tahlia_paiger

Australia

I love writing fictional stories with deeper meanings.

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The Original and The Clone

November 28, 2019

I hate to read books. I try to reach for the impossible world that they describe, but really it’s pushing me into an unknown darkness. I prefer to read science, things that describe reality. Voices in the gloom of my mind whisper in wonder about how humans destroyed our only chance at life. How are we so small compared to earth but leave such a large mess? The world that I live in is like smoke, continuously changing and there’s always a chance that it may disappear. It blinds us, like the society that I live in, we believe what we can see and in a situation like that, they block your vision from the truth. Humanity is dying and it’s taking the earth with it.

Technological developments created new career choices, which also brought original and creative ideas such as trees that produce 10 times the normal amount of oxygen, which now make up 90% of our rainforests. These ideas may have destroyed the importance of maths, however, they also destroyed our natural life on the planet. Cloning was just one of those ideas and it grabbed the attention of many scientists, including my parents. Cloning isn’t a new concept but in 10 years they want it to be as common as flying cars, which became popular ten years ago in 3010. Furthermore my parents decided to clone me, Alexander. My exact copy is known as Subject 52BA9. Or Bee whichever you prefer. 

“Bee, what’s the definition of clone?” I mumble to him.
“That is slightly offensive Alex.” He grumbles back in the same tone. Our identical voice is normal to me as I have never known a world without Bee in it. However, this is scary to other people.
“I just wanna’ know.”
“Why do you have to ask me?” 
“You were designed to be a nerd.”
“Well, I’d prefer to be built the way I was, than the way you were.” Bee shoots back, I arch my eyebrows at him, as he continues playing the old game, ‘Jump and Run’. The concept is pretty simple. Transparent spheres of light fly towards Bee who can’t move forwards, backwards or sidewards, he can only dodge or jump. The game is illuminated from a small cube that sits on the floor of our bedroom, which is painted lemon yellow. 
“Very funny Bee.” 
“Clone. Noun. An organism or cell, or group of organisms or cells, produced asexually from one ancestor or stock, to which they are genetically identical. A person or thing regarded as an exact copy of another.”

Well, this is me. I’m glad we’ve been introduced and now you know what or who Bee is. So far, you have a better understanding than I do. I don’t know whether to say that he is me and I am him. Is he my brother? Is he a machine? People always ask what do you refer to him as? I just say he’s Bee. Why do I call him Bee? To humans every bee looks identical, however, if you look closer their stripes are unique and the way they think is different. This is the same for Bee and I. I believe that he is different on the inside. To me, he’s not me. 

But this became apparent to me a few days ago when I realised we were losing Bee. We were in one of our all too frequent doctor appointments in a deathly, cold grey room. The past envisioned lush green gardens and white buildings, which couldn’t be further from the truth. We were in that room to see if Bee hadn’t strayed from being an exact copy of me. Unfortunately, he had presented his first signs of derailing from the normal path. All it took was a swipe of a metal rod across his forehead to show that the DNA that was taken from me, had failed and was now shutting down. The doctor couldn’t look at my parents, but I couldn’t look at Bee. My heart felt heavy against my lungs and my breathing became short. It was the goosebumps that crawled up my arms like little bugs which caused me to shake. The world became a camera out of focus. I remember blinking a few times to keep the tears from spilling down my cheeks and onto my fingers, which were going numb. I wanted to look at him and see what he was thinking but my eyes were scared of what his would be showing.

Now our usual game of ‘Jump and Run’ became the waiting game of Bee’s death. I wish to dig myself into a hole as I sit here in the the doctor’s office with Bee. Fear persists with shouting at me to run away, but I’ve learn’t before not to avoid my problems. I walk to the front of Bee who doesn’t move from his chair and fall to my knees. All of a sudden I feel like I have lost a part of myself and I have no idea what to do about it. 
“Well, what are we gunna’ do?”
I look up at Bee and my heart drops even further. 
“What are you talking about?” I clench my fists which resemble maracas.
“We have to let go. I can’t just stay here and wait for my body to decide that everything is over.”
“What? You’d just leave me here?”
“I don’t want to.” He says quickly before taking a deep breath, “Alex, I can’t just wait.”
I frown and run a hand through my hair.
“Would you come?” He asks tentatively.
“Where would we go? What would I do when you...” I pause.
“Away, I don’t know... but when have we ever known?”

Maybe humans went wrong when we became so obsessed with expecting more than what we were given, so we gave ourselves more and it destroyed our Earth. Bee didn’t ask to be me and all he expected was to say goodbye, so I left with him. 
 

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