All I Need

                                                              ALL I NEED
                         
              Thunderous applause greeted Jessie Waters as she bowed to her adoring audience, ignoring the intense pain in her side. The audience grew silent as she began a third encore of her latest hit, All I Need. Her soft, silvery voice floated through the hall enchanting everyone it touched.
         I don't need gold or fancy cars,
         I don't need silver or full length furs,
         All I need is someone to love,
         All I need is you.
         As was her want, Jessie poured her heart and soul into the lyrics. She imparted into each word a depth and meaning no other singer could equal. When the last quivering note slowly drifted over her rapt audience, even the men had tears in their eyes. Her voice alone could have made her a star, but it was her ability to move an audience like no other that made the five foot, ninety pound girl, a giant.
         Blowing one last kiss to her fans, Jessie stepped off stage and collapsed into the arms of her manager, Steve. The pain in her side was so great it was hard for her to even remain conscious. Recently, she had developed a slight ache near the end of one of her long, taxing rehearsals and thought nothing of it. Then as her tour took her to five different cities in seven days, the pain gradually worsened.
         Fighting to stay awake, she saw the concerned look on Steve's face as he shouted into his cell phone summoning for help.
         Jessie moaned as she felt another mild stab of pain. This is silly. I'm twenty one and never been sick a day in my life. What's the big fuss? Once the tour is over and I get some rest, I'll be, ohhhh that hurt. Well, maybe seeing a doctor isn't such a bad idea after all.
         The ambulance arrived and after a brief examination the paramedics drove Jessie to the local hospital for a complete check up. There she was wheeled from one room to another. Blood drawn, throat cultures taken, X-rays and MRIs done. Shots given and a host of other medieval tortures were performed before she was left alone in a room to worry what was to come next.
         It seemed like eternity before a grave faced doctor came in to see her. "Well Doc, am I going to live?" she joked. When he didn't laugh she knew she was in serious trouble.
         "I'm sorry, Miss. The tests show you have an advanced case of pancreatic cancer. I'm afraid there is nothing we can do for you."
         Jessie didn't hear the rest. It was as if someone had pushed the mute button on a TV. His mouth moved, but no sound reached her ears.Her thoughts raced crazily. "Cancer? How could I have cancer?  My career is just starting, I can't die now. Die? I’m going to die? No! This can't be happening. It just can't!"
                                                                      *
         The next day, with the remainder of the tour cancelled, Jessie flew home in the private jet Steve had chartered. “Don't give up, Jess," he told her. "You're young and strong. You can beat this."
         "How?" she asked as the tears began to flow again. “The doctor said it was hopeless."
         "First off, we're going to get a second opinion. I have a friend, he runs the top research facility in the country. If anybody can cure you, it's him."
         "Do you really think there’s a chance?"
         "Would I lie to you? After I take you home, I'm going to see my friend and make an appointment for you. Leave everything to old Steve. Trust me! You're going to live forever."
                                                    *          
         "Hi, Steve Morris to see Dr. Grant. I have an appointment."
         The receptionist briefly looked up from her computer monitor and said, "Yes, Mr. Morris, Dr. Grant is expecting you, go right in."
         "Thanks, sweetie," he said as he sauntered passed her desk and into Grant’s office. "Jimbo! How are you? Been a long time, hasn't it?"
         "Not long enough," Jim Grant replied brusquely from behind his desk. "How much do you want this time?"
         "Jimbo! I'm hurt that you have such a low opinion of me! Actually, today is your lucky day. I'm letting you off the hook. That is, after you do me one… small… favor."
         "One small favor? I'll bet! How small?"
         Sliding a thick, manila envelope across the desk, Steve said, "First, read this."
         Jim Grant picked up the envelope as if it contained a letter bomb ready to go off at the slightest touch. Carefully he removed the contents and read through the charts and doctor reports. "Okay, so?"
         "So what's your diagnosis?"
         Shrugging. "Six months, tops."
         "Look at the name of the patient."
