"It's Going to be ME", a black haired clone rang out, "I was born first, born to lead."
The group of clones had started to cluster in a rough semi circle, which he approached from its empty side.
"That's hardly reason for leadership. If you get picked it will be because you deserve it. No alternatives." He spoke out loudly.
This was certainly easier than talking to their bearded leader. hence he found no trouble countering the clone, the first one if his account of things could be believed.
"I quite agree with that." Another clone strode up, making his way to the middle, he and the first followed suit. Though the third clone turned quickly to throw a hard cover book lightly at the crowd, "Keep that for me. Where was I? Yes. I believe I heard our creator say 'Choose' your leader by the time the last makes his way here."
"So?"
"So that gives you no right to choose for others!" The third clone continued, glaring toward the first.
"We should arrange for a test." He said deepening his voice to sound like their leader, he continued once the other two others looked his way. "A test to that the others will gain more information to make a proper decision from."
"Agreed," The third clone visible shrank as some realization assaulted him. "But...To organize such a thing and in the time for the last to see."
He found himself picking after the third's sudden demoralization.
"I propose that it be a fight, the martial setting will transfer enough information to the onlookers, and it can easily be arranged.
He pointed around himself. Then at the 'First'. He seemed to have shrunk back and was fidgeting in place.
"What!?" The third exclaimed suddenly, his energy returning to him with a vengeance. "Am I surrounded by muscle heads and petty tyrants. I propose we postpone this decision until more clones arrive."
This 'motion', as his mind supplied, passed almost unanimously.
After a minute the crowd of clones were going back to their previous actions.
It was then that he saw a clone who could not have attended this vote, and started walking in his direction.
----------------------------------------
"Hello.", The other clone hadn't reacted to his presence until he made that remark.
"Ugh, Hello!"
The clone had exclaimed, then with a sudden realization came right back to the same funk he had been only moments ago.
"So what's happening here?"
"Nothing much.", He said automatically. "I'm just thinking about something."
"Is that 'something' a secret."
"Ah, NO! Do you really want to know?"He added more quietly.
"It's troubling you so it's important enough."
"it's just that... I don't know my name."
"Well I don't think we were assigned names yet. So that must be it."
"No, well we haven't, sure. But the person who brought me here asked me my name."
"And what'd you say."
"Well I said that I didn't know."
"Was this a blonde fellow, somewhat visible tattoos?"
"No, well, mousy looking man. Brown hair. Rings, lot of rings, I guess."
"They weren't the ones that I know."
"Well he said: 'You're not human if you don't have a name.' That's what he said."
"Maybe."
He considered his own interaction with the man nicknamed 'Sepia', he would not give him his name until he had one himself. He considered also the case that they were asked to elect a leader. By themselves.
"Why don't you make create something yourself? How does Steve sound?".
"Just make it up?!"
"Well, all words are made up."
The other clone considered this, as he hew that he would. He picked the phrase carefully. Imbedded within his mind were memories and phrases. That's how he knew that he was sitting in a chair, situated in a room, arguing nonsense.
'Who cares what your name is, people don't have any choice when they get theirs' Why should a clone be any different.'
But he would not say that.
"No. just making it up would just make me different."
"What about a name fit for all clones, how would you like that one."
"Yea."
"What's different about that one, if you don't mind me asking."
"That one would make me a part of the group."
"Ok, so now we just need something that binds us all, a pattern if you will, that can be used to name the clones."
"Oh."
The nameless clone slumped in his chair, seemingly taking that as an announcement that the effort was in vain."
A moment of silence passed between them.
"What pod do you come from?"
"The one father away from the platform, about in the middle too. Why do you ask."
"Just thinking. So what row would that be, from the platform I mean."
"Third row."
"Well, I come from the fourth row, right next to the wall."
"So..."
"The progression seems to be from right to left, from the perspective if the walkway, and left to right from the opposite perspective. The pods seem to only create one clone at the time. There Seems to be fifteen-ish clones in the room. Well the next should be fifteenth."
"So?"
He decided not to tell him outright, since that wouldn't be as gratifying to the nameless clone.
He extended his hand, the thumb tucked in.
"If we count my nails as pods than my knuckles, we have a map of the room. Four rows, four columns. What pattern do you see?"
The other clone looked at the hand in silence.
Then he started counting.
"Well, it's left to right from this perspective. One, Two..."he counted for a bit more. "Eight, nine, ten..."
