Dr Phobe Chipchase

The rain on the runway was slippery when Phoebe Chipchase touched down at JFK, the plane slid sideways fishtailing a couple of times before the pilot brought the machine to a stop. Crowds of people moved forward in the airport, and she wondered if she would ever find Professor Lederberg’s assistant Dwight Woodhead, but there he was with a neat black and white sign, her name printed in bold cursive, just outside customs. Dwight’s orange and brown crimplene hounds tooth slacks topped with a yellow skivvy were a bit loud for Phoebe after a long flight and little sleep, so she kept her eyes focused on the motion of the people walking from the airport. Dwight was steering her toward a car and the driver opened the back door for her, she only had one bag and the driver smiled with his mouth as he took it from her and placed it in the trunk, Dwight got into the front seat beside the driver and they moved in different traffic jams until the driver pulled in outside The Palace Hotel.

Phoebe noticed there was something mechanical about Dwight, but she couldn’t put her finger on it, he lacked a certain politeness. He had been abrupt with the driver a couple of times about their route as well as with the receptionist at the hotel. His voice could have been a recording, because he answered a couple of questions with the same phrases and tone through closed teeth, the receptionist looked at him with cool indifference and processed the necessary data and advised him that Butler Heng would be waiting on level seven for them.

*

It had been two months since Phoebe had received the email from the Sandman University requesting her attendance to interview for a highly confidential project. At first, she thought Kyle, her ex-partner, had created the bogus email, it appeared professional and yet Phoebe couldn’t bring herself to respond to it. Then late one evening when she had shared two bottles of wine and an Italian takeaway with Kevin her neighbor, who was also her housekeeper, and Friday night company, her phone jumped and buzzed along the table.

When Phoebe answered the phone Professor Lederberg was insistent on speaking with Doctor Chipchase.

‘This is Doctor Chipchase.’ She pulled a face and took a breath.

´This is Professor Lederberg, Doctor Chipchase, I would like to confirm that you have received emails forwarded to you regarding a project that Sandman University is interested in discussing with you?’

‘Professor Lederberg, my apologies, yes I have received the emails, could you please tell me about the project?’ She tried not to slur her words and stop her head from wobbling as she rolled her eyes at Kevin.

‘As I have stated in my correspondence this role is highly confidential, and it would be imperative that we discuss it face to face in New York.’ Professor Lederberg was assertive and direct.

‘Semester break is a week away; I could attend an interview with you then.’

‘Fine, my assistant Dwight Woodhead will confirm dates and forward travel information.’ Professor Lederberg ended the call.

Late Saturday afternoon Phoebe looked at her emails, still thinking Professor Lederberg was a hoax.

She had mimicked Professor Lederberg’s accent and manner to Kevin after the phone call and was still certain it was Kyle playing games with her.

Dwight Woodhead’s email gave the option of two dates to travel and once she confirmed he would forward travel schedules.

*

The lift opened onto level seven and a young man in a penguin suit greeted Phoebe.

‘Good Morning, Doctor Chipchase, my name is Heng, please follow me to your suite.’ He turned and led the way along a wide corridor with soft carpet that left no trace of their steps.

Heng opened the door onto a sitting-room and walked toward another room where her luggage was sitting on a chest at the end of a large bed. Dwight was loitering between the hall and doorway like a cuckoo bird. They looked uncomfortably at each other.

‘Doctor Chipchase, I will meet you in the lobby Wednesday morning at eight hundred hours.’ He turned away before she could confirm this, she wasn’t sure what day it was.

‘Is there anything I can get for you Doctor Chipchase?’ Heng stood beside the door, his manner cold, polite, and formal. ‘Press four on the iPad.’ The door made no noise as it closed behind him. Phoebe stood in the middle of the room, it hadn’t seemed appropriate to tip him. Central Park was a tapestry of golds, reds, oranges and greens outside of the window. She had never seen such a neat display of autumn foliage. Her focus returned to her immediate surroundings, and she debated in her mind if the furniture was Louis fifteenth or sixteenth reproductions, then considered the unimportance of such a thought.

*

‘Good morning, Doctor Chipchase.’ Professor Lederberg was on her feet and walking toward Phoebe, her black tunic was starched stiff and didn’t move as she walked, she held her hand out to shake and Phoebe noticed it verged on ice, she gestured Phoebe to sit. The modern malachite desk gave off a green glow, it was carved out of one piece. White bucket seats were such a contrast to Phoebes brown ergonomic eighties regulation university office chairs. ‘Do you mind if I call you Phoebe?’ She didn’t wait for a response, ‘Please call me Muriel.’ She walked around her desk, her tunic like a shield as she sat.

Phoebe nodded her head, she seemed to have lost her voice, it must be the greenness of the malachite she thought, it seemed to illuminate a hue of green vapor.

