Robin Cook - Abduction

Suzanne stared at Sufa with an expression that was a combination of dismay and disbelief. Sufa interpreted it as fear.

“Now, don’t worry,” Sufa said. “They are very easy to deal with and are inordinately helpful. In fact, they are truly wonderful creatures as you will undoubtedly discover. Their only minor drawback is that, like their particular hominid forebears, they are unable to speak-but they will understand you perfectly.”

Suzanne continued to stare. Before she could ask another question, one of the doors opposite the cabinets opened and in walked a statuesque woman. Suzanne realized she’d been expecting a grotesque automaton, but the woman before her was hauntingly beautiful with classical features and blond hair, alabaster skin, and dark, penetrating eyes. She was wearing black satin coveralls with long sleeves.

“Here is a fine example of a female worker clone,” Sufa said. “You’ll notice she is wearing a hoop earring. They all wear them for some reason I’ve never understood, although I believe it has something to do with pride or lineage. You’ll also notice that she is rather comely, as are the male versions. But most importantly, you’ll find her amenable to your wishes. Whatever you want, just tell her and she will try to do it, short of injuring herself.”

Suzanne stared into the woman’s eyes; they were like dark pools. Her facial features were as sculptured and attractive as Sufa’s yet they bore no expression.

“Does she have a name?” Suzanne questioned.

“Heavens no,” Sufa said with a chuckle. “That certainly would complicate things. We wouldn’t want to personalize our relationship with workers. That’s part of the reason they have never been engineered to speak.”

“But she will do what I ask?”

“Absolutely,” Sufa said. “Anything at all. She can pick up your clothes, wash them, draw your bath, restock your refrigerator, give you a massage, even change the temperature of the water in your pool. Whatever you want or need.”

“At the moment I think it would be best if she left,” Suzanne said. She shuddered imperceptibly. The idea of someone being half alive and half machine was disquieting.

“Go, please!” Sufa said. The woman turned and left as quietly as she’d appeared. Sufa looked back at Suzanne. “Of course, next time you call for a worker clone it will most likely be a different one. Whoever is available comes.”

Suzanne nodded as if she understood, but she didn’t. “Where do they come from?”

“Underground,” Sufa said.

“Like in caves?” Suzanne asked.

“I suppose,” Sufa said vaguely. “I’ve never been down there nor do I know anyone else who has. But, enough about worker clones! We have to get you over to the dining hall for your meal. Would you like to swim or bathe? It’s entirely up to you, but there isn’t an overabundance of time.”

Suzanne swallowed. Her throat was dry. Given everything she’d been presented with, she found it difficult to make even a simple decision. She looked over at the pool. Its color, now more aquamarine than azure, was as inviting as its gently flickering surface.

“Maybe a swim would be a good idea,” Suzanne said.

“Excellent,” Sufa answered. “There are fresh clothes in the cabinet. And shoes, too, I might add.”

Suzanne nodded.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Sufa said. “I have a feeling it would be good for you to be alone for a few minutes to catch your breath.”

“I think you are right,” Suzanne said.

The dining room was situated in a building similar in size and shape to the cottages but without a bed. It was also open to the exterior but faced the dramatic central pavilion rather than the expansive lawns and fern thickets. Its long central table was like the one in the decon area’s living quarters. The deeply cushioned chaises looked the same, too.

The group had arrived from their separate lodgings at about the same time, in distinctly different moods about their circumstances. Richard and Michael pointedly refused to acknowledge any misgivings. They were completely exhilarated, like two children let loose in the theme park of their dreams and intent on taking advantage of every available perquisite. Perry was also excited about the possibilities inherent in this new world, but he remained outwardly cooler than the giddy divers. Suzanne was still more confused than excited. She continued to toy with the notion that they were experiencing a kind of collective hallucination according to their own predilections. In contrast to everyone else, Donald was sullen, convinced as he was that the whole construct was an elaborate, purposeful delusion toward some nefarious end.

The conversation centered on the saucer ride and the marvels of their accommodations. Richard and Michael were the most animated, particularly after they learned that Suzanne’s worker clone had been female. Richard hinted at the desires that might be sated by such a pliant creature.

Suzanne was appalled, and let him know in no uncertain terms. “Try to act like you’re from a civilized race!”

The food was similar to the fare they had had in the decon quarters, with the same curious variation in perceived taste although it was presented in elaborate, self-serve courses. It was brought out by two extremely handsome men in black satin, long-sleeved overalls that zipped up the front. Each was wearing a hoop earring.

Suddenly Donald threw his gold fork with some force onto his gold platter. The clatter was surprisingly loud in the marbled room as it reverberated off the stone walls. Richard was caught in midsentence, describing the plunge he took in his pool, with his mouth stuffed with what he insisted was a dollop of hot fudge sundae. Suzanne jumped from fright and dropped her own fork with somewhat less of a clatter, emphasizing to herself how tense she was. Michael choked on what he was experiencing as sweet potato pie.

“How can you people eat under these circumstances!” Donald shouted.

“What circumstances?” Richard asked, his mouth still brimming with food. His eyes darted rapidly around the room, fearful that the place had been invaded.

Donald leaned toward Richard. “What circumstances ?” he repeated with accentuated derision while shaking his head in scornful wonderment. “The thing I’ve never been able to understand about saturation divers is whether they have to be stupid in order to be willing to do it, or whether it’s the pressure and inert gas that destroys the handful of brain cells they may have had when they started.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Michael asked, taking immediate offense.

“I’ll tell you what I’m talking about,” Donald snapped. “Look around you! Where the hell are we? What are we doing here? Who are these people dressed up like they’re going to a college toga party?”

For a few minutes there was silence. Everyone avoided Donald’s glare. They had been scrupulously avoiding such questions.

“I know where we are,” Richard said finally. “We’re in Interterra.”

“Oh, jeez,” Donald exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. “We’re in Interterra,” he repeated. “That explains everything. Well, let me tell you, it tells us nothing. It doesn’t tell us where we are or what we’re doing here or who these people are. And they now have us conveniently isolated in separate living quarters.”

“They said they would tell us all we want to know,” Suzanne said. “They asked us to be patient.”

“Patient!” Donald mocked. “I’ll tell you what we’re doing here… We’re prisoners!”

“So what!” Richard said.

Silence reigned again. Michael put down his fork, chastened by Donald’s outburst. Richard resumed enjoying his dessert, brazenly staring Donald down. Suzanne and Perry just watched, as did the mute worker clones.