Free Replica by Bill Clem

working since the previous morning. His current quest, to find a reactor cell to turn on the growth factor of the Y chromosome, required the long hours. His usual schedule of arriving at the lab at seven a.m. and working till evening did not suit this task. After three more failures that afternoon, he believed he'd finally found the gene he was looking for. Test results showed that the Thylacine Col2a1 gene has a similar function in cartilage and bone development as the Col2a1 gene does in the mouse genus. Still, the nagging feeling that GenSys was making a Promethean mistake ate at him like an offending sore.
    Although Habib's building of the magnificent facility had assuaged him initially, the effect didn't last. Carlson's scientist side always wrangled with his ethics and humanity. What are, or should be, the limits of science? What role do the tenets of society play in what we learn, what we should learn, and how it is applied, if it should be applied at all? Where is the line, and who gets to draw it? The politician? The church? The wealthy, the powerful? On the other hand, is it the responsibility of the scientist, the researcher? When the unthinkable becomes possible, does that make it right to make the unthinkable reality?
    And the breakneck speed, and need, of this project gave Carlson further anxiety. Proceeding too quickly eliminated a key element of the research process, the chance to weigh the value and knowledge gained from each step and its possible ramifications. It eliminated time to reason. Results without understanding scared the hell out of him. What should take years to complete, the Prince wanted in mere months. Dream lab or not, what was developing before him sent a chill to his core.
    Impulsively, Carlson removed his lab coat and draped it over a nearby stool. A light tapping pulled him from his thoughts. Opening the door, he was surprised to see Ellen Choy smiling back at him.
    "I thought I was the only insomniac around here. Come in."
    "Are you sure? You look like you're about to leave."
    Carlson smiled. "No, it's okay."
    "I don't mean to disturb you."
    "Not at all. Please." Carlson led her inside. "So, what's on your mind at this late, or should I say, early hour?"
    "I saw something earlier. Something I wasn't supposed to see," her voice trailed off.
    "Something you weren't supposed to see?" Carlson asked hesitantly.
    "Yes," she answered, barely audible.
    Carlson noticed her hands shaking. She followed his gaze and quickly clasped her hands together to stop the trembling. Carlson removed his lab coat from the stool and patted it. "Please. Sit down. It's okay," he said, soothingly.
    "Is it?" she asked as she climbed on the stool.
    Carlson walked to the water cooler and filled a paper cup. Ellen accepted it gratefully. They sat there in silence, facing each other. Carlson, realizing how shook up Ellen was, displayed a calm demeanor. Inside, however, he was shaking as badly as her hands.
    Having allowed her time to compose herself, Carlson restarted the conversation. "You said you saw something?"
    Ellen, looking at the floor, nodded, but said nothing.
    Ever the researcher, he decided to take a methodical tack and start at square one. "Where did you see this... this something?"
    Ellen looked up at Carlson. "In a barrel."
    The answer surprised Carlson. For the second time, he repeated her words as a question, "In a barrel?"
    Ellen nodded. "I opened it. I opened it and it shook, and it splashed on me. And there... there was..." she closed her eyes.
    "What?" Carlson asked. "What was there, Ellen?"
    She opened her eyes and looked directly into his. "Babies. Two tiny babies, floating on the top."
    Carlson stepped forward. His face was just inches from hers now.
    "What do you mean, babies?"
    "They were Thylacine pups, but Peter... they were different. Much different."
    "Are you sure? They used test animals, Tasmanian Devils to be exact. Could that be what you saw?"
    "These were not devils. In fact, they looked