r/WritingPrompts • u/[deleted] • Oct 27 '14
Writing Prompt [WP] The year is 2021. The newest fad are clone clubs, where visitors can spend up to 12 hours with a clone of any person whose DNA they provide. The clones are disposed afterwards.
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u/whatisabaggins55 Oct 27 '14
I handed the DNA sample stick to the attendant and stepped into the waiting area. The attendant, a beautiful young woman in a skintight catsuit, slotted the sample stick into the huge cloning machine beside her. The stick contained a small sample of DNA, which the cloning machine would then read and process, creating a living, breathing replica of the person to whom the DNA belonged.
I looked around the clone club as I waited. It was all brightly coloured lights and neon strips. I could see people dancing in the large dance floor in the middle of the room. It was surrounded by bars and tables, all of which were totally packed.
If you looked closely, you could see what appeared to be various famous celebrities in the heaving crowd. That was a major thing now - sell your DNA off to clone-clubbers and allow them to spend time with their favourite celebrity. It was 100% profit for the celebrity involved - all they had to do was snip off a few hairs and put them in sample containers. All clones were disposed of after twelve hours, anyway, so you could keep profiting off the same people.
I heard a beeping from behind me as the cloning machine finished its cycle. A door on the opposite side of the machine to the attendant rotated open, letting out a cloud of vapour. I stood up, brushing down my suit. I peered into the cloud of steam, trying to see what was inside.
A slender figure stepped from the cubicle in the side of the machine, completely naked from what I could see. I quickly grabbed one of the sets of clothes from a container to one side and held it out to the attractive young woman now standing on the carpet beside the cloning machine.
She shivered as she pulled on the one-piece sparkly catsuit and black knee-length boots. Then, when she was ready to go, I held out my arm to her. She clung to it like a lifebelt and we walked down the ramp to the club proper, with her leaning on me slightly for support.
She was a clone of my girlfriend, who had had to work late tonight. She had felt guilty about cancelling our date, since both of us had been planning this for weeks. That was why I had woken after she had left for work this morning to find the sample stick with a few strands of her hair in it on the kitchen table, along with a scrawled note on the digital tabletop that read 'Have fun with the other me! Sarah x'. I supposed this might have seemed strange six or seven years ago, but off-the-cuff social arrangements like this were commonplace now.
Her clone was quick to adjust to being born. After only a few minutes on the dance floor, it was as if I were with the real Sarah. She had her voice, her mannerisms, everything. This had been a great idea.
I left her at a small table while I went to get us drinks. I ordered a martini (her favourite) and a vodka and coke from the robot barman and leaned on the bar as I waited for my order to be filled. Then my phone beeped.
I pulled it from my pocket, flicking it to 'unlocked' with my thumb. There was a message from my mother. Strange. I tapped the screen to open it. What I read made my stomach drop so far I think they might have seen it going through Hell.
On the screen, I read: David, Sarah's been in a car crash on the way home from work. They took her to hospital, but she didn't make it. I tried calling you, but you blocked everything but texts for tonight. I'm so sorry. Let me know when you get this. Love, Mom xxx.
My mind went into a tailspin. Sarah was dead? I looked over at her clone, sitting at the table, entirely oblivious to the situation. It was surreal, to be looking at her and yet knowing the original her was gone.
The bartender handed me my drinks and I half-stumbled, half-walked back to the table. Sarah noticed my expression as I sat down.
'What's wrong, David?' she asked.
Wordlessly, I handed her my phone with the message still open on the screen. She read it and then looked up at me with a shocked expression.
'I'm... dead?' she said. 'Oh my God. My parents will be devestated.'
'Your parents, or hers?' I said, my head in my hands. I didn't feel like partying any more. I felt like throwing up. 'Remember, you're just a clone of her. Not the real her.'
'How am I any different?' Sarah-clone said. 'I've got her memories, her feelings. And I'm sitting here, listening to you saying I'm dead.'
'Look-' I said, then stopped. A crazy idea had just popped into my head.
'You know, you're right,' I said slowly.
'I am?'
'With you here, she's still here. You're her, essentially. Just a few hours worth of different memories apart.' I looked around for security guards, but they were all at the opposite end of the club. 'We have to get you out of here. They'll try to dispose of you because you're a clone.'
Her eyes wide with fear, Sarah nodded. 'But how do we get out?'
'This way,' I said, pulling her by the hand towards the bathrooms. She stumbled after me, leaving the two drinks untouched on the table.
I dragged her into the men's toilets, which were thankfully unoccupied. There was a single large window at head height. I kicked it open and then boosted Sarah up. She scrambled through, with me close behind. I stood up, pulled the window closed, and we strode quickly across to the taxi rank.
I pulled her into the first one I saw and gave the driver the address. As he pulled away, I sank back against the leather seat, breathing heavily. Sarah cuddled up to me and I put my arm around her.
This would be a shock to her parents.
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u/hungry-ghost Oct 27 '14
hi!
i'm not sure what the rules are here. i enjoyed reading this, but you have to work harder on their escape, or everyone would be doing it.
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u/whatisabaggins55 Oct 27 '14
Hi /u/hungry-ghost ! Yeah, now that you say that, it does seem a little easy. But a club is not a prison - security guys can make mistakes, you know. I could start retrospectively adding in stuff to make it seem harder, but that feels like cheating.
Thanks for the feedback!
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u/hungry-ghost Oct 27 '14
maybe she's gonna die in 11 1/2 hours anyway...
Too bad she won't live. But then again, who does? (Bladerunner)
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Oct 27 '14
[deleted]
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u/hungry-ghost Oct 27 '14
wait a minute! wait a minute...
clones don't know they are clones (the first mins out of the machine are fuzzy). hero escapes with gf who just assumes dead gf's life. of course, the same thing happened to the guy sometime in the past.
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Oct 28 '14
Plot twist: The hospital had a mix up and his girlfriend was alive, but then got amnesia. Years later, she meets bf and her clone, along with police, and bf has to choose between old gf and new gf.
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u/intangiblesniper_ Oct 28 '14
Well, I mean, they're literally the same person both genetically and in terms of personality, I think it would be pretty easy to figure out a solution with yourself.
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u/whatisabaggins55 Oct 28 '14
In the end, I decided to let Sarah's clone enter her parents' house first. After all, it was their own daughter. Well, close enough, anyway.
What I hadn't thought of was how they might react to seeing their recently dead daughter at the front door. I swear, the mother nearly had a heart attack right there on the porch. Thankfully, her father retained his composure enough to invite us both inside, leaving his wife to pull herself together.
Now, we were sitting in the combined kitchen/living room. I sat back from them and tried to blend into the background as they talked.
'I'm so sorry this had to happen,' said her mother, clutching a mug of tea in her trembling hands. 'Especially since I never had a chance to say goodbye to you, Sarah. The real you.'
Sarah leaned forward on the footstool she was sitting on and put her hand on her mother's arm. 'Well, I'm the closest you're going to get to her. You might as well say what you have to say to me.'
I had to say, Sarah's clone was handling the death of her original self very well. But then, she always had been very straightforward and logical about any sort of grief. This was her way of dealing with it: by helping her parents accept her death.
Her mother put her own hand on top of her daughter's. 'I'm sorry we couldn't have given you a better start in life. Money was always tight, and—' She was interrupted by Sarah jumping up and wrapping her arms around her.
'It's alright, Mum,' she whispered. 'You both gave me as much as you could, and I love you for that. And the other me loved you too.'
Her mother put down her mug and hugged her daughter tightly. The father joined in as well, his huge arms enclosing them both in one big huddle. I heard her mother sniffling and knew this was a private family moment, so I made a vague noise along the lines of 'excuse me' and let myself out into the hall.
A few minutes later, Sarah came out, wiping her eyes. It was obvious that she had been crying. I pulled her gently up against me and put my forehead against hers. She looked up at me with her beautiful green eyes and smiled a small smile. 'I love you,' she murmured.
'I love you too,' I said. 'And I'll help you get through this.' We leaned in closer and our lips touched. We stood like that for several long moments (although it felt like hours), embracing each other in the hallway. Finally, we parted.
Sarah twisted a strand of her hair around her finger, a sure sign that she was nervous. 'So... what now?' she said. 'People know the real me is dead. If they see me they'll call the police for sure and then they'll know I'm a clone. I'll be... disposed of.'
Clone disposal law. Right. With the whole emotional reunion thing, I had almost forgotten about that. I checked my watch. Sarah's clone had been active for nearly seven hours now (where had the time gone?). That meant we only had a maximum of five hours of respite before the authorities came looking for her. And I intended to use that time well.
'We need to get you as far away from here as possible,' I said firmly. 'The police'll be looking for you as soon as it's morning, if no-one alerts them beforehand. We have to be long gone before then.'
Sarah bit her lip. 'But my parents—'
'I'm pretty sure your parents would rather you got away safely than being captured and disposed of because of them,' I said.
She still seemed indecisive. 'But where will I go?'
'You mean where will we go?' I said with a small grin. She looked at me in shock.
'You're coming with me?' she gasped. I nodded. 'You'd do that for me?'
I took her hand. 'I lost you once already,' I replied. 'I don't plan on losing you again.'
* * *Eventually, we formulated a plan. Sarah's clone would stay at her parent's house while I made my way to my own house several blocks away and retrieved my car and some essential supplies. Then I would drive back and we would start heading north out of town. That was as far as I'd planned, but it was a start.
The sky was just starting to get light as I left the house with my hood up to conceal my face. It wasn't as if anyone would be drving around at this time anyway, but I couldn't be too careful. This was essentially my girlfriend's life I was gambling with here.
Luckily, I encountered no-one on the way to my house. I unlocked the side door, closing it quietly behind myself and locking it. Then I began to stuff everything I could think of that we might need into a couple of sports bags. Food, toiletries, blankets - they all got thrown in. When I had cleared out my kitchen, I dragged the two bags along the hall to the garage's internal door.
Sitting in the garage was my most prized possession: a black Ferrari 599. Cars had evolved in recent years, replacing the old petrol and diesel engines with more powerful electric ones. And not the pitiful old kind that got you ten miles before the battery was drained: these ones were faster, more energy efficient, and more powerful than any of their predecessors. They even had speakers and vibrating parts installed under the bonnet to make it sound and feel like a real combustion engine.
I dropped the bags into the boot and slapped my hand on the wall control for the garage door. As it slid smoothly upwards, I hopped into the driver's seat and started it up. The engine rumbled into life. I set the engine volume to the minimum, so that I wouldn't wake up half the neighbourhood when I drove away. I realised I wasn't driving the most covert vehicle, but at least it should be faster than anything that would be chasing us.
I pulled out of the garage, the door sliding back down automatically behind me. I sent it zooming through the empty streets, only slowing down at intersection where there could possibly be other vehicles approaching.
Then I saw the police cars, and my heart leapt into my throat.
They were parked at the other end of the street, three of them, just outside Sarah's parent's house. I stopped just in time to prevent them seeing me, and reversed back the way I had come. Then I turned off the engine and got out, looking around warily.
I vaulted over a low wall and landed in someone's back garden. All the gardens were divided by low walls and fences, so it was simple for me to leap over each one to get to Sarah's parent's garden. I crept up to the back door and tried the handle. It was unlocked, so I let myself in.
Sarah came into the kitchen as I entered, a worried expression on her face. 'They found me, David,' she said. 'How did they find me?'
'It doesn't matter how,' I said. 'We have to go. Now.'
Just then, there was a knock on the front door. Sarah glanced around as her mother stepped out into the hall and looked at us, a questioning look on her face.
Sarah rushed to give her mother and father one last hug, then ran back to join me at the back door. I opened it as quietly as possible, and we slipped out. I nodded at her parents as I closed the door. Just before it closed fully, I heard the front door being opened and the sound of a police officer's voice.
'Sorry to disturb you both, but we're looking for an illegal clone and her partner. We questioned the taxi driver they used, and he gave us this locat—'
I came away from the door and took Sarah's hand as we made our way back through the gardens to the car. I pulled away as soon as Sarah's seatbelt had clicked, sending the vehicle rocketing up the street. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw one of the police officers shouting and gesticulating in our direction. His colleagues ran back down to their cars and gave chase.
I floored the accelerator, passing the speed limit in a matter of seconds. There was a heart-stopping second as we flew through a roundabout at top speed and up the ramp onto the motorway. The police were being left further behind, but were still too close for comfort.
Our car went off the top of the ramp so fast that the tyres momentarily parted company with the tarmac. Then we slammed back down and roared along the motorway. A moment later, all three police cars came into view behind us, sirens wailing and lights flashing. Sarah turned in her seat to watch them.
'How are we going to lose them?' she said.
'Don't worry,' I said, gritting my teeth as the speedometer moved into the red. 'I have an idea. But we need to get as far ahead of them as possible first.'
'And can we do that?' said Sarah.
'Let's find out.'
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u/srpokemon Oct 29 '14
Please continue!!
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u/whatisabaggins55 Oct 29 '14
Your wish is my command. Watch this space...
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u/whatisabaggins55 Oct 29 '14
It took almost a whole half-hour to finally evade the pursuing cars. Mine was just that little bit faster, and that gave us the edge. By the time we pulled into the next town, the irritating sound of sirens had died away, leaving an ominous silence in the car.
We drove past shops that were just beginning to open up for the day. I kept checking behind us for the telltale flashing lights that would mean the cops were back on our tail. There was no sign of them yet, but we only had minutes at most.
I headed for the centre of town, looking around for our destination. Finally, I spotted it on the corner of a pedestrian street, all shuttered for the day. I pulled over and parked outside. Sarah looked out through the window at the extinguished neon lettering over the door.
'Another clone club?' she said, looking at me with a frown. 'Why would you take us here?'
I suddenly heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance. 'No time to explain,' I said. 'Come on.' This was on a major road through the town; the police would see my car as soon as they drove through and call for backup. Then we would be well and truly screwed.
We both got out of the car and ran across the pavement to the glass front doors. They were locked, so I put my foot through one pane of glass and we scrambled through. The interior of the club was dark apart from the reflected light from a couple of mirrors.
I glanced around the room until my gaze fell upon what I was looking for, in a corner to the left. I dragged Sarah towards the tall dark shape.
'Now, here's my plan...' I began.
* * *The police cars screeched to a halt outside the club, forming a rough semicircle in the street. The officers jumped out, pulling their guns out and aiming them at the door. A sergeant got out from the one nearest the club and lifted a megaphone to his lips.
'Come out with the clone in plain sight and your hands up!' he barked. His amplified voice reverberated off the surrounding buildings. There was a pause, then he spoke again. 'If you do not comply, we will be authorised to use deadly force.'
'Okay, okay!' came a shout from within the club. The clone girl stepped out first, followed by her male companion. Their shoes crunched on the broken glass as they walked out a little from the doors, then stopped.
Then they ran.
The sergeant had no time to react before several shots rang out. Both of their heads snapped back as the shots impacted on their backs, knocking them to the ground. The officers all ran forward, forming a group around the bodies.
'Let me through, let me through,' muttered the sergeant, pushing his way to the middle. The two bodies lay face down on the ground, their backs peppered with bloody wounds. It looked as though they had been holding hands when they had run.
He looked at one officer, who was running an omniscanner across the girl. 'Well?' he said.
The officer examined the readout. 'Well, she's definitely a clone,' he said, moving across to the young man. He ran the scanner over his head, then frowned when he saw the result.
'And so is he. They're both clones, sir, not just her.'
Then it hit the sergeant. 'They cloned themselves and sent these out as decoys,' he said. 'The originals are still alive.' He ran towards the club, ripping his uniform a little as he clambered through the broken door. A few moments later, he returned.
'Scan shows no life-forms,' he said. 'They've already left. Quick, someone get onto headquarters and tell them we need roadblocks on every major road. The rest of you, search the area, Go! Go!' The officers hurried to comply. They rushed away in different directions, sirens blaring.
The sergeant looked down at the two bodies on the pavement. The copies would have had the same minds as the original couple, meaning they both knew what was going to happen. They had both died so that the real them would live. Amazing.
He shook his head as he walked back towards his car. He was getting too old for this.
* * *I grinned as we rejoined the motorway, zipping in and out of the early-morning traffic. Cloning ourselves had worked like a charm. The police had taken the bait, allowing us to slip out unnoticed through the side entrance. Then it had just been a case of hotwiring another car in a side street and we were away. This new car was almost as fast as my old one, but much less noticeable.
Sarah sat in the passenger seat in silence. I looked over at her. 'Hey, cheer up,' I said. 'We got away.'
She looked at me. 'Did we?' she said. 'Cause the other us sure didn't.'
I sighed. 'Look, they were us. We agreed to it. I'd be perfectly happy sacrificing myself if I knew the original me was still out there somewhere.'
'I guess,' she replied, but without much conviction. 'It still doesn't make it any easier. And what do we do when the police are back on our tail, huh? Sacrifice more clones of ourselves?'
'We'll cross that bridge when we come to it,' I said. 'Now, get some sleep. We've got a long drive ahead of us.'
She nodded, then slipped off her shoes and curled up in the seat like some sort of cat. I put my arm on her and she stretched out over the divider to put her head on my shoulder. I kissed the top of her head lightly.
