"I guess that somewhere in the back of my mind I had always hoped you might someday answer that question for me," Christopher responded. Decker gave him a puzzled look. "After all, the cloning wasn't my idea."
Nor had it been Decker's idea, but in the absence of Professor Goodman, Decker suddenly felt the weight of a responsibility he had never considered his own.
Christopher broke the brief but uncomfortable pause, "I'm just trying to make the best of a very strange situation," he said. "I might just as well ask you why you were born. I guess none of us actually chose to be here. We just are." Christopher paused again. "I guess that's one big difference between me and the original. Apparently he had some choice in coming to this planet. I had none. I suppose in some ways my lack of choice actually makes me all the more human." Christopher's voice seemed to carry a real note of longing – a longing to be like everyone else.
"No, I'm not entirely human," Christopher continued. "I don't get sick and if I hurt myself I heal quickly, but I feel what other people feel, I hurt like other people hurt. I bleed like other people bleed. And I can die, too." Here Christopher paused. "At least I guess I can." And paused again. Decker didn't interrupt. "If I were to die, I'm not sure what would happen. Would I be resurrected like Jesus was? I don't know. What was it that resurrected Jesus? Was it in his nature?… my nature? Or was it some special act of God? I don't know."
Decker had seen Christopher's humanity time and again: in the pain he carried with him over the loss of his adoptive aunt and uncle; in the compassion he showed toward Decker for the loss of Elizabeth, Hope and Louisa; in his desire that his life and profession be directed toward helping those less fortunate than himself; and in the concern he had for the well-being of his friend and mentor Secretary Milner. And here again was another sign of Christopher's humanity, one that Decker had never seen before: his feeling of being lost and alone in a life and a world he did not choose.
"I don't think I'm here for any reason in particular," Christopher concluded, "except maybe, like everyone else, to be the best me I can be."
Abruptly, Christopher's thoughts shifted to Milner almost as if they had been pushed in that direction by Decker's own fleeting thought of the former Assistant Secretary-General a moment earlier. "I'm really worried about him," he said.
Somehow Decker knew immediately who Christopher was referring to. He would have preferred to stay on the subject of Christopher's dreams and recollections, but they could return to that later. Right now Christopher was displaying the very humanity that Decker had just been pondering. He was obviously more concerned with Milner's well-being than with his own circumstances.
"He put up a good show at the hospital," Christopher continued, "but I think he's in much worse condition than he let on. I asked the doctors, but they said they were prohibited from talking about the case, except to say his surgery went well."
"That's pretty much standard policy," Decker said. "I wouldn't let that worry you. I insist on the same policy with Secretary-General Hansen's doctors. They don't say a word to the press or anyone else without my approval."
"Sure, I know that," Christopher said, a little reluctant to be reassured. "I guess mainly it's just a feeling. I've never seen him like this. Sure, I know that he's getting on in years, but he's always been so strong. I just wasn't prepared to see him so pale and short of breath. I wish you could have been with me."
"Well, look, if it'll make you feel any better we can drop by the hospital on the way home." Decker immediately realized he was making an assumption. "You are planning to stay at the apartment?"
"Sure, if that's okay with you."
"Of course it's okay. Your room's just the way you left it."
At the hospital Decker and Christopher headed for Milner's room. They were in the elevator when suddenly a look of concern swept over Christopher's face. "What is it?" Decker asked.
Christopher shook his head as if he were trying to shake off a dizzy spell. "It's that feeling – the one I told you about where a battle is raging somewhere nearby. Maybe it's because I was just telling you about it, but suddenly I had it again." The conversation ended abruptly as the elevator reached their floor and the door opened, revealing something unusual was happening. There was a steady stream of people, mostly elderly but a few younger ones as well, moving as quickly as their feet or wheelchairs would carry them, which in the case of some was not very fast at all. There was no apparent panic. They were not running from something. Rather they seemed to be going toward something.
"Have you seen him?" one nurse asked another at the nurse's station as people walked, rolled, or shuffled past. "Only a peek," the other answered. "There are too many people around the door to get a look at him."
As they walked down the hall with the flow of people, Decker and Christopher couldn't help but notice the excitement as they made their way around the more slowly advancing patients. "I wonder what's up," Christopher said.
"Looks like somebody's giving away free money and these people want to get there before it's all gone," Decker suggested.
When they rounded the corner, it became clear that the excitement was centered around a room at the end of the hall. Outside the door stood about forty people, most in hospital clothes and slippers, some dressed in the garb of orderlies or nurses, each trying to get closer to the door.
"That's Secretary Milner's room," Christopher said. They immediately picked up their pace, intending to press headlong through the crowd, but were quickly engulfed in the melee. Just out of their sight, and coming down an adjoining hall, a very stoutly built nurse was leading four orderlies toward the same crowd. Soon Decker and Christopher were pushed away along with the rest of the throng. They might have stood their ground – the others probably would have made their way around anyone who seemed unwilling to move. Instead, they made for an empty alcove as the mass moved by them, driven on like a herd of cattle. "What is going on!?" asked Decker in disbelief. But the only one who heard him was Christopher, who seemed as bewildered as Decker.
"Do you think something has happened to Secretary Milner?" Christopher asked.
"Nah," responded Decker reassuringly. "Didn't you see those people? They weren't acting like they were headed for a funeral. In fact, from the looks on some of their faces, I'd think it was more likely that Milner had a baby."
Christopher smiled, and soon the final stragglers passed, followed closely by the stout nurse and her armor-bearers. From there it was only a matter of getting past the guard at the door, an easy task for someone of Decker's experience and credentials. As the door to Milner's room swung open they saw two doctors huddled around the bed, leaning way over as if working on their patient. On closer examination it became clear that the bed was unoccupied except for some medical charts the doctors were examining.
"Where is Secretary Milner?" Christopher asked anxiously.
For a moment the doctors ignored them, and then one turned and called for the guard to escort the intruders out of the room. "It's okay," the second doctor said as he recognized Christopher from his visit earlier in the day.
"Where is Secretary Milner?" Christopher repeated insistently.
"He's in the lavatory," the second doctor answered.
"What was all the commotion about? Is he all right?" Christopher asked, a little less urgently.
"See for yourself," said a voice from their left. There, standing in the open bathroom door was former Assistant Secretary-General Milner dressed in his hospital gown. His appearance gave no hint as to why he was even in the hospital. His eyes were clear and bright, his complexion restored to its ruddy glow, his stance tall and erect with shoulders and chest broad and firm.