The Twilight of Our Dawn

By J. Patrick Bick

In the year 2410, so-called clonies have become controversial issue. Originally revered as miracles of science, these test-tube humans have become feared and ostracized. True, they are useful; they are stronger than regular humans and can perform dangerous tasks that normal people could not withstand. Even so, politics is turning against them. They are considered abominations by many, and their survival is in peril.

Jordan Andrews is one such clonie. A private detective and occasional bodyguard, he is hesitant when asked to hunt down one of his own. A clonie assassin has been killing politicians, police, and just about anyone else threatening the clonie population. The killer even took out two innocents, merely because they witnessed one of his vicious attacks. Jordan does not want to hunt his own kind, but he does want to stop the perpetuation of fear among humans.

He makes the acquaintance of Linda St. John, who just lost her family to the assassins bloody cause. Due to his investigation, Jordan soon becomes a target, as does Linda. Together, they must avoid a powerful assassin and find a way to make him stop. But is there method behind this killers madness? Navigating government policy and science, a clonie and human must work together in a fight for survival in an unforgiving, futuristic world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Abbott Press
• Release date: Dec 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781458207470

J. Patrick Bick

J. Patrick Bick was born in Cincinnati, Ohio. He graduated from Vanderbilt University and now lives with his two dogs in Franklin, Tennessee.

Book preview

1

St. Abernathy, 2410

"And in conclusion, I would like to remind you that the menace we face now is, in my opinion, as great as any man has faced in history. Our way of life, our future, and our children’s freedom are at stake. We must face this dilemma today before it snowballs to the point that we are unable to stop it. God placed Adam and Eve on the Earth as the first man and woman. They bore two sons the way the Lord intended, by union of a man and a woman. Not in a sterile laboratory with test tubes and beakers. I stand before you today asking—no, imploring—you to vote yes on this piece of legislation. Let us tell everyone that the planet of St. Abernathy says no! He slammed his meaty fist on the speaker’s table. No to the clonies. Tell the Mother Church that we will no longer tolerate these creatures on our world!"

He paused now as the entire Congress stood to its feet, applauding Speaker Delmar Horton. He smiled. He had them in the palm of his hand, as always. The future of his legislation was now assured; it passed almost unanimously. There would always be a few of those bleeding heart liberals, but their day would come. Yes, it had been a good day for Delmar Horton.

Speaker of the Assembly Delmar Horton was seventy-five years old (or young, as he was so fond of saying). Today he adjourned the Ninety-Sixth Congress for the Christmas holiday, but not before he passed the first ever Anti-Clonie bill. This should send shockwaves though out the colonies. Someone had to have the balls to do it, he said to himself, smiling, and that person was me. If I didn’t do it, it might have been years before someone else decided to quit talking and act. By then it might have been too late. Delmar was a big man and in remarkably good health for a man of his age. He still had his original organs, which was rare. Today most people of his age had already replaced their heart, liver, and even their respiratory system. Delmar was a deeply religious man who believed that God put us on this world to do all the good we could, and when we are finished, the Lord would call us home. Replacing one’s organs was man playing God, and that was wrong. It was for this very reason that he was so opposed to the clonies. They were a result of man playing God. For this reason he refused a bodyguard years ago, when the Assembly offered one; this would simply be cheating God for more time.

He turned the corner down the West Assembly hallway, the same route he took every day. You’re a creature of habit, Delmar, and you always have been. He looked down the dimly lit hallway, where there were the statues of previous Assembly Speakers. One day soon Delmar Horton’s would be there too. This was the reason that he walked this hall wall each day. He imagined how his likeness would compare to those of his predecessors. He walked this hall as a boy with the same question burning in him. Now, seventy years later, he felt the same sense of awe that he felt then. In fact, it might’ve been be even greater today.