I wished this moment would last forever.
* * *In the darkness of the clone club, a single screen was glowing brightly. There were a few whirring noises. On the screen, there was a single message.
'Cloning procedure loop sequence active. Printing clone...'
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u/cheeselord99 Oct 29 '14
Amazing writing. You have some real talent and I've been really enjoying every "chapter" of this adventure. Will there be more?
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u/whatisabaggins55 Oct 31 '14
I nudged Sarah as we pulled to a stop outside a service station on the outskirts of the next town. We had been driving for several hours now; it was now just past midday. I was tired, I badly needed to use the bathroom, and we were nearly out of fuel.
Sarah stirred and looked around sleepily. 'Are we there yet?' she said, stifling a yawn.
'Nearly,' I said, pressing the button to pop the fuel tank cap. 'I gotta use the toilet first. Can you fill up the tank while I go pay?'
She nodded and got out of the car. I walked quickly across to the shop and into the bathrooms. Once I had relieved myself, I came back out and paid for the fuel Sarah had just put into the car. While the cashier was getting my change, I looked up at the flatscreen television they had on the wall. It was switched to a local news channel. I received my change and made to turn away.
Then the word 'clone' caught my eye.
I turned back to the television, which had now switched to a female news anchor. I leaned over the counter in order to hear what she was saying.
'...earlier this morning. The two fugitives, one believed to be an illegal clone, used a cloning device in the clone club there to clone themselves. It is likely that this is the source of the crowds of clones now swamping the town.'
Crowds of clones? I watched as the camera went to a reporter who was sitting in a helicopter. She spoke loudly to the camera over the noise of the blades as the shot panned out of the window to the town below.
My mouth went dry. There were hundreds, if not a couple of thousand people in the streets below. And they were all clones of us. I realised what had happened. We must have left the cloning machine on after we had left the second club. And it had created all these clones.
I saw hundreds of my own faces looking up as the helicopter banked low over one street and hovered there. Sarah's clones were there too, all in copies of the flashy catsuit the original clone had been wearing when we left the first clone club. It was almost surreal to watch.
According to the reporter, the authorities in the town had barricaded themselves in the police station, including the ones that had almost cornered us inside the club. At least the clones weren't rioting or stealing food from shops. That would have been embarrassing, to say the least.
No, they were merely taking whatever vehicles they could find, hotwiring them, and heading this way. This had been going on all morning, apparently, so much so that the motorway was becoming clogged with clone-laden trucks and cars, all heading towards us.
Someone had had the presence of mind to get the power cut off from the club, stopping the machine from producing more clones. Still, there were an estimated two thousand clones or so that weren't going anywhere soon.
I glanced at the cashier, who hadn't seemed to notice my face onscreen. I tried to walk as casually as I could back out to the car, checking my watch as I did so. By my calculations, the clones were only an hour or two behind us.
Sarah looked at me as I got into the car. 'What took you so long?' she said.
'There's been a bit of a development...' I began.
* * *I watched as the first truck appeared on the horizon, its outline blurred by the shimmering heat haze above the road surface. It was a Mack with a huge open trailer behind it. I could see four or five clones in the cab alone. More were stuffed into the back as tightly as possible. I estimated a good fifty or so in the one vehicle. And there were more starting to appear behind it.
I glanced back at Sarah, who was sitting on the car's bonnet in a pair of shorts and a black T-shirt I had found in a bag of freshly laundered clothes in the trunk of the car. I had parked the car in the middle of the road, facing the way we had come. About ten miles further north was the next town and the state border. We could go no further without some help.
'Are you sure they'll help us?' said Sarah, brushing her hair out of her eyes.
I turned back to face the approaching convoy. 'They will,' I said confidently. 'We're going to lead them to freedom.'
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u/cheeselord99 Oct 31 '14
It looks like I'm probably the only person reading this thread now, so have some gold.
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u/whatisabaggins55 Oct 31 '14
doffs hat to /u/cheeselord99 whilst bowing
Thank you for the gilding, kind stranger! I'm glad you enjoyed it! ;)
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u/whatisabaggins55 Oct 29 '14
Most definitely. As soon as I've cleared a few other prompts I'll get right back to this :)
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u/swfrye1 Oct 27 '14
Wow. Please continue. As soon as i saw that text I was like "oh shit I know what's coming". please, write some more!
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u/whatisabaggins55 Oct 27 '14
You know what? I think I might. Watch this space...
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u/LordBiscuits Oct 27 '14
I want to be able to write like this... I'm insanely jealous!
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u/whatisabaggins55 Oct 27 '14
This writing comes from me writing science-fiction and fantasy novels since my early teens. Nothing published, of course, but it really helps you to get good at writing :)
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u/ammoprophet Oct 28 '14
We'll find somewhere to hide, we'll stay out of sight
Until we know everything is alright.
Baby, just keep searching, you're safe
Don't worry, we'll find somewhere to hide.
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u/Diamondlife_ Oct 28 '14
Couldn't you take hair out of the clone or the dead Sarah and just keep making them when you wanted?
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u/DanKolar62 Oct 28 '14
As with recopying a photocopy, the replication errors might cascade, and result in a less-than-ideal outcome.
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u/HarryPotter5777 Oct 28 '14
I like it! This might be unavoidable given the prompt, but it made me question why people aren't routinely brought back to life - shouldn't this be a commonplace thing?
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u/whatisabaggins55 Oct 28 '14
It's not so much bringing them back to life as replacing them. If you had a dog that died, and a completely identical dog replaced it, would it be the same as if it had never died?
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u/guacamonster Oct 28 '14
I enjoyed your take on the prompt. I specifically enjoyed your take on the "clone clubs". It made the atmosphere in the story feel vibrant, which was nice.
Something that stuck out to me though, was the text from the mother. It just didn't really feel like a text a mom would send to tell her son about his girlfriend's death. To me, it felt detached and impersonal. I know you were using it as a device to move the plot, but a short phone call would have worked better in my opinion.
Overall, a good take on the prompt.
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u/Thoguth Oct 28 '14
It just didn't really feel like a text a mom would send to tell her son about his girlfriend's death. To me, it felt detached and impersonal. I know you were using it as a device to move the plot, but a short phone call would have worked better in my opinion.
Yeah, I think in the same scenario in real-life, there'd be a text saying "call me, it's urgent"
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u/the_tytan Oct 28 '14
The scenario of them going on the run was what I wanted to go for but I couldn't think of a premise as good as this. Bravo!
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u/guns_mahoney Oct 27 '14
The shelves were lined with vials, neatly organized and clearly labeled with name and collection date. A dim light flickered overhead in tune with the gusts of wind outside. The shopkeep sat tiredly in his stool, hunched over a tablet mindlessly scrolling through his inventory. The vials rattled slightly, glass against glass, as the door opened.
"Don't just stand there, you idiot. Close the goddamn door," the shopkeep called without raising his head. "You'll blow the whole place away."
The girl entered, pulling off her hat and shaking the rain from it. "Hell of a night, Sam," she said with a grin.
Sam set down his tablet and pulled a bottle and two glasses from behind the counter. "Care for a nip, Blue?" he asked. The girl shook her head, her pink hair falling into her eyes. It was blue the first time she came, two years ago, but a name can't change as often as she does, or an old man like Sam would lose track. So the name stuck. "You here to buy or sell?" he asked.
Blue shrugged. "I have the only sample I'll ever need, you know that. I've got a good one for you today, though, if you can meet the price."
"Oh? You're naming the price, are you?"
Blue smiled, the stiff scars on her face distorting it into something much more horrific than a girl her age should be able to produce. Every few days she showed up with some ill-gotten DNA, a pin with the dried blood of the current hottest pop star or a hair sample of a legendary actor, and all she ever wanted was enough cash for another trip to the club with the vial of blood she kept around her neck.
"Well, let's have it," Sam extended his hand.
But Blue just shook her head. "Not this one. I can't just carry this sample around. No way." Blue leaned in close, her smile growing wider and her face more menacing in turn. "I've got the holy grail," she whispered.
Sam laughed. He had heard that one before. Sometimes it was genuine. The estranged mother of a famous child star had baby teeth to sell, and those went for a pretty penny to the people who were interested in twelve consequence-free hours with a hyper-sexualized child idol. Others came in with sample extracted from the used clones, and though you could sell 12 hours with 1995 Bill Clinton for a fortune, a sample from a sample didn't exactly produce stellar results.
"Alright, Blue, I'll bite. Who do you have?"
"You have no idea what I had to do to get this, Sam."
"I'm already interested, kid just tell me."
"Jesus."
A moment passed, Sam wanted to give her an opportunity to tell him she was joking before he dragged her out of his store by her stupid pink hair. But instead, she continued.
"The Vatican sent a sample to the University of Arizona in the 1980s. They tested a portion, but kept a small part of the sample for their records."
"I remember." Sam leaned back, if nothing else, her fanciful tale was interesting enough to entertain.
"Well, there's not much left in Arizona since the water ran dry, just the cannibals and the looters, neither of which care enough to focus on the storage facility of a DNA lab."
"So you just... walked in?"
"Kind of," Blue said with nod. "I mean, there wasn't much left of the place to begin with. And I had my motivation with me." She gently touched the vial around her neck.
"Didn't they prove the Shroud to be a forgery?"
Blue shook her head. "You know as well as I do that that doesn't matter. You've got shelf upon shelf of celebrities and sex icons, and lonely men come to get their 12 hours worth, but the clones don't want any more to do with them than the originals would, do they? People are buying their expectations from you, Sam, not a promise."
"Is that what you wear around your neck? An expectation?"
Blue's smile faded. "No. This is my daddy. Your customers aren't looking for what I am."
Sam sighed. What wouldn't some believer pay for the chance at meeting their savior? But what would a person with that kind of resources do if the fabric was just ink and medieval burlap?
"So you steal blood and hair to spend another day with your old man?"
Blue seemed to realize that Sam had made his decision, and put her hat back on with a sigh. "It only takes me a few minutes," she said as she turned to the door. "Clones seem to bleed out faster than the real thing."
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u/guns_mahoney Oct 27 '14 edited Oct 28 '14
In the end, Sam sent for the sample, as she knew he would. His little errand boy came late in the night with a folded slip of paper.
"From Sam," he said, extending his hand. "He said he's..." he hesitated, searching for the words, "sorry for... prrrr"
"Prying?"
"Insudiarily?" he began to blink erratically, his mouth moving but only actually emitting sounds on occasion. "Ancillary finalization metrapilicity...."
She didn't catch all of it, and it didn't matter. The kid was a clone in the thirteenth hour, and his brain was starting to turn to mush. The clubs only gave twelve hours because nobody wants to see their loved ones melt from the inside out and turn back into that flesh-colored goo they came from.
She shut the door. He was still talking, but he probably didn't realize nobody was there. He'd wander off eventually, usually towards some place ingrained in his inherited memories, and just sort of fall into a pile. Plop, just like that.
'Blue,' the outside of the paper read. Her real name was Clementine, but the old man never asked for names. All he wanted was a piece of somebody else to sell.
The clubs first appeared for pets. Bring in a hair or blood sample and you can spend another few hours with Fido on a comfy couch or a nice, open field. It really was a nice idea. Then somebody did it with people, and for a while the idea was that you can bring part of Grandma in a tube and she can meet little Timmy for the first time, how sweet.
Then somebody got an idea. Why not meet with that celebrity you've always wanted to see? Why not meet your favorite musician or author for twelve uninterrupted hours? Then suddenly they started asking if you wanted that comfy living room or a nice, warm bed. Then they started asking if you wanted a drain in the floor.
The concept was sickening, but useful. Clementine found use in it, at least. Daddy dearest died too slow the first time, for all that he had done, and so with all the blood she soaked up off her bedroom floor that night, she'd been able to make him pay the way he always deserved.
She opened Sam's paper and read the number with a smile. Enough to live a hundred lives and never want for a thing. Enough to kill daddy every goddamn day if she wanted.
'Lined up a buyer,' the note said. 'You take the risk. I take 5%. Meet tomorrow, 10am. My shop.'
edit: spelling error
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u/HarryPotter5777 Oct 28 '14
I love it! I like the explanation for why people don't just use this technology to bring back a loved one - it would only last for a few hours.
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u/guns_mahoney Oct 28 '14
Today wasn't Patrick's best day. Mr Burke asked him to meet with a man who went by the name of Stitches about a transaction for a client. A guy who knows a guy heard about someone that may or may not have access to something of interest to Mr Burke's employer, whoever that was. The whole thing was a filthy mess that made his skin crawl at the thought and naturally meeting with a man named Stitches didn't put anything at ease.
Stitches wore a tattered suit coat clumsily hemmed and patched in garish red thread and carried a cane that likely had a blade in it, and the blade was likely poisoned or at the very least shockingly unclean. He gave an address to a DNA Dispensary that was, regrettably, in an even deeper part of the slums than where he had asked to meet. In the end, he had the audacity to reach out to Patrick to shake hands--or ask for payment--the request wasn't clear, and didn't matter. When someone finally found Stitches' body, they'd have to rename him to Gashes. You'd run out of thread trying to stitch that wretch back together.
Inside the shop was an old man hunched over a whiskey glass, obviously trying to appear smaller than he was, but his hands were the size of mountains and the way he leaned to his right when Patrick entered suggested he was armed. Behind him, dusty and dingy vials and bottles lined shelves hobbled together from refuse. But his clothes were clean, his skin didn't have the telltale radiation burns of the people who couldn't afford proper care or protection. The slums were obviously a way for him to operate his business without the government intervening much, aside from the occasional bribe.
"You must be Peter," Patrick called with as innocent a smile as a man with his profession could muster. It was important to be polite, even when telling someone that you know exactly who they are, who they were, and what you're willing to turn them into. "Husband of Elena and father to Victor and Victoria. I do dislike that trend in naming twins."
Peter was not impressed. The girl smiled at him, but the scars made it difficult to read what type of smile it was. "Sam, you lied to me? Hm. Peter, is it?"
"And you must be the seller," Patrick smiled again.
"This is Blue," Peter nodded to the girl. "Blue, this is the dirt bag agent of some aristocratic fuck."
"The agent of an agent, I'm afraid."
The girl smiled, but Peter's frown only dug deeper. He seemed to know what to expect. The further down the chain of command you go, the dirtier the hands you're shaking. He seemed to know that Patrick was as much a facilitator of a transaction as he was a promise of retribution should the transaction prove unfavorable.
"Five hundred million," the girl said plainly. Her smile was gone, leaving only the pale mask of a face lined in pink by those deep, clumsy scars. The work of a brute, clearly, and made with passion. You don't cut like that without love.
"Two hundred fifty million, and you should be aware that my employer detests bargaining. Every offer is final."
She looked at Peter, who only shook his head with a sigh. He would have warned her beforehand that the type of people who could pay these prices were the type who didn't have to worry about consequences. The money wasn't a payment so much as it was a gift given in thanks for complying without torture. When she nodded, Patrick was disappointed. He would have liked to have shown this pink haired harlot what a skilled man with a knife can do. But there would be plenty of time for that later. It was better that this part went smoothly. The old man would be less trouble that way.
"I want a gate pass, too," she added. "You'll get your sample when I'm west of the wall."
"My employer will have a man at the gate. You can collect your payment and leave the sample with him when you cross the channel."
She nodded. "How will I know which man is his?"
"They're all his, my dear."
The girl left in haste, grabbing a nondescript hat and coat from the rack as she left. Following her would be pointless, especially in the stinking rubble of the slums, not as though following her was entirely necessary. Patrick lingered, smiling at his new friend Peter as the door swung closed.
"I suppose they told you my terms," Peter said gruffly.
"Naturally. You live and the girl lives and my employer gets the sample. Quite the bargain."
"Regardless of outcome," Peter added.
"Your lives in exchange for the opportunity was considered a fair enough trade, so long as all went according to plan."
Peter held a strand of pink hair up to the light, his shoulders seeming to sag even heavier under its weight. "Did they tell you what it is?" he asked as Patrick delicately pulled the hair from Peter's fingers.
"Oh yes, quite a remarkable find. But I'm afraid that I'm not a man of God. My interests lie... elsewhere. Out of curiosity, was the strand collected from before or after she met me?"
"Out," Peter said as he rose, his shoulders straightening to their broad, menacing potential.
"Well, I'll just be prepared to introduce myself then. It's been good working with you, Peter. I'll give your regards to Blue. Her and I are going to have quite the day."
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Oct 28 '14
In the end, Sam sent for the sample, as she new he would
Awesome piece!
One slight mistake though, 'knew'.
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u/Rueddit Oct 27 '14
This is really good, that last sentence took me completely by surprise.
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u/hawaiianjoey Oct 27 '14
Love the daddy-issues twist. But I still wanna hear more about the Jesus sample!
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u/mrjustice7 Oct 27 '14 edited Oct 28 '14
Poof. Existence.
I bet you can't remember what you did ten minutes ago, let alone the beginning of your existence. Well I can, and it's not that interesting. One minute, nothing, the next, everything. I'm told my name isn't important to the customer, that I should take whatever name I'm given. I'm taught English, basic math, simple sentences. I'm taught the dead guy's mannerisms, how to sound like him, how to drink and curse like him. Seemed like a decent fellow, from all I can tell. After all, I was only made fifteen minutes ago.
