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Alan Cohen

Profile Updated: February 15, 2014
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Residing In:
7812 Grenlock dr. Sylvania, OH USA
Spouse/Partner:
widowwer
Occupation:
Store Owner, Writer
Children:
Sarah, 30 Singer of Year in Toledo 2009
Ben, 24 Musician teacher
Isaac, Sports Illustrated Cameraman.
Estar, More…Jazz UT
Joe, Outstanding Baseball Player 18
Comments:

Grad Marietta Ohio College Commuications
Published First Women's Sports Newspaper 1976-77 D.C.
Rainbow Gathering Oregon 1978
Friends of Patch Adams original
Hitchiked home from Oregon
Named Happy Badger by New Age Medicine Man Little Feather and hitchhiked around for two years as such.
Met wife to be Donna in Toronto convention on Humanities
Hitchhiked together on West Coast a year.
Came to Toledo with $5 in 1980. Advertising 25 years.
Five kids, all musicians. Opened and shut concert hall, cafe and store 1 year. Own a fair trade natural clothing and gift store in Bowling Green named Happy Badger. Writing short stories currently. Look forward to meeting everybody again.

School Story:

Football coach Sisson was a drag until the end.
Ghost searching was indeed fun.
The Cohen party was crazy.
David Curtain was a great singer.
Glenn, Ron, Phil, Henry, Steve, Great Friends

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Alan Cohen has been added to In Memory.
Sep 17, 2014 at 12:33 AM
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Alan Cohen posted a message.
Jul 09, 2014 at 8:49 PM

barbara, Please contact me at happybadger@happybadger.com asj your husband if it is all right. alan

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Alan Cohen posted a message.
Jul 09, 2014 at 1:00 PM

i wrote this story. i wanted to see what you thought.

Searching For Simon
By Alan “Happy Badger” Cohen

It was the age of new found technologies and lost souls.
Simon surveyed the huge crowd of company employees that had gathered this morning to mutually support and salute each other at the annual Enterprise meeting. He unconsciously fidgeted throughout the speeches, half caring that his own group was to present their work later that day.
His work? Simon, dark brown hair and be speckled eyes, sturdy build and dressed in a blue suit, was an investigative engineer in the Department of Human Enhancement, as Simon liked to expound, “Things The Great Creator didn't make.” Regardless, he was part of a group that was arguably the most controversial, having been through the Clone societal debate back in 2022. Indeed, his boss, Dr. Morningdale was the virtual ‘King of Enterprise,’ until the Clone project was shut down for being “incompatible,” a designation that meant “not profitable for Enterprise in the ‘current human climate.’
Cloning, it seemed, was on the outskirts of societal acceptance, at the time, anyway.
“Too many loose ends,” Simon used to say to his girlfriend, Denise. a pretty, boisterous 29 year old from a small town in Illinois. She was an assistant at Enerprise.
Still, there were more than enough new projects to keep busy. Major secrets of the universe had only just recently been discovered, which had led to literally hundreds of new inventions from Time Travel to the ‘Faxatron,’ a mechanism that was embedded in a person's head and capable of certain communications instantaneously. It truly was an age of wonderment and accomplishment, though signs of human depravity were always surfacing.
Though forced mysteriously to the background by Enterprise top brass, Dr. Morningdale was still revered as a top player, and appreciated at special speaking engagements, like today. It was the only program detail keeping Simon awake now.
“How did he get this way?” Simon thought about himself, as yet another project leader approached the microphone. He had been an outstanding contributor to a number of other new inventions in previous years, Employee of the Year in 2022. Only in recent months leading up to the annual meeting had he been disgruntled, uninspired and questioning his life. He felt incomplete in his relationship, unsatisfied at work and disengaged with various friends. He determined he was 'searching for something.' He just didn't know what?
“Take a little while off,” suggested Denise, “ Go travel. Have you ever been any place outside of Enterprise?” He couldn't honestly remember. Totally engaged to his work, his memory was like a short video, composed of a few close people, a couple locations and Enterprise. Where was Simon in these scenes? Where was his inner drive? Why did he think Simon was missing Simon?
“It was a mystery just starting,” Simon thought, “but where should he begin?” He half drifted off; as yet another speaker took the top spot on stage. Lunch had passed. Simon had skipped it. Soon Dr. Morningdale would be on stage.
“Maybe his appearance would help Simon clear up his searching,” he thought. “ Or, increase it.“ Simon really didn't know. Groups and time passed by, until he heard a commotion behind the curtains. It was the Doctor and Enterprise personnel. They were arguing. Then the partition opened. He was white haired, in his seventies, be-speckled and unprofessionally dressed, a picture of an unsophisticated inventor, just out of the lab. Indeed, pencils and pens hung out of his pocket, giving an even more “down to business” look.
“We are once again,” he began ostentatiously, as the audience grew silent, “at an edge in scientific discovery. Will mankind be improved, made more curious, or bored? It is in your mind and body to answer. Will you rise to the occasion? Will you stand up and be part of history?”
On that last question, the Doctor peered, without doubt, directly at Simon.   Was it a co-incidence? Was it a sign? Simon couldn't sit still.
Enterprise workers assembled around the stage. Dr. Morningdale was through talking, even if he didn't know it. He looked up, saw the guards, noticeable because of their Enterprises’ gold badgers, and left the stage. Simon had seen enough, as well. He got up and vacated the auditorium. It hadn't been what the Doctor had said, but that look he had received. It couldn't have been more direct.
“Simon, who of us has not asked that question” a fellow employee remarked, seemingly relieved, “It wouldn't be life, if we already knew all the answers.”
Simon reacted quickly and decisively.
“I didn't make this trip,” he started, “ to question the fleeting subject of the meaning of life. “I'm here because I am obsessed. If you can't help me, then I will be leaving, sir.”
“What did it mean?” Simon said to himself as he walked away. He was on a journey and it was real. This was the beginning. He was going to find his missing self, but could there be another mystery afoot, as well?
“Just where do I start?” he asked out-loud to no one in particular, as he walked down the hall.

