He had watched for the first time the colorful crowds strut and mingle when he peered out the small hole he carved in the paint of the window, driving in the car. He watched them now fully in view from the window of a busy cafe.
One of their creators, Sepia, had taken them there after they had gotten out of the metro. He told them to relax and wait a bit, that transportation was going arrive soon and that he would buy them some ice cream as a bite to be still.
He had wanted to do nothing else but stand up and explore the crowd, meat and mingle with the people that passed by. Introduce himself, find their names. See what made them unique. At first he doubted the holding power of this ice cream. Yet the taste, the sweetness and the uniqueness of the experience held him better than any restraint or order could.
Sepia had even promised them another round if they ate their own slowly.
So he could only stare at the passing crowd as he ate his share of ice cream. He saw young people, and a few older ones too. Tall, short. Clad in expensive clothes, and a few in a far simpler style.
Yet his mind was always returning to the fact of the bombing. That their facility was destroyed put more tension on existing clones. That was if another facility just like their own didn't exist. Yet even then the tension could be mortal to those he promised protection.
He entertained a image that they were many generation of clones born before them. With them being relegated to safer more stable duty of whatever they were meant to accomplish. He imagined that their creators were clones them self, until he remember a factoid that clones could not create further generation of clones. C1 had introduced him to that knowledge. It signified that their creators were fully human.
His mind kept returning to the state of the crowd, not the esthetic implication but physiological ones instead. That they were this relaxed signified that war did not affect them. Whatever 'war' ended up being fought, since he was ignorant of it. Yet the bombing and the clear readiness of the then present crowd to scatter and run went against the assumption of the conflict not grazing their lives.
He had thought about asymmetrical warfare, but he had clearly heard Gorge call the faction that committed this a 'gang'. A criminal element, not a military opponent.
He had found his chance for answers when his fellow clones went to order another round, leaving their table to stand in a line. Leaving him with a minute or two of privacy.
"Hey could you tell me about that gang that destroyed our building," He said in a conversational tone.
"Nope." He said popping the p at the end of his answer.
"And why not." He said in an amused tone."
"Cause I don't know local gang signs. Plus,' He added in a slightly more serious tone." Gangs were never this daring where I come from."
"So you're from out of town." M1 asked, fishing for information.
"Yea" Sepia said, apparently catching the attempt. " I recon forty percent of the local population arrived within like two months or something."
"How could the city's logistics possibly take that strain."
"Ah, you're asking the wrong question."
"Okay...Why did they all come here?"
"They were fleeing the war." He explained in a tone of talking to a particularly slow person, but the smile he wore on his face told him it wasn't meant to offended. "Damn smart people now that I think about it. For civvies at least."
"And is this the war we were made to fight in?"
"I guess you wouldn't know, the war is over kid. I doubt you'll ever leave this city. Or at least have any motivation to leave it."
"If the war is over... are there rising tensions that we have to defends ourselves against?"
"There aren't going to be any tensions between those guys at all," He answered, sounding vaguely uncomfortable. "listen take this little silver thing and use it to buy some cake for me and the rest of you. Think of it as reward for unnecessarily going though that little scuffle then. Now, now, get going."
Afterwards the man wouldn't answer any more questions and soon after they ate their cake, which did taste excellently, their transport had arrived and they departed."
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After the events that transpired on that day there wasn't a lot of time to do anything but go to sleep.
Though M1 had looked forward to exploring, or at least seeing more sights in their new base, that would not occur.
The clones dined before going to sleep, and they were told that soon their training would begin.
He had found C1 to be surrounded by books like any other time, though today those books were held by people. They were actually read by them, too.
He waited on the outskirt of the group, and stood as not to interrupt the event.
"You know you can just ask, if you want to talk to me." The voice of C1 emerged, though the man had not lifted his gaze from his book.
"Who says I want to talk to you." He answered, though that was exactly why he came.
"Oh well then..." He turned from his book to the closest clone to him. "H1 Please go satisfy our leaders' bestial needs."
The clone tried to talk but sputtered making noises and shaking his head.
"God-Damn it C1 why can't you be normal for one second and just come with me."
The clone in question paid his slight outburst no mind and made a face pointing dramatically to his ear.
