I sat upright with a violent jerk. I knew I had just been cloned. My lungs always had a wet feeling to them… I clutched my chest. I had been shot, I was bleeding—my mind echoed the pain. I couldn’t breathe. I shook with emotion, remembering my own death. Jodie died in the explosion and someone shot me on the oilrig.
I had been dying just a moment ago; I looked down at my finger, hooked still trying to carry out the last order given to it. Pull the pin.
A doctor gave me a shot of something—antibiotics (I assume) to prevent the pneumonia that new clones were sometimes prone to developing. Without a word he left the small room.
I glanced about. I was naked, uncovered not restrained. There was a large mirror that covered most of one wall. No doubt an observation room on the far side—I was sure at that point that the cops had me. Or at least I prayed it was the cops and not some corporation. The cops would show a little restraint at least. Either way though, I was in deep shit. I broke out in goose bumps, maybe from the chill, maybe from fear…
There was a knock at the door and the door opened. A man walked in carrying a hospital gown, and gestured to the table in the middle of the room. I hoped like hell the silent treatment didn’t mean he spoke something other than English. I put the gown on and took a seat at the table.
A full minute passed. The man stared me down in an effort to intimidate me. I attempted to distract myself by taking mental note of his appearance and demeanor, without much success. Typical cop. He pulled out a pack of marijuana flavored cigarettes—MJ brand and offered me one.
“No thanks… new lungs ya know…”
He shrugged and lit one up. He inhaled deeply held it for a moment and deliberately exhaled in my direction. Coughing sharply twice, he introduced himself.
“I am detective Masterson. Do you know why you are here?”
A thought occurred to me. I tried my best not to betray it on my face. They had the technology to extract my memories without cloning me. Why did they clone me? Not knowing why was fanning the fires of panic that had been smoldering since I woke up.
“No I don’t know why I am here but I suppose… you are going to tell me.”
Another long drag on the MJ; “Well, for starters I have been investigating you and your buddies for a long time. In fact, despite the fact that they are all dead the case is considered unresolved because the money was never recovered. The best we can gather from your ‘memories’…” he snorted a laugh at that word, “and various other sources, your group has somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 million dollars in funds, stolen art, stolen memories and stolen DNA. Not to mention pure digital copies of everyone’s memories and DNA—your entire criminal organization.”
I was shocked. Everyone dead? Just a notch under full blown panic now. I had to know what happened so I could figure out what to do next. “15 million sounds about right. So get to it you piece of shit, what’s your offer?” (I had no intention of rolling over—I just needed to buy time.)
Masterson took another thoughtful drag off the MJ, before stubbing it out. He giggled a little… “My friend, there is no offer. You have no options. No way out. You see; we brought up your memories in the computer. We interacted with them, but they are memories. We can’t get that data to think like you. Here is the dilemma… we know that you double encrypted the data and the accounts, and because your sweetie pie is dead we can’t get into it. Also you are worthless—a “field clone” so your DNA is flawed. You wouldn’t be getting paid with a drop of this body’s blood—if that was the case I would have no problem juicing you like a lemon.”
He regarded his hands thoughtfully. Large rough looking hands. Violent hands. “I have tried many times in the years I have been nvestigating you to put myself in your shoes. Retrace your steps and thoughts, but I can’t get it right. It’s more like watching a really fucked up movie than anything else. So there is only one conclusion. You hid it, you encrypted it, therefore you must recover it. I am sure that there is a backdoor you placed somewhere somehow, something you did after your last backup.”
I thought about that for a moment. There was a possibility that I did something AFTER the last good backup, but wait a minute… did he say years?!?
“Exactly how long have you been investigating me?” I was with the group three years, but I only have two years worth of memories after I lost that year.
He laughed. “Here’s the mind blower. Eight years.”
“That’s not possible. I have only been with them for three years… Eight years ago I was fourteen.”
Masterson leaned back, propped the massive boots up on the table and gave me a big shit-eating grin. He pulled out another MJ. “You have been dead and gone seven years my friend.”