         "Jessica Waters. Thee Jessica Waters? I saw her last concert. Damn, what a waste!" he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
         "A waste is right. She's my meal ticket, Doc, and you're going to fix this little problem for me."
         "Little problem? She's dying and there isn't anything modern medicine can do to save her. How am I supposed to fix that?"
         "Oh, I don't expect you to cure her. I want you to make me a new Jessie."
         "A new Jessie? You want me to make a…”
         "A clone,” Steve finished for him. “A cancer free clone."
         "But, but, that's illegal! I'd lose my license!"
         "Jimbo, it's old Steve you're talking to. Since when has something being illegal ever stopped you before? I seem to recall…"
         Jim shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "So, if I do this, you'll forget about that other thing? No more blackmail?"
         "Like I said, she's my meal ticket. I'll make more money off of her in one year than you could possibly pay me in your whole life. Make me a new Jessie and we're square."
         The following week Jessica Waters was admitted to the Grant Research Center under an assumed name. Dr. Grant attended to her treatment personally. Five months later, one Jane Doe died of  pancreatic cancer. Dr. Grant immediately arranged to have her body incinerated in the Center‘s Crematorium.
                                                                      *
         Steve shifted restlessly and periodically glanced at his watch as Jim pushed the plain wooden coffin into the waiting flames. "I don't know why you insisted I had to be here. I'm a busy man you know."
         Jim sighed. "I thought she should have at least one person she knew here to say goodbye. It's not as though I could have invited her family."
         "Yeah, yeah. Goodbye, kid. Nice doing business with you. Now, tell me how her replacement's coming along. When will she be ready to go on tour?"
         "You're a miserable excuse of a human being, you know that?"
         Shrugging, "Hey, I'm an agent. It comes with the territory. How soon?"
         "Another month, provided there aren't any complications."
         "Another month? What happened to all that talk about accelerated growth? I want results and I want them now!"
         Jim shook his head slowly. "How many times do I have to tell you? Even inside the Accelerated Growth Incubator it takes time for the subject to reach maturity. I think six months is pretty damn good to get a full grown human. You're the one who wanted her to be twenty one, remember?"
         "Well, a bawling little crumb crusher won't do me any good. I need a full grown replacement to go on stage now, not in twenty years. And what's this crap about complications?"
         "Let me explain one more time so even you can understand. We've cloned sheep, cows and other animals before and we have used the Accelerated Growth Incubator before, but never on a human. Plus, you wanted her to have all of Jessie's memories. In order to do that, we had to take a full set of memory engrams to implant into the clone. Again, that has never been done with a human subject. We're making medical history here. Complications? I'd be amazed if there weren't any."
         "Yeah, yeah, I don't want to hear your sob stories. If there are any complications, you fix them. You have one month to have her ready to go on tour." With that, Steve turned and walked out leaving Jim alone with Jessie's rapidly disintegrating coffin.
         "Without a doubt, that's one son of a bitch who's going to straight to hell in a hand basket. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. And I suppose I won't be too far behind him." Jim said to the empty room.
                                                                      *
         Jessie opened her eyes and tried to focus. The blur hovering above her slowly took form and she saw Dr. Grant's smiling face. "Hi, Jessie, welcome back. How do you feel?"
         The last thing she remembered was her body wracked with pain. The drugs had lost their effectiveness and Dr. Grant telling her he was going to put her into an induced coma to allow the experimental treatment time to work. Truthfully, she had never expected to wake again.
         Cautiously, she allowed her mind to see what her body was telling her. Miraculously, the pain was gone. She was alive and well! "Oh, Doctor, I feel wonderful! Am I really cured?"
         "Yes, you are. The cancer is totally gone from your system. You can expect to live a long and full life, I'm happy to say."
         Jessie reached up, wrapped her arms around Jim's neck and hugged him. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
         "You're more than welcome," Slightly embarrassed, Jim gave her an assuring pat on the back. "Do you feel up to a visitor?"