He paused then this finger over the knuckle that represented his birthing pod.
He quickly formed an invitation for a handshake with the hand that was already extended."
"Hello, my name is Thirteen. What's Yours?"
"Eleven!" He exclaimed, "Oh thank you, it's Eleven."
The conversation went from there, but soon Eleven went to spread both his name and the method to other clones. he watched him. or rather watched him just enough to see The newly named clone excitedly introduce himself to a small group of clones that surrounded a table.
With a small smile, he stood and walked off.
----------------------------------------
It was a random clone that he had approached next, one reading a digital placard on the wall.
The clone in question seeing him approach spoke first.
"Did you know that mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell?
"Yea. I'm pretty sure it's stuck in all of our heads."
"Fascinating, isn't it."
"What specifically, it all is."
"Biology, obviously. That it is capable of producing a species that can alter its environment to such a degree. I mean look at this slide right here, under the general information. The whole city is automated. Almost every medical facility, food production, everything. But here look at this."
"Little animated stick figures, what am I looking at."
"These are the building blocks of microbiology. They're inside us right now. These little messengers and porters are what deoxyribonucleic acid uses to communicate its purpose to everything else. The reason why you're taller, but I bulkier. Why our pigmentations differ, it's because our skin uses a different method to create vitamin D via sunlight. Our whole fate, in these little strand of biological data, transferred around by the comical looking micromoles."
"But what is that metal looking thing. It's obviously man made."
"Those are the nano-machines, robots the size that can interact with microbiology. They are the reason we have embedded memories. Or rather the reason why clones exist in the first place."
"You are right, this is fascinating."
The screen flashed over for a second, and he managed to read 'interested in biology?' before the other clone swiped the notification off.
He spoke at his questioning gaze.
"It says that the interested can 'sign up', but you need..." The clone brought up the tab in question.
"Enter name here. Why don't you enter anything?'
"You know."
"Well I am thirteen."
"How did that come to pass?" The clone asked in an amused tone.
"Thirtieth in line. The progression of pods is right to left from perspective overlooking them, from the metal walkway. It's left to right from the opposite perspective."
"Ah, that'd make me..." He types something on the screen, but his large frame blocked the sight. "Seventh, sounds much better that plain seven, 'ya hear?"
"Aye, Aye."
But the other clone, Seventh since now, was too observed in the contents of the digi-plac on the wall. Clicking the screen every now and again to riffle through the pages.
He turned to leave, and he did turn, only he almost bumped into the frame of another clone.
"Boo."
His racing mind stilled to halt when he recognized the blond clone who had called for the extension of the vote.
"You're just the man I was looking for. Though you're gunning for it pretty hard Mr. Leader." he said in a amused sly voice.
"You're the one from the vote." And he really had nothing much else to add.
"It is I, my humble self. And you have been making waves, I had pegged you for a brute. Alas, Even I could be wrong, if the information I posses is limited."
"Waves?" He asked, grasping for the only strand that he could follow.
"Yes, Names! A bold strategy, unifies the group, claims leadership almost as a byproduct. The strategy did not occur to me. That IS impressive."
"Well you would need one, if you wanted to sign up to one of the digi-plac machines'."
"Oh. I just sighed up as 'me'. I wasn't even lying you see. But would you wait just a second? I need you stand right there. Be back in a sec."
The still unnamed clone walked over to where Seventh was still browsing the digi-plac.
"You're being mighty inefficient with that one."
"Hmm, What?"
"Come on, Come on. Scoot over, I'll show you a trick with them. You see they are not just called 'digi' because they are a screen..."
"No don't lose my page, ah damn, I shouldn't have..."
"Oh be patient I'll give you something better. As I said, they are called 'digi', because they can digitalize matter."
A compartment on the side of the large placard had opened, perpendicular to the floor. Now acting as a small platform. On it was a kind of dark ooze, like a gelatinous liquid. Still more of the liquid was being transferred to the small platform. When suddenly the liquid started to shift, and then move by itself.
"Wait it's the nano-bots, but I thought they were specialized. Only available in limited quantity."
"Not really, they're mass produced. I even heard complaints in one book that they were placed in more and more vapid forms. But still. here is your book."
Seventh reached for it.
"Is it what I think it is?"
"I assume you're smart, Yes, it is the text you just read on the screen."
"That is cool!"
The blonde clone just spread his arms, and turning to see if he was still there he smiled.
