Mars Needs Books!. Gary Lovisi

reasons—so sharp, so inquisitive, so perceptive! And you mean to tell me you really have no idea at all?”

      “No idea about what, Simon?”

      “Your dreams, child? Why, your very dreams?” he chided her softly.

      Arabella Rashid tensed, a chill swept over her soul. It was a more private area than any mere physical place that Simon had already raped and plundered within her years before. Her dreams were sacred, personal, special, even mystical. They were the most secret part of her inner being. They were not for being known to anyone. Especially not by Simon.

      “What are you saying?” She held down her panic.

      “Come on, girl, don’t tell me you do not even have an inkling. You must. You have the dreams, don’t you?”

      “Yes, I have dreams...,” she agreed carefully, softly, fearful of what was coming. What new monstrous device was up Simon’s wicked sleeve?

      “Hah! But not just any old dreams, eh, my dear?”

      “I don’t know....”

      “Did you never suppose...?” Simon asked softly.

      “Suppose? Suppose, what?”

      “Memory, it was all cloned. See, I know all about you, child, more than you even know about yourself. I searched for you, I found you. I created you.”

      “What do you mean, Simon?” she was becoming fearful now, but held herself in check, at the peril of her sanity.

      “I bred you, girl. I know you took the name of Arabella Rashid after that night when I first took you, but before that you were....”

      “No, don’t say it!” she screamed.

      Simon laughed. “Now then, what was your name...?”

      “No! Simon, no!”

      He laughed heartily, she’d not heard him so happy in years—the vile bastard! He was enjoying every moment of this torture.

      “Yes, your name.... Do you remember that little girl? I remember her well.”

      Arabella Rashid froze with fear and loathing. She was not that other girl now, that weak girl who had been abused by Simon. She was someone else now. She was Arabella Rashid. Someone stronger, more powerful. Smarter. Different. Like in the book.

      She hoped she was. She prayed.

      “Yes, her name, dear girl—your name—it was Cathy...Ryan....”

      She didn’t say a word.

      “Acknowledge it!” Simon demanded loudly, brow-beating his thirteen-year old girl lover/victim as she stood so powerlessly before him.

      “Yes,” she answered meekly.

      “Well done! You have accepted one basic truth at least, Cathy—Arabella,” Simon said it as if he were twisting a knife into the young girl’s vitals. “Well, anyway, our DOC science has made magnificent achievements. Stunning achievements! Progress, that will be most useful....”

      Arabella Rashid tightened up inside but could find no words. She was at Simon’s mercy, she had always been at his mercy.

      “You are a clone, child. A clone of that self-same Cathy Ryan who lived way back in the 1950s—far away in last century, You are one of many I have had reconstructed for my own aims. Personal and political. You see, we can not only clone the physical body, but we can delve deep into the inner psyche and soul. We can retrieve and duplicate memories and personality from our special long-ago original stock of people.”

      Arabella Rashid was stunned but at this point in her life she was ready to believe any evil that the minds of men like Simon could conceive.

      “You and James were the first. Agents, spies, and killers that proved most useful. A matched set. In my opinion, you two were the best as well. Of course there were some others. All amazing early prototypes. Eventually, once the process is perfected for mass production, we’ll be able to bring them back in large numbers—shock troops for the new order. We will create amalgams of the worst of the worst, the Huns, the Old Guard soldiers of Napoleon, KGB killers, the Gestapo and SS. Isn’t that delightful? And of source, we will bring back their leaders as well—the most excellent killers of all time—Adolph Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot, and even Saddam Hussein and those two lovely sons of his. Now those two boys surely died far too young—so much potential so sadly wasted there.”

      Arabella didn’t say a word.

      Simon nodded, smiled, “Good boys, so young. Terrible to be cut down before they had achieved their full potential. Well, that shall be changed. Corrected!”

      Arabella scarcely knew what she was hearing. Was it the ramblings of a mad man? Or the promises of a monster with the will and ability to carry out those promises and make them come true?

      “Of course, they shall all rule under me, in my future directorship of the DOC. They will not exist under their original names, but the DNA, their memories and personalities, will all be the same. Exact! My angels, playing the parts—I, as their God—shall decree for them.”

      Arabella Rashid knew now that Simon wasn’t just an oppressive ruler, a rapist, and a monster—he was the Devil himself. His once massive mind had deteriorated into madness and an evil deeper than any other human being in the history of the race. He had to be destroyed. Now. This instant. Before he took one more squalid breath of pure sweet air. Simon had to die and Arabella Rashid was the only one who could make it happen.

      “It will be glorious,” Simon mused.

      “Yes, Simon, it will,” she said, moving closer to him.

      “And you shall rule by my side,” he said, with a twisted smile that she knew was false, even mean in its false promise.

      But now Arabella Rashid smiled back, as she bent down to kiss Simon’s cheek. She did it with a great gentleness, a warm softness, a delightfulness that she knew Simon felt irresistible. She smiled again at the thought of what she had to do.

      Then she did it.

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE DEPARTMENT OF CONTROL

      Simon was dead.

      The world was free!

      But Arabella Rashid found herself more enslaved now than ever.

      For the Department of Control, and the world totalitarian government headed by the hated Authority and all its minions personally picked by Simon, still went on and on and on. To not accept that reality would mean death and worse. So she must continue with the fabrication. She must continue to play the game. And the crushing, binding, and enslaving of minds and bodies—as no government, no cult, no organization in human history had ever done before—must continue seamlessly. With Simon never seen, but with his presence always felt, and when necessary, even heard from. With Arabella speaking for him, and giving the orders in his name or through virtual image holos. And in so doing she attained complete control over society and the world via The DOC. And at the head of it all now—was Arabella Rashid.

      * * * *

      How had it all come to this?

      Arabella Rashid sat quietly with only the corpse of Simon for company beside her. He looked so quiet and peaceful in death, a little aged man, perhaps someone’s funny old grandfather if you didn’t know any better. You could never imagine all the damage he had done to the human race.

      Now what was she to do?

      She shed not a single tear for her former mentor, nor one tear for her present position. Instead, she decided to use that superior mind that Simon had created for her to examine the situation and find a way to put into operation a plan that would free the world and some day bring back human dignity.

      She wanted to set in motion some kind of revolution—but she knew the world was not ready, nor able to understand that concept yet. The fear was