The Sixth Day Read online

  “Mom! Dad! Come quick!”

  Every muscle tensed as Adam ran into the living room—and then relaxed as he saw his daughter safe, standing by the couch.

  The dog, Oliver, lay listlessly on the sofa. A pool of vomit ran from his jaw, down the couch to the floor.

  “Oliver barfed on the couch,” said Clara.

  “It’s okay,” said Adam. “We’ll just never sit there again.”

  Clara wasn’t ready to treat it as a joke. “Is he okay?”

  Adam knelt and petted the dog as Natalie came running into the room. She also looked worried—then relieved as she saw the scene.

  “He probably just ate something that didn’t agree with him,” Adam said to Clara. “Probably something nacho-flavored.”

  He sent Clara into the kitchen for paper towels, then turned to Natalie:

  “I think he’s really sick! I’ll take him to the vet.”

  “You’ve got that new client,” Natalie said. “I’ll take him. Come here, poor boy.”

  “Don’t you have to take Clara?” Adam asked.

  “She’s carpooling today. And so are you, don’t forget.”

  Adam got up, ruffling the dog’s fur one last time. “Try not to barf in the van, big guy.”

  Oliver looked up miserably. Natalie took him by the collar and pulled him to his feet as Clara watched from the kitchen doorway, horrified.

  “Don’t worry, honey,” Adam said. “He’ll be fine. Come on, help Daddy shave. Fireman?”

  Clara brightened and leaped into his arms. “Fireman!”

  Adam hoisted his daughter over his shoulder, backward, in the “fireman’s carry” he’d learned doing Search & Rescue in the Navy.

  With his precious cargo safely secured, he headed for the bathroom to shave.

  Three

  It was just another ordinary day in twenty-first century suburban America.

  The homes on the block, like the tree-shaded block itself, were all replicants of an earlier age. Faux paint on faux wood, topped with faux shingled roofs that carefully concealed the fact that they self-checked and repaired themselves during each rainfall.

  The houses built and maintained themselves (mostly), and the cars drove themselves (mostly).

  But the families that lived in the houses, like the grass that grew on the lawns, were real. As real as they had ever been.

  Adam Gibson emerged from his house dressed for work in a casual coat and tie. His daughter Clara was in his arms, still giggling happily.

  Adam loaded her into the van in the driveway and waved good-bye to his daughter, wife—and dog.

  Then he got into the pickup parked just behind the van. Behind the wheel was his best friend and busines partner, Hank.

  “You know,” Hank said, pointing at the scrap of bloody bathroom tissue stuck to Adam’s chin, “they invented something called the laser razor. Doesn’t cut, nick, or scratch.”

  Adam fondled the cut on his chin.

  “I like the old razors. They remind me I’m alive.”

  Like the “regular” bananas, he thought. Enough is enough!

  Hank keyed in the destination on the dash, and leaned back. Sometimes he actually liked to drive, especially across the bay to the office, but today he had other things to think about. And number one on his list was a request from Adam’s wife.

  “How about stopping in at Kelly’s after work?” he suggested as casually as possible, as the truck backed out into the street.

  “Come on!” said Adam. “I know Natalie’s throwing me a surprise party.”

  Hank gave Adam what he thought was a cool look. “What makes you say that?”

  “I told her you told me.”

  “What!” Hank sat up straight. He grabbed the wheel and the pickup veered before settling back into wire-drive. “You didn’t! Now I’m a dead man.”

  Adam laughed and cuffed his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I didn’t. But I had to know. Now I know.”

  Hank grimaced. “I can’t believe I was so easy.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Adam asked. “You take me to Kelly’s after work, we have a few drinks. You bring me home a little late…”

  Hank pointed a menacing finger at his friend. “And you’d better act totally surprised! I can’t have your wife mad at me. She’ll set me up with one of her girlfriends again.”

  “You should have given her more of a chance,” said Adam.

  Hank shook his head. “Adam, she never stopped talking! Hey, my virtual girlfriend talks too. The difference is, I can shut her off.”

  “You and your virtual girls,” said Adam disapprovingly. “A grown man, and your primary relationship is with a piece of software.”