Chapter Two

Simon looked at himself in the mirror.
“Who was he?” he asked the glass,
”Do I even know you?” It was a beginning. He had an appointment with the company physiologist in an hour and was preparing.
“No brothers or sisters, ”he said out-loud to himself, “ no harassing parents.” Indeed, no need to go back so far. He had a normal, happy childhood. Suddenly a family portrait flashed in his mind. It was the one he always saw when he thought of family. That and the ‘once a year telephone call’ at his birthday from his parents. His questioning had only surfaced in the last six months. Simon had noticed his relationship with Denise always had a question. He wasn't even sure what the question was, only that there was a lack of complete satisfaction in every part of their existence. If it was a question of commitment, Simon came up with an excuse that even startled him. It wasn't just his female partner. It was work, too. Nothing excited him anymore. Not entirely, like before. There would be no repeat of the “Scientist of The Year” award for Simon. His achievements weren't less, but his satisfaction was always missing something. It boggled his mind, enough to stop and head for the door. The elevator was busy, but opened at his push of a button. Inside the compartment was an elderly man in a grey suit. He kept to himself, though suspiciously interested, and soon they parted ways as the elevator came to the lobby.
Chapter Three

In a haze, Simon entered the Doctor's office, determined to get answers to his sincerest question. He had already made plans to free himself by taking a leave of absence from work, promising Denise a fond return and buying a U.S. Map. Now was the first stop. After this, who knew?
The private room was headed by one of those big thick doors with the nameplate on the top. Fancy.
“The company retained the best in healthcare,” Enterprise said.
“So, you are Mr. Simon,“ the doctor looked him over in admiration,
“Come, sit for a while and we'll talk.” They rambled towards a private room in similar style. “ So, you have been a wonderful employee, winner of the 2022 Best Employee award. Impressive. So, what's the problem?”
“Simon is my first name, sir,” Simon began resiliently, “ I am searching, Doctor. But, I'm not sure particularly what for? It sounds trivial, I know. But, it is an unusual and persistent question for me. Can you help me out?”
Simon leaned back on the couch and waited for the Doctor's answer. He was not amused by the Dr.'s obvious dispassion.
He got off the couch to leave, and expected a handshake. None came. He looked puzzled. Doctor Troy raised his arm and motioned Simon back to the couch.
“It's my opinion, ”he began, brushing back his white uniform “that we all have times like these. However, your anger and insistence are duly noted. I can only advise you to follow your instincts in such matters. Science around here is mighty big, but in normal life, intuition carries a lot of weight. Since your passion seems unbridled, I suggest you think about your question and break it down into real steps of discovery. Maybe then you'll find your next move. Good luck.”
Had he heard him right? Had he said, “Go for it?” It seemed out of the ordinary, considering their Enterprise surroundings. Yet, the doctor, studying his charts from his chair, seemed legitimate. Simon hesitated a moment longer before grabbing the door handle out, wondering why he hadn't been given a medication. He felt more sure about himself and quest as he had ever had, and his question had been furthered.
“It was only beginning,“ he thought soberly to himself, “That nagging feeling was stronger than ever.” He considered a few choices. He concentrated on the pain in his stomach, trying to sense a direction.
Suddenly, George met him, a scientist locked in “Creative Consumption,” basically an eating class amidst a realm of superior Enterprise projects.
“Hey Simon,“ George announced upon seeing Simon in the hallway,
”So, word is you are out of Enterprise and traveling. Where to?”
Simon was shocked. Had his mission been so trivialized that every cook and doctor was mocking his quest? He turned the office corner, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of an unknown man standing, almost waiting for Simon to exit. He turned his head as Simon passed.
Simon's sense of individuality was being aroused. He needed to get away. He saw a picture poster on the wall. It was the famous Smoky Mountains.
“To the mountains, alone,” he thought.