Professor Lederberg cut to the chase, ‘I understand that you have been working on cloning organs for cancer patients?’

‘Yes, we have had some success, I am working with a team.’ Never wanting to take any of the credit away from her fellow medic academics.

Muriel interrupted her, ‘I’d like to discuss a program with you that is failing, and we need the help of an expert.’

Phoebe looked at Muriel directly and waited for her to continue.

‘Are you familiar with my father’s work?’ Again, Muriel didn’t wait for a response, Phoebe had an idea that Muriel’s father was connected with cloning that had little evidence reported about it and had been brushed over as mythical. ‘In the fifties, sixties and seventies a series of cloning experiments had been done throughout the world, Ireland, India and Australia were the countries targeted, my father was handed this experiment.’ She took a deep breath then continued. ‘He did not want anything to do with this experiment, but his concerns drove him, and he handed it to me shortly before he died. What is required of your expertise is to handle the Australian component of this experiment.’ Muriel took a breath that could have been mistaken for a sigh, ‘I considered you because of your scientific background and because you have two relatives that are products of this experiment.

Phoebe shifted in her chair, she didn’t want it to be her mother or father or both. Where would that leave her, some weirdo offspring experiment?

‘Your uncles Anthony and Phillip are clones.’

Phoebe sat motionless trying to keep her relief exhale silent and unnoticeable continuing to listen to Muriel. At the same time, she thought about a man who lived in Paton Street around the corner from her. She could have sworn he was related to Uncle Tony and thank goodness uncle Tony and Phil were only related by marriage.

‘…And the male offspring are experiencing a series of malfunctioning.’

‘What is it exactly you want me to do?’ The word ‘malfunctioning’ reverberating in her mind.

‘There is a serum that will need to be injected or ingested by all teenage males by the age of fifteen. One of the side effects being baldness in those males that are not offspring of clones. I have spoken with your Health Minister, and she has advised that the youth are injected around this age with Meningococcal vaccine and she has suggested that a chemical mix could be achieved through a government pharmacy and the program would be implemented.’

Phoebe was still trying to work out where she fitted into this program.

‘The male clone offspring are becoming sterile at an exponential rate with a chance of increase percentages and keeping this in mind we have concocted a formula for those who seek help with reproduction in the future, of course not all will want to reproduce so those that don’t will have completed a controlled group of our experiment.’ Muriel took a breath. ‘There are many species of clones, and there are many issues facing all of them depending upon their socioeconomical and environmental circumstances, as you would expect.’ She took a deep breath and looked out the window then returned her gaze to Phoebe, ‘Some clones are more susceptible to cancers that will need to have organ replacements, I see this becoming more prevalent, we need someone with your expertise to fast track the development of organs for implantation.’

‘But surely that would be decades away?’ Phoebe was trying to brush any responsibility in this experiment.

‘No, the team you are developing currently will play an essential role, and their protégée will also be ongoing developmental experts in this field. None of them will be advised that they are working with clones because many of them would and could be clones themselves.’ She lifted her hands and shrugged.

‘I will have to think about the ethics of this. Is this problem affecting Ireland and India?’

‘Ireland and India have sailed successfully without any malfunctions. Although there are confidential issues that have become apparent but are being addressed with experts in the required fields.

Phoebe raised her eyebrows thoughtfully and tilted her head to the left.

‘Thank you for your time. Upon your return to Australia, the Health Minister will be in touch with you.’ She stood and moved gracefully with speed to beside Phoebe’s chair and motioned her towards the door.

Dwight was in the doorway. ‘Doctor Chipchase there is a car with your luggage downstairs ready to take you to JFK, please follow me.’

He didn’t speak after that. He pressed the buttons in the lift, and he opened the car door for her and shut it with a bang that startled her. The driver was the same driver who had brought her to the Palace Hotel from the airport. Phoebe felt uncomfortable as she realised the driver and Dwight were identical, either twins or clones. When he pulled up at JFK and set her down, she leaned into thank him but instead asked, ‘Are you real?’

He didn’t answer her, instead, purred like a toy robot.

*

Her business class seat was plush and enveloped her, the man sitting beside her introduced himself as Doctor Warren Chong, he emphasized his quantum physics doctorate and suddenly Phoebe’s eyes glazed over. She excused herself from further chat, she was so tired from her whirlwind visit to New York she had no energy for superposition, uncertainty principle, or entanglement. She popped a Valium and heard herself snort as she drifted off to sleep.

She woke to hear the pilot advise everyone to fasten their seat belts because soon they would be landing in Sydney. She looked out the window and focused her groggy eyes on the Opera House and Harbour Bridge as they glimmered in the morning sun.

*

Kevin was walking along the footpath as her taxi pulled up out the front of her house. ‘Hello Doctor Phoebe.’ He waved as he approached her, he wrapped his arms around her for a friendly hug. She had never noticed how bald and attractive he was before.