"Fine. C1 can I have a moment of your time. I have something to ask you."
"Ah, there you are. Was that so hard?"
They walked to a more secluded part of their room, which in reality wasn't that large and thus their spot was not that secluded. C1 spoke the whole way there, simply reveling in the sound of his own voice.
"Listen, before I ask you this..."
"You're awfully serious."
"Something doesn't make sense to me."
"Aha..."
Stolen story; please report.
"I need to figure out if you'll run to our creators when I ask you this question."
There was a shift in the whole body of c1, from his posture to his expression, to the way his now cold eyes looked at him. The change persisted until he heard 'I need to know what you will say' and it was only in hindsight a few second later that he realized it came from C1.
The moment later his eyes widened. He looked around without moving his head.
"In order to ease you into this, I'll speak first. There are elements in our whole situation that are suspicious. And a detail, a trivial fact, alerted me to something recently."
"What did you hear? And from where?"
"Good, always question the source. The fact that this city state does not have an official government."
"Who enforces law then?"
"I was told that a sufficiently advanced Artificial Intelligence does, I heard this from the soldiers."
"That concussion call in question the legitimacy of our group, sure. But it could as well be that we are from another country."
"You mean that will be shipped off to somewhere else?"
"Except..."
"Go on."
"It's only conjecture. But Sepia told me: 'I doubt you will ever leave this city'".
"Did he tell you something else?"
"Only that roughly forty percent of population arrived in the city in the last few months."
"The plot thickens. Did he tell you why?"
"They were fleeing the war. What does that tell us. Oh, and he said that the war was over, whatever that means."
"No, there is too much uncertainty for me to make assumptions."
"So we wait and see?"
C1 looked up at him for a second, then swiveled his head around the room.
"I'm guessing that want us to stay and look for the safest path out for all the clones?"
"If, and that is a big if, there is something suspicious going on than either all of us make it out or none."
"All right." He said reluctantly.
"We need to keep this between ourselves."
"Conspirators, if you will."
"Why do you have to make everything sound so weird, C1 ?"
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Shortly after his agreement with C1 all clones were summoned to be assembled at a upstairs warehouse.
He had breezed though his arrival yesterday, missing entirely the brief glance that he got of the new building they were staying at. He knew that in wasn't the size of a skyscraper, and that he saw the walls pealing and graffiti. Yet that was all that he knew.
As they were led as a group upstairs, since their 'barracks' were a level down from the entrance, he saw cracked tile of the small room that held the entrance and the stairs leading to their quarters. They were led instead to the third door that the room contained.
A soldier, though he did not know his name, stood near the door and kept it open. Another stood slightly farther away with a clipboard and a pencil, presumably recording the clones who entered. The man looked at him as he passed and he got an impression of a distinctly mousy looking man, with a couple of glinting gold rings on his hand. A second later he was though the door and unable to see the man anymore.
The room he stepped in was enormous, easily comparable to the room that he was born in. An echo of his, and of the other clones behind him, rang out around the basking the area in clicks of heals and murmured conversation.
They passed around shipping containers many times their size, as he led the group slightly uncertain to where he was supposed to go. It was only once he emerged from the row of these shipping containers that he saw the group of their creators waiting.
There, at the other end of the large warehouse, stood a large group of people most dressed in combat uniforms. Even at this distance he could recognize long rifles strapped at the front of their chest. The group stood still in a semi circle.
The pathway leading to them was so long that the entire group of clones had emerged on it as the front of the line arrived in front of their creators. There was silence from the military men until the last few clones joined the group before them.
An old white haired white bearded soldier that he remembered from seeing next to the leader shortly after he was born.
"You are assembled here to hear a announcement. When you are prompted you will salute. You will do whenever you see another veteran soldier, to you that is any soldier at all, salute. Am I understood?"
The white haired soldier quickly showed them how to properly salute, and waited for them to learn how to do it in semi unison.
After that he stepped back, and the already silent group became even more silent, their lack of noise amplified any smallest sound coming from their group. So that a muttered word, or a slight shuffle echoed heavily and brought the eyes of every soldier that was around to them, and one in question who made the noise.
Only a sudden clicking of heels to echo out from behind them.