Delmar thought he saw movement at the end of the corridor. The building had been closed to the public hours ago and no one should be inside. You’re getting paranoid, old boy, he said to himself. That was the first time he had referred to himself as old. He proceeded down the hallway looking for any motion in the shadows. This is silly, he thought. No one can get past the security in this building. I don’t care who they are. Stealthfully, the figure as it approached him from behind. He only felt the hands as they grabbed him by his head and lifted him into the air. He was hurled across the hallway into a column. Delmar tried to stand, but the pain was too great. He looked for the attacker, but his vision was blurred by his tears of pain. He worked his way up to his knees and rubbed his eyes, trying to clear them, but to little effect. The assassin was already upon him. Delmar felt the great pressure that the hands exerted on his face as he lifted him off the floor once more. He saw only darkness now as the assassin’s thumbs covered his eyes.

You should have had a bodyguard, Delmar. You might have lived longer.

Delmar felt the pressure increase against his eyes, and that was it. The assassin drove his thumbs into his skull, killing him instantly.

Security work at the assembly was for the most part boring to Lt. Andrew Watson. There was very little to do for a man who was feared by everyone on the streets of New Melbourne, St. Abernathy. Lt. Watson’s methods were not always condoned by the department. Yet they were willing to admit that they were effective, earning him a promotion to security at the Assembly Building. In his mind this was not so much a promotion as it was an excuse to get him off the streets. The people on his beat feared him so much that when he entered the block, they fled to the safety of the buildings until he left. Merchants begrudgingly admitted that he had effectively stopped crime in the area, but they felt that the price was too high. How did they feel now that he was gone and the crime rate was skyrocketing? The rookie who replaced him was no match for that rabble. The promotion did have its advantages; the bonuses were excellent, higher pay, free housing, and his children’s education was paid for. The one thing that he missed was the action of the streets. He honestly missed the rush of taking some punk down to the concrete and smashing his teeth with his fist. Now he just patrolled the hallways of this giant mausoleum and, on rare occasions, caught some punk writing political graffiti on the walls out front.

Turning the corner into the West Hallway, Lt. Andrew Watson received a rush that would stay with him the rest of his life. His eyes locked with the empty sockets of Speaker Delmar Horton as he was seated on the pedestal that had been reserved for his statue. Lt. Watson stood there in horror. He had never encountered anything like this on the streets. His eyes broke away from the body as he ran screaming for help.

New Denver, St. Charles 2410

This city is just too damned crowded. complained Representative Allen Burke. "There are just too many people and so little area to live in.

What can we possibly do about it, sir? asked his secretary, Susan Poston.

Get rid of all of these damned clonies. Just get them off of this planet and send them to where they can do the most good.

Where is that, sir? She already knew the answer, but she knew how his ego was. She had to feed it with the question.

One of those planets that we are colonizing. They need to be doing the hazardous work that humans don’t need to be doing.

The hazardous work? replied Susan, again playing to his ego.

Exactly! Clonies were created for this very reason, to do the work that is too dangerous for us, and besides … He was about to go off on his favorite speech. The speech that she had heard countless times before.

Yes, sir, I know, she said, adopting a lower, more masculine voice. If God had wanted us to be conceived in test tubes then why did he give us this equipment?

Don’t make light of something so serious.

I’m very sorry, sir. She suppressed a smile. There would be time for laughter later, when they were at her apartment. There they could be themselves out of the eyes of their fellow politicians, who were probably as stuffy at home as they were at work. They covered themselves in the past so that no one would suspect, not even his wife. To be caught would be political suicide. They would be excommunicated and 75 percent of everything would go to his wife.

They made their way to the elevator and waited. When the doors opened, they entered first. As was the social more of the planet, no one spoke a word until they left it. There was only one other person on the elevator who just stared ahead. Burke turned around to get a look at the man, but all he saw was the blur of the hand. He felt a sharp, painful sensation in his neck as it was severed from his body. Susan tried to scream as she saw her boss and lover fall and his head roll to her feet. She kept opening her mouth to scream, but still silence followed. The assassin turned toward her and in a low voice said, Join your lover.

Her death, like his, was quick. The door opened on the first floor, and the assassin stepped off. Turing back, he reached in and pressed the fifth floor button as a man approached. The door closed. He heard the man utter an obscenity as he missed the lift.