  But Hank was not to be dissuaded. “Hey, if all your senses tell you that you’ve got a beautiful woman in your lap, no need to look further. She’s there, buddy!”

  The auto-voice interrupted. “Your destination … Harborside Commuter Airport … is ahead. Onstar will now disengage automatic drive. Are you ready?”

  Hank had already slid his seat forward. “Yes.”

  “Manual drive engaged. Have a nice day.”

  Hank took the wheel and turned onto an industrial drive with a magnificent view of the bay, the city and the mountains beyond.

  He drove under a large sign—

  HARBORSIDE COMMUTER AIRPORT

  —and parked at the edge of a helicopter landing pad.

  Two identical, sleek Whispercraft multicopters were parked on the heli-pad. Each was daubed with the gaudy red XX of Double X Charters. Behind them, a doublewide trailer made into an office displayed the same sign.

  Hank and Adam cut across the helipad, heading for the office.

  “You gotta do me a favor at the party tonight,” Adam said.

  “Don’t get too smashed and set the drapes on fire?” Hank conjectured.

  “That, too,” said Adam. “Nah. What I was going to say was, around eleven or eleven-thirty, sing ‘Happy Birthday.’”

  Hank looked at his friend, flattered, but only for a moment.

  “The way you sing,” Adam continued, “that should clear the place out like a bomb scare.”

  “Oh,” said Hank. “I get it. You and Natalie have a little private party planned?”

  Adam answered with a grin as he entered the trailer, ducking under the sign over the door:

  DOUBLE X CHARTER

  X-TREME X-PRESS

  Hank and Adam ran a shuttle to the region’s more remote and challenging sporting sites. Today the office was already jammed with extreme snowboarders stoking up on caffeine, ready to begin the day’s adventure.

  Spiked hair, pierced lobes, and tight Patagonian synthetics were the outfit of the day. “Hey, Hank!” the snowboarders called out, as Adam’s partner joined them at the coffee machine.

  Meanwhile, Rosie, the firm’s twenty-three-year-old receptionist, handed Adam a FedEx box.

  “Mr. Drucker’s office just called,” Rosie said. “And guess what?”

  “He cancelled,” Adam speculated, as he began to open the FedEx box.

  “No. We’re all going to be tested for drugs and alcohol.”

  Adam pulled a complex spherical device out of the box and held it up to admire it. It was made of clear plastic.

  “Hey, Hank,” he called out. “We got the new remote!”

  “Sweet!” answered Hank from across the room. He was already busy gathering the snowboarders together to board the Whispercraft and depart for the day’s adventure.

  “Wait!” said one of the snowboarders, a Greenpeace poster child with blond dreadlocks and brilliant blue eyes. “We’re going to be tested?”

  Adam smiled. “Relax. Not you guys.”

  The snowboarder relaxed visibly. Hank placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him across the room toward his partner.

  “Hey, Adam, this is Tripp. It’s his first time with us. Tripp, Adam.”

  The two shook hands, then Tripp hurried to join the other snowboarders wh
o were now picking up their gear and lining up at the door.

  “Adam, your wife is on the line,” said Rosie.

  Adam turned his attention to his desktop computer. The display was a screensaver of Adam, Natalie, and Clara at the beach.

  It was replaced by a live window of Natalie, looking worried.

  “Hey, babe,” said Adam. “What’s up?”

  “I just talked to the vet,” said Natalie. “They had to put Oliver to sleep.”

  “What?” Adam’s loud groan turned every head in the tiny office. “He wasn’t that sick!”

  “He had some kind of highly infectious canine virus. They had to put him down, it’s the law.”

  Hank started ushering the snowboarders out the door to the Whispercraft helipad. Adam waved him on, looking alarmed. “He was licking Clara’s face this morning!”

  “Don’t worry,” Natalie said. “I asked the same thing. The virus is harmless to humans.”

  “Thank God!” Adam breathed a giant sigh of relief. Then he thought of his daughter. “But this will break her heart!”

  “No, it won’t,” said Natalie in her most businesslike tone. “You’re going to go to RePet and get Oliver replaced.”

