Escape of the clone. (closed for slut in white and myself)

[Niceandbrutal]

(As will be pretty obvious, this is a variant of the motion pictures "The Island" by Michael Bay and "Chappie" by Neil Bloemkamp. The clone will initially be referred to as "it", except when he talks about himself. Then it's "this one".)

Up until a day ago, it knew only of the Compound. It had spent its entire life there, going about its daily routine with others like it. Their tasks were simple: keep in shape and keep the Compound running. The overseers made sure everyone did as they were told, punishing the disobedient ones and sometimes rewarding them by granting a visit to Mother. They all had stories about Mother and her ways, and they sometimes had hushed conversations about how to get to see her. None of them had seen her since they were small and as time stretched out, none of them agreed on what she looked like. But gatherings for longer than five minutes were forbidden, and if more than three of them stood together the overseers sent in the guards. Everyone feared the guards. And thus, Mother would forever be a mythical figure, the target of hope and longing.

It was a day ago that the guards came into its dormitory and roused it from sleep. Leaping to its feet at once so as not to displease the guards, it asked in a small voice if it was being punished. The guards looked at each other as if unsure, then one of them told it that it was not being punished but that it was to come along with them for a Very Important assignment. It felt a surge of pride then. They had chosen IT for this important assignment! It came along willingly but felt a small pang of trepidation when it realized that it was going outside the Compound. The guards saw its hesitancy and told it that the world outside was indeed as dangerous as Mother had told it, but that they were there to protect it. It nodded and accepted this. The guards were intimidating enough to ward off the fearsome beasts it knew was roaming outside.

The doors opened and it got its first look at the world outside. The world was dark and painfully cold, and it had to fight the urge to return to the safe warmth of the Compound and Mother. They led it into a metallic box that growled, and it thought for a moment they were feeding it to one of the beasts as a punishment. But then it saw the guards enter the beast, and it relaxed and got in with them. They strapped it in, and then the box started to move, a most disconcerting experience. They told it they were inside what was called a "van", and that a van was a safe mode of transportation and faster, much faster, than walking.

It relaxed then, despite the queasy feeling in its guts as it was swaying to and fro with the van's movement. After 10 minutes and 34 seconds the van stopped. They told it to get out, that it needed to get on another mode of transportation called a "plane". The plane was intimidating. A large and deafeningly roaring metallic construct with a huge gaping maw the guards casually led it up. It felt more afraid then than it'd ever felt before, and it did something it hadn't done since it was in Mother's care: it started crying. The guards looked at each other again and spoke together in the same gibberish they sometimes used right before punishing it or its friends. It cowered, afraid of what they were going to do to it, but then one of the guards gently kneeled down and spoke in the Mother tongue and told it that the plane was safe and that it was safe with them. Accepting this, it got to its feet and thankfully sank down in a seat more luxurious than it had ever experienced before.

They explained that one could get sick when travelling in a plane, and that it needed medicine. It nodded thankfully and held out its arm so they could inject the necessary drugs. A small smile of gratitude spread across its lips as it almost immediately dozed off.

A roar intruded its sleep. The noise was surrounding it and devouring it, and it felt like it was lifted by the noise. If the plane rose up to see Mother or to feed it to some foul beast high above it had no idea, but it panicked in its sleep and sought refuge in the safe memory of Mother. Mother, with her sad smile and her enigmatic ways. She held it and told it that some day it might make someone very happy. Then she glanced around furtively and placed her lips on its forehead. The warmth from that moment was its fondest memory. Not long after that moment, Mother stopped seeing it, and it started working to keep the Compound running. The moment replayed over and over again in its head as it slept, muffling out the roar of the scary plane.

When it came to, the plane still roared. There was some jostling and bumping, but the plane hadn't hurt it yet, so it assumed that the plane was safe. It looked around. The guards were all asleep. It stood up, wondering if perhaps the very important tasks it was supposed to do was aboard this plane. It wandered up and down the aisle, looking for the apparatus with which it was accustomed. Finding none, it looked out one of the windows and got the shock of its life. The ground was far, far below. It grew dizzy and had to sit down. It looked out again. No, it wasn't seeing things. The ground was far far below. It panicked. It ran to the guards and woke them up. "The plane is trying to kill us," it shouted. "The plane has tricked us in our sleep and brought us far above the ground. The plane means to kill the guards and This One!" The guards were not amused. They roughly manhandled it back in its seat and told it that this was the sickness they were talking about and that it needed more medicine. It nodded meekly, feeling rather stupid. The guards knew best, of course. It held out its arm to receive the medicine.

As they were about to inject the medicine however, the plane hit a patch of turbulence. The injector was the kind that shoots compressed medicine right into the person's body. The guard's hand slipped ever so slightly, and the medicine missed. Being used to medication taking effect almost instantly, it automatically closed its eyes and relaxed. But something was different this time. The panic subsided, but it still felt alert. It was on the verge of asking the guards for another dose, but something stopped it. Maybe they were testing it? Maybe it needed to be undrugged for the very important task. It settled back in its chair, eyes still closed. After a few minutes, the guards spoke.

They were discussing something called Brent Matthews. That meant nothing to it, but the guards seemed to think that whatever Brent Matthews was was important. Brent Matthews had, apparently, "starred" in films. It had seen films, of course, informational films about the dangers of Outside. Then one of the guards, after a slight pause said: "Poor bastards. The pay is good and all, and they're copies, and as such they're the legal property of the studios and record labels or individual owners. But still. Look at that poor bastard over there. He doesn't know that his face is an exact copy of the most attractive male movie star and teen idol in the world. All he knows is the Compound and Mother. And if Brent Matthews dies or gets irrepairably injured it's 'bye bye clone, we need you for spare parts'."

There was a muffled reply that it didn't catch, but the first guard spoke again: "I know, it's like I said. They're property. But still. Not much of a life for them, is it?" At that point, its ears started to pop and a disembodied omnipresent voice told them: "We're starting our descent to LAX, gentlemen. Make sure the cargo is secure." And suddenly there were hands strapping it into the chair. It pretended to sleep, as it was certain that the guards were testing it still. The next few minutes were very unpleasant. There was the feeling of the stomach rising up in its throat and its ears popping painfully. It yawned instinctively, and that alleviated the feeling some.

Then, after several minutes, there was a bump and a roar. It carefully opened its eyes. There was the feeling of being flung forward in its seat, and there was the roaring sound that slowly started to subside. It looked out the window. They were on the ground! It was elated. But it resumed its sleeping position so as not to disappoint the guards.

The guards had no idea that it wasn't knocked out by the injection, so they didn't know that it didn't need the antidote. When they inoculated it, it opened its eyes and was, for the first time ever, hyper alert. Its mind was going a mile a minute, processing what had transpired since they'd woken it up 12 hours, 45 minutes ago. They had traveled. Far. It wasn't sure why, but it felt like they'd talked about it just then. Calling it and its companions 'poor bastards', whatever that meant. The guards told it that it was time to get up, and it obeyed. But something felt off. It was feeling far too much. It was thinking far too much. And most of all, it wanted to scream in confusion. But it didn't. It was sure that this was part of the test as well.

The plane came to a stop, and the guards hustled it into a waiting van. The outside here was warm, very very warm. The van was cool, and the windows were tinted. But it could still see outside. The man behind the wheel looked at it and exclaimed: "Wow! He's the spitting image!" One of the guards looked sternly at the wheelman and told wheelman to keep "his" eyes on the road. As they drove, it was flabberghasted. There were many like it moving about outside the van. Not looking like it of course, but similar. "Are- are all those like This One? Why are they not devoured by the beasts?" This earned a quick pitying look in the mirror from the wheelman, and the guard that had spoken about it earlier said, without conviction: "Those That One sees are not like it. They are capable of fighting the beasts, should they ever appear. Mother just wants to protect That One and those it lives with in the compound."

A doubt had started gnawing in its head. They didn't seem more powerful than it. But maybe this was only a part of the test too? That had to be the reason. An elaborate scheme to test its conviction. It resolved to not give in to all the confusion it felt. The first serious shock came when the van stopped. While the wheelman said something under his breath about "traffic" (and there were certainly many vans of varying size and colours here!) it looked around. There, on a building, was a large image of its bunkmate, a darkskinned young man thing, like itself. On the image, its bunkmate was smiling and holding a guardweapon, while a woman thing with long golden hair embraced its bunkmate.

It pointed at the poster and yelled in alarm: "What is That One doing on that picture!" The guards, alarmed, tried to subdue it and distract it, but the shock was too great, and it collapsed in a heap, crying. This was too much. It didn't want to be here, outside. It wanted to go home to the compound under Mother's stern but loving gaze! The kind guard (as it had started calling the guard that spoke about it on the plane) clumsily patted it on its back and reassured it that they wouldn't be here long, that it had to be brave, and that it would be home with Mother soon. It stayed on the floor of the van for the rest of the trip, trying to shut out all images and sounds.

The van stopped, and there was shouting outside. Thinking they were under attack by beasts, it cowered as it heard raised voices and shrieks. Three minutes and 25 seconds after the van had stopped, the kind guard came to collect it. Hesitantly, it went outside the van. There were loud shrieks and barely recognisable chatter as someone yelled: "Oh my God, it's Brent Matthews!" The shrieking intensified and it was uncertain whether Brent Matthews was a dangerous beast or an occasion for joy. It looked around. Several young woman things looked at it and screamed. It looked behind itself to see if there was any danger. It saw none. The young woman things seemed to be adressing it as Brent Matthews. Its confusion only grew. Then, mercifully, it was hustled inside a building, away from the heat and the screaming woman things.

