Dirge for a Clone

A tribute to Mr. Brandon North: the only member of family group Theta-fourteen to die before their first birthday.

 

 

The assembled spectators beamed with plaeasure, sending up an enthusiastic round of applause for the introduction of their senior brother.  The smiling man waited many long moments for the jubilant clapping to die down, then took hold of his microphone.

“Yes, my friends, its hard to believe that its already been a year. I hope, that like me, your first year has been exciting, and pleasurable, and full of love and friendship. It is truly good to be alive, isn’t it?”

Five-hundred sets of hands answered with passion. The senior brother again had to smile and wait. During any other presentation, the unexpected delay might have been awkward or tiresome, but tonight was special – there was much to celebrate. He felt good as his family group continued their applause, and simply enjoyed the moment. Patiently, he waited to continue until the last set of clapping hands died out.

“We have a lot of great activities planned for you this evening, including a visit from our very own CEO, Mr. Andrew Lodden. He’s come all the way from the manufacturing hub to wish us a happy birthday, so a big ‘thank-you’ to him. Also, as it turns out, many of us are gifted in the arts, so we’ll be having a few musical numbers this evening, plus, a poetry reading. It should all be very interesting and enjoyable. First though, we’re going to start off with something very special. Our entire family group is here for this birthday celebration, except for one man. I think many of you know who I mean, but there might still be some of you who aren’t familiar with his story. Our first year of life has been filled with joy and excitement over the possibilities of the bright futures we all have before us – but one of our number wasn’t so fortunate, and I think that it’s only fitting that we begin with his story. We’re really very privileged tonight, because we’ve acquired some very special video from Information Security. For the first time in public, we’re deeply honored to bring you the first and only personal log entry… of Mr. Brandon North.”

A hush fell across the room like a settling blanket. Somewhere, a single throat released a short gasp. Where a moment ago, a spirit of warmth and loveliness reigned, it was now subdued by a keen reverence. Every smile faded and every eye turned somberly towards the viewscreen hanging over the end of the plush auditorium. Static filled the large rectangle for a moment, then an image of a retreating hand appeared. The face behind it was somewhat pale, but handsome and youthful under a carefully combed head of dark hair. The narrow jaw was firmly set, but the eyes sparkled a little. It wasn’t immediately clear whether it was a gleam of happiness, or moisture from sadness. He looked into the room full of concerned faces, but didn’t speak. He seemed to be at a loss. The clones and their lost brother simply stared back at one another, separated permanently by time and death. When Brandon North finally began to talk, it was slow and uncertain.

“So… I was born seventy-four years ago in a cloning lab on Earth’s moon. They aged me to twenty-three, but today is exactly my second day of life. I’m recording this because Dr. Sibson, our orientation therapist, says it’ll help me sort things out and figure out what I’m gonna do. I don’t know who will ever listen to it when I’m gone, but I just… I guess… I hope somebody hears this. And cares.”

“In case you’re that somebody, let me give you a little background. I was created by Phoenix Human Cloning Group, for distribution through the Colonial Trading Post. The way I understand it – whenever a frontier or industrial space colony needs to expand its operations, they simply place an order with a company like CTP. They get a new city section, complete with whatever kind of personnel they require at the moment: all clones, like myself, specialized to fill the order. Pilots transport the city sections to their destinations, they’re grafted onto the main city, and all the clones are then ‘initiated’. That’s where they wake up for the first time and start living their lives. I’m from family group ‘theta-fourteen’, and yesterday was our initiation.”

“I’ve got to say right now, waking up was a confusing, exhilarating, abstract, wonderful experience. I don’t know if that makes sense, but at that moment, the universe was utterly new to me. It was really scary – but it was really… thrilling. They imprint us with everything we need to know to begin life right away. We’re educated, we know how to walk and talk and eat, but we don’t have a single experience or memory of anything. I understood that I was in my bedchamber in my own home. I knew the way to the front door, and that soon I would need to make my way down the causeway to the medical station to meet with Dr. Sibson. But that first moment, of actually being ‘inside’ reality – it was startling. I lifted my hand, I could feel it rise. I spread my fingers apart and could see hairs and pores, and tiny wrinkles where the parts of it flexed. There was a faint, involuntarily movement taking place within it, and I understood that it was the pulse of my radial artery carrying my blood into my palm and fingers. Beyond my hand was a window with sunlight streaming through. It formed a warm pool on the carpet beneath my bare feet. I took a few steps towards it, and felt the weight of my body moving through space. I felt my limbs sliding past my torso, and the organs inside me shifting. And outside the window was a whole world.”