Chapter Four

At home, Simon finished packing his bags, checking his backpack for rope.
“How many ways could a person use rope,” he thought to himself, “it was irreplaceable.”
He closed the door behind him, paused a second longer and then headed to his Jeep, perfect for a trip to the mountains.
“He couldn't hit the road fast enough” he thought as he loaded his baggage. ”This nagging feeling is worse, not better.“
Enterprise was in the Washington D.C. Area, and it would take all day to get to the mountains of Tennessee. He planted his foot on the pedal and scurried down the road, this time not looking back. All that mattered any more was his pain and that look from Dr.Morningdale. It had been piercing, as if he was telling Simon a message. Still, he could have been imagining the attention. He shook his head to clear the thoughts away and concentrate on his trip.
Hours later, the Smoky Mountains were in view. He stopped at a local motel in the town of Gatlinburg and called it a night. Simon was at the gateway to the Smoky Mountains as well as his own life.
Thinking back, his break away had been clean, exact and easier than anticipated. He felt a sense of fate had now become a driver of his life and he liked the sensation of being carried. He laid down to sleep, thinking of what would be shown to him tomorrow.
“ He was ready, “he thought, setting his automatic alarm, an ingrown head device that was directly set to the exact time. It had been part of the Implant Committee of 2020.
“A small invention at best,” he murmured as he drifted off, “could have been done ten years ago.” And he was asleep.

Chapter Five

Hiking up the trail to Mt. Thunderhead was marvelous, More…but time consuming to Simon. He admired the forestry and undergrowth, but was expecting answers to his inner quest at every step. It was a conflicting, hike to say the least.
“Oh,” he blurted out, “ the beauty!” as he watched clouds float by, only a few feet above his head.
“This is why they call it the Smoky Mountains. If only my head were rid of its' 'clouds'.”
After six hours, through forests of evergreens and small saplings he had reached the summit. It was sundown, and time to settle into the shelter, a eight by eight fenced in box with three cots. Nothing enlightening had come to him that day, though he was enthralled with the natural beauty and surroundings. He lied down and immediately fell asleep.

