Clone City

Ord was waiting for the first hint of dawn to appear when a tap at the door made him turn. He wondered who it could be at such an early hour. Opening the door, he saw two Watchmen. As they stepped in, he stepped back.

One of them produced some papers and formally requested him to accompany them, muttering something about compliance with applicable conditions. Ord knew it would be futile to resist. As he looked around his room, it struck him it might be the last time he would ever see it. A sense of loss filled him. It wasn’t much, but it was home and felt like a part of him. He gulped, took his jerkin, picked up his rucksack and followed one Watcher out as the other locked the door behind them. Seeing him check if the door had locked, Ord knew he would not be coming back.

The Watcher said, ‘This way.’ Ord followed. The only sound that could be heard were their footsteps squeaking on the recently polished corridor floor. For Ord, everything, even the scuffs and scratches on the wall, seemed to take on a new aura of importance. It grieved him as each familiar sight passed before his eyes so quickly.

Outside, nothing looked different. But spaces that he had known for years looked as if they were about to dissemble before his eyes. After he’d been dragged out of Laia’s room, he knew this day was not far off. He had imagined what it would be like many times. Yet now he was living it, it felt different.

The Watchmen motioned him to board a grey bus that was parked outside. As he climbed in, another pointed to where he was to sit. He sat down and looked out the window that was protected on the outside by wire mesh. After a few seconds, the bus began to purr and glide silently through the brightening darkness. It took a circuitous route past the Stadium, Game City, Happiland Park, Dovan Square until it reached the district in which the Encrypt stood.

When it came to a stop in front of the main gates, the Watchers got up. One told Ord to stand and follow him, the other followed as he was led off.

As Ord stumbled out, a guard was opening a door in the gate of the Encrypt. Ord looked at the trees in the distance. He could see the sun had not risen above them yet but that its rays were splayed out behind them. A guard nudged him forward, rolling his eyes at what he imagined to be Ord’s deranged state of mind. The guard who held the door open, screwed a finger at his temple as Ord stepped through.

Once inside, Ord was led toward a rectangular building. It was identical in shape, but not height, to other buildings that were ranged alongside it. Looking from side to side, Ord was surprised he could not see any clones. Perhaps, it was too early he thought. Maybe they’re all having breakfast. Seeing the tip of the sun appear above the trees, he stopped. The Watcher behind shoved him forward.

Once through the double doors, Ord was led to a counter behind which a clerk sat. The clerk placed some forms in front of him and pointed to a pen. Ord took the pen from its stand and began to fill them in. After filling in his name and some other details, his mind went blank. What was his telecom number, the address of the Carer Clone Station he’d been trained at years ago and his locator number? Surely they know all this, he thought. Not a word was spoken as he filled in as many sections as he could. When he looked up, he noticed the Watchmen had gone and two guards had taken their place. One of them smirked when he said he couldn’t answer half of the questions.

Hearing this, the clerk said, ‘That’ll do,’ and took the form. The guard then said, ‘This way,’ and led him along a bare corridor to a grey door numbered 103. Unlocking it, he gestured Ord to enter. Ord went in. As he did so, the door was closed behind him. He stood for a few seconds, looking at the door, imagining he could hear its echo. When he could no longer hear it, the silence that followed was so profound it unnerved him. He looked around the room. There was no window. He walked toward the single bed and sat on it. It was hard. He looked at the white walls and the hole in the corner that was, he supposed, a toilet. The only furniture was the bed and the small table beside it. What is this, he wondered.

As time began to hang ever more heavily, he began to grow more anxious. He had not imagined this. He’d thought there would be other clones. Perhaps, they’ll come later and take me to another building where there are clones, he thought. It’d be wonderful to see Krm again. It has been so long since we’ve seen each other. He strained his ears but could hear nothing outside. He wondered how long he would have to wait before they explained what was going on.

In the prolonged and unchanging silence, he closed his eyes. He saw trees. Sunlight was filtering through them. He was walking beneath them. He wished he had never returned. He should have stayed out, he thought. He got up and began to pace up and down as he grew ever more restless waiting for someone to come. He was on the point of beating against the door and calling for someone to bring water when he heard the tip-tap of metal-capped shoes. The door opened and the guard stepped in bearing a tray. He placed it upon the table. Ord was on the point of asking when he would be taken to join other clones when, distracted by the smell of the food, he sat down. They had taken him before he’d eaten breakfast. When he looked up, the guard had gone. Shaking his head, he tucked into the food wondering if this was lunch.

After thirty minutes, the guard returned and took the tray away. Feeling better after having eaten, Ord decided to say nothing. He had not forgotten the beating he had got from the Watcher who had taken him to be questioned. He decided to wait till they took him to join the others.