He tried to turn his head, but every clone behind him blocked his vision and he dared not move from the spot he was on.
The clicking of heels grew only louder as it neared, and he could recognize a rushed pace creating the noise.
When the figure emerged in front he recognized him as the leader of all their creators. The one who ranked supreme and held everyone's loyalty.
His wide frame, and bear like face now adorned a barrette.
He stepped up to the center of the group and saluted firmly.
The group of soldiers responded in kind, their feet clicking in almost perfect unison as they struggled to imitate their elders.
A moment or two passed as the leader of the group looked closely over them.
"Clones," his voice boomed out suddenly, in a deep and commanding tone. "Recite to me your purpose in life that you heard as you were born."
He felt the eyes of his peers land on his, and as his feet took him a step forward he lost sight of them entirely.
"We were commanded to lead by example as blank slates, sir." He added the last bit not knowing what to call the name.
"That's right. I remember the senate hearing that your lead designer uttered those words, back when he was asking for permission to create you in the first place. Don't look so surprised, I am old enough to have seen some foundational occurrences in this world. I recognize that you don't know much about your circumstances. To that end I will introduce myself, then the world that we find ourselves in.
"My name is Hector Baskerwane. As of a few days ago I was the official mercenary under the Gobrik Alliance, a union of a several countries that fought a war against a tyranical order that you don't need to concern yourself about. As a matter of fact the Gobrik alliance will not alter your future choices in the future. I will speak plainly. On the march 15th just two weeks ago the world ended. An exchange of nuclear missiles lead to Armageddon.
"I can see the surprise and shock on your face, it was the surprise and shock that we ourselves felt when we heard of the event. I do not disparage those of you that feel afraid in the present uncertainty. I do not disparage that one bit. Though I commend those of you that can push though the fear and hold your head up high. You clones were what the whole of history led up to. I had always held that sentiment.
"Clones, answer me as one now. What is your purpose?"
A chorus that was vaguely in sync answered.
"To lead by example." Was the general gist of the chant, though some clones added other words to the mix.
"Now," He began loudly until the hall was once again completely silent. "I will tell you not of the general but of the specific, and imparted will be the reason for your creation. This city that we reside in, is the last city in the world. But be not afraid for logistics or food, for the city is autonomous. Some of you will know but some of you will not. This was to be the example of cities going forward. This city was created by the same man who created technology that allowed for clones to be born in the first place. This city is as much your inheritance as is your duty.
"Because this city is besieged. It's occupants do not know it yet. They are celebrating while we stand here, right now. They are celebrating survival, while they do not know that their survival is hanging by a thin thread. A band of soldiers from the enemy faction survived the war, just like we had survived ourselves. Our last order by the government was made on the fourteenth. We were ordered to save the city from nuclear annihilation. But this city cannot be destroyed conventionally. It's creator made sure of that. But the enemy has with them a portable nuclear bomb. With it they can either take hostage of the city, or destroy it utterly.
"But, our orders still remain. Coupled with the fact that we very much want to stay alive we had decided to bring the vermin to a close. Yet we cannot. This city houses tens of millions. It is enormous. Labyrinthine, and foreign. This is where you came into consideration. We had found an abandoned cloning facility. We had hoped to create enough clones to guarantee a better future. Yet the rotten nature of this city prevailed, and a criminal confrontation resulted in the destruction of the facility.
"I will ask you now of two things, clones. A command then a question. Will you follow you stated purpose, will you answer the call and ride with us into battle to guarantee safety of our future." His wide bearded face looked sternly over them all. "Clones what is you purpose."
"TO LEAD BY EXAMPLE!"
"Clones!" He spread his arms widely, beckoning to them all. " Will you follow us?"
"YES!" A resounding shout rang out, in almost perfect unison.
The man continued, unbothered by the loud cheering that echoed around the hall. His deep voice easily cutting through all clamor.
"Then I name you Exemplars, as you were already named by the clone you pronounced leader."
It was then that M1 even remembered where he was, so transfixed was he on the man.
He remembered his worry and doubt about the safety of clones he promised to keep safe.
All that worry evaporated as he joined in the cheering. They were safe under these veterans, and when this enemy faction was destroyed they would be safe forever.