"Ah, now I don't have to find you again, Good, good."
"Expected me to bolt? You're not that scary you know."
"Ah, Machismo. I mealy considered the possibility, you can't disparage a man for that."
"You seem to be interested in me."
"Ooh, do tell."
"Just stating the obvious. You wanted to talk, about the names."
"Yes, good sir. In fact I came here to announce a retraction."
"You're saying they weren't good enough. Why?"
"If you permit I will guide you through my reasoning, instead of telling you the answer straight up."
"Go on."
"Firstly, did you see how many birthing pods there were in total?"
"Not specifically, but at least three more rows behind my own one."
"Well, you see I did count, and the number of them is twenty six in total. Please memorize this fact it will turn to be important in a bit."
"That would make the last row populated with only two pods."
"Exactly, good to see you're paying attention. past the interesting decision on the part of our creators. And past the possible pattern that that makes. Have you considered the possibility of more clones being made past our generation."
He clicked his tongue at that, when the realization hit him. The naming system would be a terrible solution. They would need to depart immediately to converse with the ones affected, so that it doesn't spread too far.
"Oh I already fixed it, sorry, you looked like you wanted to go off somewhere. I very much need you here."
"Fixed, how?"
"I just changed the base name, and added a generation count to the end. Simple"
"And the base name was changed to a different pattern. Twenty six. Letters of the alphabet, maybe..."
"Oh~", He exclaimed. " You are certainly not the brute I thought you to be."
He stepped toward the blond clone, extending his hand in a handshake.
"M1, what might be your name." he said deepening his voice a bit.
"Ah, but there is that machismo of yours." He accepted the hand shake, "C1, third in line, at your service. But a man would think you were trying to sway even my vote, which of course is reserved for myself."
"You keep alluding to it, but I haven't thought of the vote once since it was extended. Or tried to force myself in charge."
"Huh. Would that mean you would be okay with A1 winning? He was your opposition in the meeting."
"If he receives the votes necessary, he will be elected."
"That won't do, I thought you were motivated for the role. Did he not appear to be unworthy of it."
"With his conduct I do doubt he will make it, sure."
"Let's see to guarantee that."
A loud voice rang out from behind C1.
"If you lovebirds are done kissing, I've decided. I will keep the name seventh, it sounds cooler than F1." Looking slightly concerned since he only must have heard the conversation escalating.
"Oh do what you will," he looked over his shoulder to reply to Seventh, but his gaze stuck to something behind my own back.
"Hey, You." He yelled out in a shrill voice, machining over to a clone that was picking up a book from a pile on a chair. " This isn't a library, this is private property."
The conversation between those two didn't seem to be ending anytime soon, and Seventh had looked preoccupied with his book. So with a shake of his head newly named M1 simply left.
----------------------------------------
He and every other occupant of the room stood awaiting the last clone.
He though over the series of circumstances that lead up to this point and it all came down to C1.
He could not understand him in the slightest, his motivation was somewhat obvious for a fact. Almost every action that he took was to guarantee that A1, or First as he called himself in spite of the naming program, would not rise to any position of power or authority.
He was confused by C1's strange focuses and unique speech pattern, but behind that languid face hid a brilliant mind that was unmatched by any other clone that he met.
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And he met many of them, almost every one of them, all at the behest of C1.
It had started by him being 'cordially invited' to solve a particular puzzle. He arrived at the group, and was introduced positively by C1 as a good friend of his. The group exchanged a few words. They had created the 'club' for the purpose of furthering their education and mental capabilities. He was presented with a puzzle piece, a hand sized cube that could swap its pieces so that any single one wasn't always in the same place.
They had called it a rubric's cube and he solved it the best that he could, which is to say he didn't but the club members said that none of them did, so it wasn't as bad.
Than another time, when he was exercising with Seventh he was invited by a shy looking clone to see C1. This persisted as a pattern. C1 was always within eyesight looking free enough, but he always sent others to invite him over.
C1 had told him , without getting out of his chair or looking away from his book, that he considered creating a exercise club. He asked his opinion, and he was told to call another clone to give the message to Seventh so he could come over and discuss it. This inefficiency of the proposal had annoyed him so much that he told C1 that he would make the club with Seventh and that he could join as well if he so wished.
In retrospect he could he what was happening; but in the moment he could not see for the life of him.
