he?’
‘Napping in the wicker basket. Like the animals, he likes his midday rest. Here comes his feeder. He’ll come out.’
The attendant carried a heavy bushel to the nest and placed items on a nearby shelf: coarse dark breadloaf, wet raw vegetables, and wrinkled dry fruit. The goats crowded their knobbly heads into the feeder as he dumped in the variegated, damp, brown grain. ‘Buck, buck, buck,’ he called. Larry watched the naked figure emerge from the nest – same shock of yellow hair, same angular cheekbones – a Carbon Copy of himself.
‘That’s me!’
‘Just your donor,’ Jen reminded him. ‘Same genes and antigens, but no human traits – no culture, no speech. Listen to those sounds it makes – buckbuckbuck – hardly intelligent.’
‘I just can’t think that way.’
‘Times have changed, Larry,’ said Ira. ‘You will have to adjust. OLGA has ordered you repaired. We have our mission to Procyon. Your genes are scheduled in the Implant.’
Jen took Larry’s hand and led him down the hall. ‘We all were counting on you. We’ve been working with your CC donor for over ten years. It would be a shame to waste all that effort.’
Larry blinked back a tear. ‘I tried. I really tried to think of him as a project for a few moments back there. I know you have grown up with the idea, so you accept it. But I can’t accept that.’
‘But the Implant Starship?’
‘Let OLGA take the donor. He has all my precious genes.’
‘And you?’
‘I’ll return to Suspension. Time will bring a new solution – one that doesn’t require the loss of a life . . .’
OLGA’s voice was more feminine than Larry had expected. She explained again her logic in repairing Larry for the Implant. He just shook his head slowly as she spoke. ‘I do not want to force you,’ said the cybervoice over the screen. ‘I see by your Bioelectricals that you are truly concerned for your donor. If at some future date you adjust to the repair techniques, we can give you a complete body then.’
Jen-W 5 grinned and tugged his elbow. ‘Come with us in your mannequin. An Implant Starship can be fun. A new planet – starting a human colony . . .’
‘Would there be research to find a new way of repairing me?’
OLGA was silent for a moment. The screen flitted from chart to chart. ‘My probes indicate that the Procyon System may be quite hospitable – perhaps under three point zero on the Determan scale. However, the Implant may well be on a level between Upper Stone Age and Early Rural for some generations. No, I don’t think there is any likelihood of a break-through in your lifetime.’
Larry shrugged. ‘Well, I might as well stay here and wait. Bio is still operating on a good budget, isn’t it?’
‘The highest, but my intuition tells me it will be a long wait.’ Larry set his chin. ‘It’s what I want.’
‘Fine. You are very important to me. You may use what time Ira has before shipping out to make tapes for your donor. Your genes will be making the trip. Let’s see if we can capture some of your personality, too.’
Larry nodded. OLGA signed off. He gazed blindly at the blank screen. The decision to remain on Earth was another gamble for a complete body. After all, the new planet would probably be no more interesting than Earth with a few bizarre molecules – new life forms, maybe – a stimulating challenge. Well, he had all the challenge he needed right here – trying for a new body. Earth was where the research was. He’d stay home.
Ira and OLGA monitored the donor’s progress with the teaching machines. Language skills were slow in coming.
‘I can see why Larry calls the donor “Dim Dever”. He certainly is slow,’ commented Ira.
‘Slow with attendants,’ said OLGA. ‘He is making pretty good progress with machines. My terminals have been eaves-dropping on him for so long that I think we already have a common language. All that needs to be done is to give him the human speech