It was February when my parents died in a car accident, on a cold and snowy day, like all February days seemed to be in Minneapolis. I was their only daughter. I'd had a sister once, Chloe was her name, but she died at a very young age due to a rare genetic disorder. Chloe's death had motivated my father, a brilliant geneticist, to dedicate his work towards finding a cure for the disorder that killed her. I don't even know what the disease is called; it has too long of a name and I didn't inherit my father's brains. I was nineteen at the time and attending the University of Minnesota, though I had no major declared and hardly knew what to do with my life; my parents had insisted I attend college and at least begin taking general courses. I assumed they hoped something would appeal to me and my career choice would become apparent.
I dropped out after they died, falling into a deep depression, and avoided what few friends I had until they stopped calling, secluding myself at home. Since I was an only-child and we had no other family, everything was left to me; the house, the cars, and the summer cabin on Lake Mille Lacs. We were always well off financially due to my father's brilliance, and both mom and dad had sizable life insurance policies, so even though my life had little direction at least I didn't have to worry about money. That made it easy to closet myself away from the rest of the world for a while.
Part of the inheritance was dad's business. He owned a small private lab where he conducted his research, located not far from our house in the western suburbs. The work ended when he died, of course, and what few employees he had moved on to other jobs and the lab was closed. Due to my terrible depression after their death, it was a few months before I got around to dealing with the lab. It was my intention to take stock of what was in there, see if I could find anything I wanted to keep, and eventually sell the building and everything else in it. Private investors and other research companies called constantly after the accident, looking to purchase the lab and equipment, but I had been putting the whole ordeal off.
It was a muggy July day, shortly after the Independence Day holiday, when I finally gathered the motivation to go over there. I remember wearing cut-off jean shorts and an old spaghetti-strap top, both old rags that I wasn't worried about getting soiled in case the place was dusty. My long black hair was pulled into a pony tail, and I smelled faintly of suntan lotion (I had grown pale from my indoor seclusion and was worried about burning). I parked my Grand Cherokee right in front, unlocked the lab building doors, and walked into a flood of memories. I had spent a lot of time in that place growing up, pretending I was a nurse or a doctor while my father worked, and things were exactly as they had always been. I began in his office, boxing up various personal effects. There were pictures of mom and me everywhere, and even one of Chloe. It was hard to package up his life, but I knew it was pointless for me to put off doing it any longer. The building, and all the lab equipment within, could be put to better use than just sitting there dormant.
After I finished in Dad's office I took a tour through the lab to see if there was anything else I wanted to keep. I came to a locked door and couldn't remember what was on the other side. I assumed it was a closet or something, and began trying keys from my father's key ring until I found one that opened it. The door revealed to a stairway leading down to a basement, which surprised me because I couldn't remember ever being down there. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I flicked the stairwell lights and checked it out. I was greeted by another large area, though things seemed to resemble a medical facility more than a genetic lab. There was scientific equipment all about that brought images of a hospital to mind, with various monitors and control panels that I obviously knew nothing about.
Then I gasped.
On the far end of the room was a table with a body laying upon it. A male body. What was my father doing with a cadaver? Was he using it for his genetic tests? But something wasn't right. The body was naked and didn't show any signs of decomposition. I remember thinking it should at least smell a lot worse, but I couldn't smell anything. I slowly approached the table, curiosity temporarily overruling the hairs on the back of my neck. He sure didn't look dead. In fact, I was thinking he was beautiful, whoever he was. His body was lean and muscled, with a V-shaped torso and he had the most delicious arms. His blonde hair was cut short and neatly trimmed and his face was free of facial growth, as though freshly shaven. He had a circumcised penis that was equally hairless, and my eyes lingered on it too long. I remember thinking that I shouldn't be staring at a dead man's penis, no matter how perfect it looked.
Then I gasped again.
He was breathing. He was alive! A flood of questions swirled around in my head like a twirling wind. Was he sleeping? In a coma? Had he been down there for the last six months? Would he suddenly wake up and kill me? I took a step back and a deep breath. I rationalized that he couldn't be in a coma. There were no IV tubes or anything hooked up to him, so there was no way he could have been laying there for the last six months and still be alive. But why would anyone be sleeping in the basement of my father's lab? Naked?
I wanted to run, but I didn't. I don't know what strange courage came over me, but I stepped over to the table and reached out and touched his bicep. "Hello?" I muttered feebly.
His eyes opened and I remember feeling my heart fall into my stomach with fear. I worried I was in danger, but his head turned slowly towards me and he looked right at me with intense blue eyes.