He spoke with Seventh after that, the man had agreed that it was a good idea, He had even said that he would disclose that it wasn't their idea to begin with if asked. He agreed himself. They departed at first to collect any books and guides on proper form for exercise. After that they had asked around if anyone was interested. Surprisingly few people were, and even the ones that did join did so because he and seventh had convinced them to try. Not because they enjoyed exercise.
The one's that did join soon took a liking to it. They didn't have any specialized equipment or all that much space to be honest. So jogging in place, slight jumps and stretches made up the warm up portion of the exercise. Pushups and squats were the main part of the exercise, the form would be monitored and corrected in anyone that participated.
The second wave of recruiting for members was vastly more successful, since they paraded the few clones that joined and actually took a liking to exercise around the place. Their conversion stories from lazy clones to exercise nuts spurred quite a few to join and at least try.
Even K1 had joined, he and a few others were distracted until then with looking at pictures of women. He could barely understand that. The women were pretty and lovely to look at, but he himself had looked at those pictures for only a twenty or so second until he felt growing bored. The group that K1 was in was stuck to that screen for a better part of ten minutes. Though K1 did join in the end.
During the second wave of recruiting they had encountered A1, who even at that point called himself First and 'Named'. Named was a name for the group that he had formed that chose to name themselves with ordinal numbers instead of the cardinal ones, A1 had announced to them that they would be staring their own exercise group. The naming convention and reasoning made no sense to him. He left them alone since then. He was no masochist, and interacting with A1 was very tiring and frustrating.
Though a member of theirs had gone over to cheek the group out, and it was though him that he learned the little that he knew of the group. He reported that he had corrected the form of one of the members. He would not say which one, only that he promised not to divulge any information, which most likely meant that it was A1 himself that he corrected on his form. He reported that after this he had been yelled at. He himself had heard it of course, but it wasn't the first time such a event occurred and he had ignored it previously. The clone, H1, also said that they had taken his training manual, which was easily replaced, when he cited it as evidence for bad form.
This event had prompted him and Seventh to advice the club members not to go to The Named Club. When that information filtered to A1 this prompted him to hang curtains that closed the club off from sight. Though shrill somewhat high screams could still be heard over the background noise every now and again.
It was at this point that he had received another summon from C1. Who was sitting in a throne fully assembled with books and looked ready to collapse at any moment. He had proclaimed himself firstly the 'god of science' and secondly a vey bored individual. Thus handing him a small book and telling me to answer whether or not the book could feasibly teach military tactics. Which lit my interest at it, since I was planning to decline until then.
Thinking back on it he had a vague memory that c1, previously to handing him this book, had asked him a question. The question was 'what did you learn that drove you to action'. Which at first spooked him somewhat and prompted him to say that he knew of trouble on the outside and that they might have to fight it.
That moment cemented his trust in C1, even back then. He would always hear him out. He had a strange way of making sense though the nonsense that he could hear him speak.
The book itself had been the translation of 'The art of war', by a writer named Sun Tzu. he read in it of battles with spears and horses, terrain advantages, and long marches. Even the most cursory knowledge that was imbedded in their minds was enough to tell him that such an age was long gone. But the question still remained unanswered. With some consideration he found the result that satisfied him.
When he presented it to C1, the man had abandoned his makeshift throne. He had wanted to ask if he abandoned his title of 'god of science', but he resisted. The throne had transformed into two rows of books set on a low enough desk, serving as rest for the arms.
He had brought back the book to him and this was how the conversation went.
"Fast isn't it?"
"I didn't have to read through all of it. It's pretty obvious that it does not teach modern military tactics."
"Oh, however will you become a leader with such surface level observation."
"That is not all," He stepped around the implied insult effortlessly at this point, " The book serves to alter personality. To serve as an embedded tool that hastens the production of mental tools a general might need for the battle."
"Wait!" He cried out with distress, which was very strange for him. When he spoke again he did so in a tone completely unlike him, his eyes closed. "Can you explain that to me?"
"Sure, It occurred to me that the book in question might be one of very few book a general at the time could even read. That there were general that never had a proper teacher, or had a subpar one. That the book was answering this problem, while also providing relevant era appropriate information. The book would alter the personality of the recipient into a personality that paid close attention to tactics. Having done that it also gave the recipient crude mental model to apply the information to. Meaning that a general might still be created."
When only silence greeted him he continued.