They were met by a small army of man and woman things that descended on it and pulled it away from the guards. It panicked briefly, but the kind guard nodded that it should go with the things and do what they told it. It was led to a room filled with bright lights and large mirrors. One of the woman things stayed with it and told it in tones of measured patience that it was to be painted. It settled in a chair as the woman thing set to work on its face. It was a strange sensation, but not entirely unpleasant.

It watched itself in the mirror. It was young, or so it was told. It was told that its biological age was 22, whatever that meant. It had short golden brown hair, light brown eyes set in a long face, a long nose and puffy lips on a wide mouth. It was toned and lean after all the work to keep the Compound running along with its companions. It was told that it was 6 feet tall, but that meant nothing to it.

Suddenly the woman thing stopped painting its face and placed her hands on its shoulders. "I don't have much time, so listen well," she told it. "You are not a thing and I am not a thing. I am a woman and you are a man. You are the clone of Brent Matthews, the famous teen idol and movie star! They made a copy of him, and you are that copy! Do you understand!?" It looked at her, not comprehending what she was trying to say. There was an urgency in the way she spoke that made it think something dangerous was about to happen.

"This one doesn't underst-" it began, but then the door flew open and the guards were there. They forcibly dragged the woman thing away. Or was it just "the woman"? But that would make him "the man". No, that was just confusing.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. They dressed it up in strange clothes and placed it in a blue room and ordered it to smile. It did as it was told. Then it went back into the mirrored room where another woman thing cleaned his face while the guards watched them. As it and the guards were about to leave, its stomach rumbled. It looked abashed as it spoke: "This One apologizes, but This One hasn't eaten in 17 hours and 41 minutes." The guards looked taken aback, and they started arguing in their language. One of the guards went outside and came back with some strange objects they placed in front of it.

A smell filled the room, a smell that made its stomach growl fiercely, like a beast. The smell came from the objects in front of it, and it looked quizzically at the kind guard. "Proper food," the kind guard said, a look of pity in his eyes. "Something other than the baby food they give y- That One. Try it, it's harmless." It stared at the guard. Was it a trick? Would they punish it if it tried to eat the things that smelled so good? The guard sighed and took one of the small things and ate it. "Mmmmm!" the kind guard exclaimed. "You- That One should try it as well!"

It reached for one of the food things and put it in its mouth. The taste exploded and made it exclaim with delight. The guard assured it that it could eat ALL the delicious food things, which it did. Apart from the time Mother had touched it with her lips, this was its greatest experience. After it had finished eating and drinking, the kind guard told it that it was time to go. The kind guard looke unhappy for some reason, but it didn't want to ask why. It was still relishing the aftertaste of the delicious food things. It noticed a heated argument among the guards in their guard-language. The argument continued all the way back to the plane. It seemed the kind guard was alone against the other three guards over some grave matter or other.

The kind guard strapped it in when they were back in the plane. He came with the injector and whispered to it: "I will not inject you, er, that one. Pretend to sleep. I order you- it!" It did as it was told, although it was confused by the way the guard adressed it.

It pretended to be asleep, then fell asleep for real as the rich food made it drowsy. It didn't dream this time, but it still heard some strange sounds in its sleep. It was roughly awoken by the kind guard. The plane was on the ground again. The kind guard told it to get up. The other guards stood by to escort it out of the plane. There was a hostile atmosphere, but not directed against it. It was placed in the waiting van, and then things happened fast. The kind guard sprinted to the wheelplace and got in, starting the van with a roar.

"Hang on!" the kind guard yelled. The van was speeding, and it had a hard time hanging on. It was bumped and jostled as the van roared into the night. Then, abruptly, the van stopped. The kind guard got out from the wheelside and opened up the door, letting the cold air in again. The kind guard tossed a parka and a small pack towards it and told it: "You- That One is free." The guard pointed. "Walk that way for approximately 23 hours, and That one may find people that will help it."

It put on the parka and strapped the small pack on itself. The pack fit around its waist. The guard explained that the pack contained rations for two days and that it should never return here, no matter how much it wanted to. It looked at the guard and finally dared to ask: "Is this the very important task?" The guard sighed. "Yes, he replied, this is the important task. Mother doesn't like That One any more. She wants it to find others like That One and me- this guard and live with them." The guard pulled it out of the van and roughly shoved it in the direction he had pointed. "Now go!" And if it hears someone using Mother's voice, don't listen to them. They are deceiving That One. Mother doesn't want to see it any more."

A wealth of emotions bubbled up inside it. Mother was displeased with it? What had it done wrong? It tried pleading. "Please tell Mother that This One is sorry for its transgressions, and that This One will do its utmost to please Mother! Please don't send this one away!" The guard looked conflicted and exasparated. The guard pulled its guard weapon and shot, making it jump in alarm. When the guards pulled their weapons the time for pleading and reasoning was past. It turned and ran, not looking behind to see if this was just a test. When the guard weapons were out, things like him died. Not that it mattered, seeing as the dead things were soon replaced by identical, more obedient things.

It ran. It was used to running on treadmills to help keep the Compound running, but the ground was uneven and covered with several feet of cold white matter that melted and turned into water. A sudden recollection startled it. This was snow, and snow was deadly. Mother had told them all about snow in one of her films about the Outside. A frightened whimper escaped it, but running kept it warm. Warm meant safe. Mother had told them that. That was why they had to run on treadmills, use the machines with all the weights, and stand in ranks and do movements together. To keep each other warm. It did not understand very much, but it knew that movement meant warmth, and warmth meant life. And so it moved, relentlessly. It was in good shape.

It marched through the night, stopping only once when it heard crackling snapping sounds, like guards weapons going off far away. It shrugged at that. It had marched for 2 hours and 15 minutes already. There was only 20 hours and 45 minutes until it reached other things it could live and work with. It knew it was a good worker, as it had never been punished by the guards for slacking off like some of the other things had been. It would show the new other things that it was a valuable worker, maybe even meet the Mother of the group of others? It chortled with glee at the thought, not noticing the wind starting to rise.

A blizzard was on its way. Heading down from the north, the blizzard was not a full blown hurricane, but would severely increase the wind chill factor.

It had started off in the right direction, but had slowly drifted off course in the deep and uniform taiga of Siberia. In less than an hour, the blizzard was upon it, and the shock of the wind was a nasty surprise for it. Howling in fear and outrage, it increased its pace to maintain warmth, oblivious to the fact that it was wearing itself out and bleeding warmth at an increased pace. It stopped, exhausted after marching through the blizzard for two hours. It sought shelter behind a tree and ate the rations in the pack. One energy bar and a useless frozen apple. It threw the apple away in disgust after almost breaking its teeth on the strange morsel. It rested a little after eating, feeling cold and exhausted. Its teeth were chattering and its fingers and toes were numb.

It snapped out of its drowsy apathy. It HAD to keep moving! It started muttering a cadence to itself. "This one will go on. This one will go on." Slowly the energy ebbed out of it, and its movements became increasingly sluggish. Its mind, unbeknownst to it subdued by a long and calculated regimen of drugs in the Compound, turned sluggish as well. It started babbling about the strange things it had experienced, and a small part of it wondered where all the beasts Mother had warned it and the other things about were. Maybe they had taken refuge from the storm? In that case, the storm was a stroke of good fortune.

And then suddenly, a light. It laughed loudly then, because it had not marched for 23 hours. It had to be seeing things. All the same, the light was reassuring, almost ... cozy. It remembered cozy. Mother had used that expression once. Cozy was a happy safe word. The light made it feel happy and safe. And warm. It stumbled and fell. The light was stronger now, but it didn't really care. It was suddenly so very very warm. It took off its parka and loosened its jumpsuit. It lay down on the parka and laughed quietly to itself. It was no longer affected by the wind. It was free from the wind. But oh, it was sad because Mother was angry with it. And so it wept. And fell asleep. Only 3 yards from a cabin door and safety.

 

[slut_in_white]

Abigail Cooke had been living in The Siberian Cottage for almost 4 months, alone.

Well, technically, it was NASA's Russian Extreme Climate Station 416, Siberian Outpost. But That was a mouthful and said nothing about what it actually was. Which was an adorable little stone and wood cottage, nestled in next to a cliff that protected it from a significant amount of the worst weather. It looked almost amusingly out-of-place in the frozen, inhospitable tundra. A single symbol of warmth and humanity in one of the most inhospitable places on the entire planet.

It was a lonely existence - the assignment that put her up here was supposed to be at least 6 months, with an option to extend to 9 if the big wigs back in the US were happy with the results and they could secure more funding. But Abby generally didn't mind. She was the sort of girl who liked to curl up by the fire and read most evenings. She was lonely, but she wasn't miserable. And sometimes she liked it, because it gave her an excuse to extricate herself from the exhausting drama of her family and friends back home. She loved them all dearly, but sometimes, she just wanted to crawl under a rock to get away. Which, she supposed, was very nearly what she'd actually done by taking the post.

The saving grace was that, even out here, she had internet access. It was put in place because the Climate Station - in Moscow - needed fast access to her data. But, pleasantly, it meant she could Skype with her parents from time to time. She wasn't entirely alone. Though, since the Output had been in operation on and off since the 60s, she did wonder how the scientists back then had survived. Letters, she supposed.

