“She was ordered by Mr. Florigo,” the robot stated.
“What is her name and designation?”
“Gemma Grady. She is Mr. Florigo’s favorite singer.”
Gemma snorted. “Ah. That’s what triggered this crazy dream. It was that paparazzi guy snapping a photo of me.”
The pirate shifted his gaze to her. “You’re a singer?”
“No. I can’t carry a tune to save my life.”
“You are a twenty-first century singer,” the robot insisted.
Gemma spun on the thing. “I know who I am! I’m fifty-six years old and currently lying in a hospital bed waiting to tell my sons goodbye. A gas line blew inside a hotel. Big boom. Wrong place, wrong time kind of thing. This is a drug-induced nightmare that I want to wake from.”
“Damn.” The pirate came forward, lowering his weapon. “How was the original source material for this clone obtained?”
“All clone source materials are frozen after the death of a body,” the robot stated.
Gemma winced hearing the callous robot’s description. “And it gets worse. Big surprise. Now we’re talking dead bodies. And did you say clone? Fantastic. Outer space, ships, an annoying robot, a sexy pirate, and now clones. I never understood why people take drugs on purpose. This is some messed-up shit.”
The pirate stopped a few feet away from Gemma and demanded her attention when he gently gripped her shoulder with his bog hand. She turned her head, peering up at him. She had to admit, he really was super good-looking. That was the only highlight of this current nightmare.
“You have memories?”
“Of course I do.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. He appeared angry. “Who are you?”
She sighed. “Fine. I’ll play along. My name is Gemma Grady, but I’m not that famous singer. She was killed in the same hotel blast that did this to me.”
He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I believe I understand what is going on.”
“Oh, good! Well, tell me the wonders of the universe and then let me wake up from this bullshit dream.”
“What is the last memory you have, Gemma?”
“I’m in the hospital waiting for my sons to arrive. I need to tell them goodbye. The doctor wouldn’t flat-out say it, but I’m hurt too badly to survive my injuries.”
He blinked a few times, scowling. “You’re dying?”
“Yes. This is my version of a realty bitch slap, via dream, right? I get it. My life is over. Eighty-percent burns means I’m toast.” She paused. “Burnt toast. Bad pun, but there it is. They were pumping me full of the good drugs so I’m not in pain.”
“This isn’t a dream.”
“Right. I’m really in outer space.” She glanced down at her body. “And way younger than I used to be. Like that’s possible.” She looked up at him. “With a big hot space pirate. Totally believable.”
“I detect sarcasm in your tone,” the robot stated.
“And that’s why I’m calling you Sherlock,” she muttered. “You’re quite the sleuth there, horror-arms-on-wheels.”
The pirate holstered his weapon and forced Gemma to face him when his free hand snagged her waist and twisted her toward him. She had to tip her chin back, since he towered over her. His eyes were even more attractive up close. They were a deep midnight blue.
“I hate to be the one to break this news to you, but you aren’t in a dream state.”
“Right. That’s exactly what a dream person would say.”
“Are you aware of what a clone is, in your time period?”
“Sure. It’s something we joke about; how we could get more stuff done if there were like, four of ourselves.”
“The technology wasn’t perfected until 2076 for human beings, but JDJ Cryo Corp began harvesting brains and tissue from body sources around the year 2000, according to rumors. They targeted well-known celebrities in the hopes of selling their bodies when they perfected cloning technology in the future. I believe that is what happened to you.”
“Uh-huh. Okay.” Gemma wondered how long the pain meds would keep her locked in this dream.
“You share the exact name as a celebrity?”
“I just said that. Some guy with a camera even thought I was her. That singer was at the hotel, too, but the nurse said she died. Hence this stupid nightmare.”
He eased his hold. “You don’t believe this is real?”
“No. As I said before, they’re giving me the good drugs. I’m not feeling any pain…except for suffering through this.”
“Your original body died. What year do you believe it is?”
Gemma had to resist rolling her eyes. She just wanted to wake up to see if her sons had arrived yet. But this damn dream wouldn’t end. She was trapped, peering up at a fantasy guy who still waited patiently for her to answer him. She sighed, deciding to continue to play along, since she had little choice. “It’s 2020.”
He gave her a look of pity. “It’s 2141. I’m a clone as well, but not the same type as you are. I was engineered and designated to be a security model.”
“I thought you were supposed to be a pirate?”
“I didn’t like being told what to do. You and I were both grown inside a clone manufacturing plant on Earth. We have that in common.” He addressed the robot. “Why weren’t her memories wiped?”
“Mr. Florigo ordered the clone to be as realistic as possible. He didn’t request a blank. She’s a new addition to Clone World Incorporated.”
“That’s cruel and illegal,” he seethed. “Wasn’t he worried she’d have a meltdown?”
The dream pirate may have been speaking to the robot, but Gemma answered anyway. “No, this dream is cruel and should be illegal. I still might have a meltdown though, if this doesn’t end soon. I want to wake up to say goodbye to my sons. Aren’t you supposed to be robbing this spaceship? Get it over with already.” Gemma backed away from him until he had to release her.
He shifted his focus back on her. “I’m sorry. This must be very confusing for you. Keep believing it’s a dream, if that helps keep you calm. I worry about what will happen when you finally realize the truth. Laws were passed banning manufacturers from giving clones the memories of the original source material, after the first dozen went insane.”
“I think I’m handling my pending death pretty well, besides having this weird space dream.”
“Are you deeply religious?”
She frowned. “That’s none of your business.”
“It’s very relevant. Please answer. Do you believe in a soul that a God created just for the body you were born in?”
Gemma frowned, hoping the dream wasn’t about to turn into a guilt trip, like the ones her parents used to give her after she’d stopped going to church. Then again, maybe it would wake her from the nightmare. “I don’t go to church or buy into any certain religious beliefs.”
“Then perhaps you have a chance of surviving.”
That was the last thing she’d expected to hear from his lips. It threw her a little, but she recovered. “What does that have to do with anything?”