         She squealed eagerly, "Oh, yes, yes! Who is it?"
         "Your agent, Steve. He wanted to be here when you woke up."
         "Aw, he's such a softie. He really does care about me."
         "Yeah. He's a real saint." Jim mumbled to himself. Opening the door, Jim waved Steve in. "Five minutes. No more. She needs her rest."
         Steve came in smiling. "Hi, Jess. You look great! Hey, didn't I tell you that if anyone can cure you it was this guy?"
         "Yes you did, and I owe both of you so much. How can I ever repay you?"
         "You just stay healthy. That's all the thanks I need." Then, as a bitter after thought to himself, "But I'm sure Steve will make you pay and pay."
         "Modest guy, isn't he? But he's right, you don't owe us anything," Steve said as he ushered Jim out the door. "Doc says you can go home in a couple days. He wants you to rest, but I think work would be the best therapy for you. What do you think?"
         "Whatever you say, Steve, you know I trust your judgment."
         "Good! I knew you'd say that, so I booked you some studio time. You've neglected your fans far too long. Putting out a new album will do you wonders."
                                                                      *
         Jessie’s eager fans, hungry for her new release, sent her album Platinum in the first two hours even though the critics had panned it. They said it wasn't her best work. One even went so far as to describe it as, “Something she mailed in”. By the time she went on tour to promote the album, the fans began to agree and stayed away in droves.
         Jessie's voice was still sweet and golden, but it lacked the emotional quality that had touched even the hardest of critics. After her third failed concert, a furious Steve went to see Dr. Grant.
         "What did you do? That isn't Jessie!" he demanded as he stormed into Jim's office.
         "Of course it isn't Jessie. It's a clone, remember?" Jim shot back.
         "You were supposed to make an exact duplicate of Jessie. What went wrong?"
         "Nothing went wrong. She is an exact duplicate of Jessie, right down to her earliest memories."
         "So why doesn't she sound the same? I mean it's her voice, but it’s not. There’s something missing. Did you leave something out?"
         "You make it sound like I put her together with an erector set. I left nothing out. She has the exact DNA and memories of the real Jessie Waters. If she’s missing anything, I would have to say it's Jessie's soul. That’s something I have no control over. I'm not God, you know."
         "Soul? What does that have to do with her singing?'
         "When Jessie sang, it was from the heart and soul of her being. It was that intangible quality that made her unique. The soul is what makes us who we are. Everybody has one. This clone of Jessie was created artificially."
         "So? Give her an artificial soul."
         "How? Tell me, what’s its genetic makeup? What does one look like? How do you make something that you can't see, feel, taste or hear? Tell me and I'll whip up a dozen for you!"
         Steve sat there completely at a loss as how to proceed. Without her soul she was just average. You don't get rich with average singers.
         "How is Jessie taking this? She must be pretty confused," Jim asked.
         "Well, the strangest thing of it all is that when the tour was canceled because of the low attendance, she's been spending all of her time at a hospital. She sings to terminally ill patients, of all people. Creepy, if you ask me."
         "Maybe, maybe not," Jim said thoughtfully. "Which hospital?"
         "One of those places that starts with a saint something or other. St. John’s I think. Well, they can have her."
         "What do you mean, they can have her? Are you just going to give up on her?"
         "She's yesterday’s news, Doc. I have to find a new meal ticket. Oh, by the way, you owe me five grand."
         "For what? I thought you said if I made a clone of Jessie for you I was off the hook?"
         "Yeah, well that didn't work out, now did it?"
                                                                      *          
         It was nearly midnight when Jim arrived at Saint John's. The night nurse at the hospice unit said Jessie was still there, somewhere on the floor. "That little girl is going to wear herself out. She cares so much for those poor people. She sings to them all day, and then sneaks into their rooms several times a night just to see if they're alright. She gets so upset whenever one of them dies. Heaven knows when she gets some sleep herself. But it’s none of my business."