"Like how Seventh learned a few dozen lesions on biology. It would certainly take a human a few days or even maybe a week. mostly because he has embedded memories that serve to guide him, hastening his progress since he can easily categorize data."
More silence persisted, and when almost though to leave he spoke. Once more in that tone that didn't suit him.
"You've impressed me. You have my full support now."
He shoo-ed me off moments later, his personality coming to him rapidly after that.
In retrospect he had a moment that I myself did when he asked me that question He earned his respect then.
When he next summoned me in was to the front door. He was standing there with another clone who looked around the room in front of him with curiosity He could only associate with a new arrival.
"Name him." he had said to me, and departed after that.
The process was simple enough for the first clone, to whom he had explained the reasoning and necessity for a name. When I had made my way to the next clone's arrival c1 was already there. He smirked at me. and complimented me in that condescending dismissive way he had particular talent for. Next time he didn't show up at all.
But other clone's did. Interested in what was occurring with the new arrivals. There was only one or two at first. Then a few more, then a small crowd, cheering and jeering at comments of the new clone. It was at that point that I had to reprimand them. And it was at that point that A1 had sauntered his way over.
When The next clone arrived it was he that asked them what they would be named with ordinal or cardinal numbers. M1 had salvaged that situation as best as he could, explaining the purpose of generational count after the letter. Afterwards he couldn't get two lines in without A1 interrupting him somehow. The growing crowd, at that point begging to encompass the whole of the generation of clones had not helped matters. He had to speak loudly to be heard over the general murmur.
That was how they got here, awaiting the last clone in line, Z1 to be escorted here.
Presumably then the vote for the leader would be held.
And he knew not what lie in the future.
The creaking of the door alerted him to the entrance of the clone, and when he could see the first hint of the man in question he rumbled out. Deepening his voice a bit to be heard over the crowd.
"You were born to this world without a name. Do you dispute that?"
The clone looked around at the gathered crowd with some reservation, and silently muttered out 'Oh momma, I'm entering my popular phase,' under his breath. He could still hear it a bit.
When only silence had greeted the clone he answered.
"Nope, I've no clue what I am supposed to be called."
"Did you observe the amount of pods there were, when you emerged."
"Can't say that I have. It was sudden fall, little swim, then a long way to here."
"We developed a system for easy recognition and generation differentiation. You will understand it when I say there were twenty six pods and a clone per each." A1 had said, like even supported the system not one hour ago. Still the man interrupted and the only thing he could do is adapt.
"We going by the ABC's, then? That would make me Zed since I was last."
"Zed one specifically, if you will. It shows the generation." Said C1, already reading from a book that he procured.
"We welcome you, Z1, our knowledge is yours, and your capabilities ours."He said, mostly to get the last word in after A1 had interrupted.
It was then that a different figure strode into the room. The figure started clapping as he approached. He recognized him as the man who had brought him to this very room and talked to him on the way here. He didn't know his name, though he was nicknamed Sepia.
"Magnificent," He said, and it was the novelty of the creator present that silenced the crowd."You've improved by leaps and bounds, and some of you are too young for that and that must mean you came out just right."
"Still, I've got an announcement to make. So hear ye, hear ye. You have shown a bare hint of competence here, do you think you're ready for something greater?"
"The positive murmur of the crowd seemed obvious to the man, but few of them remained silent.
"Oh, you think you are. Well let me tell you outright that you are not. As a matter of fact the matter I've to announce is that you're staying put. You will receive sleeping bags and some rations to tidy you over till tomorrow."
The man stood in front of the crowd and looked them over for some time.
"Ah, the matter that I brought up, did you do it? I know it was a bit of a rush order..."
"The vote was waiting for the last clone."
"Kid, that you?"
The older man made on over exaggerated searching motion.
He approached him with his hand extended.
"M1, sir, as of late."
"Ah, its Bill, but what about that initiation ritual. Was that your idea?"
"It was a collaborative effort."
"Right," He said with amusement.
"One word if I may," C1 spoke up and broke from the crowd. "What will our purpose be going forth. The answer will, no doubt, decide for many who they vote for.
"You know, kiddy M here asked the same question. To the big boss himself, he did. I think I'll let him share his finding." The man proceeded to walk over to the door and lean on the wall next to it.
He looked over the crowd of waiting clones. No doubt they themselves had asked the same question, but with a lack of answers they simply ignored the issue. Until now. They were looking at him with questioning gazes, no doubt asking why he hadn't shared his findings sooner.