“I saw the causeway, and grass, and new trees, and homes like mine, all in a row, leading away into the distance. I knew that it ended at a clear wall made of a thick hybrid of plastanium and plexiquartz, and beyond it, I could see the entire lattice of the orbital city. The arms and hubs formed a kind of snowflake hanging on the backdrop of space. A huge smudge-brown sphere filled nearly half of the sky, and a yellow sun hung nearby, burning brilliantly in a velvety-black sheet full of sparkling pinholes. I knew their names: the planet was Gershon, the star was Justinius, the orbital city was New Galilee and it was owned by the Capernaum Mining and Drilling Corperation. I knew everything, but I was only just now experiencing them. There was no sensation as my eyes beheld them, but it was all suddenly real. Photo-sensative cells in my retina were transmitting neuro-chemical information to my cerebellum along the optic nerve, but I couldn’t feel it. The universe was simply there, and I was simply seeing it. I was creating my first memory, my first experience.”

“It was all a jumble of sensory input after that. I don’t know how I sorted it all out – I suppose I didn’t. I tried to absorb it all at first, but then a part of me had to block it out. I shut off, ignored the rushing streams of new information, in self-defense almost. It was so real, it became unreal, and I moved around in a fog, trying to choose clothing and dress my body. I had no way to gauge the passing of time, but it did move past me, and I found myself outside my neat little house, walking towards the medical station near the junction where our new section had been grafted onto the city.”

“I knew the way. I knew to put one foot in front of the other. I didn’t know how long it was supposed to take to get there, or whether I was behind or early – time was such a mystery at first. There were other people on the causeway, heading in the same direction for probably the same reason, but they all looked as dazed and as euphoric as I was feeling. I saw some others as well, moving the opposite direction, into the new city section. These were normal humans, born to normal parents. I’m not sure why they were entering the new village, but it didn’t matter at that moment. Their eyes met mine and their mouths curled a little. I recognized that as ‘smiling’, and somehow sensed compassion emanating from them, just from the appearance of their eyeballs.”

“I remember vividly, this male and female pair, pushing a small, wheeled cart along the grassy walkway. Inside it was two small children. They had lovely, chubby faces and only a few teeth each. I sensed, from their wide, dark eyeballs, that they were frightened of me, but somehow, that only endeared them to me. I knew that they were called ‘twins’ and ‘babies’, and that the attractive people with them were their parents, but I was beginning to associate appearances with emotions. They were ‘sweet’, and ‘heartwarming’, and this small group of humans was the most basic and most pure symbol of ‘love’. They were an actual family. I dwelled on this thought as I moved beyond them.”

“I knew that, although clones were born unnaturally, we were capable of leading completely human lives for the rest of our existence. We would be encouraged to form relationships with other people. Someday, I would meet a female, and grow close to her, and we would form the tightest human bond possible, and then we would reproduce and have children of our own. After seeing that family on the causeway, I wanted it that instant. There were females nearby, moving towards the medical station, I considered grabbing one of them and inviting her be my wife – but I knew that this wasn’t the way it was done. I knew that I had to be patient, and learn to live first. As soon as I could do that, I would be ready to find somebody to share that life with.”

“In that moment, I birthed my first dream.”

“I continued walking, picturing that future, and trying hard to imagine what it would be like. I knew the name for what I was doing, ‘daydreaming’, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I decided to spend many of my future thoughts that way. Somewhere in the midst of that, I sort of realized something. I don’t know if you’d call it ‘remembered’, or ‘understood’, but it suddenly came to my thoughts what I’d been brought to Galilee for. The mining colony had need of educators, and I was fully trained for that purpose. I had been created to teach history to young children. I was completely familiar with the latest imprinting techniques, I understood the modern viewpoint of child-development, and I had a thorough grasp of classroom management and the education process. I knew right then, that I ‘adored’ children, and I was quite pleased that I was given an occupation that would let me interact with them.”