One might have expected her to be older, but she was only 21. She'd graduated from university last year, and had fallen into the position almost by accident. She'd been on internship with NASA during her last year, and had heard that several of the outposts were slated to be shutdown because they were missing a painfully small amount of the money required to keep them running. And Abby had mentioned, mostly as a joke at the time, that they could hire fresh graduates to pay them a little less than an experienced scientist. It'd be a win-win: the new grad would get extraordinarily valuable experience in the field, and they'd get the ability to list NASA on their resume. And NASA wouldn't have to shut down the Outposts. She hadn't imagined that her comment had gotten anywhere, but then, 6 months later, right after graduation, she'd gotten an email from her old supervisor asking if she'd be interested in working for them. Normally, the pay for these kinds of outpost positions was quite extraordinary to make up for the fact that they required their employees to live in the middle of nowhere for up to a year at a time. He had recognized that they wouldn't be able to pay Abby that much - it was more akin to a normal salary for a fresh graduate. But she wouldn't have to worry about buying food or paying rent, at least. He'd seemed to think it would have been a hard sell, but Abby had jumped on it immediately.

And so, here she was. It was late, and there was a blizzard outside. The generator probably wasn't going to go out, but she figured she needed to finish cooking dinner sooner rather than later, just in case. The main floor of the Cottage was living space - a cozy living room and kitchen, with a small washroom and a single bedroom. The basement was the lab, where Abby did most of her actual work. There was a little TV in the living room, which didn't get any cable or anything so fancy, but she had a huge stack of DVDs in a little shelf next to it, and she sometimes hooked it up to her laptop so she could watch movies on there. Sometimes, her family and friends would buy her new DVDs or other such entertainment. When there was room in one of the supply shipments, NASA would let them since a couple things along, which she appreciated immensely.

Of course, while she cooked, Abby had the TV set up to display the information being collected from the various sensors outside. They fed into the computers downstairs, but she'd rigged it so she could watch the images on the TV upstairs if she wanted. She often spent blizzards watching the violence swirling around her on the screen.

A small box by the door gave a loud, startling beep. Abby blinked at it, shocked. There was a motion detector that had been installed to guard the area around the Cottage, not because they were afraid of humans trying to break in, but because wolves sometimes roamed nearby, and there had been a couple of dangerously close calls when an unaware scientist had opened the front door to find a wolf pack waiting for him. Still, it was set at a tolerance to avoid the wind and blowing snow from setting it off. It was unusual for a blizzard to set it off, and there was no way anything was out there in this weather. Right?

She turned off the stove - the stirfry was basically finished anyway - and she went to the front window. "Maybe a log or something blew over..." she murmured, pressing her forehead against the window to peer outside. It was hard to see in the darkness, not when the room behind her was so well lit. She didn't think there'd be a log - the nearest stand of trees was pretty far, but maybe the wind was more powerful than she thought.

Instead, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw... a man. She screamed, in part in surprise and in part in horror because he was out there without a parka! Without thinking quite straight, she pushed the door open and the wind immediately tore the handle from the fingers, causing the door to slam violently against the side of the building. She winced, but there'd be time to worry about that later. She ran outside, shivering at the cold, because she hadn't put a coat on either, in her hurry to get out to him. She hadn't put on shoes, either, and her sock feet were already starting to ache from the cold, but it didn't matter all that much now, because she was standing beside him, and she'd survive being out here like this for a little while longer. He might not last long enough for her to get a coat and boots. She bent down, still shuddering, and a soft, terrified little noise escaped her throat when her hands met his torso. He was like ice. She slipped her arms under his and started dragging him in something like a partly-formed full-nelson. He was heavy, she was quite petite, and she couldn't really imagine carrying him successfully in any other way. Heaving and grunting, she dragged him the short distance back to the door, and inside. She left him on the floor by the door, yanking two of the coats off the hooks and dumping them on top of him for the time being so she could run back outside and wrestle the door back closed.

Once it was closed, she immediately set to work. She'd done first aid training with a focus on hypothermia before coming up here - it was required for any NASA employee going to any area of extreme low temperature, for obvious reasons. "Okay," she breathed, hauling him the short distance between the door and the floor near the fireplace. "No more moving you." She remembered, mostly, what she was supposed to do - remove wet clothes, cutting them away if necessary to avoid excessively moving the victim. Blankets. Make sure he's still breathing and his heart's still beating. If not, administer CPR. She grabbed the shears from the kitchen and began to cut away at his clothes. Each item of clothing she removed was replaced immediately with a blanket. With that finished, she checked his breathing and heartbeat - irregular, but it was there, and there wasn't anything she could do to fix it here and now, anyway. She set a fire in the fireplace, and then, almost as an afterthought, realized she was shivering and her lips and nails were turning blue. Her own clothes were soaked from running out into the blizzard.

She headed into her room, remembering belatedly that sharing body heat was supposed to help, too, so she changed into the only clothes she had which exposed any significant amount of skin - a set of pajamas with just a tanktop and cotton shorts. Then, she ran her fingers through her long, dark brown hair, trying to clear away the snowflakes that were still clinging to her tresses and making her hair cold and wet. Still shivering slightly, she paused for only a moment before joining him in the blankets - she'd probably be quite cold, since she'd been outside too, but she immediately dismissed that thought as silly - she was still warmer than he was, and that's what matters.

It wasn't until she'd slipped down into the blankets with him, pulling the hem of her tanktop up so she could press the bare skin of her tummy against his, that she even took a moment to actually look at him. She startled - she recognized him! She knew his name, too, she was pretty sure.... Brent... Madden? Matthews? Damn, this is what happened when she spent so long isolated from pop culture. Of course, he'd been a big deal before she left, too, but she'd never been particularly good at movie stars' names to begin with. She simply blinked, wide hazel eyes staring down at his sleeping face, his lips - which were already less blue than before - and regardless of what her normal reaction would be when running into one of Hollywood's biggest stars, there was only one thing she could think at this particular moment:

What the hell was he doing out here?

 

[Niceandbrutal]

It registered nothing at first. Not the struggle to get it inside, and not the removal of its clothes. But it registered the heat. The heat was immense, almost burning it up. It felt like that, at least, and in its confused and frost-addled state it tried to remove the blankets on top of it. When the blankets were removed, it was subjected to a more intense heat radiating out from ... something. It looked like Fire, and Fire was supposed to be an immense dangerous Thing that devoured everything. The fire it saw was certainly warm enough, painfully so, but the fire did not devour it and its surroundings.

Another thing that confused it was that the blankets were put back on it. Turning around, its head still in a delirious state, it saw a small almost naked woman thing with a serious expression, placing the blankets back on it. It also registered that it was inside, and that the woman thing pressed her own skin against it. Woman thing ... inside ... its brain worked frantically, piecing together a puzzle that only made sense to it. Was this not a regular woman thing, maybe? Maybe she was Mother for this place? If so, it had to obey the wishes of ... of New Mother. And New Mother had placed the blankets back on it. Which meant that it had already disobeyed New Mother!

It felt despair then, and it wept. "This One did not mean to disobey New Mother's wishes! This One is a good worker and can help keep New Mother's Compound warm! If New Mother wants This One to keep the blankets on top of it, This One will obey. This One follows orders! This One is on a Very Important mission because," its voice had started shaking, much to its shame, "because Mother doesn't like it any more!" It ... HURT to say that! It hid its head in shame and despair then. Still delirious, it felt like it was burning up, but that sensation was quickly vanishing, to be replaced by a cold so painful it couldn't help itself. It screamed.

"M-M-MOTHER!! IT H-H-HURTS!" it yelled pitifully, teeth chattering now. It was shaking violently as the core temperature started to rise. The next hour it shook like a leaf and screamed in pain as feeling returned to its numbed limbs. Throughout the whole ordeal it felt more than knew the presence of New Mother close by it. It sensed that New Mother was watching it and looking over it, helping it to keep warm with her own soft and warm skin. As the shakes started to subside, it was exhausted. "New Mother has been kind to This One. This One hopes that it can repay New Mother's kindness. This One is a good and efficient worker and it has never been punished by the guards," it muttered happily as, at last, warmth filled it again. It drifted off to sleep.

----------------------------------------------------

It awoke with a start. There was a space of 10 hours and 36 minutes it could not account for. It had overslept! The guards would surely punish it now! But ... it looked around, confused. This was not the Compound. This was Somewhere Else. Inside on the Outside, like in that other place ... LAX? But this was different. It was a very small compound. It stood up, naked as the day it was gestated, and looked around. This Compound was so different! There weren't many rooms, and the rooms were small. There could not be many things living and working here. It looked around. On the floor was the small woman thing. Was she really a Mother? His Mother had looked ... different, somehow. More lines in the face. This woman thing had no lines in her face. It registered that its jumpsuit was cut, lying on the floor. It went over and picked the jumpsuit up and tried putting it on. It was in tatters. He hoped New Mother, the woman thing, whatever it was had a new jumpsuit for it.

It felt cold. Not as painfully cold as it had been last night, but still cold. It pondered the possibility of creeping back under the blankets with New Mother, but that wouldn't have been very clever. Its duty was to keep this New Compound running and warm, and that meant working. But it was hungry. It looked towards the counter and saw some food things. It went over and looked at it. These food things smelled differently than what it had been given in LAX, but they still smelled delicious. But oh, what if these food things were for New Mother alone? It did not want to risk New Mother's wrath. Wrath, it was sure, meant guards. Then it remembered its pack. It was there, on the floor, right beside the woman thing.

It cautiously moved and got its pack and opened it. YES! There was another energy bar! It scarfed the whole bar in less than a minute, and sighed contentedly. NOW it could work! Only... where were the teadmills? The weights? Maybe... yes, it was probably supposed to perform gymnastics. It started running in place before performing jumping jacks and squat thrusts. It was certainly getting warmer. But something was wrong. For one, the room wasn't getting any warmer. And its appendage between its legs was flopping something awful, being unrestrained by underwear. And so it stopped.

It looked around the small compound once more. There was a screen there. It had seen screens like that before. What was new was a stack of plastic things with strong colours. It looked over the plastic things. There were pictures of man things and woman things on them, even...