One long step took him closer to the crowd,
"No doubt you are asking yourself why I did not share our purpose with you all. If not immediately then as soon as possible. The circumstance of out birth appear to be terrible. I, myself, wanted to wait for more information to be released. For something to occur that will invalidate my knowledge."
There was uneasy tension to the crowd, who were slowly realizing that the news were not good.
"I was told of calamity outside. I was told that there is war that we must fight. I was told that the future is uncertain, and that we must fight to protect it. Most of all I was conveyed the information that some of us may die."
"so you just ignored it until now. Is that it?" The unmistakable voice of A1 rang out.
"I did what I could!"
"Don't question him when you refused to join us, A1." The deep voice of Seventh rang out, and quieted both A1 and the crowd for some few seconds.
"I am sure all of you remember the first words that you heard, as you were created. 'You were made to lead the world by example, as tabula rasa'. We were made to be the exemplars of the future. The carriers of the flame. Not frightful children afraid of danger that was always guaranteed in any world. Were we to be academics, were we to be bureaucrats, or to be doctors. The danger was always there. We are to be soldiers. We are to confront the danger."
The crowd before him slowly got louder and louder in their question. He could hardly understand a single sentence in the wild abandon of noise. it flashed before him every time that he got interrupted by A1, every time that the crowd jeered a particular clone was receiving his name. The annoyance that he suppressed then returned now and overwhelmed him.
"I WILL HAVE SILANCE!" A loud deep command swept over the crowd, and just like seventh had done before, pacified them for a single second. "My duty is complete, I am to inform you, and I did. Choose you leader now. Point at him with your finger, because I don't want hear a single word now."
"I for one," The cheery sound of C1 voice rang out, the man breaking the rule as easily as he breathed "Will be voting for our dear M1."
"Me as well," Seventh rang out pointing his finger at him.
"Ah, uh, ME!" Uncertain choppy voice of K1 rang out, it almost put a smile on his face right then.
One some level it surprised him, on another it did not, Hand rose, fingers pointed. Slowly at first, with only a few hands raising every now and again, then the tempo rose. Before he knew it almost every hand was pointed in his direction. What surprised him was A1, his finger was pointed at his direction, but his expression was the most peaceful that he ever saw him have.
He realized it then. The concept of Death had scared them. They were just lashing out at him because they didn't have anything else to lash out on. Or anyone, for that matter.
He realized that he didn't want to die either. That that fear had moved him too, when he heard it from their leaders mouth. That it made him try to fix the group's problems that he encountered. Because it would aid him in survival.
But now he made another realization, looking over the faces of the people that made up the crowd. All twenty five of them.
"You have chosen me as your leader, I will embrace that position. I promise to try my best to make us all survive what is to come." He said in a low tone.
A sudden cheer and clap inflamed the crowd, like it was waiting for something to set it alight. Only when it fully spread to the loud clapping and feet stomping did he realize that it came from behind him. From the older man whom he had forgotten about.
The energy of the crowd could not be broken even when another creator came barreling in. Yelling, but not to them, that if the other man made him do all the work by himself he would beat him up. 'That's Gorge,' The man called Bill had said, 'he gets very angry when he thinks people aren't following orders.' But the man had brought over the promised sleeping bags, and he himself didn't have all that much energy for anything else.
----------------------------------------
"Hey, calm down. We aren't doing anything wrong." He said as he scratched at the window with his hand hidden from view.
"But why do we need to hide, then?" Fortunately enough that was said in a whisper, though the mannerisms of the young clone betrayed that they hid something.
That something was a think razor blade that he held in his right hand but under his left arm. So that when he leaned against the window of the minivan it was covered on all sides.
"I doubt our creators want to overwhelm us with information. So if we asked them to show us around they would most likely refuse."
"Or its dangerous."
"Not likely, the facility is only loosely guarded. Were it under attack we would see it."
"Why did they paint over the windows then."
"To limit the outpouring of information, most likely. There is a term C1 introduced me to: Operational security."
"So?"
"The paint is there to so no one see what's being transported. Look I finished, see," He dropped the razor blade subtly on the floor and kicked it under the car. "So you can stop fidgeting around, you look suspicious."
"Where did you even get one anyways." He leaned his weight on the can as well, mercifully keeping himself from saying the word razor blade out loud.
"C1 digitized it for me." At a questioning glance he continued "He found that there other items besides book that you could manufacture. It's just that it was deep into a menu. Most of us missed it. 'Basic amenities', it was called."