I gasped as if he had hit me. No hiding that reaction. The weight of seven years hit me like 7 tons of bricks. I felt crushed. I felt angry. Not so angry yet that I forgot that this man was twice my size and had offered to juice me like a lemon. Nevertheless, I mustered all the defiance I could. Through gritted teeth I got out, “I am not your fucking friend.”
Masterson paused lighting his cigarette, and laughed loud and heartily. The laugh was almost infectious. “Actually, I am the closest thing you have to a friend —and I think you are going to help me. I think you are going to do it willingly. Especially after you find out what they did to you.” He lit the MJ, “You see when we started scanning your memories we found certain characteristic “spikes” if you will, when you were backed up and restored. This is very similar to noise spikes found on old-fashioned magnetic tape. Spliced magnetic tape. See everywhere we found one of these spikes we knew you had been cloned. In reality… there was no continuity to your memories. Let me ask you this, how many times do you believe you have been cloned?”
“I know I have been cloned 8 times.” I replied meekly.
“Eight times! Oh my god. Eight whole times…?” He looked over his shoulder at the mirror, “Hey Mike, how many times has our friend been cloned–that you can tell?”
There was a burst of static and a tinny voice replied, “one hundred forty-three times that we can tell over the course of 15 years, but of course there may be a lot more than that, as there are significant lapses in time from his point of view.”
“You see friend…” He took a deep drag on the MJ, “We think that they used you like a condom. You did whatever they woke you up for, and then they discarded you because that was easier than keeping you alive. You were disposable. When they got rid of you, it was execution style if you didn’t end up getting yourself killed.”
I felt dizzy–if this was remotely true… motherfucker. The anger boiled up, at Masterson… at my team. I was furious most of all that he may have been telling me the truth. “This is all bullshit! I don’t believe any of this. I am not your buddy; I am not your friend… you are feeding me this line of bullshit with no proof just to get me to sell out. Yea I have some fucked up friends but people just don’t do things like that to another… human being.” I managed, voice cracking, “This is crazy. Even if some of it were true, Jodie wouldn’t have let them do that.” I started shaking my head violently, “NO. No. No, get me a fucking lawyer–you fuck! A fucking lawyer now!”
Masterson’s calm demeanor flipped instantly to rage… the boots hit the ground and he was an inch away from me. I found I couldn’t look him in the eyes, they were cold and terrible. “The girl? The girl wouldn’t do that to you?” He slammed his hands down on the table with such force that I flinched. I could see up close exactly how huge this man’s hands were. Scarred massive hands. His body oder fell over me like a shadow. The foul breath that was a sickly mix of something rancid, marijuana cigarettes and something sickly sweet like pink bubble gum. My stomach did a flip flop. I faintly smelled something burning. I no longer had any doubt that he could literally juice me like a lemon.
He glared at me, veins popping out on his forehead. He turned purple. He lifted his right hand and peeled the crushed MJ from the palm. He took a deep breath and said, “Aw, now look what you made me do.” He took a breath, seemed to catch himself from saying something important. He considered it and then simply said; “The girl has been the one doing this all along.”
“Anastasia? I know that the scary Russian bitch didn’t like me but to murder me repeatedly? I don’t believe that.”
Masterson sighed. “My god you are dense. Your girlfriend is the one that’s been using you… killing you.” He shook his head, “I didn’t want to show you like this but it’s the only way to convince you. Mike, cue up video from the raid. And tell the Doc to get a sedative ready. When she pops him, I have a feeling that he’s going to come unglued.”
The tape rolled. Evidently they had the place under surveillance when the raid went down. I watched Jodie whisper in my ear, a smile crossed my face and then my head exploded. She wiped the splattered blood off her face and cleaned her hands on my twitching leg. It was surreal.
I felt something welling up inside me. Slowly at first and then building steam. It got to the top of my throat and I opened my mouth to let out the scream but found myself stuffing my fist in my mouth to stifle it. I bit my knuckles and blood flowed—a warm coppery taste in my mouth. I couldn’t stand it anymore and I screamed. I inhaled and screamed again and again. They sedated soon after that, shrieking and screaming over and over until it mercifully began to go black. The last thing I remember is Masterson talking to someone saying that a copy of me had been stolen from the evidence room.