Quad Cities, St. Andrews, 2410

Police Commissioner Phillip Wallace went for a walk through the Municipal Park each day just after 5 p. m. as per his ritual. Despite the urgings of the city government, he still walked without protection, though he did carry his sidearm. He had been on the force for twenty-seven years, and he was going to make it to the big thirty. It was so peaceful here at this time of evening. He looked about and observed everything around him. A pair of young kids sat on the bench, kissing tenderly. He thought back to when he met his wife in this very park. It was over there by the maple tree, where the custodian was working. He was a rookie on the force when they first met. They would meet every afternoon at 5 p.m. and they would walk for hours, holding hands and talking about their day. They would eventually lapse into a peaceful silence. That was years ago;, she had been dead now for five years but he still walked the park just as they did every day of their marriage. No amount of time could erase the memories of their time together. Especially those afternoons in the park. No one ever caught hem making love in the wooded areas by the lake in their younger years. It was the chance of being caught that made those moments so much more stimulating, almost intoxicating.

The Commissioner was so intent on his memories that he was unaware of the custodian approaching. He looked up to see him, but by then it was too late. The man drove his metal shaft through Phillip’s chest, killing him instantly. The killer lifted the Commissioner off the ground with the pole and pinned him to the oak tree behind him. As the assassin turned to leave he found a young boy playing on the swings. The boy, realizing what had just transpired, began to back away as the assassin approach. He was within ten feet when the young lovers found the Commissioner’s body and began to scream for help. This was followed closely by the sounds of police whistles. The assassin took one final look at the boy and slipped into the wooded area, escaping much as Phillip Wallace and his wife had years earlier. He would come back and deal with the boy later.

Annville, St. George, 2410

It was not the greatest of apartments; in fact, it did not deserve to be called an apartment. The room was just ten feet by fifteen feet with a seven-foot ceiling. It was kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and living room all rolled into one. The room was dimly lit by the light bulb which hung from the ceiling by an electrical wire. This was a safety hazard that he might have reported the landlord to the proper authorities, but he couldn’t. He was a clonie, an artificial person. Most places wouldn’t even rent to clonies, so he was lucky to get this rats nest and he was not about to jeopardize his position. It was not always like this for the clonies. In the beginning they were special. Originally they were called test-tube babies and they received special status. They were the first and therefore celebrities. However, certain religious groups had begun a crusade about the time the first few reached adolescence. These groups claimed the these clonies were not human because they had not been conceived by the union of man and woman. These groups rallied many to their holy cause, and they placed great pressure on the politicians whom they could not sway to their cause. The Congress of the United States passed a bill in 2020 that outlawed marriage between humans and clonies. The word clonie was now an accepted term in the English language, and by 2022 it appeared in the dictionary. By 2035, clonies were not allowed to be educated in the better institutions. Clonies were allowed to intermarry, but they were barred by law from having children. They had become second-class citizens.

By 2050, genetics had developed new methods for creating better and stronger clonies. The latest generation of clonies were faster and stronger than normal human beings, and as a result they were attractive to many businesses. Colonization of space was in full gear, and the process of terraforming a planet was extremely dangerous. The clonies were the answer. The governments of the world were offering contracts to groups or companies for development of the newly discovered worlds. The contract went to the highest bidder, and in return the company received all profits for the first twenty-five years, after which the colony reverted back to the government. Essentially this meant that a government could colonize an area at no cost to themselves, while the developer became immensely wealthy in a very short time. Should the developer fail in his venture, the government kept the money and reopened the bidding. Normally the contracts were awarded to large corporations, who could afford the exorbitant bids needed to secure a contract. These were able to make up some of their losses by hiring clonies very cheaply, along with the promise of first-class citizenship if they survived. The clonies took these jobs because, while out there they had a very slim chance of survival, that was better than no chance on Earth. This seemed to have solved many problems for the clonies. Although 82 percent died in the first five years, those who survived enjoyed their newfound freedoms. When the governments took over, they granted official citizenship and full rights to the surviving clonies. Finally there seemed to be new hope for the clonies. They were now considered equal to humans in every way, except marriage. They were still prohibited from marrying humans.