It gasped, and the plastic thing dropped to the floor. "Why... why is there a picture of This One on there?" It felt dizzy. It had to sit down as all the images and memories from the last 36 hours came crashing down on it. It was lost and confused. Mother didn't like it any more and it had been driven away into the dangerous snow and wind. It curled up in a fetal position and closed its eyes. For the first time in its life it was at a loss. There, on the plastic thing, was the picture of it, the name Brent Matthews written in large letters. The world made no sense to it.

It registered movement and footsteps. New Mother was awake. That galvanized it. It jumped to its feet. "This One has tried warming up the Compound, but it hasn't found the right apparatus to do so. I hope This One isn't a disappointment!" It spoke rapidly, eyes forward. It stood at attention, awaiting the commands of New Mother.

 

[slut_in_white]

It wasn't too long before Brent started moving and trying to speak. It relieved Abby to see that he was regaining consciousness so quickly, and she hoped maybe she could ask what he was doing out here, wandering in the snow. Only, then he threw off the blankets and she frowned, faint annoyance on her face, as she sat up and pulled them back up over them both. What the hell? Was he really so hypothermic that he'd reached the last stage, where the body felt like it was too warm?

Shit. It was a really good thing she found him when she did. And she was pretty sure they'd be in for a long night. The way she understood it, the rewarming of the body from that low a temperature could be immensely painful. She was wondering about the potential of giving him some painkillers - would they even help? Would giving him medication while he was in this weakened state make him worse? - when he suddenly started crying, and began to babble about his Mother, and obedience, and... a compound? She only spent the first minute trying to understand what he was talking about - after that, she decided he was delirious and simply let him babble.

And then, he started screaming. Abby yelped, startling badly enough that she jumped away from him for a moment. The pain was immense, she was certain, and she watched helplessly as he chattered and writhed under the blanket. There wasn't anything she could do to ease it, so she simply tried comforting him, pulling her body close to his, her hands grasping his wrists to keep him from flinging the blankets about. She brought her lips close to his ear and began whispering soft words of comfort, "I know, I know it hurts, but it'll be over soon. You're going to be okay. You're going to survive this. It's alright. You're going to be fine."

Once his shaking subsided, Abby discovered that her muscles were aching from having to hold him still, and between the cold and the exertion, she was utterly exhausted. She barely even heard his assurances that he was a good worker and had never been punished. She simply let her head drop onto the floor next to his, and fell promptly asleep.

--------------

She registered movement, faintly, and the thumping of feet on the floor nearby, but her body ached faintly and her mind couldn't quite comprehend a reason why she should care, so it took quite a while before she actually roused herself enough to remember the events of last night. Sitting up, she looked around and saw Brent curled up on the floor next to a DVD with his smiling face on the front cover. She stood, pulling one of the blankets tight around her shoulders to ward off the cold, but before she could say anything, he jumped to his feet.

This One has tried warming up the Compound, but it hasn't found the right apparatus to do so. I hope This One isn't a disappointment!

She blinked at him, her lips parting in confusion. "I... Wait, what?" Compound? Well, she supposed that wasn't that inaccurate a description of this place, but it was kind of a weird thing to call it. Her gaze flickered to the fireplace, wondering if maybe he'd hit his head. She didn't blame him for not finding the thermostat, but the fireplace seemed like a obvious way to do it, if he'd wanted to do so before she woke. Also, why in the world did he keep using the phrase "This One?" Was he some kind of method-actor who wouldn't break character? Or maybe he was still slightly delirious?

Also, he was naked. She realized only after she'd been staring at him for several moments, largely because she was the sort of woman who was slow to wake fully in the mornings. She blushed, averting her gaze. "Um, aren't you freezing? I mean, I'm sorry I cut off your clothes, but they were wet and cold last night, and I couldn't get them off any other way. But seriously, there are like 10 blankets in the pile here," she motioned to the pile of blankets they'd slept on and in last night, "you can have one. To cover up and warm up. If you want."

He seemed confused, so she picked up one of the biggest, warmest blankets from the pile and held it out to him. "Seriously. I can try to find you some clothes, but for now, at least wrap up in this. You're gonna get hypothermia again."

Once he took the blanket from her, she sat down on the couch, folding her legs up under herself to keep her toes warm, and motioned for him to sit with her. "So, um, what are you doing out here, exactly?"

 

[Niceandbrutal]

"I... Wait, what?"

It waited.

"Um, aren't you freezing? I mean, I'm sorry I cut off your clothes, but they were wet and cold last night, and I couldn't get them off any other way. But seriously, there are like 10 blankets in the pile here, you can have one. To cover up and warm up. If you want."

This woman thing couldn't be Mother of this place. The woman thing seemed altogether too confused and unsure to be an all-knowing overseeing Mother. And the woman thing used such language as it had only heard the guards and overseers use to and about each other. It had, by contextual clues, surmised that "I" was the woman thing referring to itself, while "you" was used by the woman thing to address it. It stood processing this, blinking in confusion. Maybe the rules varied from compound to compound?

"You wants a blanket," it muttered as the woman thing, or "I" collected one for it. I returned with the most luxurious blanket it- You had ever seen.

"Seriously. I can try to find you some clothes, but for now, at least wrap up in this. You're gonna get hypothermia again." You smiled in gratitude at I's kindness and wrapped itself in the blanket. You warmed almost instantly. Smiling, You addressed I: "I is generous and kind, and a credit to its Compound. You is happy to be here and will perform whatever duties I wants done. This is a good blanket," You said, smiling. I sat down next to You.

"So, um, what are you doing out here, exactly?" You bowed its head in shame. "The kind guard from You's former Compound told You that Mother didn't like You anymore. The kind guard told You to run. And so You ran into the dangerous snow and wind. And then I rescued You." You was on the verge of tears. Mother's rejection stung, and You felt happy to have found I's Compound. I seemed very kind, and I was small and pretty.

You turned towards I. "You can run faster and longer than most in You's former Compound. You is also a good lifter. This compound is so small that You can probably heat it by its own. Just show You where the treadmill is, because You's gymnastics earlier didn't work. Then I can go about I's business."

You was eager now. I was so small, it was a marvel that I had managed to keep the compound warm alone. Then You's eyes fell on the plastic thing with You's face on. You pointed at the plastic thing; "Why does I have You's picture. Did I know You was coming? Have I talked to Mother? You also wonders why its bunkmate from the Compound was in a picture in LAX. Does I know?"

You looked at I. Maybe I had the answers? Maybe the Very Important assignment was to gather the information from I?

 

[slut_in_white]

Abby simply stared at him, confused. Why was he telling the story as if she was him and he, her? This was very weirdly backwards...

And then it occurred to her. He hadn't used pronouns before, always referring to himself as "This One" - it struck her, as she listened to his story, that he was using "I" and "you" as if they were names, and she began to laugh.

"Oh! No, no, no, I is a term that one uses to refer to oneself. That's not my name, that's just a general term people use for themselves. You is a word that we use to refer to the person or people we're talking to. So you, when talking about yourself, would also call yourself 'I' okay? And you, when referring to me, would say 'you'. Does that make sense?"

Once she finished her explanation, it struck her how very weird it was to have to explain it to someone. But once she thought about the story he'd told, with the pronouns switched back around, she realized he'd come from a place called "The Compound" where a kindly guard had... what? Helped him escape? Except, it seemed that he hadn't wanted to leave, and the guard had told him that Mother - whoever that was - didn't want him anymore, in order to convince him to leave.

Understanding dawned on her face. He looked exactly like one of the biggest and most talented starts of a generation, but he was very clearly not Brent Matthews. His understanding of the world and language seemed weirdly skewed, he bore the strange, naive innocence of someone who had spent their entire life heavily sheltered.

She'd heard of this. There was a huge biotech conglomerate, Constitution, that regularly advertised clone tech. For a (ridiculously high) price, they would clone a person, and that clone could be used as a perfect match source for new organs, should they be required. And, if the original body was damaged too badly, they'd just transfer the client's mind into the clone's body entirely. There had been a ton of protests against the technology during its formative years, and people were still upset, but they'd put extraordinary amounts of money into a PR campaign assuring people that their process was ethically sound, that the clones weren't real people. That they weren't even conscious in any meaningful way. They were basically automatons, with no personality, no desires, nothing. Basically walking vegetables. So there was nothing ethically concerning about killing them, because they weren't alive in the first place.

Clearly, that was bullshit. This guy - she had no idea what to call him, since he clearly wasn't actually "Brent" - wasn't a vegetable. She bit her lip, her eyes wide and concerned. "Um. I'm Abigail. Abby. That's my name. Do you understand? Do you have a name?"

 

[Niceandbrutal]

I seemed confused for some reason. You was about to ask again when I started laughing.

"Oh! No, no, no, I is a term that one uses to refer to oneself. That's not my name, that's just a general term people use for themselves. You is a word that we use to refer to the person or people we're talking to. So you, when talking about yourself, would also call yourself 'I' okay? And you, when referring to me, would say 'you'. Does that make sense?"

You blinked owlishly after that explanation, all matters of pictures forgotten now. If "I" was "You" when "You" talked to "I", then "You" was "I" when "I" talked to you... You, its, That One's head hurt. You or I mulled the information for a couple of minutes, the brow creased in concentration. "You is I and I is You", it said, mulling the information. The woman thing smiled and nodded. Then he wanted to assure itself that it had gotten the information correct.

It pointed at itself: "I?" The woman thing's smile broadened as her head nodded. It pointed at the woman thing: "You?" The woman thing smiled and nodded again. Then it hesitated, but made up its mind. It gently grabbed the woman things small hand at pointed it at himself. "I am you to you?" The woman thing hesitated, then nodded and smiled more fervently. He then pointed the woman thing's hand at the woman thing and asked: "You are I to you?" Again she nodded, and this time she laughed, an alien sound that nevertheless felt safe and warm. "Cozy sound," I said to You, smiling.

