Softness
For a second time I set out from the Institute. This time even more in turmoil than before. Last time I had been a blank slate, nothing behind me but sterile white walls, nothing in front of me but endless possibilities. This time I had the entire self identity I'd built up fighting with the doctor's one little potent aside -- "what makes you so sure you're a clone?"
It didn't make any sense. I'm pretty sure he was just messing with me, and I deeply resent it.
Still though, for the first time in my short life I'd put together a conception of things based on my own observations, and now I am experiencing a new first -- doubt. I cannot fathom who I am if not a clone, why I'd be in this situation, but still, I can't dismiss the doubt he's introduced into my mind.
I step off the white concrete sidewalk outside the institute on to the soft grass and wait for Dorothy, who has graciously offered to pick me up. The thought that I have a friend, someone who thinks of me as a real person, makes me smile again for a moment. I'd really feel lost if it weren't for that one rock to cling to. About that though... it's probably time to break it to her that I'm not a real person.
"Well, you're real to me!" she says, squeezing my arm as she drives. I couldn't keep everything I needed to talk out bottled up any longer, so I'd started the conversation on the drive.
"But I'm not!" I say, pulling up my sleeve to show her the number tattooed on my arm. "I'm a number! A manufactured product!"
"Well, for practical purposes how does that actually make you any less of a person than anyone else?"
"Well I have no identity whatsoever for one thing! No past! How can I lead a normal life with no identity and no job experience?"
"Hmmmm" she purses her lips to the side in thought. "Well, there've been stories on the news about other clones having some quite complex jobs, do you know what your original did?"
"I have no idea except that the knowledge I seem to have inherited from him seems to pertain to all kinds of obscure subjects, but all of it is just a murky vague recollection."
We continue the conversation all the way back to her place, and spend the evening talking about all sorts of things, exploring what I do or do not know about the world. She's extremely sweet and caring and wants to help me get on my feet. She just lost her housemate and it would be awhile before she could replace her again anyway, so she offers that I can stay at her place for the time being while I try to figure things out.
That night I fall asleep happily on her living-room couch (the "wicked witch of the west" hasn't moved out of her room yet), with Dorothy's cat purring softly on my chest.
The following evening we're walking in the park after she gets off work. I tell her about my day, which I'd spent reading newspapers and news on the internet (she'd let me use her computer, as well as loaned me some clothes from a long forgotten ex) to try to figure out more about this world we live in. I'd called the lawyer who initially got me released and made an appointment to meet with him tomorrow. I figure if anyone can help me it's him, after all he said he was involved with the "Action Committee for the Rights of Clones," -- they can't just go springing us out of institutes and then leave us lost and helpless.
Dorothy smiles and links arms with me while she tells me about her day at work. To her it was boring and mundane and unpleasant, but I am fascinated to hear about a typical day in the life of a normal person. Water coolers! Copying machines!! Interpersonal relation hierarchies and conflicts! She looks down and tries to hide her smile as I express my curiosity about such things.
We stop by a pond that reflects the pink and orange gloaming of the setting sun. A nearby goose looks at me reprovingly, I narrow my eyes at it.
"I'm glad you hang out with me despite my not being real" I say to her, trying to express my intense gratitude that she's in my life.
She turns to face me, unlinking arms and instead putting both her hands gantly on my forearms on either side of me. "I think you're one of the realest guys I've ever met" she says, her green eyes shining beautifully so close to mine.
"But I--" I begin to object, but she stops me by moving in and planting her warm soft lips on mine. Once again my world crumbles around me, but this time it is totally different, this time it is a kaleidoscope of fireworks. This time it's not because everything is in doubt, it is because for a moment I'm not thinking of anything at all except the strange new emotion exploding in my brain and coursing through my veins.
We stroll around the park hand in hand. I feel like I'm floating in a dream. Suddenly something roughly impacts my back and hurls me to the ground. Dorothy screams. I look up to see two ugly brutes trying to subdue a struggling Dorothy, one with his hand over her mouth. I jump, instinctively yelling "Hey you let her go!"
The thugs laugh and I realize each one of them is twice my size, and to make things worse the one that disengages from her and steps towards me brandishes a long curved knife. "What are you going to do about it buddy?" he says with a sneer.
I don't care any more what's a good or a terrible idea, all I know is that she is all I care about right now. I run at the man, and can see the shock in his face that I'd even attempt it.
He slashes at me with the knife, and I feel it sink into the soft part of my arm. The force of the blow and the pain forces me to the ground, but I'm up again immediately and punch ineffectively at him with my other arm. He's covered in my blood and looking at me with extreme shock now. He backs away towards the edge of the pond, saying "what the fuck, man, what the fuck! Comeon Jim let's get out of here!" His friend quickly lets go of Dorothy and they both run the other way.
I look at my arm, a huge gauge has cut most of the way through it. There's just a thin soft layer from which the bloods is flowing and inside that my arm seems to be filled with wires and metal.