Chapter Six

Suddenly Simon was awakened by a pushing sound at his gated forest palace, the shelter. He made out another person coming in. He sat up to see a hiker enter, bearded with glasses and a snowcap. He quickly introduced himself.
“Howdy, ”he announced in a jovial manner, ”didn't mean to jostle you. “No, not by any means. I'm Lester, Lester Forester.   I hope you don't find me intrusive. I got a late start. Traveled the last half-mile in the dark. But, I've been on this trail many times.”
Simon was surprised, suspicious, yet keenly interested. His insides began to surge in energy like something had set it off. They got out of the shelter, raised a fire and sat on nearby rocks.
“So, you say you've been up here before? ”Simon asked suspiciously, “ It is really beautiful, isn't it? Makes a fellow wonder, that's for sure.”
“Wonder, for sure,” he replied, turning his gaze directly at Simon's face, ”of all the times you've been busy in your normal life, how many times have you stopped, just to think about who you are.”
He stopped to see Simon's reaction. He was startled, but not overwhelmed.
“Would I be in the mountains, ”Simon answered sternly, “Sitting with you if searching for more than my workings was a passing fad? I am a scientist, not someone prone to fancy.”
Lester took the hint.
“ I came because I too have searched,” Lester began quietly, “ for that missing piece that would satisfy my existence. My work had opened me up to so many scientific inventions that I felt incomplete as a being. The more I created, the less I felt complete. I was at a standstill. It was a horrible feeling and it swept over into my private life as well. It led me to God, I tell you. See, God was out of my reach. I couldn't invent such a being. He created us.”
Simon was stunned.   Science and Enterprise had dispelled any concept of most of the religious-God theories quite a while back. Yet, there were still massive groups dedicated to upholding their beliefs all across the world. Indeed, if it hadn't been for science stepping forward, the world would have been quite blown up by all their fighting and arguing. Science had given the religious people one focal point to be mad at, science, and it didn't hurt that it did not have emotions or ego to get in
Its’ middle. Still, there was a case for a Creator, since science hadn't figured out how the very essence of anything had begun. So Simon understood this man by the fire, even though it was contrary to his normal work. If he had discovered something to ease his pain, than it might be worth a look and listen. He stood up at the fire and stared at his guest.
“So where does one search,” he resonated clearly, but hesitantly, “ for God, the Creator?”
“There are many forms,” the guest began, “ In the Far East, you can find Buddhism, Hinduism, all the oldest religions. They have a lot of life written into their beliefs. There are the gurus out there, young and old, that can see a man's soul and help his quest.”
Simon was aroused again. A guru might know what was stimulating him so intensely inside. This man had given Simon some key words in his quest: soul, God, religion and Guru. All new, just from this one fire encounter. Each of the campers seemed satisfied. They said their “good nights” and headed to sleeping bags.   Simon was on his way across the ocean as soon as possible. That gnawing feeling inside was growing hotter, like a furnace.
Chapter Seven
With the morning sunlight, the guest was already gone. Simon checked his gear and everything seemed in place. Still, Simon wondered about the validity of such a guest met in the middle of the night. Was his a valid direction? It was too important not to pay attention and seek the truth of such actions. He drove back to work.
He stopped by his girlfriend's house, since it was late. Simon had not forgotten the warmth she provided, or dinner. She seemed surprised, but glad to see him so soon.
“If we all could find ourselves,” she began sarcastically, “ as fast as you, it would be a fantastic, happy planet. Of course you'd be out of work, also. Are you healed?”
Simon smiled, but he was serious.
“I have four words for you,” he announced, “ Soul. God. Religion. Guru.” They are all new to me, but someone or some thing wants me to know each for some reason.”
Denise appeared confused for a minute, but gathered her composure to sensibly follow Simon's train of thought.
“Those are more than words,” she said quickly, “ they are concepts, I believe. Aren't they? Can they ease your pain?”
Simon looked for some kind of clue from Denise, but found none. He sat down at the kitchen table and groped for food. He continued, “I was visited by a fellow at my shelter last night. Those four words represent the essence of our conversation. “Soul, God, Creator, Life”
“You've never mentioned such words,” she said, ”They are...they are non-scientific. “
“I want to know, ”Simon responded, “I want to know, before I go.
Denise looked up from her dinner. She seemed surprised and startled.
“Nepal?” she asked, “ when?”
“Yes,” he responded quietly, “ soon.” “First a stop at Dr. Morningdales's, “Simon observed,” There is some kind of connection here, ever since the annual meeting at Enterprise. But, what is it?
He finished his supper and headed for the bed. One more night in a friendly bed would be sensational.

Chapter Eight
Dr.Morningdale's office was vacant. Simon looked around closer to see if anything popped out. Books, piled on top of each other, scattered his desk. He scanned a couple titles, “ Cloning Conspiracy,” Superior Knowledge,” “Live forever.” These were very appropriate for Enterprise. What little science group wouldn't have this collection? Then, he saw something, something out of place. It was a travel magazine. There, on its front cover was big headline, “NEPAL NUIANCES, LEARN TO SAY NO, NOW!” So, Dr. Morningdale had heard of Nepal?
“In what capacity?” he wondered, “It couldn't be a vacation.” Simon was startled as the door suddenly opened behind him. It was Sherry, the Doctor's assistant. “He's gone,” she said right away, “ You are Simon, right? The
Enterprise co-worker. Well, I thought you would have known. He's gone off to Nepal for some scientific investigation. Did you need him?”
No, he didn't need him. At least he didn't think he did. He couldn't figure out any reason why, other than they were both outcasts of Enterprise. One seemed to be tossed out and one, Simon, was an outstanding citizen. Nonetheless, both were off and going far away from Enterprise.
Simon headed for the door. He was off to Nepal. Religion or Dr. Morningdale? It didn't really matter. They were both just two pieces to the puzzle.   He rushed out of the office without saying goodbye.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that same man standing at the hallway corner.
“Who was that man? ”Simon talked to himself, “in the corner.” He'd seen him before, at the party a few days ago and at the elevator at the clinic. He was stubby, dressed in a gray coat, untied necktie and Stetson gray hat.   He quickly lost attention. The magazine had mentioned a secluded hotel. Reservations were just a phone call away. And, as well as, maybe, the answer to his stomach problems, too.