I felt immensely proud for figuring that out with the woman thing's help. Something was bubbling inside I. It was bubbling in I's chest, wanting to burst free from I's mouth. And then I laughed, something I hadn't done since early childhood. It was a loud and slightly disconserting sound as I was unsure what was happening. The laughter died off slowly. I found it liked to laugh. The woman thing had used another word as well: "me". The way the woman thing used the word made it think that it might be another word for "I".

They were both lost in thought for a minute. "Me", "I", there was a riddle here...

"Um. I'm Abigail. Abby. That's my name. Do you understand? Do you have a name?"

More information. I's head started to really hurt now. But these things seemed important to the woman thing. "You is Abigail is Abby is I is you to..." and then it struck I like a lightning bolt. "Abigail is Abby is I is you to ME?" I pointed at itself. "I is me?" I's synapses were firing wildly now. He again pointed at Abigail: "Abigail. Abby. You!" I pointed at itself. "I! Me!" And then another revelation: "My. My? My!" I pointed at its jumpsuit. "MY jumpsuit?" Abby just laughed and nodded.

"I am me, a man thing. You are Abby, a woman thing. I have no name! Abigail was name? I have no Abigail, no name! What is my name?" There was a hint of desperation as a whole new concept of self opened up to I, Me. "What is my name? Why does I not have a name? Abby has a name. Why not me? Did Abby get the name from Mother? Why didn't I get a name?" I, Me had started crying now, the sense of abandonment overwhelming.

Crying was weakness. Mother said. I, Me hid its head in its hands in shame. "I am sorry to be weak, Abby. Mother says crying is weakness. I am bringing shame over this Compound. Let me work. I am useful. Show me the treadmill! I will make the Compound warm for you, for Abby. Don't let the guards punish me!"

Something felt wrong to I, Me. It had never cried this much and this often before. Ever since the guards brought I, Me to LAX everything seemed off. I, Me leapt off the couch, flinging the blanket aside. "I need to work, to be useful," I, Me muttered. I, Me started to search high and low for the machines that brought heat. As far as I, Me could see there were no such machines here. Were they outside? I, Me would go outside. I, Me headed for the door, its head a confused babble threatening to overcome I, Me.

 

[slut_in_white]

Abby watched, bewildered, as her comment about her name seemed to create a cascade of stress and upset for the clone-man, and he burst into tears, making her squeak in surprise. She shuffled toward him, reaching for his shoulder. "Oh no! Don't cry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you!"

Only before she could reach him, he jumped to his feet, saying something about a treadmill, and then he started for the door. She yelped again, and jumped to her feet, grabbing at his arm to stop him. "No, no! What are you doing? It's freezing out there!" She frowned, looking up at him with big, sad eyes. "I'm sorry for upsetting you. This place... it's not a Compound, so whatever you did there, you don't have to do that here. You're safe here, okay? No one is going to punish you. No one is going to hurt you. I don't know why you think you need to work to keep this place warm, but we have machines that do that for us, okay? You don't have to work. You don't have to do anything. The only thing I want is for you to rest. You nearly died last night from the cold. You should spend a little more time recovering."

She led him gently back to the couch and sat him down, placing the blanket back over his shoulders. "I'm, um, gonna go find you some clothes, okay? You just relax." She turned toward the bedroom and then realized the stirfry was still sitting on the counter, and grinning sheepishly. "Oh! Are you hungry?" Her own stomach growled, and she realized she hadn't eaten dinner last night because of all the distraction. "I can heat up my dinner from last night, if you want, and we can share. Kind of a weird breakfast, I guess, but if you don't mind..." She trailed off, disappearing into the bedroom for a moment.

She pulled on some normal clothes of her own - a pair of jeans and a thermal sweater. Then she went looking for clothes for him. There was a trunk in the closet stuffed with clothes that had belonged to the scientists previously stationed up here which had been forgotten or perhaps left on purpose. A lot of it was intense cold-weather gear, like long-johns, but there were a few things that would be appropriate for the clone-man and might fit him. She came back out with a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and handed them to him. "Here, this'll probably be nicer than sitting naked under a blanket, right?" She headed into the kitchen and turned the stove back on to re-heat the stirfry.

"So, um, you said you were never given a name, right? I suppose that must be how they treat you, to prevent you from being humanized..." She shook her head, a little bubble of anger rising in her chest. How could anyone be so cruel? "What name would you like? You can call yourself whatever you want." With the stove heating up, she came back to the couch and sat down again, this time getting out her laptop. She opened the browser and navigated to a page of baby names. "Here. These are some of the things people usually name male babies. You can pick one, if you'd like. Most of them have meanings," she pointed to the list with the meanings written neatly next to each name. "It doesn't have to be a permanent name for now, but I'd like to know what to call you." She smiled quickly, and then wandered back into the kitchen to continue fixing their breakfast.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

"No, no! What are you doing? It's freezing out there!"

Abby seized I, Me. I, Me stopped as Abby continued talking about the place, how it wasn't a Compound and how I, Me shouldn't work to keep the place warm. And Abby seemed genuinely concerned over I, Me. It was a strange but pleasant sensation that this woman thing cared so much about I, Me. I, Me felt something it had not felt since childhood. Concern from another living being. This brought I, Me's thoughts back to Mother and I, Me's eviction from the Compound.

When Abby asked about food thi-, no wait, she just called it food. When she asked about food I, Me replied that it had already eaten an energy bar. I, Me managed to dress itself, and the clothes fit fairly well. I, Me felt ridiculous without its jumpsuit. But then, Abby looked good in similar clothing, and I, Me's jumpsuit was in tatters.

And then Abby brought the small screen with the lettered squares beneath. I, Me watched in fascination how she pushed the squares and made the corresponding letters appear on the screen, forming words. I, Me also noted how she made a cursor move on the screen. I, Me was fascinated. It scrolled through names upon names until it came to the "classics" section. There was a name it liked, and like Abigail's it could be shortened. He'd also picked up some new pronouns in the process.

HE (not she, Abby was a she) stood up and walked over to Abby. He felt so proud, he was about to burst. "Abby," he said, smiling, "my name is Alexander. But you can call me Alex."

He noticed for the first time the delicious smell. "Maybe ... I can try ... the food things you ... are making?" He spoke haltingly, hesitantly, gauging her reactions to see if he was on the right track. His stomach rumbled and he laughed a little too loudly again.

Sitting down to eat, he was a wealth of questions. What were the different food things called? Why did they use forks and knives? He had only eaten with a spoon from a bowl up until that first delicious meal in LAX. For a moment, he knew peace. It wouldn't last. He wolfed down the food, despite having already eaten an energy bar. This food, this stir fry was so delicious!

 

[slut_in_white]

Abby paused what she was doing when Alex walked over and proudly told her his name. She offered him a bright smile, glad for how happy that single symbol made him. "Then it's my very great pleasure to meet you, Alex!"

She turned her attention back to the stirfry and smiled at his question about whether he would eat the food she was making. She giggled at the bright, loud laugh he gave at the sound of his stomach rumbling, as if it were a sound he wasn't used to hearing. "Of course! I definitely plan on making some for both of us. Just, um, give me a minute. When I made this last night, it was supposed to be just for me, so it's a little bit small for two portions, but I'll make some rice really quick to stretch it into enough for both of us..."

As she went about finishing the prep, Alex peppered her with questions about what she was doing, what the food was called, why they used forks and knives. Half of the questions made her giggle out of surprise since they were things she hadn't imagined it was possible for anyone to live without learning. She took him by the arm and brought him to stand next to the stove with her while she worked, pointing out each vegetable as best she could. Then she explained what rice was, and he seemed to find the process of them cooking - going from tiny, hard and semi-clear to thick, fluffy and opaque white - immensely fascinating.

The questions continued as they sat down together, and Abby happily answered each and every one as best she could. Alex, it seemed, had a voracious appetite, for both knowledge and her cooking. She promised to teach him to cook later, which seemed to delight him.

After they were finished eating, Abby gathered up the dirty dishes and put them in the dishwasher, and then turned back to Alex. "Listen, I have to go check on some things downstairs for my job. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

It wasn't going to take long - maybe 15 minutes or so. She just had to check over the data from last night's storm and send it off to the Station. She shot him another smile and then headed downstairs, anxious to finish so she could return and keep teaching him about the world.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

She was going to teach him how to cook! He couldn't believe his luck. Not only was he fortunate enough to stumble on to this cozy non-Compound where one didn't have to physically exert oneself to maintain the heat, the non-Compound housed a kind and pretty woman th- woman! She smiled almost no matter what Alex said and did and if Alex was upset, she was upset. Alex smiled when he thought about Abby. He liked her. He got a funny feeling in his chest whenever she smiled.

She was busy in the sub-level of the not-Compound, so Alex went back to the screen with the lettered squares. He had seen Abby make the screen look for information. Alex was severely lacking in education, but he wasn't stupid or slow. He sat down and manipulated the pointy thing on the screen. Then he told the screen to look for Mother. He got more than a million hits. There were definitions of motherhood, reminders of Mother's day (he couldn't ever remember celebrating that), article upon article. Ah, but here was a film! That might be useful.

The film was titled "Mother shows son the ropes" and it was in a place with a name with many x'es. Alex fiddled about a bit until he stumbled upon the right way to make the film start. There was a naked woman thing and a naked man thing. The woman thing was pretty, though not as pretty as Abby. The woman thing kneeled in front of the man thing and took the man thing's penis in her mouth. Alex watched with morbid fascination as the man thing's penis grew. And then, after a few minutes, the man thing placed his penis inside a hole between the woman thing's legs, and they started moving and moaning.