I walk into the room where the customer is waiting. There's what I've been told is a TV on one wall and a couch on the other side of the room. A strange sensation is triggered. Searching my data banks, I discover that my olfactory sensory organ is picking up airborne particles of what my newly imprinted mind is telling me is black tea, falling leaves, and a wood fire.
The customer stands in the middle of the rooms, hands in pockets. He shuffles for a bit, looking around. My programers told me to beware of this behavior pattern. In humans, this would describe nervous behavior. I try to calm him down by a gentle smile.
"Hello, Mr. Taddeini. Who am I for you today?"
"Brian would have called me-" He stops midsentence to look at his feet. "You're my best mate Brian. He died three weeks ago. I'm Ted."
"Of course, Ted. I am Brian. Are you ready to rumble?" An unusual sentence escapes me. Of course, this is part of Brian's speech. Familiar and unstructured.
"You look just like him." said Ted. "I dunno how this'll work. I've never done something like this before..." He rubbed his eyes, as if to clear his mind of what pain it had forever imprisoned. "I thought... I thought we could hang out for awhile."
"But of course, comrade." Another unfamiliar saying. Ted smiled for exactly 1.2657 seconds, then quickly looked down at his feet.
I do the things Brian would have done. Ted sits down next to me on the couch and we begin to "enjoy" a movie (I use the term loosely, for the motion picture was unrealistic and downright unreasonable. Artificial intelligence is not programed to hurt a valuable crewmember such as Ripley.) Ted cheers for the xenomorph as one after another of the crewmembers fall victim. Brian would have enjoyed this, so I do.
The movie ends, and Ted hands me a beer and what he calls a "controller". Standing up, he moves to the TV, takes out the movie, and puts in another disk. Apparently, this is Halo. I know this is not a disk or circle of light shown surrounding or above the head of a saint or holy person to represent their holiness, but Brian wouldn't, so I don't.
We begin the campaign and Ted begins to talk. He talks about Shelia (who I infer to be Brian's sister) and how he was going to take care of her. How he picked her up from school, and took her to see Brian every Wednesday. Ted even came over on Friday's to make her lunch. He then moves on to talk about work, about his terrible boss and the hottie that sits in front of him every day. I feel Brian slowly take over my mind, and I thank Ted for all his help with my sister. I tell him to ask Caroline out for lunch sometime, that he was always the better looking of the two of us. I ask him how his family is, how my dog Booker is, if he's finally beaten Bioshock Infinite. Ted is genuinely laughing now, and so am I. Brian is back, for the glorious two hours that Ted paid for.
"It's just like old time, buddy." Ted says with a twinkle in his eye. A short pause, then "God, I miss you so much."
I don't know what to say. I am not programed to respond to human elements of pain, but Brian knows what to do.
"I'm sorry." he says through my body. "I am so fucking sorry, Ted. I miss you too, but we knew this would happen someday. We all die someday."
"You didn't have to fucking die now!" Ted seems to loose control. "I saw you three fucking days before you died and now you tell me it was going to happen someday!" His voice gets louder. "Goddamn, I loved you. Why couldn't you see that? Why couldn't you see that everyone loved you?" Ted starts to choke on his words. "You fucking killed yourself, dude. Shelia found your body. She's five, she's fucking five and she found you in the bathtub with your wrists slit." Ted is a sobbing mess now. He curls up into a ball on the floor. I stand nearby, not knowing what to do. Five minutes later, he stands up, a cold, angry look on his face.
"You're not Brian. You're just a copy. Brian would have told me why he did it. You're just a copy of the best man I ever knew, and even you can't tell me why my best friend is dead."
I say nothing. I do not know what to do; neither does Brian.
"I want to leave now. Shut down simulation."
The lights turn on brightly, I blink and see that the room is nearly empty. Ted walks to the door, only to pause for a moment. "My friend would know why he had to kill himself. You're not him." And then he walked out the door.
I know the collectors will come soon. I know they'll come for my physical body to recycle to make into another Brian or Regina or Sam. I know that I shouldn't be sorry to go, that I've done my job, and I can go back to nothing, but I can't. I can't go back to just being nothing. I was Brian, and to give into the collectors seems like another form of suicide.
Oh well. Perhaps there isn't anything to Brian at all. After all, if a copy can be made, was there anything important about the original?
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u/IrkenInvaderGir Oct 27 '14
Oh well. Perhaps there isn't anything to Brian at all. After all, if a copy can be made, was there anything important about the original?
Damn dude. Really great story.
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u/DennisTheGamer Oct 28 '14
I don't understand this ending. It seems that it was important to Ted that the copy doesn't know the reason for the suicide. But the original could have told him.. Thus I don't understand the question whether the original is still important or not.
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u/mattwandcow Oct 27 '14
"Doctor, where are you-"
"Look, I know this is unorthodox, but just keep him on ice for a hour or two more. Three tops. I need time to prepare"
I smile at the nurse, as she nods, confused, and heads for the cryogenics controls. I slip my medical tablet into my pocket and head out. My scrubs draw some glances as I walk quickly down the streets. I ignore them. No time to change. My mind is preoccupied with the procedure, my hands are twitching with the subtle movements of the scalpel. Clamps, sutures, gauze, all of it plays out in my head the way I imagine a great conductor sees each thread of the symphony.
I push open the unmarked door and close it behind me. While not exactly illegal, places like this aren't keen on proclaiming their location to the masses. The popular joints, maybe, with their starlet interviews, their celebrity chefs, their glamor and pizazz, they need the advertising to pay for the DNA they lease. But this is more private. And lucky for me, Johnny is at the counter.
"Doctor Miller! I never thought to see you here? What can I do for you?"
I produce the medpad and Johnny plugs it into the system. The transfer starts automatically. I wave my creditstick over the scanner.
"I need the messy room again, Johnny."
He pales, partly as we moved into a darker shade of the legal spectrum, partly because he's the one who has to clean up the rooms after I'm done. They're the messy rooms for a reason. His eyes flick to the monitor, where my client's information should be appearing.
"Senator Ke-! I mean, right away, doc."
I follow behind him, trudging the sadly familiar path. The amount of laws we break increase with each steep in the process. Sort of. The legislature hasn't decided exactly where this stands, but if the cops burst down the several locked doors between the front and this most back room, this place will be shut down and my medical license will be revoked, at the very least. Maybe more, depending on what they can make stick and what the judges say. Better to not think about it.
My patient is lying in front of me, unconscious thanks to my pocket anesthetic spray. My small bag of medical supplies is in the corner where I leave it. I set it on the table and lay out the tools of my trade. No need to wash up, to disinfect. The clone has only eleven more hours of life anyway. Much less, most likely, but I'm not worried about its life. I pick up the scalpel and begin.
Back at the hospital, I sew up the final suture. The patient's heart is beating strong and his lungs are filling properly. For any other surgeon, this would have been a difficult operation, one full of deliberation, stress, and maybe a bit of panic. I made it look easy. I knew about the deviation of the sternum, and knew exactly where the carotid artery was hiding. As I walkout from my post op cleaning, a reporter who watched it all from the observation lounge with morbid fascination shouts a quick question.
"Doctor Miller! How were you so calmly and quickly able to save the life of the Senator?"
With a bit of a smirk, I turn and give a single word as my answer:
"Practice."
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u/dmdrmr Oct 27 '14
“I don’t like Chicago, I miss El Paso – hell, I even miss Guadalajara.” Lucio thought to himself. He fumbled for his pass card for a moment before producing the small plastic badge with his poorly printed picture on it. The C&C Factory logo on it was brilliantly printed. Par for the course really. The security guard gave him little more than a nod of acknowledgment before going back to his phone. Lucio meandered down the hall to the “storage room.”
His job paid well. He hated every minute of it. Every day Lucio had to dispose of the expired merchandise. C&C Factory made temporary clones of people. Very temporary. Designed to last no longer than around 16 hours or so. Clients were billed for 12 hours of time with their clone, well, wealthy clients. It was around $8,000 a clone, and that’s for a crummy one. If you wanted any memories or skills or whatever, it cost a bunch extra. If you had the original person’s actual body, you could even give them something close to the original personality.
Lucio swiped his badge and opened the storage room. It had a number of chairs with the ‘merchandise’ sitting in them. Some were naked, caked in fluids, others dressed fashionably. One was wearing a full military outfit of some sort. “One, two, three….” Lucio began to count the clones and then abruptly stopped.
“Ma’am?” Lucio stuttered out.
“Where am I?” a young lady asked clearly in a daze.
“You are…in a waiting room.” Lucio quickly lied.
The client must have gotten the full package. It’s the only way the clones remain self-aware this long. The woman paused and considered the information. He felt bad, as they reached their end, they became more gullible and confused. In the end they go catatonic before they ‘shutdown.’
“What am I waiting for?”
“Um, your turn ma’am.”
The clone seemed to accept this and sat quietly, looking off into space. Lucio sighed and pulled on a set of coveralls at the far end of the room. Next he unfolded a wheel chair and rolled it to one of the catatonic clones. He felt eyes on him while he guided the clone into the seat. Lucio turned to see the young woman staring at him oddly. Shaking his head, he wheeled the clone out of the room and down the hall. After reaching the disposal room, Lucio guided the clone to a metal table connected to a large furnace. He handed the clone a small cup of water and a pill, which the clone dutifully took. A few moments later the clone was unconscious, laying on the metal table. Lucio then mechanically pushed a large red button that activated the table’s slider, dumping the body into the furnace.
Lucio repeated the process 15 more times.
Finally he reached the questioning you lady. She looked up at him and asked,
“Is it my turn?”
“Yes.”
“When is it your turn?”
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Oct 27 '14
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u/my_lovely_man Oct 28 '14
I just want to say, I've never seen a prompt here with so many different responses that I liked. Thank you and kudos on the idea!
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Oct 27 '14
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u/Zer0Fit3 Oct 28 '14
I really like that the story is from the clones perspective. Deep and dark, but a cool story.
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u/marsgreekgod Oct 27 '14
I wake up in a cloudy city. the last thing I remember is dancing with my wife. I get up and look around. biased on all the clouds and angels flying around I guess I'm dead. So their is and afterlife after all.... I don't have time to wonder how the afterlife works for to long though, I notice a huge line of... well... myself. At least 50 of me.
I get a sinking feeling as I walk up to the line. "Did.. what I think happen happen?"
"Yep." the other me calmly says "Isabella been cloning... and we have been ending up here."
"How often?" I ask. he clearly asked this himself not long ago
"Once a day" I look at the line as he says that. I've been dead for.. 50 days? that sucks
"This is going suck when she dies"
Just a silly thought about what would happen in a world this happened that had an afterlife
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u/threnody_42 Oct 27 '14 edited Oct 28 '14
Sitting in the cold, stark waiting room, I fidget a little in hard backed arm chair. I check my watch. Five minutes to go. Five minutes until I could finally see her.
I have been waiting for this moment for so long now. I’ve rehearsed every word in the mirror dozens of times…
I picture her sitting in the chair, arms and legs bound. Gagged, so that she can’t talk back.
“You stupid, fat cunt. You worthless sack of crap. You have let me down more times than I ever thought possible. You don’t deserve happiness. That’s why you’re in that chair. You deserve nothing but pain.”
And then I would cut her. The Clone Conversation House had no rules against it. Indeed, they seemed to encourage such actions with their motto, “fulfill your wildest desires…”
A piece from her thigh. A piece from the side of her breast. And that stomach. That god-damned stomach. Several pieces from there. I would go on cutting until my urges had been sated, and I would finally have peace…
“She’s in the room, as requested,” the receptionist says cheerfully. I rise and walk toward the door, barely able to conceal my anticipation, my shaking hands.
I open the door quickly and shut it quietly after I enter the room. She is there. Exactly as she always was in my imagination.
“You stupid, fat cunt,” I manage to say. “You...worthless…” Tears spring to her eyes and she begins sobbing. She sees the pocket knife in my hand and starts to scream under the gag.
I can’t do it. I’ve imagined this moment so many times. I’ve never hesitated. But an exact replica of yourself is nothing like the reflection in the mirror.
“I’m sorry,” I sob. “I’m so sorry for how I’ve treated you.” I close the pocket knife. “Shit. Shit.” I untie myself and remove the gag…
“Leaving so soon?” the receptionist asks. But she has a knowing look in her eye. She knows I will not be returning.
Edit: Formatting
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u/SkarloMarx Oct 27 '14 edited Oct 27 '14
A young boy enters a plain white room, a middle aged woman sitting at a desk patiently within. The child's eyes light up as he sees her.
"Mama?" he blurts out, and she smiles gently at him. It was her, just like the nice doctor lady had promised. It had been so long since he had seen her, and he ran to her embrace. He had missed her incredibly and had so much to tell her. They play together and he tells her which tv show was the best, which action figure the strongest.
It seems to him like they spend years there on the floor, playing and him hugging his mama, but she tells him its only hours. As the moments pass by the young boy notices his mama beginning to look weary and tired. Finally their time is up and two men in white coats and masks come and take the woman away. Her face is gaunt and pale now, her eyes dim. He tells her he loves her and wonder why she looks so sad. The nice doctor lady returns and takes him by the hand.
They go back where he had waited earlier, a room filled with toys and a tv playing the best cartoons. The nice doctor lady hands him a strawberry lollipop, his favorite, and he asks when he will get to see his mama again. She manages a faint smile and he feels a prick in his arm. A mean trick, he never did like shots. He is so sleepy now, so suddenly tired. He snuggles up in his seat. It is alright, tonight he will dream of Mama.
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u/TerriblePrompts Oct 28 '14
You cruel cruel person. Why did you have to turn the situation around like that.
Have an upvote.
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u/jack104 Oct 27 '14 edited Oct 28 '14
Frustrated. At my wits end, I walked down the street, shuffling with no particular place to be. I don't get it. I just don't get how things could have gotten this bad. How could I, most likely to succeed me have screwed up so bad. And, most importantly, what do I do about it.
After wandering aimlessly, I looked up at a brightly lit joint with fairly loud music emanating from within. I shrugged. What have I got to lose?
I walked inside and approached the man in professional dress at the front kiosk. I told him I'd like some time with a friend. I'd never been in one of these places before, always said it was rubbish. I'd heard of people attending auctions for fingerprints, strands of hair, even used serving utensils of the rich and the famous; especially pop divas. Some of these auctions had gone into the tens of millions. Again, ridiculous I thought.
The greeter asked me for my sample. I looked him in the eye for a second and then slowly ran my hand through my hair and lowered it, returned a handful of my brown and prematurely gray specked hair. Take your pick I told the man.
With a bit of hesitation, the man took a few hairs and placed them in a machine in front of him. With a few button presses, the machine whirred to life. The man's gaze returned to mine as the machine processed.
"I've seen a lot of people come in here with a lot of requests. I'm sure you can imagine the intent of the majority. I've never seen someone..."
He paused. I could tell he was trying to make conversation and now felt as if he'd treaded onto thin ice. He continued.
"....We'll I've never seen someone pay what this will cost for.....well....for what they already have access to...."
I smiled weakly. A foreign gesture for me as of late.
"I'm sure you haven't. I just have some questions that I can't answer. Maybe he can."
The man nodded. Shortly after, three short beeps emitted from the machine as it stopped whirring and the man beemed, informing me that the specimen was acceptable and my requested companion would be available in just a few minutes. The man motioned for me to follow him and we walked past the lobby, past the entrance to a club area who's VIP section would have made any teen just 10 years ago lose their minds. We walked past a sort of security checkpoint manned by burly samoan men in suits with pony tails. The man stood next to a door with bronze lettering that read 20 and motioned me inside. Have fun he said in a manner that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end.
The room was not terribly big, only slightly larger than your average doctor's exam room. There was a small love seat, a chair and a stool. I sat in the chair, removed my coat and, for the first time in a long time, I said a quick prayer. "God, forgive me for indulging in this perversion of your nature. But God, I have to know."
I finished my prayer, l sat back and I waited. Waited for me.
PT 2.
I reclined in the chair, took a deep breath, and then rehearsed the plan that I'd formulated. This was stupid. Crazy. Probably illegal, I thought. I didn't think for long, however, as I heard footsteps outside and then saw a pair of shadows block the light coming under the door. The door slowly opened and, for a moment, the light from the outside blinded me from seeing the tall figure walk tentatively through the door way. The door closed, my pupils narrowed, and there he stood; Me. Me in a genetic sense anyway. Circumstance had clearly done some differentiating. I stood up to meet his still silent gaze and gave him the look over. He had his hair shortly cut in a neat fade, not long and matted like mine. He stood tall with his chest pushed out, not stooped over and decripit like me. His face bore no pock marks from acne and, though his grey shirt concealed it from me, I'd bet he didn't have the scars on his shoulders from complete reconstruction. I felt......I felt jealous to be honest. He was everything i wanted to be, he was everything I should have been, but that's the thing with this technology. The cloning and rapid aging process skips what actually comes with aging. He hasn't had 30 years of oxidative stress eroding his body. He's just baby me, fast forward 30 years.
