Generation:clone

Part 2

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

My hand desperately searched for the off button.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Hand unsuccessful, I groggily rolled over and forced my tired lids open. The off button of my alarm clock was found and pressed. The incessant beeping stopped.

Instead of immediately getting out of bed to start work as usual, I rolled back over and lay still for a moment. I let my head enjoy the softness of my pillow and I savored the memory that was last night. Not a dream, I smiled to myself, but the realest reality I have ever experienced.

His smile, I recalled. The touch of his hand to my shoulder. His book, the best of it all.

I sighed with happiness and lost myself in the memory.

After a long evening of the Dumphrey’s and Donaldson’s trying to impress one another and countless unheeded advances by Miss. McKenna toward Mr. Travis, the party came to an end. The Donaldson’s returned home, but their clones remained to help clean.

The older clones griped to one another about their tired backs and worn knees. Kyle and I snagged the dishes job, he washed and I dried.

“So where did you live before?” I inquired as I dried the Dumphrey’s fancy silverware one fancy fork at a time.

“California”, Kyle replied. His hands were elbow deep in soapy water that nearly reached his rolled up sleeves.

“California”, I repeated in wonder. “Isn’t that where Crazy Carl freed his clone?”

“That’s what I heard”, he shrugged and handed me a dripping plate, warm from the washing water, “If it ever really happened.”

“Do you think it happened?” I asked, curious of his opinion. The legend of Crazy Carl was a story I’d heard a thousand times. It told of a man who decided to set his double S free, but after he released his clone from service, the government deemed him insane, sent him to a mental health facility, and took custody of his double S. The SC leaders forbade discussion of “Crazy Carl” in the Surrogate Center, but the tale of a freed clone refused to be untold. From older to younger generation, the legend was passed down from clone to clone as a precious gem of hope.

“I don’t know”, Kyle said. He looked at me, his expression serious. “I sure hope it did”. He shrugged and turned back to the dishes.

“Me too”, I said quietly and pressed my hand against the pocket of my pants to ensure Rousseau’s book was still there, it was.

***

At this point I sat up in bed and retrieved his small red book from beneath my mattress. I held it reverently in my hands and kissed its cover.

Salvation. I smiled again.

I stretched and finally stepped out of bed. I returned the precious book I’d spent the night reading into its hiding place under my mattress. The words seemed engraved into my mind; they played across it on replay as I quickly made my bed, washed, dressed, and secured my mask in place.

I walked to the kitchen where double S Mr. and double S Mrs. were already cooking breakfast. My stomach growled at the scent of bacon and eggs filling the air.

Double S Mrs. smiled and wiped her hands on her apron, “I’ll set some of the food aside for you to eat after they leave dear.”

“Thank you”, I replied. I always wondered if she was so nice to me because she felt she was my mother in a way. Whether that was the reason or not I didn’t have time to give it much thought.