Alex grew curious. How did the man thing's penis grow like that? He felt a dull kind of longing when watching the session between the man thing and the woman thing, but he didn't really understand why. And he was certain he could not do what the couple on the screen did. His penis had never risen like that, as far as he could remember. Alex wasn't sure whether they were enjoying what they did, or hurting each other. It was a fairly short film that ended with the man shooting the woman thing's face with something white and sticky, which made him laugh. It looked ridiculous, but he felt slightly nauseated when the woman thing started licking the white stuff up. Alex snapped the screen shut over the lettered squares, and after a few seconds the noises from the film stopped.

Alex looked around the not-Compound. He was still feeling the effect from his exposure, and the food had made him drowsy. He looked outside in the sparse light and gave a start. There was a living breathing monster outside! And it was huge! He froze in place as he watched with awe and horror a large dark brown beast with four long legs and odd branches sticking out of its head calmly move towards some bushes. It bent down and started nibbling at the twigs of the bush. Alex tried moving away while the beast was distracted, but it saw him move. A mighty twitch passed through the fearsome beast as it turned and looked DIRECTLY at him! Alex yelped and threw his arms in the air in a defensive gesture. And the beast ran! AWAY from him!

The beast was afraid of him? Of HIM? The thought struck Alex as so hilarious that he giggled, then laughed, then roared with laughter. He laughed so hard that he had to sit down. He collapsed in the sofa as he curled up and a tinge of hysteria started to colour the laughter. THE BEAST WAS AFRAID OF HIM! They had LIED to him!

Abby peeked upstairs, a bewildered look on her face, which only made Alex laugh harder. It took him another minute to compose himself. And then, in fits of renewed giggles, he told Abby about how they've been warned about fearsome beasts roamin on the Outside, and how they devoured everyone. Then he told about the beast with twigs on its head and how it ran off, afraid of HIM!

After the giggling subsided, he also told that he had tried to find mother on the screen with the lettered squares. He told about the articles and how he felt a film might save some time, but how that film only had been about some strange doings involving a stiffened penis going inside a woman thing. It was confusing, to put it mildly. What did THOSE strange activities have to do with Mother!? And how could that man's penis get thick like that? He looked at Abby with an imploring expression.

 

[slut_in_white]

Abby heard Alex shouting, and looked up. "Alex?" she called, concerned. She got no response, so she finished setting up the connection to send the data to the outpost and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. "Alex?" she asked again, peering out into the living room to find him laughing.

She relaxed once she realizing nothing was wrong, though a little bolt of anger ran through her at his explanation that he'd been taught to fear everything outside the Compound as dangerous. She laughed when he started talking about the beast with twigs on its head - it took her a moment to realize what he'd been talking about, but of course, it was a deer!

He mentioned trying to find his mother online, and she winced, wondering if he had realized that nearly everyone in the world had a different mother, and that it would be next to impossible to find his without more information to go on. Only, then he continue to explain that he'd found a film, and she soon realized he had to be talking about porn. Her eyes went wide and she flushed brightly. "Oh. Oh dear..." And then... Wait, was he seriously saying he'd never had an erection?

She sat down on the couch, motioning for him to come join her, and sighed, unable to look him in the eye. This was going to be one hell of an awkward conversation.

"Um. Okay, so there's this thing that people do, called sex. Basically, it's when a man puts his penis into a woman's vagina, but there's usually more to it than that. It feels really, really good, so we like to do it, kind of a lot. Plus, you know, it's generally a very intimate thing to do, so a lot of people only want to do it with someone they love very much. So that's what you were watching. People having sex. It's usually a private thing, but sometimes, we record and distribute sex video likes that, called porn, because if you don't have someone in your life with whom you want to have sex, you have to let off that sexual tension somehow else. And you can kind of... uh, imitate the motions and sensations of sex with your hand. So sometimes, people watch porn because it arouses them, and then they use their hands to make themselves feel good.

"But society also has a bunch of weird hangups about sex that basically come down to the idea that, until recently, anytime you had sex, there was a pretty decent chance you could have a baby, and if you had a baby and you weren't ready to be a mother or father, it'd be really bad. So we made up all kinds of reasons why you shouldn't have sex unless you're in a stable relationship and you have the ability to raise a child, but along the way, people kind of forgot that our prohibitions on having sex whenever and with whomever we wanted were about not producing babies, and started acting like sex itself is evil. So when we started being able to have sex without making babies, they kind of freaked out. So now, there's a taboo around sex. And, well, basically that film was about a son having sex with his mother, which is something very taboo, and for very good reasons. It's looked down upon by society, because if that kind of sex produces a child, that child is usually very sick, so we discourage those kinds of relationships. But, um, because sexuality is taboo and sex is arousing, sometimes people find taboo of any kind arousing, including the idea of having sex with one's mother. So... yeah. The woman in the video was pretending to be that man's mother. She's not your mother, though."

Abby was flushed bright red and wringing her wrists, feeling very uncertain about what to say to him. How was she supposed to teach an adult man who had never had an erection about sex? "Does that make sense?"

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Alex listened with rapt attention. He knew that wasn't Mother in the movie. She didn't look anything like Mother. This sex thing sounded really complex. Worse, it seemed to ... upset Abby. She got flustered, she avoided looking at him, and she kept wringing her hands.

Alex gently but firmly took her hands and looked at her. "Abby, I am sorry I talked about this. I didn't mean to upset you. I hope you're not angry with me, because I like you. You are kind, clever, and pretty." He mulled over everything she'd just said. "I don't think Mother would have liked having sex with me. But she was gentle and kind. We all missed Mother when they took us away from her to start working." He paused as a thought struck him. "There must have been several mothers in the Compound. My mother had black hair, while my bunkmate swore that HIS Mother had whiteyellow hair. But then..."

A thought reared its ugly head. They had all been told they worked for Mother. But if they'd had different mothers, then who was Mother? The conclusion was a gruesome one. "We had different mothers, but they told us Mother was watching. One Mother. A strict mother who loved us all! They LIED to us about Mother! But why!?" His voice started to crack as the impact of the betrayal hit him. "WHY!?" And then, without mercy, his brain started feeding him pictures and sounds from his memory.

A woman's voice: "You are the clone of Brent Matthews... They made a copy of him, and you are that copy... not a thing. I am a woman and you are a man..."

Alex felt dizzy. A severe mental shock was slowly manifesting itself.

The van driver in LAX: "Wow! He's the spitting image!"

Alex brought his arms up to his ears as if to ward off the voices he heard. He started muttering "no. no. no."

The kind guard: "... if Brent Matthews dies or gets irrepairably injured it's 'bye bye clone, we need you for spare parts'... "

And last but not least, there was Abby's confusion when he tried explaining himself to her.

Alex fully comprehended now. He was there to replace Brent Matthews if he should die. Or they would kill him and use parts of him. A strange feeling filled him. It started round his solar plexus and slowly but steadily traveled upwards. And then he threw up. A detached part of his brain drily observed that it didn't taste nearly as good coming up again.

"They lied to me, to us," he said in a tiny voice. "I lost all the good food."

 

[slut_in_white]

I don't think Mother would have liked having sex with me.

Abby couldn't help the giggle that escaped her in response to that. Understatement of the year. Only even before she'd finished her laugh, Alex's expression screwed up into one of horror and he came to the sudden realization that all of the clones in the compound must have had different mothers. That they were lied to.

Abby felt awful for him. It hadn't even occurred to her that the Mother he'd been referring to had been a figure he had imagined was singular. The discovery must have been a horrible shock. She reached for him, to touch his shoulder or arm and offer some small comfort, but he jerked forward and retched, causing Abby to withdraw in shock.

"Oh no! Alex!" Abby hated nausea and throwing up. There were few physical sensations she despised more, and almost none that her body forced on itself.

His soft, sad comment about having lost the food drew another involuntary giggle from her. How odd that that would be his concern. "It's alright. Once you're feeling better, I'll make you something else. Maybe something easy to digest. My stomach is always a little sensitive after I throw up, and I wouldn't want to make you feel worse."

Before they could do anything else, though, they had to clean up. Abby and Alex stood up and moved the couch back so that the rug underneath could be gathered up wholesale and the entire thing thrown into the washing machine. The whole process only took a minute or two, and when she came back, Alex was sitting on the couch again, looking lost.

She sat down next to him, placing her hand over his. "Perhaps... perhaps it would be better to think of it this way. Your mother, now, is yours. And only yours. Wherever she is, whoever she is, you don't share her with the whole Compound now." She squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way. Is there anything else you want to ask?"

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Alex hated the sensation of throwing up and the preceding nausea. After vomiting, the nausea disappeared, but there was an incredibly foul taste in his mouth. He followed Abby's instructions and helped her move the couch and the rug. "I'm sorry I made a mess," he squeaked, afraid she wouldn't like him any more. He helped himself to some water to rinse his mouth, then he sat down on the couch again.

She sat down beside him again. "Perhaps... perhaps it would be better to think of it this way. Your mother, now, is yours. And only yours. Wherever she is, whoever she is, you don't share her with the whole Compound now. I'm sorry you had to find out this way. Is there anything else you want to ask?"

Alex laughed with obvious relief. "You are not angry with me for making a mess." It was not a question, he stated the facts as he saw them. "I heard the guards talking on the plane to LAX," he continued abruptly. "They said we were replacement bodies or spare parts. Does that mean they can come and get me whenever they like?"

This was not intended as a plea for help. He just needed to clarify where he stood in the world. The thought of being collected and used, possibly killed, upset him. He had just discovered a whole world. And Abby was in it. The thought made him happy.