In the next fifty years, the clonies made great progress in every area of life, but this would not last for long. The colonies governed many of their own affairs through the legislative process. This eventually gave way to the Federation of the Colonies and the Earth. Each colony elected legislators who met on earth for six months. A new power was emerging on the Earth which claimed almost absolute control of the Federation.

In the 2050 religions began to amass great amounts of money by loaning money to contract bidders. They became more like corporations than religious groups. Eventually they joined the New York Stock Exchange. This was followed by a great employment drive. Every major religious group canvassed the major universities for the best financial minds available, and they were willing to pay for them. Many religious groups fell out of the bidding when their donations were unable to keep pace with the expenses. These groups were then taken over by a rival group in a stock purchase, thus becoming the majority owner. They would then merge the two churches and sell off any unwanted assets. This process continued for fifteen years, until there was just one group left. The Church then turned its attention to the religious groups that were not playing in their world. There were many smaller religions that did not subscribe to the financial wars, trying to simply be religions. While this worked for a while, they found themselves in the crosshairs of a great conglomerate Church that would not accept any competition. There was a ten-year period of Holy Wars, resulting in tens of millions of deaths, before the Church emerged victorious.

By 2080, the Church controlled virtually every government on Earth. Slowly the influence of the Church spread throughout the colonies, first through religious philosophy, then politically. If a colony refused to accept the politics of the Church, then the Church would use economic means to gain control of the colony. The Church would then send in its private army, known as the Office of Religious Re-Education, or more commonly known as the Inquisition. The Church’s servants proved to be excellent administrators and were able to unify the monetary systems of the colonies. They improved the communication and transportation systems, followed by an overhaul of the tax systems to make them more equitable. These actions made the Church very popular with everyone, except the rich. Under the new system, there would be no taxes for anyone who was willing to donate 10 percent of their earnings to the Church. Anyone who was not willing to tithe was taxed heavily. In addition to heavy taxation of the rich, the Church began to nationalize the major industries that, in their opinion, were vital to the improvement of everyday living.

Since the inception of the first test-tube baby, the Church was philosophically opposed to the clonies. The Church considered clonies to be soul-less, because their creation was not by union of man and woman. This was how God intended it to be. Many then took this further, saying that if you did not have a soul then you were not a human. If you were not a human then you could not be murdered. As a result, clonies were stripped of all the rights that they had earned earlier and were placed in the most hazardous jobs with sub-poverty wages. The Church began to subsidize robotics industries in hopes of replacing the clonies in the near future. In addition to stripping the clonies of their rights, they were forced to wear identification tags at all times.

The day of the clonie was reaching it twilight, and Jordan Andrews was well aware of this fact as he picked up the paper to look for a job.

2

Early childhood for Jordan was a series of unrelated events that he could only recall bits and pieces. Today was his fifth birthday, but it started like every other, with Arthur and his exercises. These exercises would drag on for two hours. Sometimes he actually enjoyed it, but not because of his teacher. Clayton had told Jordan that Arthur Francis had been an officer with the Church Security Force until he could no longer stand what he did. He was dismissed from his position for refusing to obey an order to kill suspected SOULS terrorists. Arthur contended that there was no way to prove that they were terrorists, and to kill them was murder. After his prompt dismissal, Arthur had wandered aimlessly until Clayton Andrews employed him as his Chief of Security. Clayton had been pleased with his employee over the past four and a half years. During this period the companies security had reached its apex. Burglaries were down 15 percent from the previous year and 87 percent since he had been hired. In addition to all his other duties, Arthur also instructed Jordan in the martial arts and other related subjects.

Anna would wake Jordan each morning at precisely 5 a.m., when he went to his exercises. Following a breakfast that included orange juice, cold cereal, milk, and toast, Jordan would spend the next two hours with Anna reading. Anna had for as long as he could remember, worked with him daily on his reading. He recited his ABCs on his third birthday, much to Anna and Clayton’s delight. Now, two years later, he was reading on the level of an eight-year-old. Anna praised his progress daily, while Clayton would only bring up his progress reports from Arthur. Jordan did not like Arthur in the least. Anna told him that he should try to be nicer to the man. No matter how Jordan tried, Arthur still treated him with contempt.

