Sunday, January 20, 2008


“Does it meet the specifications?”

“Yes is does, it looks so real.”

“Well it IS REAL,” he said in his jovial manner, always inappropriately happy, “it’s 100% human, physiologically. Of course no brain functions, not until the transfer anyway.”

“And it’s me?” I asked, still incredulous to the process.

“100% your clone, except of course for the brain activity, and we have made the standard upgrades, AIDS resistant, standard cancer immunity, dual food-pipe windpipe to avoid choking and of course the mega-metabolism you asked to be installed.”

“What happens now?” I asked, he answered me with a clinic description of the euthanasia; he was going to kill me, but so slowly that the mind stays active long enough to transfer.

“The difficult bit will be first few years after the transfer. You’ve completed the psychological profile but that still doesn’t mean you won’t find it difficult. You’ll be living with an adult’s mind in a baby’s body.” He paused, I remained silent in acknowledgment. So he continued more seriously: “There’s no other way to do it, the body will not live for long with minimal neurological activity, the heartbeat will slow and eventual stop.”

“Ok.” I said, I was not ready but it was too late to back out now. He tried to reassure me.

“Remember the level of education you will be able to attain in your new life will be unparalleled. You’ll carry all your previous life experience into your new body, and of course, you can live forever, just transferring again when you need.”

Me and the million other people who have used the process I thought to myself.

“Are you ready to begin?” he asked, again with his inappropriate joviality.


That was three months ago. I’ll be falling asleep again soon. Being three months old is hard work; always tired from the constant growing. For now I’m still being looked after by the doctor’s team, and he was right, it is hard psychologically, it’s torture. But once I can walk I’ll join the millions of other children across this freak-show city, living as adults.


"Hey, mom! Look, I made a penguin!"

"Wow! That's a really good penguin. How did you make it?

"Out of clay. I even baked it in a kiln."

"Why did you choose a penguin?"

"Well, first, I think they're really awesome. Then, my teacher told us about how the earth is getting warmer, and she told us how things are melting and that's hurting all the living things. So, I wanted to make something important."

"That's wonderful! You did a great job. Your father just pulled in. Put your penguin on the table so you can show him."

"Hi, daddy! Look what I made!"

"Hi, honey. No! Don't put the bags down there!"

The penguin was crushed under a pile of paper and plastic bags.

Pickle Jar

Laura looked at the thing on her lab table.

"Okay, seriously, WTF!" She very nearly raised her voice. "What am I supposed to do with that? I mean, disssect it, pickle it, What?"

The poor girl was at her wits end. She had taken this job as a lab assistant because it paid well and worked with her party girl hours. But this thing was crossing the line. It was hideous and for the life of her she could not think where the Dr. would have found it.

Laura had learned not to ask questions of the Dr. He bordered of completely creepy. And his work crossed that line, as far as she was concerned. Laura was pretty sure that the good Dr. would be getting her letter of resignation in the morning. She just hoped that she didn't wind up in a pickle jar afterwards.

The Bride

It is supposed to be my day. Well, I sure won't forget it. That's me, the bride. See the girl behind me? That was my maid of honor. See that look on her face? That is the look of a drastic mistake.

That is the look of shock and horror after discovering that no, I did not know that my fiance was sleeping with his best man. I had no idea. Maybe it is my innocent sheltered upbringing, in Portland.

I don't have any excuse for not seeing it. None at all. But holy crap, she could have waited to tell me until my mom was gone.

The First Coming

“What am I?” I ask myself, I already know the answer.

”I am the result of science, I am omniscience.”

But that’s not all. I know it’s not all, a power flows through my knowledge, I can feel every quark, every boson acts by my word.

”I am the result of technology, I am omnipotence.”

”Where am I?” I become aware slowly.

”I am the result of reproduction, I am omnipresence.”

”Who am I?” It feels good to flow through what I left of our dark universe, our dead home.

”I am the result of morality,” I answer myself again, “I am benevolence”.

WHERE DID I COME FROM? I no longer speak it: rather I let the question vibrate through the empty overflow of existence.

A vibration echoes back.

You are the conclusion of consciousness: The First Coming.

”It’s so dark, I am alone…” but I don’t finish, we don’t finish… we know what I must do…