"I don't want to be used as spare part," he added meekly.

 

[slut_in_white]

Does that mean they can come and get me whenever they like?

"No!" Abby cried, more loudly than she'd intended. She slapped her hand over her mouth, afraid she'd startled him, and then shook her head furiously. "No, absolutely not!" She paused, uncertain of how to explain. "Killing someone... That's one of the worst crimes a person can commit. It's a terrible crime to kill another human. The people who kept you, um, they're called Constitution Biotech, by the way. They're a company that runs one of the world's largest cloning programs. They tell everyone that you aren't... alive. That you and the other clones in the program aren't real. They say that you're not awake, ever. That you're not capable of being awake. You can't feel things, you can't want things. You're just... breathing objects. So when they harvest you, it's not really killing, because you were never alive." She seized his hands. "Don't you see? They've lied to everyone about the nature of their work. They have told us terrible lies to make us think that what they're doing is okay, but it's not! And now that I know the truth, of course they can't come get you!"

But, he raised a good point, accidentally. If they came, with guns and force, she wouldn't be able to stop them. "But listen. If they come looking for you, I won't be able to stop them from taking you. They might shoot me, or threaten to shoot me, and I wouldn't be able to fight them. So the best way to keep you safe is to make sure they never know where you are, okay? The storm will have covered your footprints from last night, so that's less of a concern now, but they may still come here looking for you anyway. If they do, I need you to go downstairs, into the live culture lab, and press the big red button, okay? It'll lock the door, and they'll think it's dangerous to go in. And you hide there until I tell you it's safe to come out."

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Abby didn't like to think of him as dead, killed. This resulted in a feeling he'd never truly experienced before. But it was a warm and safe feeling, so he simply said: "I like that you don't want me dead. It's cozy." He smiled at her as she continued talking. Apparently, killing someone was a "crime", something she made sound like a Bad Thing for the killer.

"They tell everyone that you aren't... alive. That you and the other clones in the program aren't real."

"I'm real," he said in a small voice. For some reason, that hurt more than the prospect of being killed. He WAS real, wasn't he? He touched his arm. It was there and it was solid. But the more she explained, the more he understood. She wasn't just talking about his body, she was talking about... about... words failed him miserably, so he invented one that he felt said what he was thinking. She was talking about think-him. The thoughts that made him HIM and not just an unthinking bag of flesh.

And Constitution Biotech had lied to almost everyone. But some people knew. And some of those people tried to help. He told her about the kind guard and the facepainter woman in LAX as she showed him where he could hide if people came looking for him. When she mentioned how she could get shot, it was his turn to yell: "NO!"

Visibly upset again, he told her: "I will give myself up if they try to kill you. There's two of me in the world, but only one you. And you must not die because you helped me! No. No. No. And you have been so kind to me and showed me things and explained things to me and ... Abby must not die!" he sobbed. The thought of her dead was extremely cold and uncomforting. Un-cozy.

 

[slut_in_white]

There's two of me in the world, but only one you.

For some reason, Abby found it deeply upsetting that Alex felt that way. That he thought there was two of him, and that somehow, that made it more acceptable for him to die.

Without thinking, she reached up and placed each of her small hands over his cheeks, holding his face gently, and guiding him to look at her. For a moment, she simply held him like that, looking into his eyes, before she finally took a deep breath and spoke. "No, Alex, there isn't two of you. You are not Brent Matthews. You may look like him, but you're not him. You're Alex. And that means there's only one of you, too." Using her thumbs, she wiped away the tears that had started rolling down his cheeks at the thought of her death, and her heart twisted in her chest at the awareness that he cared so much - and at the awareness that how much he cared for her was probably skewed, because she was the only person in the world he actually knew. Someday, they were going to have to remedy that.

"I want to be clear," she said seriously, her voice wobbling a little with emotion, "your life is as valuable as anyone else's. You are a human being, like anyone else, and no one can tell you otherwise, okay? Don't let anyone convince you you're worth less because of how you were born. Promise me."

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Her hands were small, soft, and warm, and they smelled good. She made him look at her. Two pairs of brown eyes met as she fixed him with her gaze. And then wonderful words started pouring out of her, words he hadn't known he needed to hear until she said them. It felt like a huge load was lifted off his shoulders when he heard her say what he'd wanted to hear. He was unique. He had a right to live. Tears of sorrow and relief ran down his face and she gently wiped them away.

"Don't let anyone convince you you're worth less because of how you were born. Promise me."

He could only nod. He didn't trust himself to speak clearly. He gently clasped her hands in his and bestowed upon them the only sign of real affection Mother had taught him. He lifted them to his mouth and gave them both a quick peck. And then he just clasped them, comforted by the friendly intimacy that seemed to develop between them.

For a short little while, nothing was said. Then, when he had calmed down and felt safe to talk again, he said a simple and heartfelt: "Thank you, Abby."

Something she had said earlier had wormed around in his brain, something that spoke to a deep longing within him. "You said everyone has a mother. That means you have one, no? Could you tell me about her?" He both dreaded and longed to hear about a normal mother.

 

[slut_in_white]

Abby nodded, smiling sadly at his question, and began to tell him all about her family. She started with her mother - a somewhat round, short woman who had given birth to Abby and her younger brother Henry. She was a stay-at-home mom who took pride in raising her children, and once they were both off to school, she spent most of her days volunteering at various charities to keep herself buys. She was high affectionate and loved to give hugs to everyone.

Her father, meanwhile, was equally jolly but somewhat less inclined towards displays of affection. Instead, when he came home from work every night, he'd play with his children while his wife made dinner. When Abby and Henry were young, they used to go outside and play tag or hide and seek. As they got older, they started playing board games or computer games together instead. Even after Abby left for school they often made time to play a game online together on occasion.

She told him about her brother, about how they were bitter rivals when they were children. It hadn't taken long for the younger Henry to grow later than the tiny Abby, so they'd occasionally beat each other up, and it was a coin toss as to who "won" though now Abby would say that both of them would end up bruised and crying, so winning wasn't a particularly meaningful term. And Abby's mom would inevitably catch them and ground them for it. But as they got older, they got closer, and now they were as close as best friends. Living out here alone, she missed him the most.

The spent the whole afternoon talking, with Abby explaining what life outside the Compound was usually like. She told him about families, about marriage, about school and work. She told him about travelling, and living in homes. She told him about friends, and how everyone usually had at least a little free time in which to pursue hobbies. He was full of questions, and she was very happy to answer them.

They finally stopped once Abby's stomach started growling loudly, demanding dinner, and she laughed. "Well, I don't know what we have to make right now, but would you like me to start teaching you to cook?"

 

[Niceandbrutal]

When she started telling about a real mother, his longing became an acute pain. He could only guess at the level of affection Abby was hinting at as she told of her kindhearted mom and he felt a longing he never even knew existed when she told about her father and brother. He vaguely recalled something they called playtime in the compound but that, when he looked at it filtered by Abby's tale of her childhood, was nothing but a regimented exercise to teach them how to walk, talk, read, write, function, and exercise. They hadn't been encouraged to use their imagination (and Abby spent a lot of time trying to explain THAT concept!), everything was geared towards making them exercise long and hard to keep the Compound warm.

Then came Abby's tale of how she and her brother fought and he was mystified, for the love for him was plain in her voice and face. When he asked about this contradiction she just shrugged and told him that those you love are the most likely to drive you crazy or make you angry.

It was all almost too much to take, yet he hung on to every word. Board games, online gaming, movies, work, hobbies, vacations, friends... He asked, and he asked, and he asked.

The more they talked, the more he felt he'd only scratched a vast surface of unfathomable depths. He was nearing the point of mental exhaustion and was about to ask for a break when her stomach intervened on his behalf, effectively breaking the spell as she laughed. To see her laugh was a marvel. Her eyes sparkled and her nose crinkled as she opened her mouth with an almost surprised look on her face. And her laughter was contagious. Alex felt a twingy feeling in his chest when she laughed.

"Well, I don't know what we have to make right now, but would you like me to start teaching you to cook?"

He jumped up at once, all eager. She decided to teach him something easy at first, an omelet. He managed to crack eggs without dropping too much eggshell into the bowl. Then he started beating the eggs rather enthusiastically, making a small mess in the process. She grasped his hand and showed him the easy measured strokes it took to beat the eggs properly.
He loved the feel of her hands on his.

She started frying the omelet, and he stood by her side watching, fascinated to see the eggs stiffen when heated. She brought the whole frying pan to the table where he, with giggling corrections from Abby, had set the table. He watched her set the pan down, leaning against the counter as he did so and placing his hands behind him palm down for support.

Something made her look up and her face changed as he felt an immense pain in his left hand as it touched the hot stove. A belated warning slipped from her lips as he screamed in pain. There was a flurry of movement and a firm grip, then blessed relief as she placed his hand under a water tap. He felt stupid, but he'd learned a very valuable lesson: "watch where you put your hands in the kitchen", a lesson repeated as she kept his hand under running water.

 

[slut_in_white]

Alex's enthusiasm for absolutely everything was infectious, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed making a simple meal of omelettes that much. The entire process was spent with the two of them smiling and laughing.

She couldn't ever remember noticing the way the eggs rose as they cooked, and the interesting patterns that they formed as the heat seeped through the omelette. Maybe it was because cooking eggs had always been a part of her life, and so everything of interest about it had always seemed mundane. With Alex beside her, it felt like she was seeing everything through fresh eyes, and even normal things like cooking became wondrous. And she found that she wanted that, that ability to find beauty in the everyday. And she found herself, suddenly, thinking about the future. What was she going to do once her time in the Cottage was up? Even before then, she had this slight feeling that it might be unethical to keep Alex here with her, alone, for another 3 months, possibly longer. But what else could she do? Sending him out into the world alone seemed like a horrible crisis waiting to happen, but wasn't it wrong of her to keep him here? Maybe when he left, he'd find something about the world that he loved, and he'd resent her for keeping him from it for up to 6 months out of a selfish desire to have him around.