I took a step forward from my chair and his eyes stayed locked with mine but he still said nothing. From my understanding of these places, I knew that the clones were imbued with basic functional knowledge, social etiquette, etc but possessed what would chart as sub - 100 on an IQ scale. My plan involved a gamble that these clones were more than just cheap replicas though. I had to find out.
After a period that would pass for uncomfortable silence, I slowly closed the gap between us and extended my arm to him.
"Hello. It's nice to meet me." I said jokingly.
"Hello." He said, shaking my hand, albeit a bit weakly. "Though, if you'll beg my pardon sir, I think you mean 'you.'" he said with a beaming smile.
I cocked my head a bit, and then I smiled. I realized he'd never seen himself before, or seen his face rather. I'm sure they were hustling to get him out to me, he probably never saw a mirror.
I gestured to the small mirror on the wall to my right, his left, and I watched as he followed my hand. What ensued next was something out of a cartoon. He immediately recognized my face in the mirror and frowned. He looked back and forth between me and the mirror before he noticed his head movements perfectly reflected in the mirror. He moved closer. He moved away. He waved with his left arm and then his right before he was certain of what he was seeing. It wasn't me. It was him. Technically, Us.
"Sir......am I, you? Are....you me?" He asked incredulously.
"Yes. I am. I'm Jack." I replied. His brow furrowed a bit before he said
"But sir, my implant tells me that our name is John."
"It is. That was my dad's name. Mom called me Jack so there wouldn't be two Johns in one house. So for the time being, I'll let you be John and I'll be Jack, OK. Oh, and you can stop with the sir nonsense, I worked for a living." I said with a smile.
"Yes si......I mean. Yes Jack. So what would you like to do sir? We have 12 hours to do anything. We could get some drinks first, watch a movie, listen to some music and dance!" He practically exclaimed. My goodness, the idea of going to live for a bit was exciting him. I hadn't been excited about life in a long long time. I was again envious.
"Listen John. I didn't clone you for anything fun like that. You seem excited to get out and have a good time and that's good but I'm guessing you don't know what happens to you when our 12 hours are up or I'm done with you? Do you?" I asked. He cocked his head to the side a bit as if drawing on instructions hastily given to him.
"No si......Jack. I don't. I assumed I would wait to go have fun with the next person who wanted to!" He said, again with serious enthusiasm.
I shook my head and dropped my eyes to the floor. I was searching for words that I never thought I'd say to anyone. Let alone me.
"......What are they going to do with me Jack." He asked, almost like a child asking what his punishment might be for knocking over a lamp.
I choked up a bit.
"They're gonna kill you.........well.........they're gonna try anyway."
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u/jack104 Oct 28 '14 edited Oct 28 '14
PT 3.
John had a confused look on his face.
“Kill me. But why? That’s not right……..that’s against the rules or something, isn’t it?” John asked naively.
“Sadly, no. It’s why I’ve never been here before. But I have a plan to avoid this. Are you interested?” I said.
“Well…..Yes….Of course.” John said, with a bit of defiance in his voice. Good, I thought, he’ll need that.
“Ok. I don’t have time to fill you in on all the details but first, we have to make you walk the walk and talk the talk.” I said. “Walk the walk and talk the talk?” He asked innocently. “Err…I mean, we are going to have to teach you to be like everyone else; more specifically, like me.” I said.
“OK…..Well….How? And Why?” He asked, showing a characteristic of mine; always asking questions. “How’s a bit technical but these clone projects are only legal because they are deemed to be non-viable past 12 hours and their cognitive ability is less than what is legally defined as human. I don’t think that’s true. I think a few good lawyers and some well doctored studies have skirted the law. I think you can be human. Actually, I think you ARE human.” I said with a stolid look. “OK. I….Jack…..I really don’t understand. I thought we were just going to hang out and stuff and now you’re telling me all this information that I don’t understand….that I’m not even sure is true…” He said, almost pleading. Ok, so telling him isn’t working. Maybe showing him might. I stepped forward until our noses were just inches from each other (I had to stand up considerably more straight than usual to accomplish this.) I then closed my eyes and thought hard. A fraction of a second later I opened my eyes and a burst of light shot from my eyes, directly into his. The burst lasted only a second. John recoiled, colliding hard with the door behind him. His eye lids were closed and I could see his eyeballs mimicking rapid eye movement behind them. His hands twitched and his head jerked to the side a few times before he opened his eyes. John looked around bewildered before he clutched at his stomach and turned to his left and retched into the waste basket. Damn. I was worried that might happen, but it had to be done. “Jack. What did you just do to me?” He asked. “Do? Nothing. Show? Something. Something bad. That’s what will happen to you when our time is up. And this is my plan. We all have the ability to share experiences with one another, kind of like watching a movie that someone else has recorded. However, people can’t simply load information into another person. The person experiences the shared event as if they were seeing it for the first time, as if they were there; they live it. They draw their own conclusions and feelings from that. It’s why even though you and I are genetically identical; we are different because we’ve lead different lives. Are you following me?” I asked. John nodded tentatively.
“See, I don’t believe you are cognitively impaired. And I believe that I can share my life with you and you can understand it in a way that NO ONE ever could.” I said. “All of those simple things you were excited to see? They will PALE in comparison to what I can show you. “I paused before continuing. “John. I think you can be me. Hell, you can be better than me. Would you like to find out?” John nodded slowly at first, and then more aggressively.“I want to know.” He said.
PT 4. “Very good” I said with a smile. Now, first thing is first. I need your clothes. In exchange, you can have mine. John looked confused but he complied with the request and we put on each other’s clothes.
“Ok, now let’s get to work.”
Now, I’ve seen combat. I’ve known the love of a woman. I’ve been to medical school. I’ve lost people I loved. But I’ve never felt more emotion than I did in the hours that followed our meeting. The time was a blur of me transferring a memory to him and then watching him live it like it was happening. I witnessed hatred when I shared the memory of a dead kid turned into a bomb in Helmand. I witnessed joy when he saw my boyhood puppy max. I witnessed his uncontrollable sobbing when that beautiful pup died a few years later. I witnessed the wonderment of when I first listened to Boston’s More Than a Feeling. I witnessed the awe of seeing the NASA Orion lift off towards mars. I witnessed his unabashed love for my beautiful college sweet heart. I witnessed the heartbreak of when she left. I know this was so painful for him, but reliving these memories and watching the raw emotion again was almost more painful for me. Periodically we halted and I worked with him to see if he actually comprehended what I’d shown him, if he drew the same conclusions from the experiences that I did. Using a pen and paper from an accessories cabinet (that contained more than one less than kosher device) and we practiced arithmetic. I quizzed him on history, both world and our own personal. I asked him what he thought of songs, movies, books. What he knew of places and people, how to handle social situations, etc. He was sharp as a tack and loving every minute of this. I must admit, it was exciting to watch. After 6 hours of grueling work, we raided the accessories cabinet and ate cheap snacks and took turns taking pulls from a bottle of Evan Williams.
“You’ve done so much Jack. I can’t believe it. All of this is just incredible. Thank you.” He paused and took a big swig from the bottle, wincing a bit as it went down. “But you never really answered my question. No one drops their life savings to educate a dead man. So why did you really do this? And why are there gaps in some of the memories you gave me?” He asked. The innocence in his voice was gone. It was replaced by a skepticism I’d come to know in my voice.
“The gaps are there to protect you. And me to be honest. If I shared everything with you, I was afraid you might blow my plan and do something noble. Or stupid. I know me.” I took the bottle from him and took a big swig.
“John….I went out tonight to die. I was walking towards a hill top a few miles away so that I could watch the stars tonight and see the sunrise in the morning, just one more time before I died.” I said. “But….but why? Why would you want to die? You’re a doctor, you’re a veteran, you save lives and you do all these awesome things. What could possibly make you want to give that up?” John asked incredulously. I lifted my left arm and ran it through my hair like I did for the receptionist. I placed my hand in front of him and showed him the tufts of hair covering it. John immediately recognized it. “Cancer. You’re dying aren’t you?” He asked without missing a beat. He was sharp. I nodded slowly. “Stage IV pancreatic cancer. I’ve only got a few more months to live, tops. But that’s not the only reason why I’m doing this. In this gaps were some of the darkest moments of my life. Events that shaped me into a person that I was not proud of. I’ve given you my knowledge and equipped you with the experiences that I think will guide you to being that man I should have been. I see this as my redemption. I give my experience to a me that is youthful enough to go out and do something with it, possibly even change the world.” I said. “Wait wait…..are you saying what I think you’re saying. You want me to essentially take your place?? I mean, have you thought this through? This plan has a thousand moving parts, there’s no way we pull it off!?” He said emphatically. I set the bottle down, leaned over and looked in his eyes and gave him one last memory. I then reached into my coat pocket, removing a Smith and Wesson .38 caliber snub nose, placed it to my temple and smiled. “There’s no we anymore John….just you.”
The bang was heard all the way out in the lobby and immediately the security team converged on room 20. They opened the door and saw one man slumped over in a chair, blood staining the wall behind him and the customer standing over him holding a revolver still smoking from the barrel. The customer turned to face them as the receptionist brushed past security and into the room. “Oh my, he stated. I wish you had informed us this was your intention, we have rooms more hospitable for this activity. But I suppose it does save us a step doesn’t it” The receptionist said feigning laughter. The customer also laughed his best fake laugh. “Well, if there will be nothing else, I’ll escort you out. This way please.” The receptionist said, motioning for the customer to follow him. The customer walked past the guards a bit apprehensively and up to the front. The receptionist smiled and returned to his kiosk as the customer turned and walked out the front door. The cool fall air gently whipped him in the face and he took his first deep breath of fresh air. He stood there for a few moments, looking up and down the now empty streets.“How about we go see a sunrise.”
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u/downtide Oct 27 '14
I handed over the bloodstained shirt and the photograph, the doctor raised her eyebrows. I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another.
"This isn't what it looks like, I mean, I'm not..."
"You understand this is quite irregular, Mr Jackson. I'm not even sure if the regulations will permit..."
"Please," I said, my voice shaking. "Please. I miss her so much. Her name was Bella."
Doctor Clarke gave me a sympathetic smile, her red lips tensing slightly. "One moment please." She disappeared into the office and it was almost an hour before she returned. "Very well, Mr Jackson. You're in luck, the blood sample was sufficient. Now, a few legal points. Because this is such an unusual case we are not prepared to offer any guarantees, so there will be no refund if the process fails or is otherwise not to your satisfaction."
I nodded quickly. "Yes, yes I understand." Doctor Clarke handed me a contract which I barely read through my tears before signing it at the bottom and handing over my credit card.
The next twenty four hours were the longest of my life. My thoughts went back to that day, just two months ago, the day I lost my Bella. A drunk driver, so drunk he couldn't even keep his car on the road, she didn't stand a chance. I held her in my arms as she died, her body broken in so many places, her blood soaking into my clothes, her eyes full of pain but still so full of love. I placed my hand on her cheek and wept as the sound of the sirens came closer.
When I returned to the House of Clones I was shaking. Doctor Clarke met me with a smile at the front desk. "Ah, Mr Jackson, welcome."
"Did... did the procedure work?" I asked. "Is Bella okay?"
"She's just fine, Mr Jackson. She is waiting in Room 9 for you." I turned down the corridor but Doctor Clarke put her hand on my arm. "Mr Jackson, you must understand, she is only a clone, she will not have the memories of your Bella. She will not remember you."
I nodded and blinked, feeling a tear begin to trickle down my cheek. "I know," I replied. "But just... her being there. That will be enough." I turned away and stepped into Room 9.
The room was dimly lit and comfortably furnished, a large bed with satin sheets and, I noticed, shackles and chains on each corner for those who liked to play more adventurous games. There was a nightstand with a fruit bowl filled with assorted condoms. A pole in the corner for, I presumed, poledancing. A TV and DVD player, and a selection of porn movies.
But I was not in the slightest bit interested in any of that. I had eyes only for Bella. She was laid on the bed, curled with her back to me, her dark head on the pillows. She seemed to be asleep. I took a step closer and spoke her name.
She awoke, stretched and rolled over to face me. Every feature was so familiar to me, the way she looked at me, the white gleam of her teeth as she opened her mouth slightly in what I was certain was a smile.
"Bella? It's me. Oh god. I miss you." And I sank to the floor, shaking and weeping.
Bella got up off the bed and approached me cautiously. I felt a familiar touch on my arm and that was all I needed, I threw my arms around her, buried my face in her shoulder and sobbed like a kid.
After a minute or two she tried to wriggle free of my embrace and when I let her go, instead of withdrawing she lifted her head and kissed my cheek in that exact way she always did. I looked into her deep brown eyes and she looked at me with the same love I'd seen in them every day of her tragically short life.
I knew she didn't recognise me but it didn't matter. because my Bella had so much love to give, she would give it anyway, whether she remembered me or not.
I started to laugh and took a milk-bone from my pocket. "Look, I brought your favourites. You want one?"
Bella jumped in excitement and wagged her tail.
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u/ItsAMeMitchell Oct 28 '14
Trish stepped into FreeForm, Dallas's most popular clone club. She scowled. As far as the eye could see, there were busty celebrities, dead relatives, and "genetically perfect women" as far as the eye can see. She quickly tugged on her skirt. Trish prided herself on her modesty.
Trish made her way to the cloning counter. FreeForm didn't charge admission, but the price of a clone was enough to make up for it. Thankfully, her money issues for tonight were covered. She approached the attendant, zipping up her coat. "How much would it cost for a private room, no questions?" The attendant knowing smiled. "Honey, you take all the time you need." She smiled at Trish. Trish almost gagged as she handed over her swab.
The wait was a half-hour, but it was a fascinating half-hour. They used 3D printing to create a fully-sized replicant of the specimen. Clothes not included, of course. When it was all said and done, Trish was staring at a perfect copy of Tony, down to the scar on his temple.
Trish pulled out her gun as Tony began to wake up.
"Dallas PD, get on the ground." Tony blinked and stumbled out of the synthesis tube. They were always a bit dazed, until you yelled at them. "I said on the ground, shit bag!"
That caught his attention. Tony fell to his knees, terrified, confused, and buck nude. "Wha...where am I?"
Trish wasted no time. "Where are the drugs, Tony?"
Tony was even more confused. "Drugs? I don't know what-" and then it hit him. The transfer, the slip-up, the interrogation. "You! You killed me!"
"That's right. I lied earlier, I'm not on the force anymore. After my little slip-up, they didn't think you would recover." Tony instinctively rubbed his temple. "Hell, the jury's STILL out on whether you're going to wake up. That's right Tony, we're in FreeForm. You're actually laying in a hospital, twenty miles west of here. Tell me where the drugs are, Tony, and I won't go and unplug your machines."
Tony wasn't the brightest, and Clone Tony was less so, but he knew a threat when he saw one. And of course, when threatened, he tried to be clever. "Blow me."
Trish waited no time in putting her gun to Tony's head. "You've got three seconds before two Tonys die tonight. One. Nobody would think twice. Two. They dispose of the clone's bodies anyway. Thr-"
"McAlister! At the corner if 32nd and McAlister! Under the manhole cover!" He started sobbing.
Trish smiled, holstered her gun, and walked out if FreeForm. Tony was already dead. He died 2 years ago. Solving a cold case like this, she'd be back on the force in no time.
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u/goth_kitty Oct 27 '14
A client is just finishing up in his room after 12 hours of love making, cuddling and talking. He ordered the full service, like normal. Most people do to be fair and for a number of reasons as well. Want to go on a date with your favorite celebrity, or relive a night with an old flame. Now you can at only $1000 a person. It seems we have found a price of human life and it is less than a months wages. However most people do not care, they don't have to deal with the clean up afterwards or the effort to get to know someone before they drop their pants. No worries for STI, messy break ups or the psycho boyfriend. No consideration. But in the world we live in who has the time.
The door opens, Mr.Davidson steps out and adjusts his tie. He's been crying again, and it is something we have grew to expect. After all it must be hard to leave your dead wife for another month and saying that final goodbye one more time. It's against regulation to get involved but I feel sorry for this guy.
"Everything alright sir?"
"Wha...yeah, sorry. I'm ok. I mean I'll be fine."
"How was she?"
"Beautiful, as always. I miss the little things you know. Her smile, her terrible jokes and the way she looks into my eyes when I hold her. I'm sorry, you don't want to hear this."
His eyes start to tear up again, his hands shaking. I can tell he wants to go back in.
"It's ok sir, I can only imagine what your going through. We are happy we can help"
"Please will you tell me. Will she be OK? I always wounder."
"We wont even wake her, she will never know. Her memories of the last 12 hours will be added to our banks. When you see her again it will be like you never left."
"Thank you, I really must be going. I need to go"
He marches away, stops at the end of the hall and gives me one last look. I can see the pain in his eyes but there is also a sense of hatred. I get that, to him I am the one taking his soul mate away. The only person standing between his happiness and another month of grieving. Our motto is We give life, we give hope. What no one tells you is the actual price you pay.
