The Clone

A bit of back story before you read: This paragraph from my book, The Sum, shows a huge moment for Davind, one of the main character. There is a war going on between these people called the Hinpronti (who have developed technology that enable them to change their genetic code and create clones) and the Federates who want to rid what is left of the world of the technology. Davind hates the clones and does not think that they are real humans. He is a blind follower of the ideal that they are scum and should be killed. But as he listens to the story of this one clone, he comes to a realization about the reality of the genocide.

This thing is sitting before me, its arms hanging heavily just as mine do, its eyes reflecting the glow of the same fire that mine do. And then it raises its hands into the air and begins to tell a story. Small words whisper out of this things mouth, quietly at first, little tiny words. And then its voice pauses, just a beat, only to pick up again with a rhythm, a train of unspoken elegance. And that’s when the words begin to flow, like syrup, like sweet honey from the mouth of an unbarred soul. The spirit behind the voice of this thing, like that of a poet, carves through the air, cutting the color of the world around it, defying the laws that hold us all in safety. And the story that this thing tells, painstaking power in the plot that has crushed this thing down to nothing more than a forgotten number in a war it was made to die in. And it crushes down on me as well, and begins to eat away at something in me, something I cannot place a name on. This thing… it’s so helpless. It’s so strong. It is so deprived of the love that it was told it could never experience, instead being slung behind guns, and forced onto knees, and tossed into hell’s own nightmares. Then the tears, so subtle at first, so calm as they just rest in the tips of its eyes just before they tumble down its face, quickly but then seem to crash into slow motion. The streaks drip like medicine from its cheeks, reflecting the gold light. And then that same pain hit met too, those same tears creep into the corners of my eyes as well. And I feel as my heart is being plucked like a harp. Each note brings a sob. Each pluck rips at that something inside me. And as I watch this thing before me, as I see this thing melt into the terrors and emotions that it had been pretending to lack, as I see this creature move and shape its words into masterpieces of strength deriving from true talent, I see the lines on its face grown deeper, the creases in its cheeks and squinted eyes grow full of crevices of knowledge and wisdom. And I realize something in that moment because I can see the humanity boiling beneath the skin of this... this person. This person. And something breaks in me right then, a shattering blow slams into my gut, stealing my breath. My soul is stripped bare and I can feel the edges of it against the inside of my bones. The curves and holes in it move in waves behind my knees and around my ears. That is when I realize what broke. My image of my perfection broke, something that I didn’t even know I had created for myself. Because there is something about this thing, this person, before me… something that shows the true reality of my absolute flaw. I am the enemy. I am the genocide. I am the injustice and the trigger and the enforced hopelessness. Everything in me feels lacking. My veins are as hollow as my soul is. And the tears cannot be stopped now for they are coming from inside me, deep in me where I have never let love like this reach before.