But her dour thoughts were interrupted by Alex proudly announcing that he'd set the table, and Abby had to go over and gently, gigglingly, correct a few of his placements. Most notably, she hadn't actually explained which direction the forks were supposed to point, so they were both upside down. The knives, too.

As she began to serve, she barely noticed Alex's movement out of the corner of her eye. Her conscious mind didn't even register what had happened, but having been raised since childhood to have a healthy fear of and caution around hot elements, her instincts immediately began to scream and she looked up on time to see Alex's face contort into an expression of extreme pain. She dropped the pan, letting it clatter onto the kitchen table, and rushed over, grabbing his wrist and hauling him over to the sink, where she put his hand under cold water. It was the first time she could ever remember being thankful that the cold running water in the Cottage was near freezing in temperature.

She explained, her voice shaking slightly from the adrenaline that had shot through her system, why the stove was hot, and that he needed to be very, very careful around them, and anything else in the kitchen that produced heat. "You stay here and keep your hand under the water, alright? It might ache from the cold, but that's a good sign. Hold it there, if you can. I'm going to go get the first aid kit."

She returned a few minutes later, but she told him to keep his hand simply running under cold water for a while. "I know it hurts, but you need to makes sure all of the heat has escaped your skin," she soothed, offering him some painkillers while they waited. After another few minutes, she gently had him remove his hand from the sink, and went about dabbing ointment on it. Then, she wrapped his hand in a loose bandage. "We'll have to see if you get blisters. That'll tell us how bad the burn is." She doted over him, after that, insisting that he lie on the couch, and offering to get him anything he needed. It was probably overkill in terms of care, but she was more worried for him than she would have been normally, because she hated to think he might come to fear certain parts of normal life unnecessarily, and she didn't want him injuring himself further out of inexperience.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

The stinging burning sensation, along with the cold, served to remind Alex of his ordeal only the day before. Fire and warmth were to be respected, he decided, as was the case with cold. Abby kept talking to him in a quavering soothing voice, making it sound like the damage was serious. It hurt, sure, but this was a sharper more localized pain than the one he'd endured last night. Still, he enjoyed that Abby took care of him like she did. He felt safe and warm and cared for, and that feeling far outweighed the pain.

In fact, it felt like she was slightly overdoing things, and in the end he felt he had to say something. "Abby, it hurts but I'm okay. But thank you for caring so much, it's... nice," he finished softly. "And I'll be more careful next time," he added. A realization struck him: he was dependent of her. He needed to learn, well, EVERYTHING about the world he needed to know from her and the internet. He wanted to be more than a useless mouth for her to feed, more than a meatbag waiting to have a movie star's mind poured into him.

"Abby, teach me chores, give me assignments. Please. You are kind to me and I've learned much already. But I can't depend on you for the rest of my life. So please, teach me more. I want to learn so we can be ... friends."

It rang hollow to him. 'Friends'. He wanted more from the tiny woman with her kind ways and brilliant smile and laughter. It was confusing. He'd started to feel a stirring in his chest and his loins that had never been there before. Especially when they were close and he could smell her, or when they touched.

Unbeknownst to him, the goop they'd fed him for food in the Compound contained strong inhibitors that kept his libido in check. The inhibitors had a short half-life and it had been two days since he'd been subjected to them. And he was a healthy and virile young man in his prime.

For now, he passed those feelings off as something new he'd ask her about later.

 

[slut_in_white]

Abby smiled when he asked that she teach him how to do chores. It was incredibly thoughtful of him. Funny how a man who had never spent a day in his life in the real world could be more thoughtful than most other people. She nodded. "I promise I will, but there isn't much to be done right now. My job is to collect information about the weather, and the computers do much of it for me. I'm here to watch and make sure everything goes as it's supposed to, but as long as it does... there isn't much for me to do. So I spend my days keeping this place clean and running properly. I'd teach you to help out, but there's honestly not much to be done right now." She glanced into the kitchen. "Well, except a few dishes, but you'll get your bandage wet if you do those, so it would probably be better if you don't."

She offered him a reassuring smile. "I will teach you though, I promise. And thank you for your kind offer. It's very thoughtful." Sitting next to him, she bit her lip, considering what they should do instead. "Maybe... did you want to watch a movie? They're umm, a fictional form of entertainment. People act out exciting events to tell a story. It's not real, but the story is usually quite good. They're not always the best reflections of real life, but it could be a good place to start, to get you accustomed to what life is like, outside the Cottage."

It took her a while to find one that was appropriate - she figured sci-fi and fantasy would be a little too confusing (and somewhat defeated the purpose), and she didn't want to show him anything too dark or graphic, since she was certain the special effects would startle him, at least at first. In the end, she picked a relatively mundane slice-of-life film, and settled down on the couch next to him to watch.

She'd already seen the movie several times. She'd already seen all the movies in the Cottage several times over. So there was little to distract her, once the film started, from a creeping awareness of how close Alex was, how warm his skin felt whenever they brushed against each other, how toned and muscled she knew his body was beneath his clothes. It was... pleasant, but disconcerting. On the one hand, she enjoyed his company, and he was cloned from one of the most stunning men on earth, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise at all that she might find herself noticing him. But on the other... he wasn't exactly in the best of places at the moment. Certainly better than he had been, and improving all the time, but he was incredibly vulnerable, especially so to Abby, and every time she so much as had a fleeting thought about sliding her arm around his waist, she was struck by the sickening awareness that he wouldn't say no, not because he wanted her, but because he wanted to please her. Because he evidently felt he owed her. And more, because she was supposed to be teaching him about life outside his Compound, and if she took advantage of the trust he placed in her by manipulating him into bed with her... The thought made her feel faintly sick.

No, it didn't matter how much she came to like him. She couldn't act on it. She couldn't even hint that she felt anything more than platonic friendship for him. Anything else would be tantamount to coercion.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

"I promise I will, but there isn't much to be done right now."

He felt disappointed. After one day without proper exercise he was already growing restless. And after learning about the vastness of the world he wanted to start earning his keep so he could occupy a rightful place in it. But he had to believe her when she told him there wasn't much to do. But maybe they could go outside and explore the immediate surroundings when the weather got a little better?

He got distracted when she offered to put on a movie. He fairly jumped with glee when she made the suggestion. It was a movie about several friends and how they coped with life and love. He roared with laughter at the friendly shenanigans they got up to, he wept when the father of one of the girls died unexpectedly, and he cheered when a male and female friend that had bickered all through the movie professed their love for one another.

There was a brief but very steamy love scene in the movie. Alex squirmed uncomfortably. That scene aroused him more than the porn scene he'd watched earlier because the feelings the persons professed for each other made the act more private. More than that, he realized with a pang that he wanted that. He wanted to experience that love. But then he remembered that his penis never had grown hard, and he wept bitterly. Abby asked what was wrong and he explained in a plain but non-offensive way. Pointing at the TV he said: "I want what they have. But I cannot sex a woman because my penis doesn't get stiff. I think it's unfair."

Things had changed, though. Sitting close to Abby had done something to him, and he experienced a restless and nervous sort of happy tension whenever she talked to him and touched him. That feeling only increased, but he was still very naïve when it came to attraction, love, and lust. He only knew he liked Abby, and that the feeling increased when she was near. It was very confusing.

The movie finished, and Alex discovered to his surprise that he was tired, or "bushed" as one of the characters in the movie kept saying. The movie had been an emotional rollercoaster for Alex on many levels. He longed for love, for sex, for friends, for a girlfriend, for real parents, for, well, everything. He even longed for a spirited quarrel with a girl where they made up by fierce kissing and lovemaking.

He said he was tired, and Abby arranged for him to sleep on the couch as she retired to her bedroom. He lay down, staring at the ceiling and found that he couldn't sleep after all. The cabin wasn't very large, and he listened to the sounds it made as it settled for the cold night. He also thought he could hear Abby shift about in bed. The sounds lulled him to sleep.

He was in the plane from Los Angeles (where LAX was an airport). The kind guard tossed Alex out of the plane and yelled after him "You'd better find a way to land!" As he fell, Alex's panic increased. Mother yelled at him: "This is what happens with naughty boys who want to sex their saviours!" And on the ground waited Abby. The only problem was that Alex was headed right for her, and she seemed frozen to the spot. Right before impact he...

... woke up with a twitching start. There was a dull throb in his penis, and did it seem a little more rigid? No, it was his imagination, he was sure. He got up and fetched a glass of water. On his way to the kitchen, he glimpsed Abby's sleeping form through the door to her bedroom that was slightly ajar.

He went to the door and opened it slightly more. She was soundly asleep, a peaceful expression on her face. He could distinctly hear her breathe, a calm and calming sound. A feeling of tenderness swept over him as he watched her lying there, oblivious to him. "Pretty," he whispered to himself, smiling. Then he fetched the glass of water and lay down on the couch again.

A dull throbbing sound started intruding his consciousness. At first he was unsure whether or not he heard it, but as it grew in strength there could be no doubt. There was something outside making that noise. And then it was upon the cabin, whatever it was. It was a roaring throbbing sound that circled the cabin, bright lights flashing through the windows, and then he saw a monstrosity touch the ground slowly in front of the cabin. Instinct told him that this was a Bad Thing, so he gathered his clothes and hid where Abby had told him to hide.

As he locked the door to the live culture lab and hid inside, he heard pounding on the cabin's front door.