"I think I've got it!" Dan screamed. He had been born for this very moment. His spade had hit paydirt in more ways than one. He was an archeologist fifty years of age of which nearly thirty had been spent looking for King Arthur's grave. He had sifted through countless tomes of material related to the royals because he believed it wasn't a myth, much to the chagrin of the mainstream archaeological community, it was Dan's firm conviction the king had actually lived.

"Dan," his assistant Jeff Wilbur said. "Calm down. This isn't the first time we thought we've found HIM. Let's be sure this time before the press gets wind of it again and they shut our research grant down for good."

Dan patted Will on the back with his dirty hands. "I know you're concerned and that I've nearly ended your budding career, but I've never been more sure. However, if it'll set your heart at ease, I'll make all the proper tests and the like before any announcement is made. I promise."

Jeff held up his hands in the "I give up gesture." "Okay. Let's do it! Let's open this bad boy up and see what's inside."

Dan hurriedly grabbed the crowbar and started on the upper part of the coffin while Jeff used his on the side.

"Ya know Dan. Don't ya think it's kind of weird that for a king all he got was a wooden box? I mean we've excavated royal sites before and we usually had to go through one or more layers to get to the body. This just doesn't suit a king."

"Yes. It seems strange to me too, but he was a humble man. There's also that one little sentence I read while studying for this that he didn't want a big scene. Just a quiet, humble service and burial by his trusted knights. Come on. Keep opening," Dan begged as a child in the doorway of a toy store anxious to get started on a spending spree of untold proportions.

The two men worked feverishly to get the ancient box open to reveal whatever contents may rest there. Jeff wasn't too hopeful, but he drew upon the enthusiasm from his friend and mentor that gushed forth as Old Faithful does reliably. At last, the final encumbrance gave way. One look and Dan fell to his knees with tears in his eyes.

Inside was a well-preserved man with a crown on his head. (It would be learned later that he had been embalmed with wax as had been Stalin and that was what preserved him so beautifully.)

"Jesus Dan," Jeff stated in awe. "I think it really IS him. And just look at how good he looks. Even for an old man. I'd never expected preservation this good in England, except maybe in a peat bog. And that crown", Jeff let out a whistle. The King's crown was encrusted with all kinds of jewels, pearls of every color, diamonds, rubies, emeralds and lots of gold. "But what's this inscription here on the inside of the lid?"

Dan positioned himself closer to the writing and read the three words. "That's odd. It says, 'Best Served Cold.' I can't imagine what that could mean." He shook his head back and forth with the weight of it all.

Dan was quite beside himself. He had waited for this moment forever it seemed and he just knew the DNA and carbon dating tests would reveal that this was indeed the great King Arthur. It would finally be proven that Camelot and its famous inhabitants were not myth at all.

**********************************

The tests came back positive! It was indeed Arthur. In the meantime, Dan's friend had been working on the cloning procedure and another was working on synthetic N-grams which would be imprinted on Arthur's mind once the cloning was finished. These last several months of waiting had Dan taking advantage of the wonderful pharmaceutical products a doctor friend had given him. Uppers and downers depending on the time of day and what needed to be done.

Jeff, who always worried about his pal, was even more so in the light of things. He was troubled by the amount of drugs Dan was consuming as well as his secrecy about the whole cloning and N-gram project. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what Dan wanted to do with a reincarnated Arthur! Sure, Jeff dug old stuff up and sometimes, yes, even bodies, but bringing them back to life was a totally different matter! Jeff was curious about past events and had a million questions about them. The thought had crossed his mind more than once about finding some way to be able to communicate with the people he exhumed, but the ramifications of such actions scared him more than trying to get his queries answered. No, this didn't sit well with him at all, but what could he do? He had been dedicated to Dan since he was a grad student, and, if nothing else, intended to stick around and baby-sit him if that's what it came down to. Better that he be around to avert danger than to leave Dan to his own driven devices.

Back at the shop, Dan was buzzing around like a bee on coke. While he walked around the lab, he was having two different phone conversations and checking several computer programs that were running in various stations about the place.