Chapter Nine

The streets of Nepal were crowded, busy like Washington D.C., except smaller. Yet, there was a sense of mystery and oldness as well, and it wasn't political. It was as if you could feel the ripeness of religion at every step, as if anyone could tell you what the Creator really was. His hotel was modern, but his walk outside was the opposite. Shopkeepers beckoned Simon to their stalls, while food operators barked their wares. The city was full of energy and excitement. Simon looked like a typical tourist with his lopsided straw hat, glasses and wide eyed and thrown from one adventure to another. He had no rhyme or reason, just that aching feeling inside his stomach. He stopped at a bar in the middle of the town. He asked for the House Favorite, some kind of alcoholic Chai, and sipped it down, hoping to warn his stomach that he wasn't messing around. It didn't work. It still ached.
“Was it possible? ”He began in earnest to the Sherpa man beside him, “that a person could be so obsessed in trying to “find himself,” that he actually would manifest such a parallel being in physical form?” He didn't expect an answer and was surprised when the man spoke.
“Anything is possible,” he said, ”it is all in our mind. “
Outside, a commotion caught Simon's attention. It was a small group of men, two in very long colorfull robes. Another man wore Western Clothes and carried a camera. They were religious men, the two and the man was trying to take their picture. They were being harassed. Simon left money and joined the fracas. He understood the holy men's reaction and found himself on their side against the American.
“Please. Let them be,” Simon pleaded with the American, “ they do not want their picture taken.”
The reporter relented and Simon was thanked. His eyes met one of the holy mans' eyes and he became immersed. It was if they had known each other forever. The robed one waved his arm to encourage Simon to walk along side, and he did.
“This was a stroke of genius and luck, ”Simon thought, “He had met a holy man. Maybe, he would know about his problem. “
They arrived a half-hour later at a small abode and walked inside. Cleaning up in a washbowl, the Holy man motioned Simon to set on some pillows in the next room. He meant for Simon to have a session.


Chapter Ten

Simon had not experienced such an event; as the guru was showing. He didn't even know if the guy spoke English. They were seated in a lavishly decorated room, full of religious statues and pictures. It was lushly colorful. The guru sat cross-legged, (what else?) on the elevated floor at one end of the room. He was on a beautiful handmade rug surrounded by candles. It was deeply convincing. Simon sat in the middle of the room, also cross-legged and quiet. He was thinking of the best questions to ask this holy man. Finally, the guru opened the onversation.
“You may speak,” he said quietly, but confidently, “you have a question?”
Simon did not feel rushed, so he collected his thoughts once again, before speaking.
“I am searching,” he began hesitantly, “ searching for Simon, myself. I am missing, dear sir.”
The guru did not alter his stance. He responded in a solemn voice without hesitation.
“Your search is valid, ”the guru said in a mild chant,” Soon, you will find yourself. Keep your eyes open and your heart will follow. Soon. Close.”
Simon was astounded and shook his head in agreement. This is what he felt too. The feelings inside his stomach were aching like a machine operating in full gear. His thinking was clear. His intuition had been on high. This feeling could only be compared to that previous mountain climb, but more real.
He had heard enough. He got up and bowed, turned towards the door and left. The streets were less than full now, twilight being overcome by darkness. Getting his bearings, he turned in the direction of the hotel. He was full of energy now, and eager to continue his quest.
“What had the Guru, “ he thought to himself, “meant when he said 'find yourself?'” Simon wondered, when out of the corner of his eye, down the street, he caught a glimpse of a man, ducking into an abandoned warehouse door.
“Why did he jump so,” he wondered himself, but could it be? The face and body was so familiar, very familiar. “
He needn't have looked in the mirror. It was he, Simon. They had met eyes. If only for that brief second, they had met, head on. It felt shocking, exhilarating and confusing. Simon noticed something. He was frozen like a statue of stone on an Art Museum pedestal. His heart was pounding very noticeably.