For the rest of the day, he alternated between sitting, lying, standing and pacing up and down. How he wished there was a window. It seemed to him that the morning had passed more quickly than the afternoon, but now time weighed so heavily it was driving him insane.

After what seemed an eternity, once more he heard the tip-tapping of an approaching guard. The door opened and the guard entered with what he imagined must be his dinner. Ord was on the point of demanding to know what was going on, when the guard, not the same person who had brought his lunch, gave him such a mean look that he fell silent. Eyeing him, he placed the tray, stared at him for a full minute, before walking away and slamming the door as he left.

After eating, the silence returned. Ord felt desperate. The air was dry and he felt thirsty. He lay back and fell into an uneasy sleep.

He dreamt he was lying in a small boat drifting on a glassy sea. It wasn’t a real sea. It was the sea that the Desert Island Game began with. He did not know how long he had been in the boat, only that he was dying of thirst and that his eyes stung and his head hurt. The water in the boat sploshed from side to side, the coolness of its sound taunting rather than comforting. The relentless heat of the sun bore down on his back and made him wonder if the game player had forgotten him. Slowly, he became aware that the sounds beneath the boat had changed. The boat was no longer bobbing and he could hear waves breaking up ahead. Pulling himself up, he peered over the prow and saw a tropical reef. Water, he begged the game player, water. Though his eyes stung from salt, he could just make out a yellow sandbar. He sank back and waited for the boat to reach it.

Feeling it bump and jostle up against the shore, he heaved himself up, half fell out and staggered across the sand to the welcoming shade of palm trees. As he stepped into their coolness, he stopped dead. He could see a face staring out of the dark green foliage. He blinked. It was still there. It was his own face and, yet, the face of a savage. It stared at him without recognition. Wild without reason, reason without cause…

Ord awoke and sat bolt upright as if the words were a clarion call from a distant land. He looked daggers at the door. I’m thirsty, I must drink. Controlling his instinct to rush at the door and hammer upon it, he got up and moved cat-like toward it. He placed his ear against it. He could hear the muffled voices of the guards down the corridor. Slowly, he turned the handle and pulled on it lightly. To his surprise, it was not locked. As it opened inwardly, he doubted they would notice. Holding it ajar, he could hear what they were saying.

‘Anyone know when he’s going to be junked?’

‘Nope. All we’ve been told is to hold him. Day after the big party’s my bet.’

‘Yeah,’ replied a third. ‘Would’ve been today hadn’t it been for all the la-di-dahs dressing up. If it had been today, we could’ve gone, right?’

‘Get on! Who’d invite you, eh?’ They laughed.

‘I’ve heard something’s up. That’s why they want to hold him. Make the sub talk before we put him out of his misery. It’s something to do with what’s going on in Happiland. Don’t ask me what, but it’s got Q’zar rattled.’

‘Well, if they want us to beat the shit out of him, I don’t mind. Make up for missing all the celebrations. They don’t feel anything anyway. Brainless babblers, that’s what they are. Did you see him staring at the sky when we brought him in? I ask you, what an airhead. Didn’t even know his own ID, I ask you!’

‘Yeah, it’s sad, but it can’t be helped. We can’t have head cases wandering around, can we? A mercy killing is the best thing.’

Hearing this, Ord let go of the door. If he was pale before, now he had turned a deathly shade. They’re going to kill me. He pressed both hands hard together and took several deep breaths to stop himself from going to pieces. After some false starts, he started to get a hold of himself. That’s why the door isn’t locked, he thought. They think I’m a head case. They want me to walk out so they can beat the shit out of me!

Ord was unaware that up to now all the clones who had been brought to the Encrypt had suffered severe mental breakdowns. His deconstruction had been different. Instead of becoming dysfunctional, his visits to the Outside as well as Eva’s friendship had been therapeutic. When he finally broke down, his primal scream had completely erased his conditioning. On waking the following morning, he felt different but at peace. He was reborn. The Watchers could not detect this change because it was new and, therefore, unsought. Other events had also distracted them, not least the discovery of a severed arm.

Ord carefully closed the door. He sat down and began to think hard. He must escape. Escape could mean only one place: the forest. How would he survive? He remembered the stream. Water, I will have. Shelter, I will make. It will do. Food? I shall scavenge the tips, and, if they see me, who would dare take chase, who would dare follow me to the Outside? None. He gave a snort of contempt, a gesture that was entirely new to his repertoire of body language. He would become the Man in his dream. ‘Yes,’ he cried, feeling his blood rise as a scowl twisted his face. ‘And I will kill, as they would kill me.’ He stared coldly at the door. There was only one question left: When?