As Jeff entered the door and saw Dan's demeanor, his tan hand went to his weathered forehead. There had to be some way to tone this down a bit. Dan was gonna fly himself into a conniption fit if he didn't slow down. Jeff strolled around to see what programs Dan was executing on the mostly old equipment. The Archaeology department was never first on the money distribution list at the university. (All of his colleagues were up in arms trying to determine why sports and engineering got all the fat dough. Hell, Dirt-Diggers were important people too. If it weren't for them, there'd be no Tut, Valley of the Kings, the Iceman, Troy and lots of other valuable antiquities that helped modern civilization answer questions and learn more about themselves.)

Jeff saw Dan motioning him to come over out of the corner of his eye. Not knowing quite what to expect, he dutifully walked the twenty feet or so to see what had gotten Dan all up in a tither. Holding up his forefinger now to Jeff signaling him to wait until he got off the phone, Dan was nodding his head excitedly. After several "thank yous", Dan pushed the off button on the cordless and the usually loud beep could barely be heard over the cacophony of hard drives whirring all around them.

"Jeff", Dan said, "they're finished. We're ready to put the N-grams onto Arthur! They're bringing over the cloned body tonight with some medical equipment to get the heart started, blood flowing and that sort of thing. We're gonna meet here tonight around 1:00am with the med and science teams. Can I count on you to be here too? Please say yes. I know how you feel about this and that you're doing it for me, but just one more favor is all I'll ask of you. Please."

Jeff folded his arms across his muscular chest and let out a loud breath, "Dan I'm cool. You know, it's like Spock said, 'I have been and ever shall be your friend.' That happens to mean through crazy times like this too. It's true I'm apprehensive about it. All I see is a big ethical and possibly dangerous mess coming out of all this Twilight-Zone-ish weirdness. I'll meet you here tonight if only to keep you from doing something incredibly stupid."

"Bro, that's all I ask, " Dan stated plaintively. "That's all I ask. You, of all people know how much this means to me. I'll be careful."

"Dan, this is me you're talking to, " Jeff reminded him.

"Okay, okay. I'll be as careful as only I can. Honestly, I will try and shore up my flood of enthusiasm for the better good of the experiment." With that, Dan playfully slapped Jeff on the shoulder and went around the room checking on the computers still running in the background. (Checking like a nervous mother hen, that is.)

***************************************

Jeff had tried to be early getting to the lab for the late-night production of "Let's Clone a Long-Dead King", but he was stalled by an injury accident on the highway. By the time he got there, the thing was in full swing. Dan was running around like a one-armed paperhanger ordering various members of the team to do this or that as they tried to settle him down a notch or two. Jeff had to hand it to him though. No matter how skeptical or low-key, one just couldn't help being drawn in to the dynamic and energetic personality of Dan when he wanted something done.

Amazingly, Dan was one of the few people Jeff knew that could be critical and kind at the same time when he was so excited. Dan made it a personal mission to make everyone's job seem important no matter how trivial or menial. Jeff stood there and watched the team start to come together like a fumbling orchestra that with much practice had learned to be of a hive mind. In a mere ten minutes, the same scientists that were squabbling amongst themselves were now behaving like an army of ants on a mission. Although this was Dan's baby, they all felt a sense of comradery and the knowledge that each one had pushed his respective field of science to the limit with their friend's assignment.

When Dan saw Jeff hanging out by the door, mesmerized in tune with the others, he stopped over and asked him to join the fray. When Jeff passed him a puzzled look, Dan led him to the station he wanted him to man.

"Jeff. I want you to look over this N-gram program one more time. Ya know, just to double check that all the info we need is there and the accent, Middle English dialect and the like is correct. Can't have him talkin' like a hood from the hood now can we?"

"Yeah, right. A hip-hop version of King Arthur. Put'im on Showtime at the Apollo just to make sure we did it right. Are you ever gonna get off my back about likin' rap music already?" Jeff asked.