At ten each morning, Jordan was pulled away from his studies to attend class again with Arthur. Despite his protests, Anna sent Jordan to the athletic building, or dojo, as Arthur called it. Entering the dojo, one was always struck by the starkness of the room. The walls were bare, save for the weapons that hung there. It would be another year before he began training with them. The floor was carpeted with a thin mat, which lay over the concrete floor. The mat was the same cream color as the rest of the room. Jordan always snuck in early so he could warm up without Arthur seeing him. He hated it when Arthur helped him warm up. More often than not, Jordan was able to slip in unnoticed. Today was not one of them.

Well, boy, the immense man boomed, startling the youth, I hear that today is your birthday. I suppose that congratulations are in order. He turned away. I suppose a new year means that we must move your training up a notch.

What are we going to do today, sir?

Jordan tried not to sound intimidated. The man towered over the boy, at six foot six and over 280 pounds.

To start with, we loosen up. His grin sent shivers through the young boy. Go over to the bar, boy. Jordan removed his shoes and walked calmly to the bar on the wall, his jaws clenched. Jordan’s instructor approached him and barked out the command, Cha Roit, which was the command for attention.

Kyong-Ne, the child bowed to his instructor. This was the one thing that the child detested most. The bow was a show of respect, and he did not respect the man. But Clayton and Anna wanted the youth to do so, and he complied with their wishes.

"All right, boy (he could hear the man’s contempt every time he called him boy), neck stretching first. Jordan rotated his clockwise and counterclockwise for twenty rotations. Side stretches! Jordan kept his feet at shoulder width and placed his left hand on his hip. He held his right arm overhead and leaned to his left. Jordan was stretching as far as he could go when Arthur slipped in behind him. Placing his hand on his left side for support, he grabbed his right wrist and pulled him farther. Caught unaware the five-year-old cried out in anguish. You got to stretch farther, boy! That’s better. Now reverse. Jordan found himself stretching much farther now despite the pain. Better, boy! Keep the feet where they are and palms to the floor. Raise up and reach back! Jordan reached as far back as he could. It was not enough for his instructor. Placing his knee in the small of Jordan’s back, he grabbed the youth’s wrists and pulled farther. That’s better. Now hold it. Down! He paused Up! Twenty repetitions later, he halted. Sit down, boy. Jordan obeyed. Knees bent and feet forward together. Grab your feet and pull them in toward you. He watched. Now hold it there. Bend forwards and put your head to your toes and hold it. Arthur put his foot on Jordan’s back and pushed forward. This was painful, but Jordan refused to give the man the satisfaction of knowing it. Up to the wall, boy. This is what Jordan dreaded most. He would sit with his back to the wall with his legs in a V. Arthur smiled as he put his feet against Jordan’s ankles and eased his feet forward. Tell me when it hurts, boy. Jordan’s legs moved back inch by inch. The pain was beginning to grow, but there was no surrendering. The two sat there with their eyes locked in silent combat. Arthur smiled and pushed Jordan’s legs back until they touched the wall. The boy looked away as the tears welled up in his eyes. He bit his lip as he fought back the urge to cry. There was no way in hell that he would let Arthur see him cry. Through the tears, he saw his feet against the wall. For the first time Jordan had performed the splits. Now he hated Arthur even more. This sadistic bastard, as he would call him later, was responsible for this triumph. Sit there, boy, and relax. I told you a new year means a new notch in training. This is just the beginning. I admire you, boy. You never once cried or complained, and that is good." The class started immediately after Arthur let him stand up. The pain would pass, but the anger and hate would not.

Now on your back and raise your feet four inches off the ground. This was new to Jordan. Keep your feet together and keep them elevated. Hold them there until I tell you to do otherwise. After a short period of time his legs began to feel heavy and his stomach ached. Keep them up, boy! he barked. I don’t want you to move. This was cruel. Down!

