Beaker to Life
Ottilie Weber
All rights reserved. No part of Beaker to Life may be reproduced or transmitted in any form in or by any means such as photocopying, recording, informational storage, electronic or mechanical, and lastly as a retrieval system, without written consent of Ottilie Weber.
This story is a fiction work. Situations, characters, along with names of characters are all part of the writer’s mind. If there are any situations, then it is completely unintentional.
For friend Brittany, we have known each other for years. We have shared a lot of laughs, creativity, and many stories.
Prologue
Warmth surrounded me as light pings pecked against the window and roof. Mother Nature’s song tickled my ears, but my eyes stayed closed. I didn’t have to wake up if I didn’t want to. I had a choice. Keeping my eyes shut, I uncoiled from my covers, rolled over, then curled back up, tightening my hold on my blanket. My body was comfortable, but my mind was bouncing many different ideas and memories against my brain. It was making it very difficult to fall back to sleep. Sighing, I stood up and wrapped the blanket at the end of the bed around me as I tip-toed across the room. The rug fibers pressed between my toes. Tilting my head up, I stared up at the dark clouds. It was morning, but there wasn’t any trace of any light.
My fingers pressed against the cold glass lightly as the water droplets ran down. My eyes watched as each water droplet left almost a trail behind it, patterns formed on the window. Every teardrop was the same, clear, wet, and small. I wasn’t like the other water drops. I was created rather than born. Years of being called a freak, monster and even had death threats against me, I found myself wanting to be like everyone else. I would have done anything to be like them. Though, he was always different. We didn’t always get along, but he still managed to make sure that I felt human.
I barely got a chance to live. The scientist never gave me genuine affection but treated me as a trophy for a fair prize pumpkin. He made sure to show me off. While other kids were learning to ride their bikes, I was poked and prodded by scientists, news reporters, and so many others. Then some wanted me dead. The protests that would form when I was to be somewhere. The people had signs and were shouting out that I was a sin, a creature from hell, against all laws against nature. People knew who and what I was, so they hated me.
There was no way to keep track of how many nights I ended up curled up crying. Then against all his father’s wishes Sawyer would come down and sit with me to make me feel better. He was the only one I got to talk to, and he did not seem to care what others said about me. Sawyer was able to see me, for me, even when I didn’t know who I was. Sawyer and I were friends through it all, as much as we tried to be anyway because, at times, it was difficult to have any form of a relationship with someone. I don’t think I could have survived without him. When he was gone, I missed my rock, my encouragement.
Being the only successful human clone in the world has made me stand out a little. The rarity makes me more of a science experiment than a living, breathing human. Taking in a deep breath, I sat on the couch by the window, watching the storm and creating the cocoon with the blanket as a haven around me.
Part One
Seventeen years earlier
1
Sawyer
I wanted to play with my trucks. Where was Daddy taking me now? He didn’t ever let me into his lab. I ran a little faster to keep up with his steps. Dad was happy about something as he held my hand tightly. He was grinning ear to ear, and I started to smile, hoping that I did something to make him happy, but he then rushed to the back of the room. I got onto my toes and arched my neck to see what my dad was looking at on the counters. I wished that I were taller. I started to jump up and down to get a better look but failed.
“Now, son, do you know what this is?”
I didn’t even know what he was pointing to. Didn’t he realize that I couldn’t see above the counter? I just nodded my head as my dad started explaining something in those funny big words I couldn’t understand. It was better to pretend that I knew what he was talking about; my mommy called it make-believe.
Then Daddy shifted and held something in his arms, wrapped in a blanket close to his chest. I stood on my toes as I pushed myself up against his knees, hoping to see this time. That was when I saw a tiny nose sticking out of the hat and blanket.
“It’s a baby. Did the baby come from Mommy’s tummy?”
“No! This isn’t a natural baby! On the contrary, my dear son, this was made by science!”
“Robert, Sawyer is four. He’s not going to understand your experiments.”
I stared at my parents and narrowed my eyebrows. When my mom’s friend was pregnant, Mommy told me a baby in her tummy. At first, I was worried she ate the baby. Mommy had to explain that she didn’t eat the baby. That’s where a baby was growing inside of her. My mommy waltzed over gracefully and took the baby into her arms. The smile I once had was gone as my lips tightened, and I crossed my arms. She was beaming at the baby and holding it close to