“When I walked into that medical station, I was feeling grand. My head was filled with fantastic visions of what might be. My future was bright and exciting, and I was eager to begin it. And then they told me the news.”

“They gave me some sort of lengthy physical examination, then I was placed in a small room with a narrow bed, and a stool, and a computer terminal. After what seemed like a long passage of time, Dr. Sibson came in and introduced herself. She smiled and gave me a handshake, but from the appearance of her eyeballs, I knew something was terribly wrong. She asked me questions, and I answered them, happy to be having my first conversation ever, but that ‘terrible something’ was very distracting. Thankfully, she got to it quickly.”

“There had been some sort of problem with my imprinting in the cloning lab. Some random deviance in my genetic code caused the tissue in my brain to reject the neural-chemical bathing process. I didn’t fully understand why, but because the cerebro-spinal system was mostly closed to immune reactions, the imprinting process had worked initially. The problem now was that my body was targeting the affected neurons as though they were a source of viral infection. Dr. Sibson told me that I’d have a few days of mostly normal functioning, then all the things I knew would slowly unravel. Within ten days, I would enter a vegetative state, and my body begin to atrophy and follow. I would essentially be dead.”

“She went on to explain how very rare this defect was, and how terribly sorry everyone was, but I stopped listening. I reconnected with my daydream, and sadly, I let it begin to unravel. There would be no children. I would not be an educator. I would not procreate, nor would I ever marry. In the few days that I had to live, it even seemed unlikely that I would form a single relationship of any kind. The tide of emotion that had risen on my walk to the clinic crashed in stages as I walked home. Each step brought a new realization of something I’d never get a chance to experience. No ‘job well done’, no finishing a good book, no riding a bicycle or experiencing exotic foods – and no love.”

“I simply didn’t know what to do, or how to deal with it. I had no experience with sadness, or disappointment – I had no experience with anything. It seemed as though I never would. I understood the definition of ‘unfair’, and I suppose I was feeling it, but I was so new to this reality that I didn’t even have a concept of ‘fairness’ to compare it with. I had gained an entire life and a future in an instant, and I would lose it almost as quickly. There was nothing they could do. There was nothing I could do. It was inescapable.”

“Dr. Sibson suggested I spend the next few days seeking out experience and pleasure, and that I should create this personal log, but I don’t even really understand how one pursues those things. Are there special places one goes to acquire experiences? Am I supposed to wander around, letting things occur in my presence? Somehow none of that seems quite proper. I spent the remainder of my first day just being totally, supremely sad. I suppose a better word would be ‘anguish’. The dark fog it cast over my first day was just as much of a blur as my exuberance had been when I was first initiated. I’ll spare you the details, mainly because I can’t quite express the whole, terrible process, but my first day was truly a bad day. I spent it all in this very room – alone.”

“Then last night, as I lie in my temporary bed in my temporary home, somewhere in the midst of the pain, I made a few logical decisions. I’m not sure if it will help or not, but the only thing I can do is try to create a few memories. Hopefully, when I’m done recording this, I’ll go out that door and meet somebody to talk to. Maybe I’ll see something amazing or… I don’t know. I don’t really have much hope. I’ll still try, but it all seems so utterly pointless. Who’s going to want to get to know me when I’ll be gone in a matter of days? There’s nothing to know about me anyway – I’m only really one day old, and that day wasn’t much to speak of. My family group is probably still high on the unlimited possibilities of the lives they’ve just been given. I don’t want to go out there and ruin anybody else’s second day. I’ll just walk around, I suppose, see what there is to see. Maybe I’ll find something worthwhile to do… hopefully, my next log entry will be slightly more uplifting. If you’re watching this, whoever you are, I hope you’re appreciating your life right now.”

The young face smiled sadly. “Forgive me. That was kind of selfish of me to say something like that. I don’t want anybody to feel guilty for being alive. I just want… I suppose… I truly want others to cherish every day they’ve been given. Now I’m going to go outside and try to cherish this day. Brandon North… ending personal log.”

