Robert Silverberg - In the Clone Zone

Mondschein’s crime had been the crime of overachievement. He had built Alvarado’s cloning laboratories to such a level of technical skill that they were the envy of all the world; and when eventually the anti-cloning zealots in North America and Europe had grown so strident that there was talk of trade sanctions and the laboratories had to be shut down, Mondschein had become the scapegoat. Alvarado had proposed to find him guilty of creating vile unnatural abominations, but Mondschein had not been willing to let them hang such an absurdity around his neck, and in the end he had allowed them to manufacture supposed embezzlements in his name instead. In return for a waiver of trial he accepted exile for life. Of course the laboratories had reopened after a while, this time secretly and illicitly, and before long ten or eleven other countries had started to turn out A and even AA Class clones also and the industry had become too important to the world economy to allow zealotry to interfere with it any longer; but Mondschein remained overseas, rotting in oblivion, purposelessly wandering like a wraith from Madrid to Prague, from Prague to Stockholm, from Stockholm to Marseilles. And now at last the Maximum Leader in his great compassion had relented.

The Minister said, “You know we have made vast strides in the biological sciences since you last were here. Once you have had some time to settle in, we will want you to visit our laboratories, which as you may be aware are once again in legal operation.”

Mondschein was aware of that, yes. Throughout the world Tierra Alvarado was known informally as the Clone Zone, the place where anyone could go to have a reasonable facsimile manufactured at a reasonable price. But that was no longer any concern of his.

“I’m afraid that I have very little interest in cloning technology these days,” he said.

The Minister’s chilly Alvarado-eyes blazed with sudden heat. “A visit to our laboratories may serve to reawaken that interest, Dr. Mondschein.”

“I doubt that very much.”

The Minister looked unhappy. “We had hoped quite strongly that you would be willing to share the benefits of your scientific wisdom with us, doctor. Your response greatly disappoints us.”

Ah. It was all very clear, now, and very obvious. Strange that he hadn’t foreseen it.

“I have no scientific wisdom, really,” said Mondschein evenly. “None that would be of any use. I haven’t kept up with the state of the art.”

“There are those who would be pleased to refresh your—”

“I’d much rather prefer to remain in retirement. I’m too old to make any worthwhile contributions.”

Now the thin lips were quirking. “The national interest is in jeopardy, Dr. Mondschein. For the first time we are challenged by competition from other countries. Genetic technology, you understand, is our primary source of hard currency. We are not a prosperous land, doctor. Our cloning industry is our one great asset, which you created for us virtually singlehandedly. Now that it faces these new threats, surely we may speak to your sense of patriotism, if not your one-time passion for scientific achievement, in asking you—” The Minister broke off abruptly, as though seeing his answer in Mondschein’s expression. In a different tone he said, “No doubt you are tired after your long journey, doctor. I should have allowed you more time to rest. We’ll continue these discussions at a later date, perhaps.”

He turned away. The florid aide-de-camp appeared as though from the air and showed Mondschein out. His driver was waiting in the courtyard.

Mondschein spent most of the night trying to sleep, but it was difficult for him, as it usually was. And there was a special problem this night, for his mind was still on Swiss time, and what was the night in Tierra Alvarado was in Switzerland the beginning of a new day. His thoughts went ticking ceaselessly on, hour after hour. Sleep finally took him toward dawn, like a curtain falling, like the blade of a guillotine.

Colonel Aristegui of the Guardia de la Patria came to him, phoning first for an appointment, saying the matter was urgent. Mondschein assumed that this would be the next attempt to put pressure on him to take charge of the cloning labs, but that did not appear to be what was on Aristegui’s mind. The wide-shouldered little man looked remarkably ill at ease; he paced, he fidgeted, he mopped his sweating forehead with a lace handkerchief. Then he said, as if forcing the words out, “This is extremely delicate.”

“Is it?”

Aristegui studied him with care. “You control yourself extremely well, doctor. In particular I mark your restraint in regard to the President. You speak of your gratitude to him for allowing you to return. But inwardly you must hate him very much.”

“No,” Mondschein said. “It’s all ancient history. I’m an old man now. What does any of it matter any more?”

“He took away the scientific work that was your life. He forced you to leave the land of your birth.”

“If you think you’re going to get me to launch into an attack on him, you’re totally mistaken. What’s past is past and I’m happy to be home again and that’s all there is to it.”

Aristegui stared at his brilliantly gleaming patent-leather shoes. Then he sighed and raised his head like a diver coming up to the surface and said, “The country is dying, doctor.”

“Is it?”

“Of the Latin American disease. The strong man comes, he sees the evils and injustices and remedies them, and then he stays and stays and stays until he is the evils and the injustices. President Alvarado has ruled here for thirty-five years. He drains the treasury for his palaces; he ignores what must be done to preserve and sustain. He is our great burden, our great curse. It is time for him to step aside. Or else be thrust aside.”

Mondschein’s eyes widened. “You’re trying to draw me into some sort of conspiracy? You must be out of your mind.”

“I risk my life telling you this.”

“Yes. You do. And I risk my life listening.”

“You are essential to our success. Essential. You must help us.”

“Look,” said Mondschein, “if Alvarado simply wants to do away with me, he doesn’t have to bother with anything as elaborate as this. Nobody in the world cares whether I live or die. It isn’t necessary to inveigle me into a fantastic nonexistent plot on his life. He can just have me shot. All right? All right?”

“This is not a trap. As God is my witness, I am not here as part of a scheme to ensnare you. I beg for your assistance. If you wish, report me to the authorities, and I will be tortured and the truth will come out and I will be executed, and then you will know that I was honest with you.”

Wearily Mondschein said, “What is all this about?”

“You possess the ability to distinguish between the brothers of Alvarado and Alvarado himself.”

“The brothers?”

“The clones. There is a secret method, known only to you, that allows you to tell the true Alvarado from the false.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“It is so. You need not pretend. I have access to very high sources.”

Mondschein shrugged. “For the sake of argument let’s say that it’s so. What then?”

“When we aim our blow at Alvarado, we want to be certain we are assassinating the real one.”

“Yes. Of course you do.”

“You can guide our hand. He often appears in public, but no one knows whether it is really he, or one of the brothers. And if we strike down one of the brothers, thinking we have killed the true Alvarado—”

“Yes,” Mondschein said. “I see the problem. But assuming that I’m able to tell the difference, and I’m not conceding that I can, what makes you think I’d want to get mixed up in your plot? What do I stand to gain from it, other than useless revenge on a man who did me harm a very long time ago? Will his death give me back my life? No, I simply want to live out my last few years in peace. Kill Alvarado without me, if you want to kill him. If you’re not sure whether you’re killing the right one, kill them all. Kill them one by one until there are none at all left.”