  “And have some freak of science sleeping on my daughter’s bed?” Adam shook his head. “No way! Oliver can live on in our memories.”

  But Natalie was adamant. It was clear from the pained but determined expression on her face that she had thought this through. “She’s only eight. She won’t understand.”

  “It’s the natural process of life,” said Adam. “You’re born, you live, you die. She’ll have to learn about it someday.”

  “But she doesn’t have to learn about it on your birthday!” said Natalie. “I’m not only thinking of her. I’m thinking of you.”

  Adam shook his head again, but less decisively this time.

  He was interrupted by Hank, who had finished loading the eager snowboarders, splitting them between the two Whispercrafts.

  Hank pulled his flight jacket from his locker. Then he pulled a weather-beaten old leather jacket out of Adam’s locker and tossed it across the room to him.

  Time to go.

  Adam caught it without looking. I know, I know.

  “So,” Natalie continued on the screen, “will you go to RePet? I’d go but I’m totally jammed.”

  Adam began shaking his head. “Natalie…”

  But his wife was already signing off. “Oh, thanks, honey. And Clara thanks you too. ’Bye!”

  As her live picture disappeared and was replaced by the Adam-Clara-Natalie screensaver, Adam threw up his hands in helpless surrender.

  Rosie grinned. “No use fighting. We always win.”

  Adam gave her a look. Then he threw on his jacket and followed Hank out the door toward the two Whispercrafts filled with eager, impatient clients.

  Four

  Silence.

  Silence and wind.

  Here at the top of the mountain only the keening of the wind, and the occasional soft schuss of melting snow, broke the primeval silence that had ruled the high, wild zones since time immemorial.

  Usually.

  But this morning there was another sound.

  Fwump fwump fwump …

  Two sleek passenger ’copters lofted over a jagged ridge and circled a snow-covered meadow.

  The fwump-fwump of their rotors dropped to a whisper as the two Double X Charter Whispercrafts touched down next to a primitive cabin that was buried so deep in the drifted snow it almost looked like an afterthought.

  The rotors spun down to a stop, and the snowboarders piled out, blinking and looking around in silence. Their chatter was held in abeyance—temporarily, at least—by the natural grandeur of their awesome surroundings.

  Hank helped them unload their gear from his ship.

  In his cockpit, Adam was trying out the new remote that had just been delivered by FedEx.

  His hand slid into the sphere of semiluminescent plastic. He flexed his fingers and smiled. The device fit like a transparent boxing glove.

  It glowed softly when he flexed his fingers.

  Adam stuck the remote into his pocket and joined Hank outside. The snowboarders were standing around awkwardly, like kids waiting to be dismissed from class.

  “Okay,” Adam said. “You’ve got your maps, your GPS? Emergency beacons?”

  Twenty heads, most of them hairy and many of them pierced, nodded yes, eager to get started.

  “Any questions?”

  Twenty heads shook no.

  “I’ve got one,” said Hank. “How many of you guys have a RePet. Or know someone who has.”

  The snowboarders all looked at one another, like, no big deal. They shrugged and raised their hands.

  Only Tripp, the new guy with the blond dreadlocks, seemed to think it was an odd queston. But after hesitating, he raised his hand, too.

  “Thanks,” Hank said. “Have fun!”

  He was waving to dismiss them when suddenly, behind him, one of the twin Whispercrafts roared to life.

  Hank turned, startled.

  Then saw Adam standing at his side.

  Then saw the glowing remote on Adam’s hand.

  “Okay, you scared me,” he said. “Happy?”

  Adam smiled impishly. “Very.”

  Waving his hand like a sorcerer’s, Adam made the empty ’copter rise and hover. Instead of bringing it back down, he nodded toward the second Whispercraft. “Come on, I’ll go with you.”

  Seconds later, the two Whispercrafts rose in formation from a cloud of blowing snow, then angled off the meadow toward the jagged ridge of the mountain.

  One of the crafts was empty, and two pilots sat in the second.

  Hank was flying his Whispercraft, while Adam flew his own with the remote.

