Isn't it Rich? Isn't it Queer?

I was not as if it were quiet times that tempted the All-Seeing Murphy that night -- we were occupied with the usual run of Consulate business and busy-ness, and more quietly coping with the aftermath of the events set in motion upon New Erabus. There was the grand opening of the New Consulate, and the myriad special events of the various communities and people among whom we were set; there were new children to care for, and new liaisons to settle into.

How does one prepare for the possibility of a Consulate employee causing both an incipient security threat and a potential international incident, with nothing but her libido? (Yes, very well, my readers know the tale of Monica Lewinsky; we did not, in those days. And, as it happens, those were very different circumstances from these I describe herein.)

We did not understand, then, that one could do what she did; it needed the addition of magic, I believe, to acheive a living adult near-duplicate of the man she so idolised.

She did not understand, when she made a clone of Baron Klaus Wulfenbach, that far more was at stake than could be immediately taken in by her world-view.

Imagine, if you would, the clone of a world leader or other influential public figure of your choice. How could this doppelganger be used against the original, perhaps even in contravention of the duplicate's will? The scenario that comes unbidden to my mind it that of the conundrum of the Two Captain Kirks, one good, one evil. Those of Kirk's inner circle could discern the difference between them with due diligence; those who were at arm's length were lost, and as like to obey the orders (or requests) of the figure they perceived, whether or not it was in fact the prototype speaking.

And so it would have been, had "Fred" (I simply could not bring myself to call him "Klaus", and "Mister Clone" seemed rather insensitive upon repeated use) been somehow whisked back to Europa.

After the first shock of Fred's advent among us, he was found to be quite personable, and to have the Baron's inquisitive tendencies. Upon the situation being explained to him, he openly and before witnesses gave me his Parole. He was initially lodged in the emergency lock-up to the rear of the Steelhead Consulate office -- convenient to the Town Hall, where he had made himself summarily known to us. I was delighted when a highly respected Steelhead Manager, TotalLunar Eclipse, volunteered to independently monitor the treatment Fred recieved at our hands. For my part, as his keeper, I promised that Fred would be treated humanely as long as he did not try to escape.

More alarming, if possible, were two co-incidental footnotes to the evening, which precipitated as I left my charge secured for the night. One was the sudden appearance among my waiting associates of one Jobias Barthelmess, Steeltopian Ambassador-- he who had a history of differences (to put things mildly) with Steelhead's beloved Sherrif Ortega. The second was as the falling of pebbles that heralds the avalanche: the mention of the word "clone" in the Ambassador's presence lead inexorably to the mention of Herr Doktor Darien Mason's allegedly being a clone. At this, a gleam lit the Ambassador's eyes. It was a look I instantly distrusted .....