The memory of that prompted his to think over the end of last day. Which, unmercifully, extended past the vote well into the evening. Though he desired nothing more than to collapse immediately he could not.
It was K1 that brought up the idea of something that appealed to him. He said that that they could eat their rations together, like a meal. The idea was interesting but he found that it was met with disinterest in other clones. He also found that it required considerable sacrifice to implement. As the first rations arrived clones needed to be denied food for them to eat at the same time.
Which prompted his to have to explain the rationale of it . Slowly the idea morphing into 'You don't get food until everyone else can as well,' as opposed to the idyllic idea of lunch that he envisioned. He had to assign Seventh to keep the food out of anyone willing to simply take it.
Though puzzlingly enough A1 had taken up the same post. A fact that he only discovered when he found that Seventh had wandered off to read one his books. Though, A1 and few others had done the job admirably. permitting no one near and making a body
Later when he told them to assemble into a loose circle, A1 had seemed surprised. When he had asked A1 whether he knew the purpose of not sharing the food, he had admitted that he had not. In spite of this lack of knowledge and in spite of the general annoyance of their fellow clones at being denied food immediately, the lunch had proceeded excellently enough.
The clones all bunched up and eating, had started to share stories of what they were doing on the digital plaque's and away from them. Some even shared their general interests.
The arranged lunch had passed, but only when C1 had brought the matter up did the clones acknowledge the short term sacrifices that went into arranging it. A small applause was had before everyone scattered to do their own thing.
His sleep would not come for hours after that. For the Exercise Club had gained an almost mandatory attendance reputation and every clone that had avoided it surged to join. It was around that time that C1 would show him the process by which he digitized the razor, for the fact that he was unavailable on the day after-- or today for that matter.
Their creators had started to transport them in groups early in the morning. Leaving both A1 and C1 completely inevasible for the foreseeable future. Only a quick conversation with Sepia, or Bill as was his given name, that convicted his creators of a slightly different arrangement.
Once he confirmed that the clones were all shipped to a same place he had procured for Seventh to go ahead as soon as possible. The Creator had complied when he explained that it was because Seventh was the most responsible of the bunch, and he would keep the peace.
He had gotten a laugh out of the man when he asked to stay until the end, he would assume mocking but the man laughed at everything. His following comment of 'A Captain going down with his ship' made no sense other that it was obviously a military title.
There was an end to embedded memories, after all. They didn't make him omniscient.
The man had accepted on the condition that he picked a first mate, a second in command of sorts. He did.
That's how he and K1 found themselves being the last in line for transport.
He heard a door creak in the far end and he roused, he and K1 walked towards the emerging group.
They were told to wait in front of the van for a minute, before their creators entered the vehicle.
"So everything good on your end?" he continued when he received a round of nods. "By the way, I'm using my authority to force ourselves on the window sear, by the right end."
"Wait yourselves, are you going to sit in each other's laps or something?" A clone said prompting a wave of laughs to spread.
"I don't K1," He said suddenly turning the conversation on its head, "Am I as good as one of those pretty ladies you so like."
"Shut up," He punched him in the shoulder roughly at being teased.
"He will be sitting on my left, apparently, that okay with you?"
"Go on, it's not like you're gonna see much out of those windows anyways."
He pointed at the painted windows.
There wasn't much waiting after that, soon they were brought in the van.
He leaned over to the side, not having to fake his yawn for a second. He had planned to pretend to sleep against the window, as an excuse for why he would resting his head against the window. In reality he really could use some rest...
Yet the more information he had on the outside world, the easier he could protect hid men. He had promised exactly that, had he not.
When the car turned on, and they left the familiar looking garage behind them, his vision was dominated by a metallic white landscape if a city.
He had seen the pictures on the screen of how a average city should look like, and it matched it head on. The skyscrapers in the distance, the white metal and concrete buildings that were omnipresent in such a city. Outside they had looked much different than in the pictures.
He could see pedestrians walking on the sidewalk, and a hint of traffic before they turned and he image shifted. He could still see a side walk, but he had to look over the slow drifting traffic. The people wore strange clothes, unlike the uniforms or the ???????????? suits he saw until now. These clothes were colorful, flashy. It invited the eye to stare.
It was then that he switched his attention on how those people he was seeing were acting.