Chapter Eleven

Simon did not know what to do.
“Sure, “ he thought, “ I should go and see this man. Most likely, it was a close resemblance, the sensation heightened by his meeting with the Guru, just moments before. Yet, that look, the man's eyes, told him the answer he had been looking for all along. It was Simon!”
Was this the conclusion to his quest? Simon had discussed with his bar companion the previous hour, that if he continued such a passionate quest that he just might replicate or produce another Simon, just like himself! Had he manifested this other body or come so close that only further, up close investigation could prove? He only knew what he had known all along in his quest, to go forward. The ‘inside grinding’ of his stomach told him that as much as anything else.
Simon turned towards the warehouse and walked. He conditionally turned around quickly to see if anyone was following. There was no one he knew. It was a singular private quest, as it had been all along. He turned the knob on the warehouse door and slowly walked in. It was bright in the large room and filled with machinery, glistening from the fluorescent lighting above. It actually seemed scientific, quite a surprise, considering the local surroundings. Simon felt a slight sense of relief, surrounded by such familiar objects. Then, the man revealed himself, the individual he had seen moments before, in the streets. He came out of a
Smaller room, still speaking to the person behind him. It was Dr. Morningdale!   Simon felt set up!   Who was this man who looked like him? Simon felt an anger surfacing inside him.
“YOU SET ME UP! he screamed, “You son's of bitches. You set me up!“
The threesome looked at each other as if to get their story straight. Then the Doctor spoke.
“You judge us all too swiftly, ”he implored, and “We are not criminals we are discoverers, scientists. We are pioneers. You, Simon will be the first.”
Simon gave the threesome two moments of speaking sanely and then realized he was at the beginning of this discovery and hadn't a clue as to what “good,” the Doctor was talking about. First of all, who was that person who looked like himself?
“I remember the day you were created, ”began the Doctor, “The procedure was amazing. As operative lab as good, had never been. All to create you. Another Simon.”
Simon buckled his knees. He realized his search was over, but wasn't sure about the results. What did this mean? He was a clone?
“Oh, No, “ he blurted, “ you bastards. I'm a Simon clone. I'm nothing more than your creation. A clone. A lousy clone.”
Dr. Morningdale stopped and acknowledged his creation's feelings. Then he went on with the explanation.
“True,” he said, “All true. You are a Simon clone and have done an admiral job the past four years, but it isn't enough. You've been missing something, and now we've found it. That's why you are here.”
Simon wasn't listening to reasoning right now. He was caught in a world of disbelief; of realizing he was a clone and not the Human Simon. He hadn't considered such an alternative, not in all his life dealings, not with his girlfriend and not with Enterprise work. He felt, frankly, lost, lost on numerous planes of existence. Yet, something was clear. He had a distinct feeling of betrayal from the Doctor.
“What part had he had,” Simon thought to himself, “ How had he ended up in his travels at this very room?”
He searched for the answers, but was cloudy in his thinking. He had to adjust to realizing he was only a clone. Nonetheless, he was still Simon, a very capable individual, with a strong sense of correctness.
“ I know you have a million questions, “ interrupted Dr. Morningdale, “ which will be answered in good time. The big question is how do you feel about being a Simon clone with a soul? That's right, your own soul. That energy force within humans that make us different than other creatures. We're talking about a real soul that connects us to the Creator.”
Simon was dumfounded. All his questions seemed insignificant compared to the issue in front of him now.
“A soul?,” he thought, “It had been a great debate back in the first days of cloning. It had been a source of frustration for humans who united against Enterprise and subsequently Dr. Morningdale, who was not an avid supporter of disbanding the project. Who knew it was the Doctor's inner wish to solve the problem and find a solution to the “soul” issue. “
Of course, there was the rub. Religious leaders wanted an invasion of God's No.1 gift, birth, stopped. It was bad enough Dr. Morningdale had created another man, but to give him a soul was beyond reproach. No religious person, it appeared wanted to replace God in that highest manner.
“So, this is where you went,” observed Simon the Clone, “to continue your project, in revered seclusion. With me as your co-conspirator, though only on a need to know basis. So, now you have called me forward. For what, I might ask, but I know you have created a machine to capture the soul. This I can tell from the machinery in this room, alone. This is piracy, I believe. As for my part, I am not a member of the soul fan club. Is there such a thing? “
Simon the clone had a point. It had been a topic of serious conversation by humans for ages, mentioned in every religion in one form or another. “The Soul: Window to a Supreme Being.” How many book titles did he know already, many on the Doctor's desk, as he recalled. Still there was a nagging question of how he was led here.
“Ingenious,” he thought,” but, was it all a set up?” Dr.Morningdale anticipated Simon's “more immediate” thought process and answered.
“Every person of significance,” the Doctor said,” from the party to just before you entered, was a part of the plan. And to keep you going is a device implanted in your stomach that increases the adrenaline. The thought process was your own. I'd say the process was a success.”
Simon looked perplexed. “The Guru too?” he blurted out quickly. Dr. Morningdale looked sadly down at the floor.
“Yes,” he replied slowly, “ He is a real guru, if that helps. And, he was not told what to say other than that it was important you are here. It was a good trip wasn't it?”