"Just bustin' your balls good friend. Rattlin' your cage. Rockin' the boat. You know. That sort of thing. You of all people should know I banter when I'm nervous and tonight, it's the Mother of ALL anxiety attacks. I'll either be praised or ruined. It remains to be seen which. " And with that, Dan rushed off to make final adjustments to procedure.

After a couple of hours of spot-checking the N-gram material for the specified criteria, Jeff went over to the coffee "station" (which it was because not only one lone pot sat there but four) and tested the freshness of each before he decided on the least volatile of the bunch to drink. He poured coffee into his "Nefertiti's Body is Really in Area 51" mug, added some artificial sweetener, powdered cream and stirred it with an irritatingly loud clinking sound. (Yes, they used real metal spoons. They could always double as a digging and/or prying tool.)

Dan, who would know that "stir" anywhere, rushed over to Jeff and told them that if he was ready, they were too. The too-hot coffee was just the remedy to warm his frozen gut. He had a bad feeling about this, but didn't know what. With his free hand, he gave Dan the "after you" gesture and followed him to where the covered, cloned body awaited a virtual soul.

"Okay people. We've been working hard for months for this moment. No matter what happens, I want to say I'm extremely proud of each and every one of you," Dan praised.

"Hey, Professor Talk-a-Lot. Cut the speech and let's get this show on the road. We gotta be outta here before the morning crew gets here," one scientist teased half-heartedly.

"Yeah, buddy. I'm with you. Let's light this candle," another cheered.

As the team assigned to the hardware part of the N-gram transfer pulled back the sheet to attach the various pieces of equipment to the king, Jeff could see what an excellent job the cloning team had done. They had stopped the aging process at thirty-five so that what Jeff beheld was not the waxen, quasi-fake, partially-wizened face of the king when he died, but a regal (and studly) looking younger man capable of winning any woman's desires.

The second team (software jockeys) was putting the transferring program in a holding pattern just waiting for the green light. After that, it would be the medical team that would stabilize his vitals, assess brain waves, and generally be on the standby if the situation demanded it.

Dan gave one final, grave look around the room. Slowly, he raised his hands in a symphony conductor's opening "ready" gesture. After letting the suspense build in the room as long as it could with these already impatient and worried people, he let a twinkle in his eyes belie his excitement and made his hands swoop like a super roller coaster's most excellent loop. At first, all he heard was an unfamiliar and frightening silence. With the speed of a falling comet, the computers' internal mechanisms sprung to life executing the numerous calculations required for an operation of this size. (Good thing the computer geeks had souped up the old department's computers for the task. Because the current budget barely covered traveling expenses and a couple of minor digs each yearŠnot to mention nearly nothing being left for conservation of precious artifacts) A strange electrical humming filled the already corporeal air of the lab that seemed as though it was going to crescendo into an unsurvivable climax.

Strangely enough, the noise didn't reach fever pitch as one would expect for just as it seemed the humming would continue forever, there came a lowly, but audible "pop" and the computers immediately powered down to a deathly silence.

Jeff didn't move right then. He thought it would be at least a little more climatic than a champagne cork on New Year's Eve. It wasn't until Dan motioned the medical team to bring the body to life that Jeff carefully wandered closer to the white, sheet-covered gurney.

Dan actually grabbed and held Jeff's hand as they waited for the melody of the sundry pieces of medical equipment to sing their joyous song of life. It took several minutes of hard work and expertise to warm the body up to its normal temperature and get the vitals jump-started.

At last, the EKG started its beautiful, rhythmic beat, making, to Dan at least, the most wonderful green peaks and valleys he had ever seen. Jeff stole a glance at Dan and saw tears pushing their way proudly through what used to be the closed watchtowers of Success and Redemption. Yes, the drawbridge had finally opened for him after so many and too many years of hard work, frustration, fundraising, criticism, mockery, disappointment and, by God, he was gonna enjoy it even if it only lasted a few minutes. This was the moment of a lifetime, or so he thought.

When the blood was pumping and the vitals mostly stable, the team injected various drugs into the revived king to prevent infection, keep him on an even kilter and, most importantly, wake him up so they could see what their collective hands had wrought.