         Jim hated this part of any hospital. To make matters worse, this particular hospice wasn’t strictly for the elderly. It was bad enough watching someone in their eighties or nineties die because their bodies were too worn out to sustain life, but to watch a child succumb to a disease was unbearable to him. He steeled himself as he prowled the corridors looking for Jessie.
         Jim wasn't sure why he had come. He didn’t think there was anything he could do or say to help Jessie. All he knew was that he couldn't abandon her like Steve had. Even though he had been forced into creating her, he still felt a sense of responsibility for her well-being.
         A slender figure darted across the dimly lit hall ahead of him. A few seconds later the figure darted into the next room, then the next. Slowly she emerged from the last room and stood in the middle of the hall, head bowed and shoulders slumped.
         "Jessie?" he called softly.
         "Dr. Grant? I’m glad you’re here. Can you tell me what's wrong with me? I feel so lost. Can you help me?"
         Jim guided her to a nearby waiting room where they could talk undisturbed. Sitting opposite her he said, "Tell me all about it."
         "It all started when I woke up in your hospital. I was happy to be alive, I never thought I would wake up again when you put me into that coma, but I wasn’t nearly as happy as I should have been. Do you know what I mean?"
         "I think so, go on."
         "Well, after you discharged me, I went back to work. Steve had me cut a new album, but for some reason I couldn't sing the songs the way I wanted. They were just words to me. There wasn’t any meaning to them. Then I had this nagging feeling something was missing inside me."
         Jim nodded sympathetically and urged her to continue.
         "Do you know I can't cry anymore? I use to cry all the time when I sang, especially the sad songs. Now, there’s nothing. It's like I don't care anymore. I wasn't even upset when the tour was cancelled. Singing was what I lived and breathed for and when that was taken away from me all I could think to say was; so what? What's wrong with me, Doctor? Why don't I care anymore?"
         "When people have near death experiences, like you did, it can change their entire outlook on life." Jim knew that wasn't the case with Jessie, but he had to offer some possible explanation.
         "No. I don't think that's it. If that was the case, wouldn't it mean I was going in a different direction? You know, giving up singing for something else?"
         "Yes, but isn't that why you're here? To help make the last few days of these unfortunate people's lives a little brighter?"
         "No. I don't give a damn for any of these people. I tried to care, but I don't feel anything for them."
         "So, why are you here?"
         "You're going to think I'm crazy, but I came here because of a, well, you might call it a compulsion. I thought I might be able to find whatever it was I lost. I can't sleep anymore and I find myself going from room to room hoping to find someone who is about to die."
         "Why? What purpose would that serve?"
         "I'm not sure. When I do find someone who is close to death, I get right up into their face and stare deep into their eyes. I don't know what it is I'm looking for, but whatever it is, it keeps eluding me. Do you know?"
         Jim knew exactly what she was looking for and he also knew she would never find it. Reluctantly, he told her the whole story of who, or what, she really was. He explained everything that happened since the day she was admitted to his Center. When he finished, he expected her to slap him, scream at him, anything, but she merely sat there. She didn't say anything at first, and then she quietly thanked him for telling her the truth and walked out of the waiting room. He sat there for awhile wondering if he had done the right thing or not. As he walked down the empty corridor to leave, he heard Jessie's silver voice echoing softly in the halls.
         I don't need gold or fancy cars,
         I don't need silver or full length furs,
         All I need is someone to love,
         All I need is a soul.
                                                        *
         "Alright, alright, I'm coming already!" Steve complained as he stumbled out of bed. "Can't a person get any sleep around here?" He flung open the door to his apartment ready to chew out his late night intruder for disturbing his slumber. "Jessie! What are you doing here? You look terrible!"
         "Steve, I know everything," she said with a straightforwardness that startled him. 
            Stalling for time to collect his wits, Steve said, "Everything? What's everything?"
         "I just came from seeing Dr. Grant."
         "Dr. Grant?" Steve asked, trying to look innocently puzzled.
         "Come on, Steve. Let’s cut to the chase. I want you to level with me for the first time in your life. I know what you did. I just need to know why."