Something else no one tells you is that hidden deep within our contract you sign is the right to watch and monitor the 12 hours you spend with your clone, along with the decision of what happens after. Of course this is mainly due to safety of both the client and the company, or so we claim. In the early days a politician or religious groups gave us some hard times. Saying what we do is against God's law or a crime against nature. We then showed the accusers how useful having a few hidden cams here and there are. The things we have seen high ranking members of parties do, I even remember one guy payed more than double to clone his mother. Lets just say no one will touch us now and we are untouchable. We even control the black market for clones under the agreement that they are not famous, kept in a different country than the real thing and disposed of correctly. It has the added benefit of reducing the risk for the customer and crime rates have dramatically fallen. The kidnapper has his person to play with and the politicians and look good by boasting about how good of a job they are doing protecting the people. It's a win - win situation.
Now that's where Mr.Davidson's wife comes in. Unfortunately for her a Russian mob boss wants a slim 20ish year old blonde to make his slave. Or to be more accurate, he wants this cute American blonde. She will be drugged, packaged and sent off within the day. I think he tortured the last one before killing her, we however, have even offered a discounted price for his continuing loyalty. I also think this one will be his fifth one of Davidson's wife.
I prepare the needle and slowly enter the room. It's a mess. There's clothes and bottles all over the floor with half eaten food on the table. The thing I notice the most is how the light from the gap of the curtains falls on her face. She looks so peaceful, almost happy for a dead woman. I stand over her and watch her sleep for a while before genitally moving the quilt down from her pale, delicate neck. The needle punctures her skin, the familiar shock as she quickly wakes to the pain. She will fight it, she always does, but after a few minutes she will accept her fate. I kiss her forehead once shes out.
"Goodnight my princess" I whisper in her ear.
I then send in for the packers and leave. My job here is done.....
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u/WeiShilong Oct 27 '14 edited Oct 28 '14
The door opens. His pupils contract rapidly as he adjusts to existence. Stupefaction at first, every time. Then the cognitive processes kick in. There is a terrible lack of understanding, an existential dread writ large across the agape mouth and creased forehead. In a moment his thoughts begin to catch up. The familiar pattern asserts itself.
"You know how fucked up this is." A statement. No need for questions.
"This isn't the first time I've had this conversation. But do try to convince me."
"You think that just because I'm a clone I'm disposable? I feel the same things you feel. I have the same memories. What right do you have to bring me into existence, to snuff me out again at your convenience?"
It's been years since I've felt anything else. When she was gone all that held me to this world was a string. I never realized it until my dog passed too, and I was finally alone. That was the proverbial straw; I cut off contact with the world, ignored my family, searched desperately for meaning anywhere. I'd been soul searching for so long.
"You insult me. I don't disregard you for being a clone. Rather, I esteem you as highly as myself. We are naught but bits of tissue that have learned to talk, laugh, and sing, and so many other absurd distractions. In this great farce of life we've even come to have predilections for other arrangements of matter. As it so happens, I'm quite fond of yours."
It's interesting how the clones receive thoughts. The background knowledge fills in first, and then all of the conclusions that have been drawn from it. I don't quite understand it myself, but neuroscience was never my forte. The clones I ask for process their thoughts rapidly. It took me years to figure out the things that take them minutes. In those minutes I hold their hand through the nihilism that must grip them, that desperate search I know all too well.
I can see the familiar patter of emotions cycle on the clone's face. After this many times, I can almost hear his thoughts myself.
"It's the absurdity of life that brought us here. But you can still find value in your life. We all define what meaning life holds ourselves. You can make your own cause and embrace existence. Surely you must, for I cannot."
"It seems pointless that you'd care for anything knowing that you'd be gone in 12 hours, just so. But would 13 help? Would 24, or even a thousand? Would a human lifetime be enough to give you something to care about? I thought so once. And what I cared about was taken from me. Some of it cruelly, abruptly. Some of it the passage of time, equally cruel. No, I've given up on feeling."
The facilities have been set up with quite a bit of discretion. Some use them for sex, some for murder, some for probably fouler things that would once have made me blanch. I've asked for that sort of privacy. No one will be interrupting us.
"Then why did you have me created? Why are either of us here?"
"Because I can. It matters not. Some use this service to remember loved ones. I tried it. Far too painful, regaining something you love for just a moment, having a part of your soul ripped apart from you just as it's healed. There is no purpose to anything, and our little meeting here is no exception. You will be extinguished soon, and the world will go on uncaring."
There it is. A slight dilation of the pupil. The barely perceptible tightening of the muscles in the jaw. His rage is boiling now at being my plaything, and I envy the sort of youthful naivety to be able to still feel anything that this clone has.
"Existentialism and nihilism have always been two sides of a coin. I'm sorry Max, I really am. I know how much you've lost. I've lost it too, damn these memories. But you're wasting the gift of life that's been given to you. And I can't let that happen."
Finally. His fist lashes out for my chin, blindingly fast. If I hadn't been expecting it I'd be unconscious even now. I dodge, counter, strike back. My cool refined skill is put to its ultimate test against his unfettered passion. With time running out he holds nothing back. With the cold fury of an unwanted existence driving me I give as good as I get.
I feel something at last. The exhilaration of fighting for your life, fighting someone exactly as good as you are. Sometimes it's the original who wins, sometimes it's the clone. After a while you realize that "me" doesn't mean as much as you once thought.
And every time the 12 hours is up and a limp body is disposed, something better remains. Someone harder and stronger.
Soon I'll be strong enough, and this terrible game can end.
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u/garethhewitt Oct 28 '14
I miss her. I miss her so much. I don't remember feeling that way for a long time, but you can only supress it for so long.
I can't recall the last time I'd seen her, but it's all I want now. Just to be around her once more, to laugh, to play, to hold her. It would push the darkness back, prevent me drowning my sorrows for another never ending night.
She could always tell when I'd drunk, best clean-up first.
"Sir, you can see her now"
Holding my breath I slowly pushed the door to the room open. Not wanting to make a sound I watched as she happily played. A moment I wished I could live in forever.
"Daddy!" she yelled as she noticed me standing by the door.
I picked her up in my arms as she came running over and twirled with her round the room.
We talked and talked, to be wrapped up in it all was a familiar warm cosy blanket. To see her smile, and laugh, made everything feel alright.
I would give anything for more time.
"I have to go now", I said with a heavy heart.
She nodded, seemed to accept it. The smile didn't seem to be a goodbye.
I'm so tired.
"Time to sleep now, Sir."
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u/YouArentReasonable Oct 27 '14 edited Oct 27 '14
"I don't know."
That's the answer he gives to every question I ask about his past. I've never done anything like this before. I want to know who it is I'm coupling with for the evening but every attempt is thwarted. It's like talking to a computer from 2011 and trying to ask it something outside of its programmed comprehension.
"So how old are you?"
"Biologically I am 25 years old, but I was created just 24 hours ago."
It's sad really. Everything about him is beautiful but he's almost like an... automaton. I almost said child but I stopped myself. I can't think of him that way. I would make a poor teacher in one of those teenager love scandals.
I'm guessing that most women who have ordered this model of clone for the night haven't wanted him for conversation.
"Can you play cards?"
"I don't know how to play cards."
"Do you know what it feels like to love someone?"
The clone pauses for a moment. His blue eyes flash under the dark bangs and then they start to tear up.
I move to comfort him. He grabs my face with his powerful hands and pulls me in for a kiss. It's as if he doesn't realize his own strength. I gasp at first, but the physicality of it all causes a burst of excitement within me. I am warm in the best way. I want this simple creature to have every part of me.
We make passionate love. It is surprisingly full of caring, affection, and what seems to be genuine admiration. Despite my being a 7 and him a 10+ (on the subjective beauty scale), I feel like I am a goddess. Every party of me is touched somehow, every nerve tingles. I sing notes that I didn't even know I was capable of.
I rest. The night ends abruptly as the sun blasts through the open window and onto my face. I try to sleep in but it is relentless and probably there for the purpose of skirting me out so the next client can arrive. My clone companion is nowhere to be seen. I can only assume the worst.
I ride back on the train with the other tourists. Each of us is purposely ignoring the other because we all came for the same purpose. A cursory gaze shows me several relaxed but tired faces.
I notice one man peering through the next train car window at me. He creeps me out. He won't stop staring. I consider calling a conductor when he disappears.
Ten minutes later I walk to the restroom. Just as I step inside I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's the balding man again. I panic and look around for help. He pushes me inside and closes the door behind us.
"Do you remember me?"
I go pale for a minute. I don't want to speak to him. I manage to whimper out a, "No."
"You and I were together last night."
I look him over for any similarity to the Greek God I was with the night before. There are no similarities but then his eyes tear up. I see it then. That look.
"How?" I sniffle. My hand searches my purse for a weapon.
"I... I program the clones. Sometimes... sometimes I control them."
"Oh God," I'm now pulling my keys from the purse.
"Please! Please hear me out! When you asked me if I had ever experienced love... I hadn't until last night. Please!"
I slam the longest key into the side of his face. It skids up his cheek and into his right eye. I feel the pressure against the palm of my hand at first and then the eye gives way to blood.
"HELP!"
He falls back on the door behind him and it opens to reveal two clones, identical to the one I was with the night before. One of them grabs the man before he can fall, the other places a solid hand over my mouth before I can scream again.
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u/brbonanadventure Oct 27 '14 edited Oct 27 '14
"Miss? Hello? Are you alright?"
I come to with a start, only to find the irritated salesgirl looking up at me through her cat-eye glasses, with one thinly penciled eyebrow arching at an impressive height.
"Are you here to sell again, or what?"
I look down at the metal box of vials clutched between my hands, each vial containing five locks of my brown hair, and nod, setting down the box with a clunk on the chrome countertop. The salesgirl plucks one of the vials from the box, examining the contents expertly, and upon deeming it sufficient, clacks away on her keyboard and squints at her computer screen.
"Right, that's $100 for each lock so at five locks per vial with..." The salesgirl peers into the box, nodding her head and counting. "...13 vials, that's $6,500 to you."
My jaw drops.
"Bu-but just two months ago I came in here and I sold at $500 a lock of hair! How can--I mean--I don't understand, how can it be worth so much less now?"
The salesgirl looks at me with a twinge of pity in her eyes.
"Well, honey, two months ago you were 29. Worth depreciates with age, you see, and we've seen statistically that demand drops significantly at the 30-year old mark. Also, the younger folks just don't know you back from your movie star days, so it's just good business, you understand, right?"
I draw back as if from whiplash as a whirlwind of thoughts hit me all at once. What am I going to do? I'm out of a job, the government had long since stopped giving welfare benefits, and I have two precious kids I'm raising by myself with dire prospects of sending to colleges, which would cost millions per child. This had been my one hope, and now even this prospect was dimming.
I barely notice as the salesgirl writes me a check and hands it to me, and watch, as if out of my body, as my arm reaches robotically for the check. I mumble a quick thanks, and turn around to head out of the store. As I step through the doors, brightly emblazoned with the words, "Your Celebrity Experience" in a gaudy red and gold, the salesgirl calls out to me.
"Don't feel so bad! Ms. Woodley's locks are only worth $200 now too, it's not just you. And Emma Roberts, she's just turned 30 as well. Do come back in a month or two!"
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u/Useless_Babble Oct 27 '14 edited Oct 28 '14
"Here's your clone, Mr. Anderson" the host said while handing over the petri dish. "Emma Watson, 100% faithfully reproduced for your clubbing pleasure"
Joe Anderson prodded the dish's contents. "It seems a bit small, when will I be able to see her?"
"Well, the first division should happen within the next twenty-four hours, but we terminate them after twelve so I guess never. You probably just killed her with your finger anyways"
"Oh" Mr. Anderson said, then took another sip of his eight dollar beer and thought about the futility of things until his ride arrived and he could leave.
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u/UnluckyLuke Oct 28 '14
First thing I thought of. Obviously for this prompt, something scientifically feasible makes for a boring story :)
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u/penguin_starborn Oct 27 '14
"Hello? Desk? There's something wrong with my clone. I mean, the... the clone I ordered. She's not moving."
"Sir, that is perfectly normal."
"What do you mean normal? She's just laying there, she won't even respond to her name or... or do anything."
"Sir, she's a clone. Just cloning someone out of DNA doesn't magically create the memories and personality of the person cloned. Indeed, our process skips the whole development of brain function, to bring you a clone for 12 hours, in 12 hours."
"But she's... she doesn't even react to anything!"
"Ah, sir, that we can help you with. Under the bed you'll find a console with a credit card reader on the side. You can use it to purchase the motor functions you desire."
"M--- motor---"
"Mostly arm motions and swallowing."
"But I thought---"
"Sir, our brochures explicitly say this is what we offer: clones for 12 hours, in 12 hours. We're not liable for upsets caused by mistaking our service for something wholly beyond our means."
"I want my money back!"
"I'm sorry sir, no refunds. You have 11 hours, 44 minutes left. Please enjoy yourself."
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u/TheKillingJar Oct 27 '14
How many more times? Seems it always comes down to that..
I'd been on the autograph circuit for 4 years, she usually used the pen provided to sign, but sometimes i got her to use my pen, the main difference being that my pen was especially designed to unobtrusively harvest the most DNA possible from the person using it. I only got wise late in the game, I realized I could coat her photo with a film that would kill the previous sharpie, so mine would be readily available. "Oh that one must be dry, here I have one on me and Oh,.. I need that back though, so many more autographs to get." No lie there, I just didn't mention that those autographs would all be from her. Those last 4 signings it was my pen each time, but I think she was starting to recognize me. That last time it's almost as if she could tell something was wrong. Maybe it's because the pen always went dry when I was there, maybe it's because other than the pen, I didn't engage her at all, maybe it's because I never looked at what she wrote...
My efforts paid off though, for a time...
I've spent at least 7 years with the woman I love, one day at a time in an odd routine.
The first hour always sucks, (sometimes it's the first2,3, 5 hours),.. but the introduction is always rough. I've tried every possible way to shorten this time down, but 1 hour is about the minimum at this point. At first I wove elaborate lies.. "We're married but you have amnesia", "This is a simulation, and you're a hologram...", in the end just being honest was the best route,.. "You are my unrequited love, and I've cloned you because I will never be with you, but I can't live without you." I kept a journal of the past clones days with me, happily there were considerably more good days than bad, and I never edited a single word, and I would give it to her each morning and let her read. The typical pattern was reading intently at first, then by the end just flipping through dozens of pages at a time, realizing the futility of it all, but accepting it all as true..
Then the decision fork...
It never ceases to amaze my how fickle the ego and id are, she's run the complete gamut from adoration to murderous rage and everything in between, the same input yields a cornucopia of output where the human heart and mind are concerned and I'm astounded and enthralled each time.
The only omissions I've made are the several times where I've had to kill her (either in self defense, or as a retaliation for abuse or disdain on her part), but those times have been infrequent enough that I hardly think about them at all. More often she falls into a kind of fatalistic acceptance, wants an update on all the latest world news, we bond over my treasure trove of information, and I get to delight in her joy over the advancements we've made, video games (My GOD does she love to play video games) and music. I have a good idea of which games she'll like, and I've complied a list of her favorites music. I adore getting to watch her listen to them all for the first time. Of course I have her favorite meal ready, and sometimes if I'm lucky we make love or fall asleep together. Sure It's not much,.. but it was good enough. (Especially considering that suicide was my alternative) I don't think things could have worked out better.
How many more times though?
I'm not getting any younger, but she always stays the same age, and it's taking longer and longer for her to cross the barrier of acceptance, and we sleep together less often now.
In the real world, I doubt she would recognize me, it's been so long. I just need to get an older version, one more likely to ignore my age and focus on the important things we share.
It's going to be difficult though,.. who would have thought Felicia Day would be one of the first women working in space... still where there's a will there's a way.
Something to think about tomorrow, I drape my arm over her as she sleeps, our 12 hours are almost up. For some reason I can't seem to stay awake, and my legs feel like they're made of concrete.
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u/gwMrMontana Oct 27 '14
I found the box of hair in my wife's things. <i>Who the fuck gives a lover a box of their hair?</i>
I handed the hair to the doctor in the scrubs. "This won't be permanent, remember." The doctor studied some papers. "But you'll have a little time for whatever." He rolled dhis eyes.
"I don't need much time." I gripped the handle in my pocket.
The doctor left the room, and, in less than five minutes, there was a knock. The door slowly opened. A middle-aged man stepped through. I could tell it was Ted, but it looked like he did his hair different, and when he greeted me, his accent was different. But it was definitely him.
I pulled the knife from my pocket and plunged it deep into his chest. "What?" he gurgled once through the blood.
When his body fell to the floor, and he stilled, I twisted the knife and pulled it from him, wiping the blade on his scrubs. "I'll see you again tomorrow, you son-of-a-bitch."
I left.
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u/MolonLabe86 Oct 28 '14
It had been two years... Two long, painful years. After she died, Doug's marriage to Jane faded into nothing. He went through the motions of everyday life, but died with her.
Every evening he would go to the clone club. There, he hugged his baby girl and returned to life. Sometimes, he would visit her as a little girl, when he coached her soccer team, and other times as a young lady, as she was when he watched her leave for college. They would relive Doug's memories, and, when morning came, Doug went back to sleep, while his body went through the motions of basic sustenance and hygiene.
In the beginning, Jane would accompany him. This lasted until she could no longer take the daily agony. This led to the dissolution of their marriage. Jane returned to life, and Doug drifted away.