  Each of the partners was so familiar with the other’s skills that this wizardry didn’t even rate a comment. Instead, Hank pressed Adam about the informal poll he had just conducted.

  “Hey, I know you’re old school. But take these kids—they all grew up with RePets. These days, it’s normal.”

  “Not to me,” said Adam.

  “You want your kid up all night, crying because her dog died?” Hank flicked a pair of switches and poised his finger over a third. “Where’s your heart?”

  Adam flexed two fingers inside the remote, and readied a third. “Don’t you think it’s even a little bit creepy?”

  Hank flicked the third switch; Adam flexed the third finger.

  Both men were pressed back in their seats as the ramjets kicked in. Both Whispercrafts, the lead one and the empty one, darted forward. At the same time, their rotors withdrew into their hubs, converting to steep-swept wings.

  Vaaroooooosh! The two Whispercrafts dove down the steep, serrated mountainside, toward the distant city.

  Hank swung the lead craft left, then right, trying to throw Adam’s Whispercraft off his tail. “These RePet animals, they come back, you can’t tell the difference. Trust me. I had it done.”

  Adam matched his every move, watching the following Whispercraft out of the corner of his eye. This was a common game between the two partners. “Bullshit,” he said.

  “Really,” said Hank, banking steeply to the left. “Sadie, my cat.”

  Adam laughed, following with the remote. “You cloned your cat?”

  Hank shrugged, a little embarassed, as he dropped into a steep dive. “She fell out of my condo window.”

  Adam’s Whispercraft was right on his tail. “Ouch.”

  “She was a good cat,” said Hank, coming out of the dive with a steep left bank that pulled the blood from his head—and Adam’s. “Just had trouble with spatial relations.”

  Adam kept the second craft right on their tail. Then angled it underneath …

  “Shit!” said Hank, as Adam’s Whispercraft suddenly appeared from below and pulled into the lead.

  “I didn’t know you were sentimental,” said Adam.

  “Neither
did I,” said Hank, trying to sound casual as he strained to follow Adam’s lead. “But boy, did I miss that cat.”

  Adam spun left, and laughed. “You really can’t tell the difference?”

  “Nope,” said Hank, as he matched Adam’s left turn, trying to regain the lead. “Still drinks out of the toilet and eats Cap’n Crunch with me every morning.”

  Adam pulled the lead craft straight up into a tight loop. “You sound like a commercial.”

  “Well, hey,” said Hank, as he followed suit. “The ad’s right—zero defects. Too bad cloning humans is illegal. We could bring back someone important…”

  Adam’s remote-controlled Whispercraft pulled out of the loop and dove again, angling left.

  Hank followed.

  “… like Einstein. Or Elvis.”

  “You’re sick,” said Adam. “Very sick.”

  “Just go down to RePet and check it out. What’s it going to hurt?”

  As if in answer, Adam manipulated the remote to put the remote craft into a steep reverse spin.

  Hank followed into the spin. Then at the edge of stalling, he gave up and hit a switch.

  The Whispercraft slowed suddenly, as if it had hit a wall, and the rotor blades popped out.

  Fwump fwump fwump …

  Adam’s Whispercraft shot ahead, disappearing into a cloud. Adam shook his gloved hand in triumph.

  “Dammit,” said Hank, defeated.

  The two partners often played this game when they were clear of controlled airspace.

  Adam just as often won.

  “So how long are you supposed to keep me at Kelly’s?” Adam asked, tracking his now-invisible craft on the display inside his glove.

  “Till seven. Why?”

  “You’re right,” said Adam, as he turned the remote Whispercraft. “I should at least check out RePet. So after I’m done with Drucker, I’ll head there, and meet you at Kelly’s.”

  A distant dot turned into Adam’s approaching Whispercraft. Adam flexed the glove and it made an impossibly steep turn, then stalled into near stasis.

  The wings folded, the rotors spun out, and the remote-controlled Whispercraft fell into perfect formation with the craft Hank was flying.

  Then Adam leaned back and relaxed, his craft following Hank’s lead toward the city, which was just appearing over the horizon.