It suddenly became clear. Simon became more alert as another Dr. Morningdale entered the room. It was his clone, no doubt.
“You are correct in your thinking,” said Dr. Morningdale, “my clone; without a soul. “
This equipment, then, was meant to insert a soul into the clones, therefore allowing the clone to exist as a complete being.
“And how do you know the soul exists?” Simon the Clone asked the Doctor. “Isn't the concept of soul a figment of a religious imagination? Did you create one for your purposes?”
“Soul is not an illusion,” the Doctor shot back, “Soul, at the very least, is an energy field that cannot be destroyed. Changed, captured, transferred to another physical embodiment, yes! But, not destroyed. Death to a body is the end of the heart beating and the escape of soul. It is endless energy, somehow reprogrammed to inhabit another. All we had to do was capture that energy and redistribute it into the clone. “
Simon was mad as he had ever been, “Who says this energy, ”he yelled sternly,” is not extra human gas or the result of final electron activity. Who can name it a soul? You? Are you God?”
Dr. Morningdale was stunned. His words made sense, since he had, indeed, created Simon. He thought Simon would be astounded and a willing participant. His fury of not being a complete human, he thought would have propelled him to this final experiment. It was the reason so many were against the project years ago. If the Doctor added a soul, it was against God. He was dead wrong about Simon's enthusiasm.
“What is a soul,” Simon asked, not expecting an answer,” Isn't what you are attempting, a direct affront to the very God you count as a creator? For what purpose?”
Then it was clear. He could live forever. That was it. Just keep creating more clones, as one aged, insert a used soul and live for another 70 years. It was fountain of youth, king of the universe, Lord of the Highest, the Methuselah of Methuselah. But Simon was not convinced.
“Maybe I don't want this human Simon's soul,” he thought aloud, “Isn't a soul supposed to do right? Do you call this situation right? Perhaps a soul needs to transcend, to improve itself, to experience new lives, at the very least. If, indeed, there is a real Soul, aren't you stopping its normal evolution?”
Tempers were flaring. Simon the Clone was determined to fight this transition of Souls experiment to the end. Dr. Morningdale was already ahead of the argument, warming up the machine. Simon the Real, arms crossed, was in a corner, listening closely to his clone's arguments and suddenly realizing he was about to “die.”
He was about to confront the Doctor when another man slid into the room, with his gun pointed. It was the same person noticed by Simon those previous times at the Enterprise. Who was he?
“Place your hands behind your backs,” he yelled instructions at gunpoint,” You're under arrest for working with Clones.”'
He was Lieutenant Green. He had been following Simon since Enterprise, having uncovered Simon's relationship with the Doctor. This was the end to the chase, a very successful one to this point.
Dr. Morningdale was not in a mood to comply. He was dead set to give his clone his everlasting soul that night, after Simon's trial run. He grabbed another gun from the desk drawer behind him and held it in the policeman's direction.
“I will not be stopped tonight,” he shouted hysterically,” not
tonight.” Lt. Green was immediately sobered to the severity of the situation.
He looked prepared to shoot. “Dr., put down the gun,” he shouted, “You're turning this into a
nightmare. Now, drop the gun, before someone is hurt.” “Pop. Pop!” the gun went off and bullets struck the policeman.
Before he fell, he lifted his gun and fired back. As he lined up his gun, the Clone Doctor jumped in front of the Real Doctor, in obvious attempt to save his life. The policeman's gun fired, but hit the ‘Clone Doctor,” who collapsed to the ground. He gasped for breath.
“I wanted to help,” he whispered,” I just wanted to help. “ Dr. Morningdale was overwhelmed. He kneeled by his clone and wept. “I wanted to make you live forever,” he wept, “forever, did you hear? There is so much more to create. So much more good to do.” It was too late. Both the policeman and Clone Doctor were dead.
They wouldn't be helping anyone. Simon the Clone couldn't believe his eyes. Behind the desk and dying scene on the floor, Simon the human was busy. He picked up the loose gun and aimed it at the living human Doctor.
“I am through,” he yelled at Dr. Morningdale, “through. I do not want to die. I do not want to aid in this lark with life a moment longer. You have to be stopped! You cannot play God.”
Dr. Morningdale looked up with tears still in his eyes to see his life's work protest his intentions. He was shocked and bewildered.
“Oh, Simon,” he pleaded, “ I didn't think ayou were so dedicated to adding a clone to your life. Is he not everything I promised? Is he not you? If I save your soul, don't I save you?
Simon the Human was shaken. It was true. He had bought into the idea that a man's soul was indestructible. He would continue to exist, only inside his own clone. The idea seemed plausible when discussed months and years ago. Only now, with death all around him, did Simon resist the idea. He could only see himself bloodied and dead. It wasn't a pretty picture.
The doctor moved towards the machine and turned a switch to” Functional,” position. He moved slowly, looking back to see if Simon the Human was still stable. He was shaking but watching, like a convicted killer before his own execution.
“You will live forever my friend,” he said to Simon, “You're clone will be a hero a hundred times over and his clone will be smarter still.”
Suddenly Simon the Human shot the gun, hitting the Doctor, as he was maneuvering the machine further.
“I am not a God,” he shouted surprisingly calm, “I am only a human being.”
Simon the Clone looked on helplessly. He felt the same way even though he had the chance to live forever. The machine was still running, buzzing along like a finely tuned Mercedes. For a moment, the thought ran through his mind about living forever. The opportunity was here at this
