The Lord of Opium

Dr. Rivas’s eyes glazed over, and he excused himself quickly to do some work at the hospital.

“I think that went well,” said Cienfuegos, and the Mushroom Master smiled.

“I’d like to see the lab where you were grown,” said the old man. Matt nodded, although he wasn’t happy about showing anyone the unnatural way he’d been created. It still filled him with a sense of shame. They went through the gardens, and the Mushroom Master bravely put aside his battered umbrella to enjoy the trees. “Imagine letting everything grow wild without worrying about whether the ecosystem is in balance. Gaia is an excellent mother.”

“We shouldn’t talk about Gaia here,” warned Cienfuegos, and the old man changed the subject.

They came to the fountain with the children holding their hands out to the water. “Now, that is truly beautiful,” declared the Mushroom Master. “One of the chief regrets I have about my, um, home is the lack of art. All is devoted to practical things.”

“Those are supposed to be El Patrón’s sisters and brothers who died young,” said Matt.

“He must have been an extraordinary man, although I’m sure I wouldn’t have liked him.” The Mushroom Master stepped into the fountain and held his hands up like the children. “Yes, this is a marvelous work of art. I think they are worshipping Gaia.”

“We should go on,” said Cienfuegos, frowning. They came to the lab, with long tables covered in gleaming, stainless-steel pans and microscopes. A lot of work seemed to have been done recently. They inspected the giant freezers containing bottles labeled MACGREGOR #1 to MACGREGOR #13 and DABENGWA #1 to DABENGWA #19.

One of the glass enclosures was no longer empty. A cow walked slowly on a treadmill as her legs were flexed by mechanical arms. Matt halted in shock. “Who—”

Cienfuegos held a finger to his lips to caution silence. “So that was how you were grown,” the Mushroom Master said, peering through the glass. “What an amazing achievement! In some cultures the cow was worshipped as the embodiment of motherhood. I wonder what they would have made of this.”

“I know what the people here made of it,” Matt said bitterly. “They said I was a filthy clone, worse than an animal, and unnatural.”

The old man looked kindly at the boy. “You must not be hurt by other people’s ignorance. Where I come from, animals are revered. I would have been honored to have a cow for a mother. The only thing wrong here is that the poor animal has been drugged.”

“She has a microchip in her brain. Clones aren’t considered human or even animal. They’re property.” Matt sat down, driven by a desire to show the Mushroom Master just how terrible his childhood had been. He took off his shoe. “There! It’s somewhat faded, but that’s the mark of a clone.”

The old man took out a magnifying glass he used to examine interesting fungi. “ ‘Property of the Alacrán Estate.’ That certainly says it all. What does the number mean?”

Matt drew his foot back. “Nothing.”

Cienfuegos grabbed Matt’s ankle and the boy kicked him, but the jefe was very strong.

“I order you to let me go!”

Cienfuegos dropped Matt’s foot. “It’s a date, and I’m willing to bet that you think it’s an expiry date.”

“Expiry date?” asked the Mushroom Master.

“They tattoo it onto an eejit’s foot to show how long he’ll live, but it’s very different with a clone. Yours is a ‘best by’ date, Don Sombra. It tells the doctor when transplants have the best chance of succeeding. You’re good for another eighty years.” The jefe laughed.

Matt grabbed his shoe and sock, furious and relieved at the same time. He wanted to push Cienfuegos’s face into the cow patty that had just appeared in the enclosure. He busied himself with the shoe while the Mushroom Master drew the jefe away to explore the other freezers.

They opened one door after another until they found racks of trays labeled BUBONIC PLAGUE MONGOLIA, BUBONIC PLAGUE CAIRO, SMALLPOX TEHERAN, and many, many more. The Mushroom Master retreated quickly. They went outside without saying another word.

“Let’s take one of the stirabouts,” suggested Cienfuegos. “I’m sure you’d like to see the greatest observatory in the world.”

“I’d be delighted,” said the Mushroom Master, but they went into the flatlands instead, where there was nothing except mesquite trees, cactuses, and a few of the old abandoned observatories.