The pitch of the roar suddenly heightened, and I saw the crowd split below me. Fire began appearing in small pockets of the crowd, getting closer to me as the sea of faces began to scatter and the roar turned to cacophony. As I looked around for the source of the panic, something struck my enclosure and it was enveloped in fire. I leapt back and my head hit the other side. The sphere jerked once, and then began to rise. As it did, I looked down on the chaos below on hands and knees, and the wind swept the fire off of my enclosure. The natural light and the sound of turmoil dissipated as the sphere receded into the station once again. As the last of the sunlight was extinguished by the closing hatch, I cried for the first time.
Dr. Guillory was at my side in an instant. “It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re safe now.”
My joyous tears turned to quiet laughter as I whispered, “I’m a part of something. I’m a part of something.”
…
The bright artificial lights seemed duller than they ever had, and the whirring fans and busy sounds of people and their computers were overwhelmed by the echo of the crowd in my head. I asked again and again when they’d lower me down for everyone, dreaming of the day I’d see the crowds once more. They kept telling me that it was too dangerous, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even care that they finally acknowledged me. I just wanted back out. Charlotte would bring me news clips, and I would pour over them as she hovered behind me. Everyone was talking about me, and though sometimes they didn’t like me or what I was, I felt like I was a part of everything. When Charlotte went to university, I lost my contact with the outside world. Then they lost contact with me.
…
For an entire year I was left in the dark, wondering what had happened. I asked the scientists, but they had stopped acknowledging me. Charlotte finally came back after her first year, looking troubled. I brushed past the pointless banter and asked her for new newscasts. She shook her head and said there were none.
“There’s something missing, but I can’t quite place it,” she said.
“How about the rest of the world?” I asked, disregarding her emotional state.
She shook her head again. “It’s like everyone just lost something,” she said. “I don’t know what it is, but everything’s gone quiet.”
“But what about me?” I asked impatiently. “Are they still talking about me?”
“No,” she said with hesitation, and I felt that word in my gut. “I don’t know why. It’s like they forgot you were here.”
“But how? I’m the first human clone! There were thousands!” I gasped for another breath. “How could they have all forgotten me in a year?”
“I don’t know,” Charlotte said sullenly. “I don’t know.”
“I have to get back to them. I have to see them. They need to see me!” I started coming up with escape plans in my head.
“You can’t go away,” Charlotte must have read my thoughts. “If you do, my dad would put you back before you could do anything.”
“You’re right. But I need them to remember me.”
The idea came to me later that night, though when I told Charlotte about it the next day, she was skeptical. “A scientific marvel?”
A Part of Something
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