Just like one see in the movies, the king's fingers started flexing sending the signal to the rest of his body. When he sat up in his bed and looked around the room, his eyes ultimately fell on Dan.

**********************************************

After about a week of trying to work out the kinks in Arthur's status, Dan was being frustrated by the secret scientists' requests to just shut the whole thing down. On the advice of the medical team, he had had a special room built for the king at his house before this all. It pretty much contained every failsafe for disaster and comforts/necessities Arthur would need for awhile.

Dan, knowing his grip on the project was slipping, decided on a plan of action. He told no one, even Jeff. For a whole week, they had gotten nothing much in the way of answers to old questions from the guy. He mostly had fits or rage at his captivity or sat around and wrote, ate and entertained himself with the provided materials. It wasn't Jeff's fault. He could only program into the king the known parameters of the language, literature and lifestyle of the time. They were just kidding themselvesŠthey didn't HAVE any new knowledge because they were the ones that input all the material.

Going to his secret hiding place, a cache of special treasures he had managed to keep out of private collectors' hands and musty old museum drawers, he looked for the little vial he had spirited away from Arthur's coffin before Jeff saw it. He didn't know how or why, but he got a very distinct impression that whatever was contained in the purple fluid with a silver cap was going to make everything just fine.

Finding it right where he left it, he stopped in his small, private lab to pick up a heavy gauge syringe. Before entering the captive's quarters, he filled the large shot with every drop of the ancient fluid. Now the trick was to be able to insert the needle in the proper place at the base of the neck and discharge all the liquid into his body. Since Arthur was still acquiring language and other skills, Dan decided he'd "play a game" with the blossoming former royal.

He entered the room in his usual manner and asked Arthur to lie face down on his four-poster bed. He said they were going to do some soldier, self-defense-type maneuvers, and Arthur believed him. Once he was turned over in the proper position, Dan secured his hands, feet to the bed and held his neck between his knees. Talking to him all the while, Dan thrust the large needle hungrily into Arthur's nape. Though Arthur was in better physical shape, the use of restraints allowed Dan to disperse all of the mysterious, purple fluid into his neck. After he was finished he apologized to Arthur saying it would all be different soon. The problem, unbeknownst to Dan, was that he didn't know just how different, in what way andŠhow long it would take. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was meant to put that purple stuff in Arthur's body just as sure as he was born.

Since Arthur had seemed to fall asleep, Dan removed the restraints and gently put a cover over him because even though the basement room was carefully climate controlled, to Dan, though illogical, it was just what people did as a friendly gesture. As he locked the door behind him, he knew all he could do was wait until whatever was supposed to happen, happened.

****************************

About eight hours later, early the next morning, Dan awoke with a start. He had been having one of the night terrors he had been plagued with all his life. (If medical science was so damned smart, why couldn't they come up with a drug to suppress bad dreams?) Running his hand over the abundant sweat on his partially hairy, graying chest, he felt something that wasn't quite right. With his other hand, he turned on the well-done reproduction Osiris lamp that sat on a plain, stone table at his bedside.

God in Heaven! He had just dreamed about this! This was NOT cool. Sure, in a movie when you see a real mark on your chest that was exactly the same one as in your dream, that's cool. It is NOT, however, cool when it happens in REAL life.

Dan was still in a state of well-deserved shock from observing the Celtic cross carved into his chest when he heard a somewhat-familiar voice emanating from the hallway just outside his door.

"Hie thee!" the deep voice boomed. "Art thou the one I should be thanking for my resurrection?"

"Uh. Well. Uh. Who are you?" Dan feebly asked.

"Knowest not my name then? I am King Arthur, ruler of Camelot."

"O..kay," Dan offered slowly like a snotty receptionist. "Come on in and let's have little chat."

Dan visibly trembled under the heavy blankets not knowing what to expect, when the cloned Arthur came in carrying a sword he must have dug out Dan's study. There were several ancient weapons that hung on the walls.

"It's you", he barely audibly whispered. "Your voice, your way of talking has changed. Please, come in." He had obviously forgotten about the bloody tattoo on his chest.

