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oing off the polished walls。 Otherwise they stood silent。
It was strange to be standing among them。 For over a month now； Nathan Lee had been observing them over a black and white TV monitor。 He knew some of their names； and how long they had been alive this second life。 He had some idea of the experiments they had been used for； and how and where they had most likely died two eons ago。 He could have shown each one of them the bits of bone and mummified flesh from which they'd been born。 For all he knew； one night； years ago； he had even helped tear some of these very men from the dirt of Golgotha while Ochs shined a flashlight down on him。 Now they pressed against his shoulders。 He could feel the heat of their living bodies。
He waited near the back of the bunched men for whatever came next。 He looked across their little sea of heads； and their hair was black and russet and sandy； thick； thinning； curly； and straight。 They didn't smell like men。 Every day for months the ceiling nozzles had sprayed them with disinfectant； and it coated their pores。 The smell reminded him of anatomy lab。
He tried to see through their eyes。 The hard blacktop would seem to them mysterious with its fading white stripes。 The walls towered。 Boxlike cameras swiveled on metal joints high above their reach。 A fire awaited them by the big evergreen。 At least that much would be familiar； he hoped。 After a few minutes； his plan worked。 The crackle of flames and the sweet white pi？on smoke drew them over。
First one； then another let loose of the doorway。 They staggered and shuffled； even the barrel…chested men with jaws like horseshoes。 Their bodies were feeble。 Nathan Lee copied their slow； awkward gait。 Some of the men's surgery scars had healed to the bone； and they crossed the ground bent or hitching with pain。 It was less than a hundred feet to the fire； but they acted like it was a mile。 One man fell。 No one reached down to help him。 Nathan Lee noticed that。 They did not connect to the tribe of their rebirth yet。 Each took care of himself。
In terms of pure ethnography； the anthropologist was supposed to observe； not shape； especially at the outset。 Copying the others； Nathan Lee walked past the struggling invalid。 The man lay on the warm black…top； groaning。 When Nathan Lee looked back； he was trying to crawl to join the group。 But the clones' flesh was soft from captivity。 The skin on the man's bare knees ripped like tissue。 Blood smeared the asphalt。
The clones gathered near the fire。 Those who bothered to notice their fallen brother merely watched。 Their skin might be soft； but their eyes were hard。 Nathan Lee understood； or thought he did。 They were repelled by the man's weakness because it exposed their own weakness。 Their fraility was strange to them； and so they shut out this frail stranger。 In the space of ten feet； the man's white robe had bee filthy with oil and dirt。 He tired quickly。 After another minute； he gave up and simply lay in the middle of the parking lot。
Nathan Lee glanced around to see who was still watching； and was startled to find one of the clones watching him。 It was the fugitive； his scarred face a patchwork of expressions。 One eyelid； sewn back in place too tightly； suggested fury。 The razor wire had caught him across the mouth； and one side drooped； while the other side curved in a goofy smile。 Nathan Lee nodded at him； and the fugitive's plastic eyelids blinked in what could as easily have been contempt as a greeting。
The clones gathered around the crackle and spit of the flames。 No one spoke。 On the far side of the fire； Izzy shot a confused glance at Nathan Lee。 Had they misjudged？ Were the clones more damaged than they realized？ Over half the men had never uttered a sound in their cells。 Nathan Lee had imagined traveling with them through their once…upon…a…time landscapes。 But maybe he was wrong。 The years of isolation and medical torture might have broken their minds。 Or they may never have had real minds。 The skeptics could be right。 The act of cloning might have created only the shapes of men。 Their murmured words could have been just so many neural twitches； a jumble of ancient syllables and nonsense。 Maybe they were just animals with names。
Except for the fallen man's mindless sobbing out there in the parking lot； their silence stretched on for another ten long minutes。 Nathan Lee looked from Isaiah to Matthew and the tall John and the John with thick ankles and wrists； and at all the rest of them。 Except for the mutilated fugitive； they had not seen the sun nor smelled a forest nor felt the heat of a fire in two thousand years。