moment and nobody would ever know who killed who. Simon the Human sensed the thoughts of his clone. “I thought you didn't believe in a Soul,” he asked his Clone,” all of a sudden it's so real to you. Let me ask you this. If our human Souls were so good, why are there three bodies on the floor right now, all dead?” Simon the Clone didn't want to fight with the Human Simon. Indeed, he came into the argument resisting any confirmation that there was any soul at all.   But now, he was consumed with the potential of a complete life, for lifetimes to come. Now, Simon the Human was forcing him to take the wrong side of the soul argument.
“I am not interested in the goodness of a Soul,” he defended, “If there is such an everlasting energy, perhaps it isn't even concerned with the everyday human experience. After all, humans have survived throughout history despite some bad instances. These souls must have a higher calling, perhaps on a plane not comprehended or understood by our Earthling inhabitants.“
Simon the Human looked careful and suspicious. This clone had other motives, and if his death was one of them...well, he's seen how that ends...right there on the floor. Simon the Clone didn't know where this was heading. His inner instincts felt fear, but at the same time compassion for his Human Simon.
“If this Soul, “ he began, “was so endearing and important, why are we in this position right now? Anyone with a decent Soul would not have played God and created us Clones in the first place. There is such a thing as Death. We have just seen it. Who's to say it is not a process of the soul to evolve...to evolve the entire Human race to some undetermined goal?”
Simon the Human shook his head.
“Only the former Doctor,” he responded,” could have proven such a soul existed. It was the highlight of his career. But, he is gone and so is his so called soul. Are you going to take up his quest? Now? Here?”
He was mad. He lifted the gun to fire on Simon the Clone. His fingers closed in on the trigger, but the bullets were gone. The professor had used them on the lights and the policeman. He threw it to the ground. Simon the Clone felt alone. The rest of the lights blinked out as he leaped towards the Human Clone. He couldn't wait for him to find a way to reload.
“What makes you think,” he blurted out as he grabbed the Human Simon by the jacket,” I would have anything associated with your soul? I haven't seen anything tonight that would sway me to your soul actions. Indeed I think you need to turn yourself in to the police for the shooting of the Professor. His death is your doing. I will testify as to the itinerary of the other deaths.”
Simon the Human was distraught. He let it be known as the two scuffled.
“I was a dead man,” he pleaded,” without choice. Maybe the police will see that all this death was your doing. All of a sudden I think my soul has value to you.”
The two were a good match, similar bone structure and muscles. But, it was not to be a tie. In the dark, it was hard to tell the difference between the two as they wrestled around and around. Both were bloodied. Both were weary. But one accidentally hit their head onto the Soul Catcher machine, a fatal blow that ended the fight. One of the Simon’s was dead Leaning against the switch,In the process, the soul catching machine was accidently turned on. It buzzed as if eager to swallow a fresh soul. The radar satellite pieces lit up. The computer started illuminating facts and figures across its screen. It was sucking up the life force, or soul, of the deceased Simon.
The surviving Simon was exhausted, beat up and hanging onto life by a thread. He wobbled to one of the chairs vacant on the machine and sat down. The machine automatically locked him in. Energy could be seen like lightning traveling between satellite dishes. Had it succeeded in transferring the soul of Simon, or just gone through the motions?
Who won?
The End Out of the now vacant building, into the early morning sunlight,
one Simon walked slowly down the street. The buzzing noise of the great Soul Machine was the only sound in the night. Had it been used by the Clone Simon or just left on through the fight. In the morning, authorities would find four bodies, two that looked alike, Simon and the detective. The Soul Machine would be surveyed and dismissed as another wayward scientific discovery, its intentions unknown. It was the age of vast discoveries and lost souls.
“Well,” mumbled one of the Simons, glad the ordeal was over, “Bless my soul.”

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Alan Cohen posted a message.
Jun 27, 2014 at 10:05 AM

HI. How r you and your family? I started a blof on Wordpress. Wrote a short sotry called "The Last Summver" bout a man and his family's reaction to the 'end of world' coming. Take care, Alan

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Alan Cohen added a comment on Profile.
May 25, 2014 at 12:23 PM
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Alan Cohen posted a message.
May 23, 2014 at 6:49 PM

hello. remember me? up the street. been chatting with Big R. my number is 419 817 5087/ HOpe everything is good.

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Alan Cohen posted a message. New comment added.
May 23, 2014 at 7:24 PM

Posted on: May 23, 2014 at 6:44 PM

Hello Barbara, Been chatting with Big R, Ronie Reed. Says you girls are going to Ocean City this weekend. I once drove there in a yellow triumph and came back in a red Fiat. I painted it red white and blue for the Centennial in 1976.Have a great time. My son is serving a gourmet breakfast, not bad for Toledo, tomorrow morning. My youngest son, Joe, got the winning single in State tourney for BG high school.Talk to you lalter, alan

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Alan Cohen updated profile. View.
Feb 15, 2014 at 4:34 PM
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Alan Cohen added a comment on Profile.
Jan 11, 2014 at 6:39 PM


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