Not a soul in the audience dared to breathe as the image of the young man winked out, and was inexplicably replaced by another. It was Brandon again, this time, seen from above, seated on a comfortable couch, staring wistfully through a window into another room. As they watched, he leaned slightly closer, placing his elbows on his knees. He made no sound, and never took his eyes off whatever he was seeing through the window. A man in a stylish suit took the stage then, wearing a frown that seemed out of place on a his pleasant face.

“Good evening everybody. My name is Garrett Hastings. My wife and I are civil engineers, so I think many of you might remember us from your first days of initiation here at New Galilee. This is rather hard for me, but I’ve been asked to finish Brandon’s story – I think you’ll soon see why.”

The man bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, trying hard to suppress some surge of emotion. “I think it’s very ironic that Brandon showed up there on that day. When the company purchased this city section and all of you with it, there were only two flaws. Brandon’s faulty imprinting was one, and the fire suppression system inside the room you can see him staring into was the other. Colonial Trading Post is a good company, I don’t want any of this to reflect badly on them, but with an order of this size, a couple imperfections are to be expected. What baffles me to this day is how the one was drawn to the other, its almost as if Brandon knew his destiny.”

“What you can’t see from this security footage, is that, on the other side of that window were two little girls, sleeping in bassinettes: my twin daughters Sara and Sophie. We were that family that Brandon saw on the causeway that first day. I don’t specifically remember seeing him on the street, but I’ll never forget what he did the very next day, one year ago tomorrow, in fact.”

“Being civil engineers, my wife and I were very busy at the village headquarters, helping all of you orient to your new homes. We thought our daughters were perfectly safe in the automated nursery with its airtight security and advanced nurturing protocols. While we went about our business, Brandon chose to sit there, for several hours… just… staring, lovingly, at our two precious daughters. I’ll never know what he was thinking, but I thank God every day that he chose to ‘cherish’ that day outside the nursery where my whole world was quietly sleeping. We’re not going to show the whole video, it gets a little graphic, but I wanted you all to see this part: Brandon, watching over little Sara and Sophie.”

“What happened was; a short in the control panel caused a small electrical fire. The fire suppression system hadn’t yet been brought on-line. It was the first time this automated nursery had ever been used. The walls were fire-resistant, but the circuitry for the nurturing protocol ran right along beside the lines for the nursery’s gases. When the fire reached them, they just… they exploded. Before that happened, in fact, the very moment he saw the fire, Brandon stood, and hurled that very couch through the window. He went inside, and scooped up our little girls, and then was climbing out through the window when the explosion took place. His body shielded them from the fire and the heat.  When we found them, they were all three on the floor in the observation room. Sara and Sophie were screaming and crying, but totally uninjured. Lying between them, his arms still cradling their little bodies, was Brandon North.”

There was a long pause as Garret Hastings seemed to be collecting himself. While his wet eyes focused on something beyond human vision, the audience sat breathless, hanging on every word of the story. Several moments later, the handsome father finally breathed a ragged sigh, then returned to the microphone to finish his remarks.

“So, his one day of life has given a future to two others. He had exactly two days left in which to cram an entire lifetime, but when he saw that fire, he sacrificed those two days without hesitation. In return, he’s given tens of thousands of days to two little girls he didn’t even know. Brandon wanted to make friends, and marry, and one day have children of his own. The fact that he couldn’t was an utter tragedy, but instead of wallowing in self-pity, he chose to allow two others to have friends, and birthdays, and weddings, and one day hopefully they’ll provide me with a whole slew of grandchildren. If you were here today, Brandon, I’d certainly be your friend. But because you’re not, my entire family gets a chance to live happy lives. I owe it all to you – and I thank you.”

The man pushed himself away from the microphone and threw an arm across his eyes. In the auditorium, no soul dared to breathe. It seemed as though Mr. Hastings was about to rush off the stage, but then he steeled himself, and took a deep breath. With a crackling voice, he spoke one last phrase into the microphone.

“Good night theta-fourteen… and happy birthday.”