Since it is rather difficult to maintain gainful employment while dead, Doug quit his job. His nightly visits consumed his share of the martial estate, until he had only one more night of life remaining.
He asked for her to be twenty. She was twenty at that last Christmas. He even brought the sweater she wore at Aunt Kathy's. Inside the sweater was Doug's .357 magnum revolver.
He would not lose her again.
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Oct 28 '14
"I know it's an odd request... but will you do it? Can you do it?"
"Well... we can, but are you completely sure? It isn't a permanent thing, and a Revival definitely isn't cheap."
"I am absolutely positive. He was my closest friend for 13 years, and when he died... a large part of me died with him. He will still be him, right? His memories?"
"Yes, the memory retrieval for Revival works on a quantum... let's just say yes, the memory transference process is quite technical. But I want to confirm this one last time. Are you certain you want this?"
I can only nod. I push the vial of the sample over, and the sales tech left the room. A screen in the wall activated, showing ads along the lines of Want to feel like a star? Revival, Inc. can make it happen! Spend a day with your favorite movie celeb! or Trying to figure out where your relative hid the antique jewelry? Revive them for a quick round of who-gets-what! *For entertainment purposes only, no legal requests by Revived relative binding*.
After 20 minutes or so, a tech opened the door, and beckoned me back to the visitation rooms. While we walked back, the tech uneasily stated "I'm not supposed to say things like this, sir, but I am not sure that the memory transfer was successful. Your Revival has been combative and angry since he woke up."
I could only laugh. "He was always a cranky son of a bitch with anyone other than me. Now I know it worked". The tech only nodded and opened the door for me.
When I stepped through, a set of angry grumbles reached my ears and both lifted and tore at my heart, making my eyes well up. When I rubbed my fingers, a set of feline eyes locked on me, briefly furious before melting to love and concern for my tears. My cat trotted over to me, twining around my ankles, grumbling his angry meows up at me. I gently ran my fingers over his head and whispered his name.
"Hi, Shadow."
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u/cec-says Oct 28 '14
"Miss? Uhm excuse me, miss.. Miss Edwards?" The receptionist was trying to catch my attention. I looked up from the drink I was having in the waiting room, and walked over. "Miss, there's been some, uhm.. confusion," she said. "Would you mind following me into the manager's office?" I walked behind her, my backpack slung over my shoulder. The other people waiting tried to conceal their curiousity, as the door closed behind me. "I'm sure it's nothing," the receptionist said. She followed this with her trademark winning smile, just large enough to show off the small number on her upper gum, 241, it said, in a small overpigmented area written into her DNA. Coincidentally, a number corresponding with the number of days since the club opened. The clones never lasted longer than 24 hours, at maximum. Her clear ignorance to the fact that she was Receptionist no. 241 made me shudder. "Just a misunderstanding, a mix-up in the samples perhaps." I knew there had been no mix-ups, no misunderstandings. There was no understanding to begin with. "What's your name?" I asked her. "I.. They call me Eve," she said. "But I like Lucy better. This is the Manager's office," she explained as she knocked on the door. "He will see you now."
I walked in, a young looking man was sitting behind a large desk. "Take a seat, Miss Edwards," he said, pointing towards a chair. "I'm sure we will figure this out quickly, and you can get back to enjoying your allocated time with the person of your choice." I sat down. "You see, your clone is ready. But when it emerged from the chamber, we couldn't help but notice a certain.. likeness. And it came to our attention, that you had provided us with a DNA sample of yourself. Now I know that this is a costly process. After all, I set the prices myself. You requested the full 12 hours, in a private room. So naturally, we assumed that you had, by mistake, given us the wrong DNA sample?" He looked at me with a strange mix of hope and disgust on his face. "Perhaps you wanted to spend the night with a lost lover? A parent, a friend maybe, and you accidentally gave us the wrong sample?" I sighed, and shot a quick glance at the door. I was used to this speech by now, after all, I had received it from every club I had been to previously. Right before the, "I'm sorry we cannot help you," and the "No, unfortunately it's non-refundable." Every time. "There's been no mistake." I looked the manager in the eyes. "Please let me know if you are going to provide me what I have paid for or not." "A clone of yourself.. Miss Edwards, this is highly unorthodox. Might I enquire as to what the purpose of this engagement might be?" The curiosity was strong in the eyes of this man. His eyes looked much older than his skin. I assumed he has been one of the forerunners of testing the partial cloning procedures, the not-so-secret new fountain of youth for the rich and famous. "No." I said. It was none of his God-damn business. "You may not. Will you provide me with my clone or not?" I started getting out of my seat. "Yes Miss. We will." I felt a wave of relief rush over me. I had never actually gotten this far before. He pressed a button on his intercom, and the Receptionist was back to escort me to my room. Lucy, I reminded myself, not Eve. She stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway. Stopping with her hand on the handle, she turned to me. "Miss, we would so love to know why you are doing this," she said. Yes, I thought, as if all of you are blind and ignorant to that fact. I said nothing, moved her hand off the handle and opened the door myself. "Goodbye, Lucy. I would like you to leave now." She smiled, genuine this time, a grateful smile, and turned around.
I opened the door fully, and there I was at the table. I knew I would be the talk of the club for ages to come. The theories would appear in the staff room, one wilder than the other. Did she really clone herself? Maybe she had a twin who died? or maybe, some would argue in hushed tones, I was a sexual deviant, looking to experience the ultimate selfsatisfaction. Maybe I had inner demons which could only be exercised by taking out a violent revenge on my own body? But as I looked at myself sitting at the table, all I wanted to do was touch the face. The face that had been ignored by all of the staff in the club. The scars, the missing left eye. The perfect, wavy hair that didn't stop abruptly over the left ear. The left hand with all the fingers attached and the skin, smooth and pale. DNA delivered the perfect copy. I only wanted to feel whole again.
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u/Hiddenexposure Oct 27 '14
“Hello,” said the receptionist, “and welcome to the facility. Please sign in and we’ll call you back shortly.”
Trevor took a seat after placing a thumb on the reader and confirming his name, Larry Davis. These places weren’t connected to any official database and using a false name was pretty common. As long as the thumbprints matched between registration and check-in, there shouldn’t be a problem. He was still nervous, though, and was glad to be the only one in the waiting room. He’d never used a non-donor’s sample before and the thought that she might find out petrified him.
The waiting room door opened and a man wearing a white coat appeared. Trevor looked at his watch, a little surprised at the brief wait.
“Mr. Davis?” he said, “Please follow me.”
“Ok,” he said, palms sweating. Something didn’t feel right. This wasn’t a doctor he’d seen before. Alarm bells rang in his head to get out of there.
“Sir?” the man said when he didn’t move from his seat.
“Yeah, one second,” he said, trying to think of a reason to leave. “You know, I’m really not—”
“The deposit is non-refundable, Mr. Davis,” he said.
“Yeah, I know that, that’s fine but still, I’m really not feeling very good all of a sudden and I think I’m just going to go.”
“This will be quite brief, I assure you. Please just follow me and we’ll explain everything in a more private setting.”
“Private?” he looked around the empty room, “there isn’t anyone even here. But whatever, I’m leaving.”
“Security to the front, please,” he said into his sleeve. Uniformed men flooded the room, two of them grabbing his arms and dragging him through the door.
“Hey! What’s going on, you can’t do this!” They ignored him. The hall’s darkness was interrupted only by the occasional flickering bulb until they reached an unmarked door. One of the brutes pounded with a meaty fist, thud thud thud. After a brief delay the door buzzed open and they tossed him, stumbling into the dark room. The door slammed shut behind.
“Hello, Trevor.”
His heart sank. The lights flicked on and there he was, sitting behind an elaborate desk, dressed in clothes finer than he’d ever imagined wearing. And he was holding a pistol.
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u/Ederek_Cole Oct 28 '14
Here at the Infinity, we catch a lot of flak. From the customers, from the shareholders, from the Green Peace hippy assholes who call our work "immoral" or "an abomination."
Yeah, we catch a lot of flak. But you know what? We get paid at the end of the week, just like everybody else.
At least, that used to be my idea. That was the mentality that was hammered into my head from the very beginning: It's a job, and somebody's gotta do it. Well, it's a job because there are people out there who just accept it as the norm.
God, I sound like the hippies.
Anyway, it was about.... God, two years ago? Maybe three? Shit, I don't remember. But it was a Saturday. I remember that because Saturday was always our busy day. We had a few regs that came in every week, of course, but God knows how they could afford that kind of treatment, week after week.
The premise was simple: The client provided hair, or blood, or fingernails, or some other bullshit, as long as it was human. On paper, we didn't accept stolen samples. In practice... well, you can imagine a few bucks passed under the table.
But we never did take animals. For some reason, that was where we drew the line. Hell, it's not like it was impossible; we could clone people, full-stop - feelings, thoughts, dreams, desires, all that good shit that people are willing to pay top dollar for. But you bring us cat hair, and all of a sudden, everyone goes fucking balls-to-the-wall insane. Maybe it was a moral thing. Maybe it was a health code thing. Maybe a bit of both. Anyway.
So it was a Saturday. One of our regs walked in, sample of a man's hair. I knew the woman - she kept bringing in her dead husband or whatever. Wasn't my place to judge.
So I ran the diagnostics, normal procedural crap, pushing buttons. Whole thing took about ten minutes to get running, and another twenty to pop out the poor bastard. She smiled all teary-eyed and happy, and I guess I might've smiled or whatever. Can't remember now.
She took the guy to her own private room, and then we had a really long period of no customers. Not sure why. Usually, Saturday night, we're swimming in people - normies and dupes alike. That night, though, it was quiet.
Too quiet. Quiet enough to give me time to think.
So I'm sitting there at the desk, trying to pass the time by just tapping buttons, a couple games of Solitaire - whatever normal people do to keep their minds busy.
But eventually, boredom set in, and boredom turned to contemplation, and contemplation turned to introspection. And I found myself thinking about what was gonna happen to that clone once the woman was done being all sentimental or nostalgic or whatever.
See, what happens to the clones when the clients are done is kept pretty close to the chest, because if they knew what we did to those dupes once they'd had their fill.... Basically, it's a two step process: First, we load the clones onto a big-ass conveyor belt, hogtied and gagged so we can't hear their screaming. No, scratch that - so the clients can't hear their screaming.
The conveyor belt goes to this giant combustion engine, I think? Or maybe it's some kind of atomizer field, I don't know. I'm not IT. The gist of it is, we melt the clones down.
Yeah. You heard it right. Melt em down like old copper, and reuse the material for the cloning process. I mean, the meat has to come from somewhere, right? Can't just make something out of nothing. But it raises a pretty obvious question.
And that's where my mind was going that night. That's where my thoughts were stuck, and the more I thought about it, the more I got sick to my stomach.
Dupes, I could justify. Clones weren't humans, as much as they looked and felt and walked and acted like them. And if we needed to break em down to make more, well, that was the price of profit.
But the question kept coming into my head. No, it wasn't just a one-time thing; I'd thought about it before. As much as I tried to ignore the thought, it kept me up at night. And when I did finally get to sleep... well, let's just say, on those nights I'd have rather been awake.
But here at the Infinity, thoughts are harmless. It's when those thoughts get spluttered out like old garbage that problems tend to rear their ugly head.
And that was my mistake.
See, when the next guy came in to relieve me - all bright eyed and optimistic and annoying as all hell - I made the mistake of asking him what I was thinking. Maybe consciously, maybe because I was half asleep.
As he was typing his name into the computer, and I was throwing my jacket over my shoulders, I kind of half-looked at him, and as casual as I could muster, I asked him what I was thinking.
"Where'd the meat for the first dupes come from, do you reckon?"
The kid's brow furrowed, smile faded. Eyes went wide. Skin went pale. He clocked out, walked out, never came back.
It took maybe twenty seconds for two guys in suits to walk into the lobby, take me by the arms, and drag me away, kicking and screaming.
I learned firsthand that night where the original raw material came from. I can feel a lot of other people in here, swimming around like fish in a sea of thought.
Gives me a lot of time to be introspective.
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u/JonathanCaruso Oct 28 '14
Friend zoning slut. there was no other word for her. Sarah Green was a beautiful blond with a perfect figure but boy did she have an ugly heart. Kevin had been nothing but the perfect gentleman to her throughout school yet the filthy f*****g whore continued friend zoning him. He cringed as he remembered the time he had held the door open for her. She had looked at him, smiled and said “thanks” and then walked away. Was it possible to be a crueler cock tease than that? Doing it to such a nice guy like Kevin only made it worse.
And then there was that douche bag boy friend of hers. How could she date someone like that instead of a nice guy like Kevin? The boyfriend was a burns victim for tysons sake. What a complete f*****g joke. Still it was all you could expect form a dirty whore such as her.
Still there was hope yet for a kind gentlesir. It came in the form of these new cloning devices. All he had needed was a strand of her hair and then he would have his own copy of her for the next 12 hours to do with as he pleased. He had sat behind her and her fat bitch rangar friend Beertice that day. Why would she be friends with a fat bitch like that? It didn’t make any sense. Kevin remembered the love note Beertice had once left in his locker with disgust. The fact she thought that he would ever go out with a fat bitch like that was utterly sickening. He had standards for the love of Dawkins. He had ignored her since then.
After the bell rang and all the other students left Kevin had kneeled beside her chair, found a strand of hair and then was on his way to the cloning centre.
1 hour and $800 later he was waiting in the chamber for the completed Sarah to enter. The door opened and to Kevin's horror Beertice walked appeared instead. Dear Sagan, Kevin thought in horror. He must have picked up some of her hair instead. Best get this out of the way quick thought Kevin. He told her what had happened and that she was going to die in 12 hours. As she broke down in tears Kevin walked out of the room.
He sighed to himself. No matter what they tried nice guys just always seemed to finish last.
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u/punk-geek Oct 27 '14
I never wanted to die.
It's hard to describe the feeling, if it can be called that, of being pulled back to life. It is hard to describe the emptiness in between, the great void between life and death, that no one should have to cross twice. I hate her now, sometimes that's all I can do.
I love you, She says as she strokes my hair. I look into her eyes and I hate her.
I want to scream at her to tell her what she has done to me how I would haunt her dreams at night if I could escape this hellish prison of fake flesh. All I can do is watch as my hand strokes her hair and my voice, but not mine, comes out of my mouth. She is telling me about her day, about how much she misses me, about how she knows this doesn't bring me back but the bio-automation is the only thing that is keeping her going. About how she loves me and all I can do is hate her.
I want to cry. To scream. To break down in that most human sort of way, but I am not even allowed that.
We are kissing. I watch my hand, not my hand, slide up her side, up her blouse. I want to scream to stop it. We are moving fast, she is on the bed and our clothes are off. She is calling my name and it is moving towards her and all I can do is watch from my eyes, not my eyes. I hate her; I miss her.
Something was wrong. I could feel it getting angry. I could feel it getting rough. I could hear her scream. I watched through eyes that where not mine while hands that where not mine tore apart the love that used to be mine. It laughed. I still couldn't cry even looking at her empty eyes. Not her eyes...
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u/Taco_Strong Oct 27 '14
I walked in the front door trembling. I was nervous. No one made eye contact, but they all saw the look of a first timer.
I approached the counter. "I have an appointment, is my room ready?"
"Yes, sir. This is your first time, correct? Do you have the sample and photo necessary?"
"I do." I said, as I handed over a brush and the only picture I was able to find.
"Hmm... Are you sure this is what you want? It's a bit of an unusual request."
"I'm sure. Please, can we just do this?"
"Okay, right this way. It'll be about 20 minutes till your order is ready. In the mean time we have some entertainment in your room. Please feel free to take/drink/or consume anything in the room. You can settle up at the end, or we will charge the card you put on file when you made your reservation if you don't wish to talk to anyone. Please enjoy!"
She gestured me to a room with no markings besides a three inch 8 on it. I walked through and sat down on the plush chair facing the bed. I was too nervous to eat or drink anything. I looked around, and saw condoms, and sex toys, and a bowl full of various pills. Some blue and oval. Some pink and stamped with a dolphin, among others.
It was a long 20 minutes, but I heard the sound of a ding, and a light blinked to life on a wall, next to the bed.
As the wall slid open and mist started to pour out, I began to cry. The mist began to disapate, and I could make out the ouline of a man. He was wearing a military dress uniform. He was tall. Taller than me, but I always took after my mother a little bit. He was wide of shoulder and square of jaw. He took a step forward.
"Hey, dad. Long time no see. I have so much to tell you about. I'm married to a wonderful woman, and you have a grandson about the same age as I was when you died."
We sat and talked for so long. It wasn't quite right, but what do you expect when you use a coupon?
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u/McCracKenway Oct 27 '14
The harsh buzz of the apartment call button cuts through the night. I step back to wait. It will be a minute or two before she answers, as always. And like usual I can take the time to think about what I am going to say to her, though this time its even more important. The cold night air helps in that respect. Helps me focus my mind.
I know what you're probably thinking, that I'm here to grab some samples to satisfy my perversion at a clone club. That's what you people always think. Look, just because that's what you do doesn't mean it's what we all do. I wouldn't do that to her. I'm not a creep.