At last Nathan Lee couldn't bear listening to the man's groaning and weeping。 It wasn't his pain or self…pity that was so disturbing； but the indignity of his situation。 Maybe he didn't have any conception of dignity anymore； but it still bothered Nathan Lee。 The man was weak； that was all； as blameless as the lepers who had once taken care of him。 If for no other reason than that； a bit of sentimental payback； he stepped away from the gathering。
Nathan Lee knew it would make him conspicuous； but he walked across the parking lot anyway。 He placed a hand on the man's back。 His cheekbone was scraped raw。 A puddle of urine surrounded his body。 His eyes rolled at the touch。
〃e on； let's get you on your feet；〃 Nathan Lee murmured in English。 He got his hands under the man's armpits and hoisted him off the ground。 The clone began moaning； then flailing。 Maybe he'd fallen asleep。 To him； all of this was probably a bad dream； awake or not。 Either way he didn't want to be rescued。 He fought； feebly。
From behind； Nathan Lee clutched at the slippery body。 The man twisted in his embrace。 He spit and bucked and babbled。 Nathan Lee heard laughter from the fire。 He was part of the spectacle。 He'd created the spectacle。 This whole thing was his doing； the yard； the sun； the taste of freedom。 A dumb mistake。 Just the same； he held on。
Finally the man quit struggling。 He rested his head on Nathan Lee's shoulder and began crying softly。 Nathan Lee got one arm over his shoulder and they finished the walk to the fire。 The others didn't make room at first。 It wasn't hostile； more bovine； herdlike； unthinking。 He shoved at them and they separated。 Holding his passenger upright； Nathan Lee stood in the sweet； white smoke。 He looked around and some of the men were eyeing him； weighing his act。 Plainly they thought he was a fool。 Now he was soiled with a madman's spit and urine。 The fugitive stared at him with that seamed monster mask。 There was no reading his serpent smile。
Nathan Lee lifted his chin and squinted into the smoke and fire。Screw these guys。 He was angry with himself。 Already they had him pegged as a bleeding heart。
But they seemed to e alive after that。 One of them picked up a green pine needle with his fingertips； and broke it。 He smelled it； and touched it to his tongue。
A second man passed his hands through the fire。 Soon others were doing it； too； singeing the hairs on their wrists。 Burning themselves back to consciousness。
〃Shaa！〃the tall John suddenly declared。 He raised his hand out。 The word hardly needed translation； though Izzy provided it in a whisper。The sun！
Men looked at John。 They lifted their heads to the light。 Another man shouted out；〃Look； the sky！ The sky is good！〃 He was Ezra； who would lie facing the wall of his cell for hours； humming under his breath。
〃Khee…rroo…taa；〃said another。Freedom。 That broke the ice。 Murmurs greeted this opinion； maybe yes； maybe no。 Even if they didn't speak； their faces thawed。 Foreheads wrinkled or knit。 Mouths made shapes。 Their nostrils flared； sampling the air。 Eyes came alive。 You could see the wheels beginning to turn again。
〃I died；〃 a man stated。
〃Is this Rome？〃 one asked。
Nathan Lee had thought about it。 In their shoes； or shower sandals as it were； Rome would have been his own explanation。
One of the silent； nameless men spoke sharply。 He was of medium height with olive skin and quick eyes。 〃Egypt。〃 He said it with plete certainty。
They looked at him。 〃No；〃 said Matthew。 He had little hair。 〃I have been to Egypt。 This is not Egypt。〃
The nameless man made a long； stern reply； and Nathan Lee's Aramaic was suddenly depleted。 He understood none of it。 He glanced at Izzy； who was intent on the words。 Whatever was said； it had a sobering effect on the rest of them。 Their optimism turned cold。 Faces darkened。
Nathan Lee made a signal to the cameras。 The steel door opened behind them。 A cart wheeled into view； and the door closed。
On top of the cart lay a lamb； spit…roasted whole by one of the Captain's guards。
The feast was more than a way for the men to break the ice。 It came straight out of Nathan Lee's bag of anthro tricksmensality； it was called； or munal tabling。 Once you saw how people ate together； how they pulled rank or shared； you had most of the tribe figured out。
From the fire； the group stared at the lamb suspiciously。 It sat there in the sun； head erect like a Sphinx。 The smell of cooked meat overcame most of their doubts。
〃Why？〃 questioned one man。
〃They feed us；〃 said another。
A small band walked over to examine the food。
Izzy hung back with