         "Why? You've got to be kidding!"
         "Dammit Steve, stop that! I've realized for awhile that something was wrong with me. When I saw Dr. Grant tonight, he told me everything that happened. My illness, my… death and his making a clone of me at your insistence. I'm here, but I'm not. It’s as if there’s some part of me that’s missing and you knew it would happen, didn’t you?"
         "Go on."
         "Well, I've been searching for whatever it is that I'm missing and Dr. Grant said it's my soul and I don't mean the sole of my foot."
         "I know, I know." Steve rubbed his hand back and forth across his forehead. "Jess, I don't know what to tell you. I wanted you the way you were. I didn't think it was going to be like this, honest. I thought Grant had fixed that little glitch."
         "Little glitch! Christ, Steve, what were you thinking? Did you actually think Dr. Grant could create a living, breathing, functioning human being? Dr. Grant may be good, but he's not that good. That's futuristic bullshit! Come on!"
         "What do you mean, you’re here aren't you? Besides, he owed me a favor, you weren't the first, you know."
         "I'm not?" Jessie said in astonishment.
         "No, you're not. Apparently the good doctor didn't tell you the whole story, did he? Sit down."
         Jessie chose the recliner across from the sofa where Steve had invited her to join him. Stalling for time, he rubbed his forehead again. He had to tell her something to get her off his back, but what?
         "Okay, Jess." He dropped his hand and leaned forward trying to determine how much blame he could lay at Grant's feet and away from himself.
         "You see, Grant was experimenting with this cloning stuff way back in the, ah, seventies. He was real excited when he thought he had it all figured out. You see, he… he wanted to make a big slash in the scientific community and what better way to do that than by cloning somebody famous. When, ah, Elvis died, his manager came to Grant and made an offer which Grant jumped on.”
         “After the clone was born, hatched, whatever you want to call it, Grant began to noticed there was something wrong with Elvis. It might have been the soul thing, I don't know. The clone just couldn't perform the way the real Elvis had. Grant tried to keep him under wraps, but the clone kept wandering away. Eventually he did escape from the Center.”
         “The cloned Elvis wanted to go on stage and sing, so they had no choice but to let him. Eventually the clone succumbed to booze and drugs in his search for what was missing inside of him. In the process, he gained a ton of weight, became paranoid and ah, you know the rest."
         "They killed him," she stated flatly.
         "No, now wait a minute, the clone committed suicide."
         "Bullshit, they killed him when they tried to play God and I'm afraid the same fate awaits me, and I don't want to die… again. Steve, you have to help me, please."
         "Screw you, bitch! Why should I help you? You're not worth two plug nickels to me," he thought.
         As if reading his thoughts, Jessie looked at Steve, "Oh my gosh! You… you and Dr. Grant were in this together, weren't you? We were nothing but experiments, experiments to make you rich. That's all we were and you don’t have the least intention of helping me, do you? Well, I have news for you, my trusted friend and advisor.”
         “Since I don’t have a soul, that means I don’t have a conscience which also means I won’t have any regrets after I kill you. Who knows? Maybe your friend, Dr. Grant will make a clone of you too. But don’t worry, your clone won’t know there’s anything missing because you never had a soul to begin with.”
         That said, Jessie closed her eyes and a swirling white fog began to materialize, hovering in mid-air behind Jessie. Steadily, it resolved into human size and form, taking on distinct features. Jessie was no longer alone. She was now two, one solid, one ethereal.
         Opening her eyes again Jessie reached into her purse and pulled out the scalpel she had swiped earlier at the hospital. Steve was on his feet staring in stunned horror at the apparition.
         “You always were a coward, Steve. Is the big man afraid of the itty bitty little girl?” She taunted before leaping at him holding the scalpel low to deliver an underhanded slashing blow. Steve recovered in time to grab Jessie by the arm to fend off her brutal attack. He was amazed at her ferocity. She fought him with the strength of a full grown man, not that of a frail, little girl.