The slow walk, the soft smiles and sultry grins were not indications of fear. Similarly the people moved slowly, taking in the sights around them or paying close attention to those in their groups. Their movement was languid, and only a lone pedestrian with no group would dart though and walk in a faster pace.
These were not people who were afraid for their lives, he reasoned. The war must be far way then, with the nicety to create life to fight whatever was endangering these people.
But a sudden feeling of annoyance passed though him. There are plenty of able recruits for a military. Why should he have to fight and die for the people too distracted to protect themselves.
He pushed the thought out of his head for now. There was no point in pretending that he had some grand control over his life.
It was then that he noticed a sudden thump. It was very quiet, and only the presence of another few that followed alerted him to the notice in the first place. They were like distant bangs.
He strained his ear to hear something else, but then he realized. The people walking on the street had mostly stopped, staring around for some cue.
It was because of this lack of noise that he heard the shot that rang out. It was undoubtedly a bullet shot, and the sound of pierced air that followed it noted its direction. Straight in the air.
The people on the side walk started hurriedly leaving, some dragging their fellows out, and some running with surprising energy.
A few more gunshots rang out. Louder. Closer. Yet, still from somewhere above.
He heard yelling from the compartment in front, the place where their creators drove the vehicle. Soon the door opened and Sepia greeted them with a command: "Get out, orderly, stick to a group. Follow me!"
His lack of chipper attitude instantly convinced the rest to listen to him. So they did.
The car behind them, as the other creator had stayed inside, swerved in the sidewalk. Driving on it almost like it was always supposed to. The vehicle drove behind a building and could not be seen.
They followed Sepia. First along the sidewalk, past few storefronts that had peering civilians trying to figure out their course of action. Then past a sudden staircase that went down. They had descended for a long while before the hole though which the sunlight had filtered though was small behind them.
"What's going up there." A unfamiliar voice questioned, belonging to a man standing at the foot of the staircase. Their Creator had looked at him once and kept walking, Turning his head briefly to see if we were following, then gesturing to continue doing so.
"Gunshots." M1 muttered out as were passing by. In answer to the question.
Sepia walked up to a terminal, pressed it with the back of his knuckle and after picking up pieces of plastic he handed me some.
"Pass them around." And I did.
We stepped briskly behind the figure of the walking man as he led us around the metro station. My embedded memories easing the time that it took us to scan our tickets and pass to a waiting train.
The compartments of the train were wide, four adults could stand shoulder to shoulder and still not touch the sliding doors of the train. The train did not posses many passengers, so that when we sat in a secluded part of it few people could be seen.
Our lead had collapsed into a bench chair gesturing with his arm for us to follow his lead.
"Don't worry about anything making its way down here. These underground lines were designed to survive the Armageddon. Oh. I guess they did."
The light on the outside of the train flickered briefly.
He pulled out his phone from his pocket. A few seconds later his demeanor resumed its seriousness.
He pressed the phone against his head, the sound of a call emanating from it.
"I saw a building collapsed, on the news."
"Yes, our." The unmistakable voice of George spoken in a rough accent came from the phone.
"Shit!"
"Not our fault."
"Do you think it's a leak?"
"No, gangs fighting. They unsubtle, collateral damage most likely."
"What was that a downed Hawker, that's high end military gear. No gang could afford that."
"You don't know city of sin then. I was born here."
"Whatever meet you back before we go to old dog. Spread the pictures on socials, make it look amateur."
He hung up then, keeping the phone near his head for a moment before his gaze sharpened.
"Well get used to each other, kids. It looks like there won't be that many of ya."
He clicked his phone a few more times and handed it to M1. He waited until all the other clones bunched up in a circle to see what was on it.
The picture contained a very wrecked and destroyed building. Its ceiling had heavily collapsed making it nothing more than a heap of rubble.
"It's upside down for me, ugh help?" The voice of Z1 said, though he could bother to look away from a part of the picture before him.
"Here," K1 pointed out, in slightly exasperated tone, "Do you see this?"
He pointed his finger to the exact point that had attracted his attention.
There amidst the grey concrete rubble was a single metallic looking color. Dark red. The circular shape of it front could be no other device.
"It's the pod." K1 said.
And he was right, the building that was so suddenly destroyed was the very building they were birthed in. The building that they themselves inhabited not fifteen minutes prior.
But a different thought passed though his mind. A more detached though.
For if there were no more easy ways to create clones, weren't their lives in even more danger now?