"Hello." he responded in a calm deep voice. His body remained motionless, only his head moved.
"Um, hi. I'm Stacy." I said dumbly, not knowing what else to say to a naked man in my father's lab. My hand remained on his arm, which was so warm and smooth. He had perfect skin that was evenly tan over his entire body. He didn't seem threatening, which allowed me to suppress my instinct to flee.
"Hello Stacy. I am Achilles." he said, still motionless as he lay on the table looking at me.
"Achilles? Like the Greek hero?"
"Yes. Though I am without weakness, like he was."
That was an odd thing to say, I thought. "Um, can you tell me what you're doing down here?"
"I am waiting for your father to return."
"My... my father?"
"Yes. You said you are Stacy. Is your father not Dr. Peterson?"
I nodded softly, pulling my hand from his arm and lifting it to my forehead. I had no idea what was happening and suddenly felt light-headed. "My father, he... he died six months ago, Achilles. Have you been down here all this time?"
"Yes, since he last left me." he replied, his tone unchanged from its calm timbre.
"How is that possible?" I asked. "Haven't you left? How have you survived?"
His forearm lifted from the table and he pointed up. My eyes followed his finger to a large lamp suspended from the ceiling above him. "It's a solar lamp." he explained. "It turns on eight hours a day; my skin absorbs its energy in a process similar to photosynthesis. It is the only energy I need for survival."
Things were really getting weird now. "Wh-what, I mean, who are you?"
He sat up on the table, hanging his legs over the side. "I told you, I am Achilles. I was born here, where your father made me. Now that he is dead, I wonder what is to become of me?"
I noticed there was no remorse in his voice over Dad's demise, though whatever he was he clearly he understood the concept of death. "I don't really know, Achilles. You said my father made you. Are you a robot or something?" I wondered if he was insane, because he was clearly too real to be a robot. That kind of stuff only existed in movies
"No, I am completely biological. I was created in this lab, from various human DNA samples. However, that DNA was radically altered to make me the perfect human. Your father was trying to use my blood to find a cure for the genetic disease that killed your sister."
That seemed more plausible, though still a little sci-fi "H-how old are you?"
Achilles tilted his head curiously, "What is the date?"
"Um.. July... " I stammered. "July seventh. Two-thousand nine."
"Then I am three years, two months, and twenty three days old."
I blinked. It was all so surreal. It wasn't possible, was it? He appeared to be older than I was, mid-twenties perhaps. "Um, you look a lot older than three, Achilles."
"Yes. I was engineered to grow and learn rapidly, within a special chamber that your father invented, though I have since begun aging normally."
He pointed again, across the room. There was a steel chamber large enough for a person to lay in; it resembled a round coffin, with dozens of tubes and wires hooked up to it
"Th-that's amazing. I mean, if that's true, you're quite amazing."
"Thank you." he said, with a smile. "Do I belong to you now?"
That question about floored me. What was I going to do with him? What could I do? I wasn't even sure what he was. "I don't know, Achilles. I suppose so. I should probably take you home until we can figure out what to do. I mean, I can't leave you here."
"Okay." he replied easily, rising from the table to stand easily a foot taller than me. I suddenly remembered he was still fully naked.
"Um, do you have any clothes, Achilles?'
"No."
"Oh. Uh... okay." I looked around the room and spotted a long white lab coat. "There, why don't you put that lab coat on? I can't have you riding around in my Jeep naked."
After loading the boxes containing my father's effects, I led Achilles out to the Jeep, looking about to make sure no one was watching us. As I drove us towards home I noticed he was looking around with child-like curiosity, as though everything was new to him. I wasn't sure what to say to him and remained quiet. My thoughts were hardly coherent anyway. I had no idea what to do with him, or if I should tell anyone about him. Clearly my father kept his existence a secret; otherwise Achilles would have been global news. An artificial human... was it even possible?
He was watching the other cars drive by when I finally spoke, "Achilles, have you ever been out of the lab?"
"Only on a few rare occasions." he replied. "Your father wanted to keep me a secret."
"Do you know much about the world? You... I mean, you talk fairly normally, and you obviously know about Greek tales..."
"Yes. I have an adaptive intelligence with a broad knowledge base." Then he added, with a hint of remorse in his voice, "...but little actual experience."
I glanced aside, suddenly feeling sorry for him. He was still staring wide-eyed through the car windows as I turned onto the suburban street of my house. I noted how absolutely beautiful he was, with his innocent expression and physical perfection. I had to hand it to my father, if he really had created Achilles he had done a damn fine job. He was perfect looking.