Ten seconds passed, and he was ordered to repeat the exercise. After several repetitions, Jordan found the time was dragging, and as his legs were becoming increasingly heavy, they began to lower. I said hold them! He slammed the ball of his foot into the youth’s midsection. Jordan’s cry sounded more like a mouse’s squeak. Now, up! he said, but Jordan lay curled up in pain. I said now, boy! Don’t you want to amount to anything? He straightened out and rolled over. Don’t want your parents to be disappointed in you, now do you? Jordan raised his legs while his eyes blazed with hate for Arthur, who recognized it. Control, boy, control: that is the key to success. If you get too emotional your judgment will be clouded and you will make mistakes. Down, rest. He walked away. Practice your basic kata until I return. The door closed.

You won’t beat me, he said as he began his kata. The first kata was a series of middle punches and low blocks in an H-pattern. As he slid his right foot forward, he pulled back his right hand and snapped out with his left. He hated Arthur more than anything he could remember, and there would be few he would ever hate more. With each block and punch thrown, Jordan’s intensity grew. His punches were crisper than ever before. Jordan continued this way for twenty minutes until Arthur interrupted him.

That’s enough for today, boy.

Thank you, sir. He bowed to the instructor, dripping sweat and emotionally spent.

Go back to the house.

Class was short today. How was it? Jordan closed the door behind him and started upstairs.

It was fine. He sighed.

Just fine?

It was okay, that’s all. He continued up the stairs to his room. Jordan drew himself a hot bath and climbed in. He had learned that a hot bath kept his muscles from getting too sore. The heat felt wonderful, soothing his aching legs. Jordan leaned his head back against the porcelain and closed his eyes. All he could think about was getting even with Arthur. The bad thing about being five years old was that you had extremely limited resources to draw from when it came to revenge. Even at this young age he was intelligent enough to realize that he was at a disadvantage. Jordan soaked in the tub for the next thirty-five minutes.

Jordan, have you grown gills up there or what?

No, Anna, I’m getting out right now, he lied.

Someday soon then. He heard her walk away. She knew that he would not be getting out. He waited a while before he climbed out and toweled himself off. Dressing quickly, he went into his room and over to one of the many shelves. Jordan withdrew a book entitled Poetry, a Song of Life. He sat on his bed. He did not know what compilation meant, but that word was also on the cover. Paging through the volume, Jordan saw poem upon poem, but little caught his eye. Near the middle of the book he found a poem entitled Fire and Ice by a man named Frost:

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

He was not sure he understood the meaning of the poem, but he still enjoyed it. There was a gentle knock on the door.

Jordan, may I come in?

Yeah.

Yeah?

Yes, ma’am.

What are you reading? She peered over his shoulder. Poetry? You are reading Robert Frost?

Yeah.

What?

Yes, Anna.

That’s better. Why are you reading poetry?

I just wanted to read something.

Why poetry?

I picked up a book, and this was it. Anna, what does perish mean?

To die.

It makes sense now.

What does?

The poem. He showed her the poem. Are you going to die?

Someday. Everyone dies eventually.

When?

When it comes.

It?

The Angel of Death. Anna watched as Jordan mulled this over. Let’s change the subject. Jordan could feel her discomfort. How about lunch?

Yeah.

What?

Yes, Anna.

Good.

Jordan struggled to understand why death made Anna so uncomfortable. They both would live for many years to come. So why the fear? Perhaps this was something that he had failed to grasp in his short years. What’s for lunch?

It’s your birthday. You make the call.

Pizza?

That sounded like a question. Pizza is not very good for you.

Ham and onions.

A ham and onion pizza. She shook her head wearily. Oh well, it is your birthday. Jordan was only allowed to have junk food on rare occasions. He relished the pizza’s flavor as he slowly ate his lunch, and to his surprise, Anna joined him.

As soon as you’re finished go upstairs for your nap.

I don’t want to, Anna. He hated naps.

We all have to do things that we don’t want to. Finish your lunch and don’t forget to drink your milk. Jordan shook his head, but he would do as Anna said.

As he lay in bed Jordan’s