didn’t make any sense.

“Come!” Sufa said. “We have to get you settled. The questions must wait.” She took Suzanne’s arm. Together they climbed the few steps from the walkway and entered the cottage.

Suzanne stopped just beyond the door, awestruck by the decor. In sharp contrast to the black exterior, the interior was almost exclusively white: white marble, white cashmere, and multiple mirrored surfaces. It reminded Suzanne of the living quarters where she had so recently slept but on a much more lavish scale. An added feature was an azure pool that stretched from inside the room to the outdoors. The pool was fed by a waterfall that cascaded out of the wall.

“The room doesn’t please you?” Sufa questioned with concern. She’d been watching Suzanne’s face and mistook her wonderment for dissatisfaction.

“Whether I like it or not is hardly the question,” Suzanne said. “It’s unbelievable.”

“But we want you to be comfortable,” Sufa said.

“What about the others?” Suzanne asked. “Are their quarters anything like this?”

“They are identical,” Sufa said. “All the visitors’ cottages are the same. But if there is something else you might need, please tell me. I’m sure we can provide it.”

Suzanne’s eyes moved to the enormous circular bed, which was on a raised marble dais at the center of her quarters. A large canopy was draped above it. From its circumference hung gathered bundles of sheer white fabric.

“Perhaps you could tell me what you feel is lacking,” Sufa said.

“Nothing is lacking,” Suzanne said. “The room is breathtaking.”

“Then you do like it,” Sufa said with relief.

“It’s stunning,” Suzanne said. She reached out and touched the marble wall. Its surface was polished to a mirrorlike perfection, and it felt warm as if heated by inner radiation.

Sufa stepped over to a cabinet that lined the wall to the right. She gestured down its length. “Inside here you have media consoles, extra clothing, reading material in your language, a large refrigerator with a selection of refreshments, personal toilet articles that you’ll recognize, and just about anything else you might need.”

“How do I open it?” Suzanne asked.

“Just use a voice command,” Sufa said simply. She pointed at one of two doors on the wall opposite the cabinetry. “Personal facilities are through there.”

Suzanne walked over to stand next to Sufa and faced the cabinet. “What exactly do I say?”

“Whatever it is you’re looking for,” Sufa explained. “Followed by an exclamatory word like ‘please’ or ‘now’.”

“Food, please!” Suzanne said self-consciously.

No sooner had she uttered the words when one of the cabinet doors opened to reveal a sizable refrigerator well stocked with containers of liquid refreshment and solid food of varying consistency and color.

Sufa bent over and glanced inside. She shuffled through some of the contents. “I might have known,” she said, standing back up. “I’m afraid you have just the standard selection, even though I requested some specialty items. But it doesn’t matter. A worker clone will get you anything you might desire.”

“What do you mean, ‘worker clone’?” Suzanne asked. The term sounded ominous.

“Worker clones are the workers,” Sufa said. “They do all the manual work in Interterra.”

“Have I seen a worker clone?” Suzanne asked.

“Not yet,” Sufa said. “They prefer not to be seen until they are called. They favor their own company and their own facilities.”

Suzanne nodded as if she understood, but it was not in the way Sufa surmised. Suzanne nodded because she knew that in most situations of bigotry, the dominant group always attributed attitudes to the oppressed which made the oppressors feel better about the oppression.

“Are these worker clones true clones?” Suzanne asked.

“Absolutely,” Sufa said. “They’ve been cloned for ages. Their primary origin was from primitive hominids, something akin to what you people call Neanderthals.”

“What do you mean, we people?” Suzanne said. “What makes us different from you besides the fact that you are all so gorgeous?”

“Please…” Sufa begged.

“I know, I know,” Suzanne repeated with frustration. “I’m not supposed to ask any questions, but your answers to even simple questions always demand some explanation.”

Sufa laughed. “It’s confusing you, I’m sure,” she said. “But we’re just asking you to be patient. As we’ve intimated, we’ve learned from experience that it is best to go slowly with the introduction to our world.”

“Which means you have had visitors like us in the past,” Suzanne said.

“For sure,” Suzanne said. “We’ve had many over the last ten thousand years or so.”

Suzanne’s mouth slowly dropped open. “Did you say ten thousand years?”

“I did,” Sufa said. “Prior to that we had no interest in your culture.”

“Are you suggesting-”

“Please,” Sufa interrupted. She took a deep breath. “No more questions unless they are about your accommodations. I have to insist.”

“All right,” Suzanne said. “Let’s get back to the worker clones. How do I call one?”

“A voice command,” Sufa said. “It’s the same for most everything in Interterra.”

“I just say ‘worker clone’?” Suzanne asked.

“ ‘Worker clone’ or just ‘worker,’ ” Sufa said. “Then, of course, it has to be followed by an exclamatory word that you feel comfortable with. But the phrase has to be said as a true exclamation.”

“I could do it right now?” Suzanne asked.

“Of course,” Sufa said.

“Worker, please,” Suzanne said. She maintained eye contact with Sufa. Nothing happened.

“That wasn’t enough of an exclamation,” Sufa explained. “Try it again.”

“Worker, please!” Suzanne cried.

“Much better,” Sufa said. “But it doesn’t have to be so loud. It’s not the volume that counts. It’s the intended meaning. Humanoids have to know without equivocation that you want them to appear. Their default mode is not to come, so as to be less bothersome.”

“Did you mean to use the term humanoid ?” Suzanne asked.

“Of course,” Sufa said. “Worker clones look very humanlike although they are a fusion of android elements, engineered biomechanical parts, and hominid sections. They are half-machine, half-living organisms who conveniently take care of themselves and even reproduce.”