Arthur sauntered to the bed and sat at the foot of it. Putting the tip of the ornate sword into the Parkade flooring of the bedroom and resting his hands on the clear glass sphere at the top, he seemed ready to entertain a few questions.

Understanding without words passing between them the meaning of the king's gesture, Dan fired round one. "What WAS that vial?"

"First let me compose myself so that I may speak in your dialect," Arthur replied.

"Man! You can do that? How?" Dan excitedly queried.

"Hold on. Hold on. Your first question was about the vial buried with my other body. Well, you may have heard of a curt magician by the name of Merlin."

Dan nodded impatiently.

"He was a much more powerful man and far into the blacker arts than anyone could have ever imagined. We had had a rather big falling out and that's when he told me that he could repay his insolence in spades, so to speak. Funny language. I don't see how shovels could absolve the guilty party in a friendship, but I'll figure this new language of yours out as I go along. Anyhow, he told me about a way to be immortal or at least live again. Through some kind of sorcery, to this day which I still don't comprehend, he was able to take my memories at the moment of my death and put them in the bottle you saw buried with my old body. I would be able to retain what I used to know," his voice trailed off as his body began racking with a series of horrendous shudders.

Horrified, Dan went to comfort the man, but Arthur slapped the hand offered him in a strong, rude manner. As the convulsions subsided, Dan still stared on in utter amazement. "What's wrong? I'll call my doctor friend. We need to have you checked out."

"Don't bother, Dan," the king now said through a sneer. "You see, Merlin added a little something extra. A little secret ingredient that I wasn't privy to."

"How the Christ did you get our of your room? It was locked tight?"

"Christ has nothing at all to do with this. In fact, much the opposite."

A sudden, overwhelming feeling of dread washed over Dan's entire body much as levy break would consume anything in its path. The room was made of ice now and only Arthur's next words, borne of much inner struggle only managed to puff a bit of warmth into the frigid chamber.

"I fight to say these words now which may very well be my last as a person with conscience. I know now that Merlin has extracted his revenge. He added something evil, purely evil to my N-gram "matrix" as you say. The reason he gave me the ability to automatically know the language and dialect and colloquialisms of anyone I came into contact with was so that I could carry out his mission. He is here with me and grows ever stronger. I know how much you really wanted this to work out." He patted Dan's hand knowingly. "It's not on you, though you'll have a hard time explaining how you've unleashed the worst terror the world has ever known from a most unexpected source. I can't hold this much longer. I can't answer anymore of your questions now. May God have mercy on our souls. Oh yes, I nearly forgot. That cross in your chest was my work. I fought my hardest to give you some type of sanctity as a final gesture. "

With that last bit of contrition, Dan saw the sword that had formerly rested in his wooden floor, fly through the air with uncanny speed and split him down the middle.

Through gritted teeth and sinister laugh, the modified Arthur/Merlin hybrid spat, "Revenge is a dish best served cold. And you, my friend, have just had the first helping from my all-you-can-eat buffet of sorrow."

For the few seconds that Dan remained alive, though halved, he saw the most dark and sinister cloud pass over the once sweet and honorable face of King Arthur that would mark the beginning of the end for all who came into contact with him.

 Dan had just undone it all and there was no way to warn the unsuspecting worlds of the pure diabolical terror that was headed their way. He went to his untimely death with blood of untold victims on his hands.

Walking out of the room for the last time, what was left of the real Arthur turned around and looked painfully at the mangled body of the man who brought him back to life. That baleful glance was the last hurrah from a vain king that had wanted to live forever. His vanity and Dan's vivid need to succeed had proven to be a most deadly combination.

As the woeful look on Arthur's face faded away forever, a more sinister, hungry look took its place. Merlin had a great body and sharp mind that would serve him well in this new world of technological wonders.

Putting Dan's cache of artifacts in boxes for later conversion to money he would need to further his cause, his mind raced at the smorgasbord of life before him. It was all his to do with as he pleased and he was anxious to get started.

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E-mail: shakespearesghost@netzero.net

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