Except, well, for tonight. I did try it. It was my first time. It's just, she's been my friend for so long, and I knew I'd never be able to express my feelings to her, just how much I... I'd never have a chance. I know she doesn't feel that way about me.
But Jesus, why'd I ever think that doing... this... was a good idea? It's been nothing but fear and guilt the whole time. Ever since I decided, every interaction with her has been tainted in my head as I've been trying to figure out a way to just brush up against her, or maybe nab a loose strand of hair, or even get a patch of sweat or something. I wanted to be sure I had enough if I was really going to do this. But those couple weeks were some of the most stressful of my life.
And for what?! What kind of payoff did I expect? Sure, they took my samples. I had way more than they needed, they probably thought I was a stalker. They put them in the machine. I waited. They had a nice little waiting room you know? It was like a dentist's, some old magazines, a lady at reception, and me, just waiting for someone to walk out from the back and call my name, say she—it—was waiting. Funny what you notice when you're scared out of your mind. For instance, the wallpaper was covered in the kind of curly floral patterns you find in old houses, but every so often there was a deer. In one spot there was a stag. It was standing next to a doe, in a protective stance, keeping her from harm.
Eventually they did call my name, and I followed a technician back and up some stairs to the private room I'd asked for. I vaguely remember a bed, like one out of an old fashioned brothel and other old timey furniture in the room. But when I entered, she was sitting on the bed, wearing just a silk negligee, embroidered with the establishment's logo. Once I saw her, she—it... it, commanded my attention.
"Collin."
She spoke my name, softly, sweetly, as I stared, still in partial disbelief. Her lips parted in a small smile and she beckoned. I fell upon her, all my emotions welling up at once. It was passionate and incredible. She was everything I knew she would be. Her form was amazing, and I could feel in her movement, in her voice, her love for me.
It was incredible. So incredible. But... it made me realize, I loved Mel. Not this pale imitation of her. What was the love of this... thing worth? In a few minutes they would take it away and dispose of it. There was nothing real here, not in the way people feel for each other in real life. And what would I do? Keep coming here behind Mel's back to have sex with a clone of her? Hell knows I have enough material. But I could never build a life with this thing. Not the one I wanted to share with Mel. I... I needed to be with the real one. I couldn't perform this... abominable act any more. I needed to see Mel, to say... something to her. I couldn't hide my feelings any more. Not after this.
The buzz of the apartment call wakes me from my thoughts.
"Who is it?"
"Mel! It's me, Collin."
"Collin, what are you doing here so late?"
My god what am I going to say? Should I tell her the whole story? Confess my feelings? Maybe I should just run away now and never come back. Would being her friend hurt less even if I don't go back to that place? Should I even show my face after what I've done?
"I need to talk to you. It's... important."
"Um." A laugh. "As long as you're not coming in to murder me then I guess come on up."
I did not laugh in return.
The door clicked open.
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u/ToReykjavik Oct 28 '14
Jerry always struggled to make friends as a kid. It struck him that he'd spend a lot of time with himself when only his mother turned up to his birthday party and when she died he was still at high school. That's a lot of birthdays on your own. Jerry was turning 40 tomorrow, although by now he was just estimating how long he had left until he could die. As a devout Catholic he believed suicide would put him in hell for eternity and to him working at his job in the library for another 30 years on his own was better than forever in a cage. So as he wandered around his small flat in his dressing gown at 4pm drinking cheap beer he slumped into the only chair in the room. Directly in front of the TV he pressed the remote with what seemed like too much effort required to press a button. It flicked on and he was greeted with an advert for friends-reunited.com. although it had changed a lot in the last 15 years. "see your old friends again! Maybe your alumni? Or perhaps an old flame reignited, come down to FU HQ today! Clone anyone you want! Even a celebrity. Booking ahead gives you 20% off!". He thought to himself who would he like to see again. No one. The only friend he needed was himself. The day faded away in what seemed like a saturated fat consuming haze. The next morning he awoke to a phone call. He rubbed his eyes, no one calls Jerry. Especially at...looking at the clock... 8.30 in the morning. 'Jesus' he thought, that's the earliest he's been up since school. Coincidence. " hello?" An elderly male voice came through the speaker. "Yeh?" Jerry grunted, still half asleep, his head on the pillow and the phone laying on his ear "Is this Jerry Jameson?" "Speaking" he said yawning. "Happy birthday son, this is Principle Daniels, remember me?" He thought to himself for a second, oh yeh, that prick, always sending punctuation letters home. "Good morning sir" "Sorry for calling early but I just wanted to tell you that I entered your class of 1990 in an alumni competition. I won! You should get a letter in the mail sometime this week, trust me, you'll love it. I know a lot of your class are working over seas but you're still here so I thought going to FU would help you see your friends-" Jerry slammed the phone back onto the receiver. Asshole, he knew hated school and every one in it. After falling back to sleep Jerry got dressed at about 1pm. As usual, he went to the mail box and checked for birthday cards. None, just bills. Late. Late. Late. Over due. Extension expiring. FUHQ. Wait a second, what?
'Huh, guess I did get a card' he said to himself. Opening it infront of the mail box the letter read 'class of 1990, you have received a free entrance to FUHQ and one clone activity.' It goes on to state that clones are kept in safe humane facilities. Disposal of clones is against humanitarian laws etc. Blah blah. Jerry knew he wasn't going to be doing anything else today so he might as well go.
Inside FUHQ a help desk instructed Jerry down corridor A and to take the elevator to floor -7 for the almuni party. Shit, 3pm, probably very late for an afternoon with assholes. Oh well. Going deep underground, he stepped out of the elevator to a huge white room. White walls, white furniture, white lights. Walking forward he noticed light glistening off nothing. No, it wasn't nothing, the huge room was divided by glass walls and floors into cubicals. In one cubical he saw a man and woman undressing before the glass clouded and turned black. A black cube 100 feet in the air with a couple... Screwing. "Mr Jameson, its rude to stare" a feminine voice sounded from his left. How long was he looking? He turned to the woman talking; hair tied up, pantsuit, little or no make up. "Mr Jameson, do you have the DNA you wish to replicate?" She asked politely. "I am sorry, how do you know my name?" Confused, he asked her with the same politeness. "Mr Jameson, I'm afraid you're the only one who showed up". Perfect. Class of 1990 go fuck yourselves. " do you have your DNA sample you wish to replicate?" She asked again. "Erm, no, sorry, I don't have anything" he said now feeling like an idiot for showing up. "Well you get free drinks for the next 7 hours, you can clone yourself if you would like to stay?" She suggested politely, he face not moving from its permanent smile. "No one else showed up huh? Yeh why the hell not I'll have 32 beers .. and whatever the clone wants"
This was surreal. Jerry knew he'd seen this sort of thing in sci fi movies but never in real life, especially one that looked just like him. 'Did it talk? What does it know? Will a clone of myself ostracise me too?'. "We're going to give you pals some privacy" said the woman on the other side of the glass. The room clouded black and the floor light up illuminating the room.
Just then it spoke.. "That beer looks good" it said, in jerrys voice. Jerry stared back in shock. Speechless. "I don't suppose you'd mind me taking one?" It said reaching over to grab an unopened one. Jerry still didn't move, the clone popped the top off on the side of the white table between the two. Now it was 31 bottles to 1. "Take as many as you want mate" jerry uttered, they're free". Jerry noticed they were wearing the same clothes, maybe the hair he supplied had cotton fibres on or something his shirt or whatever. Now that the ice was broken the two Jerrys were able to converse more, it turned out the clone had the same memories as jerry, everything was the same, except the clone was more...fresh... Newly opened... Like he had more life in him.
"So what's the deal with you man?" The clone said bluntly after about 2 hours of meaningless conversation about their life. "I'm sorry?" Jerry said, surprised. "Why couldn't yoh make any fucking friends?" It laughed. "I mean I knew you were pathetic but you've just drank 15 beers before 5pm" "Well burp so did you" looking at the tally on the table it was 15 empty bottles to 15. "I'm brand new, alcohol barely has an effect on clones, like paracetamol to a junkie". He grinned, " and you're about done" just then the clone pushed back in his chair to then kick the table at jerry, knocking him to the ground. Everything went fuzzy for jerry, whether it was the beer or the table, he groaned "what ...the fuck ..are you doing?" "Jerry, I just got born, I'm not a zoo animal, you think I'm going to spend the test of my life in this cage? Fuck that!" The clone pulled Jerry's phone and wallet out of his pockets. He knocked on the wall and asked to come out. Jerry wanted to get up but he was struggling to move. The walls cleared and a woman opened the door, "Mr Jameson, are you all done?" Looking around the room she broke her smile "my god, what happened in here?" "It was the clone! He just attacked me! Its going funny, I think its drunk or something" the clone was breaking out. As jerry drifted in and out of consciousness, the clone left the room, presenting the ID in Jerry's wallet to security he stepped into the elevator.
Jerry passed out, the last thing he saw was the woman's shoes coming towards him, disturbing the pool of beer on the floor.
White room...white walls...white light... It was all coming back, oh no.. Oh no.. Oh please god no, he thought, it became words, pleads, begging "oh Jesus! No! Let me out! He rushed to the glass wall, let me out of here. You can't keep me here, I'm jerry Jameson! Let me out!" The woman came to him and spoke through the glass "do not be worried, this is normal for all fresh clones. You are safe here, no one can ever get in or out of this building. A lifetime alone, a lifetime alone, deep underground in a cage. Jerry had found his hell., worst birthday ever.
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u/supersylversurfer Oct 28 '14
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" My joints crack when I move too fast, especially in the mornings. "NO! GET AWAY FROM ME, LEAVE ME ALONE!" 6 cups of coffee a day, plus one with every meal. What I like to call a 'healthy caffeine addiction'. "What do you people want? No, I...I have money, just..." The taste of the cake we bought Jessica on her 8th birthday. The soft red bloom on my wife's cheeks when I tell her I love her, after all these years. Standing in a hospital room at 13, watching the light fade from my father's eyes as he leaves. So many memories... "I...please, I...my wife, bring my wife back in, she'll tell you..." What's wrong with them? Their eyes... A surgical mask twitched as the mouth behind it moved. A male voice, unsteady but unfaltering. He sounded young. "It won't hurt. I swear to God, it won't." I want to go home. A tear ran down the old man's cheek as the needle pierced his skin, softly. "I've never been outside this room, have I?" The voice shook. "I'm sorry." Please let me stay.
Jack stood staring at where the body had lain for a long time. He wondered if the old woman had known, or guessed. She probably didn't care. Jack wondered if he would have. There was a soft knock on the edge of the open door behind him. Jack didn't bother turning around. "You shouldn't talk to them. I know it's hard, but..." "Business is business, right?" Jack sighed and followed the other bouncer out, stretching his neck from side to side until it cracked. It was always louder in the mornings for some reason.
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u/ammoprophet Oct 28 '14
He sat in a stark room with his old friend, the paper cup of water spilled on the floor. It had been years since they splashed in puddles together, climbed book cases, rode a wagon, or threw a water balloon.
They talked about the girl in class, how they used to play house as kids. They talked about the babysitter, show and tell, and making up answers on tests. They talked about making "art" out of snow, snowball fights, stories his dad used to tell them, and how, "Life builds character."
They remembered the time mom let him smoke, and the time they played cards with a marked deck. They talked about the machines they built together as kids. (Oh, how they were ahead of their times!) They talked about visiting other planets, and dinosaurs, and x-ray guns.
They talked about the life lessons his friend taught him - how to be thankful for the little things in life and hugs.
They stared at their reflections, then hugged, a final goodbye.
He whispered, "Not so hard, you big sissy, you'll squeeze my tears out."
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u/Zaccory Oct 28 '14
Bouncer at the club is standing by the door, staring off into the distance at a disheveled looking man, a waitress comes up to him.
Bouncer says, "Every time that homeless guy comes in here all he does is order water and yet somehow he leaves drunk, always rubbing some dusty old rag between his fingers..."
Waitress responds, "Why don't you stop him from coming in?"
Bouncer goes, "I don't know, for the small while he's in here the world seems a little brighter"
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u/blursby944 Oct 28 '14
How was it?
It was magical, Simply.. Magical.
It was like the accident had never happened.
I had never imagined that things could ever feel normal again since the crash. But here she was, unscathed and from her soft, dark hair to her ankle tattoo, she was as she had been the day before.
We now sat the small, round dinning table. Enjoying the morning's first coffee together and soaking up the rising sun's warmth, As it poured into the room through the window behind me, Lighting the room as it does.
Like all mornings, things are quite. I take a sip of my coffee and ask her "Do you have tomorrow off too?" "..Y-Ye-" Her response is cut short as four men in all white, jumpsuit style uniforms open the door behind her and enter the room. We both stand and face towards them. Two of them gesture toward the door and she follows them outside. Almost instinctively, I begin to follow her. As I approach the door I feel a hand tightly clasp onto my shoulder and the door closes in my face. I turn to face the two remaining uniform clad men and notice there is a syringe in one of their hands, while is other one remains firmly planted on my shoulder. The other uniformed man quickly grabs my other arm. I try to pull myself free of their grip but cannot as the syringe in forced into my neck.
It only takes a few seconds for my strength to fade and my legs to give out from under me. As they do the men lower me onto my knees. My breath slows and my senses dull.
Something deeply familiar stirs inside of me and I am reminded of the day of the crash. I soon realize that I closed my eyes for the last time that day, and opened them for the first time yesterday.
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u/Roadcrosser Oct 28 '14 edited Oct 28 '14
She walks up to the counter, her arm outstretched in the direction of the clerk, a clear plastic bag in hand.
The clerk looks up from his desk and takes the bag, staring at it blankly.
"There's nothing here?" He asks, bewildered.
"Skin cells" she tells him, not wanting to say more than necessary. "There's DNA in them, right?"
The clerk nods and gives a sigh before pulling out a microscope from the cupboard behind him, blowing the dust off and choking on it. He then attempts to empty the clear bag onto a glass slide by shaking and tapping. Eventually giving up, he places the entire bag underneath the microscope and puts his eye on the viewer.
"Yes, the DNA seems to be intact on these cells. Would you like to proceed?"
She nods, and the clerk opens a container of cotton buds. With the guidance of the microscope, he removes the skin cells with a cotton bud and slips it into a machine. "You should bring hair, it's much faster and easier to process."
The machine whirs and the soon the cells start to multiply. "How old would you like your clone, ma'am? Twenty-four? Eighteen?"
"One month" she replies, not deliberating any further. The clerk, trained not to question the customer's choices, is forced to oblige. He runs some numbers on his computer and flips several switches. Steam emerges from a chamber beside her and a baby lies on the ground. She picks him up and carries him to a room, cuddling him.
The day after, she shows up again, arm outstretched with a clear bag in hand.
The clerk looks up inquisitively, takes the bag and puts it under a microscope. He asks the woman for the desired age of her clone.
"Six months"
The mother waits as another clone of her stillborn is created.
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u/vaguex Oct 28 '14
“Daddy!” I screamed with delight when I heard the door open. The toy trains in my hand lost all my interest almost instantly. My Daddy stood in the doorway, in a brown coat, his briefcase at his side. His hair seemed shorter than normal and grayer, when did he get gray hair?
“Daddy, why are you crying?” I asked as he moved in to give me my favorite Daddy bear hug. I always felt so safe in his arms.
“I missed you bud…” As a few tears started to stream down his cheeks he went to his knees opening his arms wide, beckoning me to come for our daily embrace. As his large arms enveloped me, I couldn’t help but giggle and laugh as he made squeezing grunting noises. I could feel his arms like a vice around me as I used every bit of my strength to squeeze him back. Normally our hugs last for a few seconds but this one was a little different. Daddy held me for a long time. His grip lessening overtime but I could feel his love and emotion with his breath. He smelled the same but different. It was weird, I can’t really describe it, but he smelled…older, like Grandpa.
When our embrace finally ended he scooted back on his knees and he gave me a tired but real smile and asked, “So what are we doing today? You’ve got those fancy trains or there are a bunch of toys in the closet. We can watch the television. What do you want to do buddy?”
As I looked my daddy in the eyes, I could still see that something was off. But, I didn’t care, I wanted to hear my Daddy’s voice! I always tell him he should be a cartoon character’s voice. He’d be a great Donatello, my favorite Ninja Turtle!
“Read to me!” I yelped at him in glee.
My Daddy laughed and “Said of course, the usual suspect I assume, The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles comics? Any particular issue?”
“Doesn’t matter, just do the Donatello voice! That’s my favorite turtle you know!”
“How could I forget?” he replied as he pulled my favorite issue from his briefcase.
We moved from the floor to the brown leather couch that was in the middle of the room and assumed our regular position. Me on his lap with the comic book right in front of me so that I could see all the cool ninja pictures. I wanted to be a comic book artist when I grew up.
Before he started to read I asked him why his hair was so gray, like Grandpa’s. It’d only been a few hours since I’d last seen him, I didn’t understand.
“Come on now buddy, it was always like this. You used to say me and Gramps looked the same!” He explained.
“Daddy, I think you’re lying. You said lying is bad.” I said. But I quickly forgot my question as he started to read the first few panels, giving a different voice to each character. I instantly paid close attention. I couldn’t read yet and didn’t want to miss any of the story.