         Jessie twisted her wrist until it broke free from his grasp. Pulling her arm straight back, she thrust at his heart. Steve gasped as the blade, burning like dry ice, slid between his ribs.
         Jessie grinned savagely as Steve caught her wrist again in an iron grip, stopping her from twisting the blade or plunging it any deeper. Jessie's dug her fingernails into Steve's throat, trickles of blood trickled down his neck. Falling, they rolled back and forth on the hardwood floor. Jessie desperately held onto the knife that was lodged in Steve's chest; her misty doppelganger floating above them in silent observance.
         Jessie's vicious grin turned into a fixed rictus as Steve cut off her air supply. She rolled from side to side, but couldn't break Steve's grip. She brought her knee up trying to ram it into his groin, Steve somehow managed to shift his weight to block each thrust.
         Although the blade of the scalpel had missed its target, Steve knew he was severely wounded. He could feel his heart pounding and with each rapid beat his shirt was soaked more and more with his dark red blood. Realizing he might not have much time or strength left, Steve rolled away and yanked the blade from his chest. He pressed against the wound in a futile effort to staunch the ebbing of his life's essence.
         Jessie snatched up the scalpel and advanced in one last attempt to finish him off. "Die you son of a bitch!"
         Steve reached out with one crimson covered hand to ward her off. With the stairs not far behind him, he backed warily toward them. Steve ducked as Jessie slashed wildly for his throat. He straightened back up in time to see the white mist diving straight at him like an avenging angel.
         Arms flailing and with a terrifying scream, Steve tumbled backward down the staircase. Jessie staggered and fell to her knees. Steve lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, his hands gripping his blood soaked chest. He coughed twice as red foam gurgled from between his lips.
         The ethereal form floated over to the kneeling Jessie, slowly settling into her body. Jessie straightened with a start. Tears of joy flowed freely as she felt her soul coming back into her once empty shell. She was whole once more.
         Unsteadily, Jessie navigated her way down the steps to stand over Steve’s prone body. In a soft voice she said, “What you did to me was wrong, but that’s no excuse for me to try and kill you. Please forgive me.”
                                                    *
         Three months later a vibrant Jessie Waters sat in Jim Grant’s office. “You look great, Jessie!”
         “Thanks, Jim. I feel great, too. I’m cancer free, I have my soul back and I’m ready to resume my career. My one regret is Steve.”
         “I’m glad you’re doing so well, but don’t blame yourself about Steve. He’s alive and being well cared for in a place where he won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore.”
         “The Asylum? I suppose seeing my soul coming at him like that pushed his mind over the edge as well as his body down the stairs.”
         “Something like that would scare the bejeebers out of anyone. So, what’s next for you? Any plans?”
         “As a matter of fact I do. I have a new agent and she has me cutting another album. Then I’ll be going on tour for three months to promote it.”
         “That’s great, Jess! I know it’ll be a huge hit.”
         “Thanks, I hope so. Oh, before I go, I do have one question for you. Did you really clone Elvis?”
         “No, Steve made that up, although he wasn’t too far from the truth.”
         “How so?”
         “Considering what you’ve been through, Jess, I believe I can trust you with a secret that I’ve carried for far too long. Only my staff knows as they’re part of it. A long time ago a young man died in what was a senseless car accident. He was my younger brother.”
         “I’m sorry, Jim. That must have been quite painful.”
         “It was. We had been very close and I missed him terribly. At the time there weren’t any laws against cloning humans and my research in the field was way ahead of everyone else, so I thought if I cloned him, I could have my brother back.”
         “But, even though he looked like your brother, he wasn’t, right?”
         “Exactly. My brother was a good, decent man. What I created in my lab was a soulless imposter. I didn’t have the heart to rectify my mistake by killing him, so I gave him a new identity and, God forgive me, unleashed him upon society.”
         Shocked Jessie asked, “You don’t mean…?”
         Nodding, “Yes. Steve is my brother.”

                                        The End