Christmas Day Part 3

Virus accepted a cup of tea, reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out something that looked like a cross between a digital thermometer and a drinking straw. He sucked the end for a moment, stirred his tea until the device went "beep!", glanced at the display, nodded, and then began to drink his tea through a hole in the end of his device. I tried not to stare.

"Call me ViRus," he said at last. "That's how it works. Vincent Russell, yah? Like, you're Mary Dunwich, so that makes you, like, MaD."

"I think I must be!" I muttered. "But please call me Mary, er, ViRus. Humour your great-grandma."

He rolled his eyes again. I noticed the way the glowing green irises rotated clockwise a quarter turn.

"Are you going to look at your present now?" asked James, who had been fidgeting with impatience. "It took ages! We had to recalibrate the machine for a Bendy. We had to do all sorts of sums. Good job ViRus has a quantum computer or it would have taken years!"

I looked at the bag. What could it contain? I could imagine a lot of things. What could it contain that could possibly be worse than what I could imagine?

Whatever we Dunwiches may be, we aren't cowards. I put down my cup of tea and advanced towards the bag.

I was rather proud that I managed not to scream. Inside the bag was what had to be either a dead three year-old or an extremely convincing dummy. It (he) was naked, with eyes closed and a peaceful expression on its (his?) round little face.

"Wh.....at is it?" I managed at last.

James looked affronted. "It's a Bendy!" he said. "A completely organic bioclone. No synthetic parts at all. All carbon-based, silicon-free. That's why they call them Bendys."

I looked again at the Bendy. It did, indeed, bear more than a passing resemblance to James. It could almost be a replica of him at three years old.

"You cloned yourself and made a three year-old?" I asked. "Why in the name of C'thul'hu would you do that?"

"Nappies," answered James. "This way we get one already potty-trained. And it's easy enough to keep them in the tank until they're any age you want. It just meant I had to go back for him a couple of years later."

"Can I start him up?" asked Minnie, jigging up and down with excitement. "Please, please, please?"

I nodded. I didn't think I could take much more excitement.

Minnie rummaged in the bag, pulled out what looked like a tin key, inserted it in the dummy's belly button, and rotated clockwise a quarter turn. Then she pulled the key out and beamed with self-satisfaction.

The Bendy's eyes opened. So did his mouth. He started to scream.

"Yah, they do that!" said ViRus, indifferently. "It's always a bit of a shock, taking the first breath."

What I don't know about bioclones could fill the British Library. Crying children I understand. I scooped the little boy up in my arms and rocked him, holding him close to me and making shooshing noises.

"He's our baby brother!" announced Minnie with pride. "I always wanted a little brother. You said we couldn't have one. So James made one for us. He's your Christmas present from us!"

"I was going to clone Dodgson," confessed James. "I thought a second dodo would make a brilliant Christmas present. I could have made a girl and you could have bred them. But it's illegal to clone animals where ViRus comes from. We had to clone me instead."

ViRus continued: "Bendies were all the rage a couple of years ago," he said. "Everyone wanted one. Sili-clones are sooo Eighties. And no-one gives birth any more. That went out in the mid twenty-first century. Practically mediaeval."

"I don't think we can keep him," I said. The screams had subsided into sobs, the sobs into sniffs. After another a minute he had stopped crying altogether. He wiped his nose on my shoulder.

"It's a lovely thought, children, and Virus, but what would we do with another child? We can't afford him. We don't have room for him. I don't think it's even legal to clone your own children yet. We could get into trouble."

ViRus nodded cheerfully. "Fair enough!" he said. "I can take him back with me. Bendies are fully recyclable."

I looked down and saw a pair of blue eyes gazing up at me.

"Recyclable?" I asked.

"Yah! They re-use the bits," answered ViRus, picking up a mince pie and examining it carefully.

"No-one recycles a Dunwich!" I said, hugging the bioclone a little tighter. The bioclone grimaced, burped and started to pick his nose.

ViRus shrugged. "Well, he comes with a three year guarantee," he said, prizing the top off his pie to examine the filling. If you change your mind, you can always return him. He's fully ....."

"Recyclable! I get it!" I snapped back. The bioclone grinned at me and waggled his eyebrows. I remembered James doing exactly the same eyebrow-waggle at his age. I felt my eyes starting to fill with a nostalgic tear.

When Charlie came in with a crash and a muffled "Damn those wellies!" I was still holding the bioclone. Charlie looked at me, then at the little boy, then at ViRus. Then he looked at me again.

"Have you biochecked your great-grandad, ViRus?" I asked brightly. "Charlie, this is your great-grandson!" Charlie grinned, grasped the outstretched hand and shook it. "And this is your youngest son, Bendy. Er.... Ben D. Ben. Er. He's a clone of James. You can tell them apart though. Ben's got blue eyes!" I was starting to gabble. I stopped and took a deep, calming breath.

"Well, I'll be jiggery-pokered!" said Charlie.