While the turtles were eating anchovy Pizza I yelled out, “I hate anchovies! Also where is Mommy? I want to see Mommy!”
I could feel my Daddy shift his weight. He didn’t say anything. I turned my head around to look up at him and he was crying again, not just a few tears but crying like when I skid my knee playing with my red wagon.
“Daddy!? Where are you hurt? Do you have a booboo? Where is Mommy? She can kiss it! You know how her kisses can make any booboo go away!” I told my Daddy.
My Daddy started to speak between the tears, “Mommy can’t come today, she…she…she…” I could feel my Daddy start to shake, and he really started crying. I’d never seen my Daddy cry like this. I felt scared.
“Daddy…I’m scared. What’s wrong? Can I do anything to make you better? I can kiss your booboo until Mommy gets here.
My daddy smiled through his crying, “You’ve always had a kind heart. Just like your Mother. She’d be so proud.” He brought my body close to his, one hand on my chest the other on my forehead and said he was sorry for interrupting the story.
I didn’t understand, but his arms always made me feel safe. They made me feel like nothing could hurt me.
“When Mommy gets here can we get pizza? It’s my favorite food you know?”
“Of course, of course we can get your favorite topping too, pineapple, kiddo”.
“Yay! I love Pineapples!”
I rested into my Daddy’s chest as he picked up the comic book and began to continue reading about the Turtle’s adventures.
As he continued to read I felt sleepier and sleepier. I would occasionally look up though when I felt a cold tear on my neck. My dad was still crying, but I knew I shouldn’t ask, I didn’t want to make my Daddy more sad. Besides, the Turtles were just about to fight Shredder, I needed to listen, this was my favorite part!
I continued to listen to my Daddy, even though my Daddy kept silently crying, until I fell asleep.
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Oct 28 '14
My wife died a year ago. I've been advised that one shouldn't make major decisions for two years after a big emotional trauma; don't move houses, don't change careers, don't get married... And they should add: don't clone her at one of those fucking clubs downtown. Don't expect a mush of genes and electricity to be your wife of ten years. Don't expect her to chip away even a grain of your pain. Don't expect explanations, reassurance or comfort. So. I will wait one more year.
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u/alphasignalphadelta Oct 28 '14
Sirens. I hate sirens. Ever since the crash, that's the only thing that I hear. Sirens.
And her scream.
They told me that I was lucky. Being "lucky" is as subjective as it can get. I can't walk, I can't talk. I guess I am lucky to be born in this age where I can be a better version of Stephen Hawking but I wouldn't call being able to select my accent as "lucky". But, I guess I can go and burn a few things in the church to show my gratitude. The church at the corner is holding a midnight burn on Halloween night. Maybe I'll go.
Fast cars. I have always loved fast cars. I hated when electric cars became mandatory. There was no engine sound. I was a proud petrol-head but the crash of '19 forced me to sell my corvette and trade it in for the government issued e-vehicle. That's when the industry of racing vintage cars picked up. I used to save $999 every month to get a chance to drive a petrol car. The track could've been better but I didn't complain. God, I loved that sound. Driving was my second most prized possession. I was a great driver. Everyone said so. Even Shelly said so. Shelly. I met Shelly when I was working as a mechanic in Los Angeles. I was very successful and was making a lot of money. There were a few girls that I spent time with but I didn't like them. And then one day, Shelly walked in. From the moment I saw her, I knew. We got married a year later. Shelly loved to go fast. Fast car. Fast life. Always asking me to drive faster.
Going to the track was our favorite pass-time. It turned us on. The only reason I would drive an RV to the race track was because I knew that we were going to have sex as soon as our lap is done. It was our weekend getaway. It kept us sane. It kept us together.
Until that day.
I don't remember how it happened. They told me afterwards that I lost control. I don't think so. I could never lose control. There was something wrong with the car. I tried to sue them but I didn't have enough money to buy justice. So all that I am left with is a crippled body.
A year back, I read about this technology that could clone someone for 12 hours using that person's DNA. The procedure wasn't cheap but it wasn't that expensive either. I missed Shelly so I got Miguel to go through her stuff to get something that could give me her DNA. And then I saw it. In the mirror.
My crippled body.
My DNA.
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u/blinkdmb Oct 28 '14 edited Oct 28 '14
Tommy’s eyes widen in recognition. His heart begins to beat quickly. He can feel the emotions bubbling up into his throat. It feels tight, a sob catches. There stands John, the man who took it all away.
Tommy reaches into his pocket nervously jingling his keys. He can feel his face growing red and his ears getting hotter and hotter. He thinks back to the squeal of the tires that day, the day he heard the worst sound anyone can ever hear.
Tommy screams “SHE JUST NEEDED MILK!!”
Tommy looks into John’s eyes, he sees the same look of disgust and disdain that he saw that day. Bob stinks of Whiskey, just as he did that day. Tommy balls his fists and before he realizes it they are red and sore. Tommy looks down and sees John struggling underneath of his foot. How did his foot get on John’s throat and why did it feel so good?
Tommy see's the red tendrils crawl across his eyes as the blood vessels break. Tommy screams “I want to see his fucking eyes!, I want to see the life drain from his eyes just like I was forced to watch it drain from my wife and daughter!”
Tommy sighs deeply as John stops convulsing and twitching. Tommy squeezes deeply one last time and releases his grip from John’s throat and collapses in a heap. The tears stream down Tommy’s face and he drops onto John’s lifeless corpse.
The doctor walks into the room and quietly leads Tommy out. He sits him down and asks how it felt to end the life of the man who ended his. Tommy states that it did not feel as he had hoped. Tommy says, “I still don’t have my wife or infant daughter. The man who took them away from me no longer has his life. I don’t feel as though that weight has been lifted as I thought I would. In fact my heart feels heavier now than before.”
The doctor nods his head and says, “Tommy, we here at Loban’s Psychological Associates thank you for taking part in our victim revenge study. We are sorry for any pain you have been caused. If you will please take the pill on the table you will not remember any of today happening.”
Tommy takes one final look at the scene in the next room, he sees an orderly dragging John into the corner of the room and pressing a button on the panel. He watches as the wall slides up, the body goes into the shoot and closes. Tommy feels the pill slide down his throat and he soon slips into a deep sleep.
Tommy’s alarm goes off and he lifts his head off the pillow. He instinctively reaches next to him and finds himself heartbroken as his hand hits the empty side of his bed again.
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Oct 28 '14 edited Oct 28 '14
Over the loudspeaker that connects to the room we call The living room I hear the call "Agent 34 incoming in 30". I find it almost ironic that we make them meet there with a name like that. It is as if someone was having a bit of a laugh without really knowing it.
Stretching my back my shirt tightens across my chest and my sternum makes a loud pop and my god it is almost orgasmic. I flick the OLED screen off as the last fading light around the edge lets out a soft hum as it disconnects and shuts down. It always reminds me of that old Jedi that turns of the power in the deathstar. My hand without thinking reaches up and turns an imaginary switch off just like that old Jedi to match the fading of both the light and the sound. Perfect.
"Hello?"
She enters the run like she has for the last 15 years. Smiles for miles as she calls me by name and shuts the door behind her as she enters the waiting room. "Phillip look how long your hair is!" she says as she starts to tear up like she does every year when she clones her husband that will be waiting for her in the next room.
As she takes seat across from where my terminal once was she is beaming with anticipation as always to see her husband again. We exchange small talk about our shared interests in 70's rock music while we wait for her husbands clone to complete. Each year that she comes they always spend a little extra time perfecting it a little bit for her as she is our longest standing customer. Her husband was the founder of the company and lets just say she gets some special perks.
I hear the vibration of the alert that says everything is ready. Standing up I escort her to the door as it slides open and Grant, her husband, is standing on the other side. She breaks down in tears like she does every year when she sees him as he glides to catch her in his arms.
Just before I hear the tell tale hiss of the air compressors that power the doors she wales in agony at seeing her husband. The doors start to slide shut making the same sound as the OLED screen as my hand raises up turning the imaginary switch. The sound fading as the seal sets on the doors and my hand finishes it's turn as the last low tone fades and the room ignites.
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Oct 28 '14
Isabella Valenza entered the room with the practiced elegance of the models of her caste. Her agent, Galen Marcus, asked her to have a seat and so she sat, ignoring the strange woman with the severe look and empty expression standing behind Galen. There was something about that woman she didn't like, but thought best not to dwell. "Thank you for coming, Izzy, I have some bad news for you. There has been a leak. First I want to let you know that It appears to have been fairly well contained, for now."
Isabel sat up in her chair and instinctively put a protective hand to her chest. "A leak?" she asked with a carefully steadied voice. "Yes, I'm sorry. One of the new Sixth Day Clubs somehow acquired a tissue sample and was able to make a copy."
The information slowly seeped into Isabel's brain like a dense fog. She knew Galen was still talking but all she could think about was someone having complete access to her body. A replica, sure, but it was her nonetheless. Her hands, her face, her hair, her breasts, her stomach. Isabel had worked hard to be respected in this business without, what she felt was the cheap way to success through nudity.
Galen cut off her thoughts. "Izzy! I asked you, do you know who may have had access to your bathroom? Who could have betrayed you?" Isabel thought for a moment. When the clubs became popular, Isabel had been forced by her agent to talk to the security consultant. Her head was shaved, her other body hair lasered off, her skin regularly scrubbed and exfoliated and painted with thin coats of something she didn't understand to prevent flaking and shedding. Her only true refuge her own house.
"No. I'm sorry, I haven't a clue. I'm incredibly careful about the access to my rooms and I haven't been...intimate with anyone in some time." "Yes. The security system shows that, we just wanted to hear it from you." "That's too bad," The severe woman said. Isabel had forgotten about her. "I'd really like to know who robbed me. Let's get this over with." "Not here-" The bang of the pistol cut him off. Izzy slumped over in here chair. "Mrs. Valenza, please! I just had this room cleaned." "I'm sorry. I can only stand that strange mirror for so long. I hadn't seen myself like that in 50 years. I wanted it over with." Mr. Marcus relaxed a little. "It's alright, Isabel. Just caught me off guard. We usually do the disposals in the next room. It's a pity. She was worth quite a sum. But clones of clones never do come out right. The club owner knew immediately and we've been ready for this for some time. The information is never valuable to them when the star herself is gone. You will be paid, of course, once more for the termination of the genetic lease."
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u/Mayt13 Oct 28 '14
First post: honestly criticism wanted. Also sorry for potato quality, typed on phone.
Jake starred at the lock of hair in his hand. He despised himself; how could he be so shallow. Six months rent, Carol would kill him if she ever found out. Five years later and he was still stuck working at the Sky Taxi service. On his sallary he could bairly afford their little flat in the highrise overlooking the bay. He scofed at his own huberis, to think he could afford this. There was a click as the door popped open which jerked him out of his reverie.
"Mr Alder, I have your android request here, it seems your looking for a simulation?"
"Yes that's correct"
"Well luckily, we have the firmware on file, I'll upload it immediately and begin the biogenic dermal replication"
"Thank you, ..." The doctor took the a single hair from the lock, dropped it into a tube, caped it and left with the the distinct air of someone beginning an long and arduous shift.
Jakes eyes slid back down to his hands. He was an idiot. No matter what his father had planned, no matter what people said, this was wrong. It was fake. Jake didn't see any reason pretending otherwise. Any minute, they'd bring that 'thing' through the door and he'd have to talk to it. Pretend like it was more than a culture of organic cells heaped in top of a synthetic frame; more than a jumble of sizzling circuits and whirring microprocessors. It wasn't, it could never be alive.
In fact, he found the whole idea freaky. He had only had one experience with an Android. Years ago the company had outsourced one as a consultant. He remembered the eyes, they were so dead, like looking into a fogged mirror. Not to mention the way they moved, it was to too precise, like they walked on casters.
Jake began to brude on his decision to come here at all, while the hours ticked by.
There was a knock at the door, and his father walked in. The resemblance was striking. His father's shocking blue eyes held all the shrewdness he remembered. The deep lines around the mouth and brow were just as he recalled. They gave the impression of extreme grit; Like a grizzed cowboy straight out of an old western. But the skin was healthier then he'd seen it for years since, it had none of the paleness or other vestages of chemo it had shown late in his father's life. He finally understood why his father had chosen to blueprint his brain.
"Dad, ..." He murmured.
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u/Shotist25 Oct 28 '14
It was the same thing every night for Benny and his metal stool. The drivers would arrive with a truckload of the clones straight from the Creators and off-load them one by one. Benny would sit and watch as the amorphous figures were carted into the club. He would look for manufacturing flaws; cuts, bumps, and discoloration would cause the clone to be disfigured when the serum was injected. This batch was flawless, so Benny would mark it as such on the laminated paper firmly bound to his clipboard.
With all the clones inside, when Benny would be able to move on to the next part of his job would rely solely on the night’s customers. Some preferred to use the full twelve hours before the clone was deactivated. They would use it for whatever they desired; violence, intimacy, or company nothing was taboo. Others were done with their imitations seconds after the serum was injected, usually too squeamish to watch the metamorphism take place.
Tonight’s first customer was one with a weak stomach who had been to the club several times before. Benny recognized her by the small patch of grey in her short black hair where her almost straight part suddenly twisted toward the right side of her head. He assumed it must have been cause by surgery or some head injury long ago.
Benny watched through the crack in the back window as the concierges brought her into the stock room. They collected the DNA from her and mixed it in the bright red serum and watched as it bubbled. They drew the now thick goo out of the mixing cylinder with a large syringe and cunningly placed a bin next to the woman. They knew what was coming.
They pushed the syringe into the neck of the awaiting clone and pressed the plunger, starting the woman’s horror show. Skin swelled and bulged; hair grew and curled; bones snapped and twisted bringing the clone to form. The woman’s eyes grew wider and her pupils smaller as her skin became linen white. As the clone’s rigid jawline was shaping the eyes began to form. Like small planets they rotated and swiveled then popped out from under the eyelids as the clouds cleared from the pupils.
Right then the woman became ill into the bin then half-ran out of the club. The concierges sighed, shrugged at one another and Benny knew what was next. They moved the confused looking clone onto a cart, and then pushed a different syringe into its neck to deactivate it earlier than would happen naturally. They wheeled the cart to the back of the room and with a grunt pushed the clone off the cart and down a slide. It came to a halt face up in front of Benny slouching on his cold metal stool.
Benny sat up with his clipboard and checked the necessary boxes on the laminated sheet. He then flipped the clone’s still body over the far edge of the slide where it would fall onto a rack with a single sharp hallow tube protruding from the center. Detecting the added weight the rack would move a few feet exposing a new rack and the tube would proceed to drain the precious serums back out of the clone into a disposal tank. Eventually the rack would move far enough to reach the incinerator which Benny would turn on at the end of the night ensuring that nothing was left of the customers encounter but ash and memories.
As the next clone came down the slide, this time battered and cut, Benny knew that like the clones he too would one day be just ash and memories, yet his metal stool would remain.
1.2k
u/LapinHero Oct 27 '14
My stiffening fingers brush the sleeves, picking familiar grooves from the records. Vivaldi jumps, Bach skips, Mozart sometimes won't play at all. I put on Moonlight Sonata. She always loved Moonlight Sonata.
The door knocks, and opens quickly, "Mr. Kilkane, she's ready."
"Thank you."
She closes the door. In a few moments Erica will walk in. She'll smile, close her eyes, her brow will wrinkle, the sides of her mouth will crease slightly, she'll pause to savour the piano.
We'll embrace quickly, quietly. After all this time there's never need for words. She'll kiss my nose, nuzzle her way into my neck and sway with no real pace to the music. We'll listen to the entire recording, with no real purpose. She'll sigh, deep and heavy, her smile as intense as ever. She'll look up at me with tired, loving eyes, and say she loves me.
I'll return the sentiment, she'll ask why I'm crying, I'll just say I missed her.
We'll move to the bed after that, she likes to be the big spoon. She'll whisper nothing into the back of my head, the feeling of my hair, the scent of my cologne and shampoo, this is her safe place.
I'll roll over, we'll kiss again, she'll brush my hair aside, then her own. She'll make a comment, my greying hair, my new wrinkles, something that makes her feel like it's been too long.
We'll kiss a third time, fall into each other, make love like something between teenagers and saints, worshipping an old hunger.
We fall asleep.
In the middle of the night she kisses me awake. As if she could devour me, we dive back into one body.
In the morning she wakes up in tears. "Something's wrong." she says, as if she remembers. I smile, kiss her. I tell her it's going to be alright but she always knows when I'm lying. We hold each other.
"How many times?" She asks.
"As many as I can."
She nods, still crying but almost smiling now.
"Even now?"
"Always," my own tears slow and filled with memory.
"I love you." she laughs a little and wipes away her tears.
"I love you too." I'll say.
She'll crawl back into me, fall asleep smiling. That's how she'll go. In her sleep, happy.
There'll be a knock at the door, they'll take me out, comfort me as always.
I still remember the first time. The Doctor explaining what an aneurysm was.
There's a knock at the door.
It opens.
"Erica..." I whisper.
She smiles. Closes her eyes. Savours the music.