Message to My Clone
s I write this, oh little clone of mine, lying asleep on your pallet, with the sun shining through the bars of your window onto your face, I have so many different emotions. You have grown so much, from the high doses of hormones and super-proteins. Soon you will be a big clone, with healthy young organs to harvest. I hope I don’t need them, but if I do, thanks. I’m sorry I haven’t visited you more often, but I have been busy with my lawsuit against the Department of Clone Sales, because you did not come out as well as I was led to believe. Perhaps now that you are nearly grown we can spend more time together. Maybe we can go fishing. But if we do, you must wear hard plastic goggles, to protect your eyes. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to them. How is your eyesight? Good? Mine gets worse and worse. How’s your heart, by the way?
Be prepared, little clone, that the world is a cruel place. They will call you “freak” and “monster,” like they did me, and I’m not even a clone. They will tell clone jokes behind your back, like: “What’s the difference between two clones? Nothing. They’re both stupid.” Try not to be too sensitive about it.
I know I told you you could go to college, little clone, but I’m afraid not. You see, at college students often drink and smoke, which can damage organs. Also, they study a lot, which can put ideas and facts into your brain that a normal person may not want.
But there is another reason you cannot go to college, little clone. You see, I have an important mission for you. I have been romantically pursuing the daughter of actor Jon Voight. So far, I haven’t had much luck, and the courts have ordered me to stay away from her. Voight has threatened to kill me, and I believe he might try. He’s insane. And so is his clone.
I feel that, sooner or later, Voight’s daughter will get in love with me. But I need time to convince her. That’s where you come in, little clone. I want you to surface in some city and make a big noise. Voight will find you and try to kill you. That’s why I have brought this bulletproof vest for you. I will set it here on your apple-crate nightstand.
With Voight diverted by you, I will be able to convince his daughter to move with me to the Yucatan. Then I will let you know when you can join us. While traveling through Mexico, please don’t eat any spicy food, as it might harm your stomach and colon.
You might be wondering about how I will get by down there if I need some body parts. Don’t worry. In the Yucatan, you can buy body parts from street vendors. Not as good as yours, of course.
Before the plan is ready, please don’t try to escape. The guards are trained to shoot clones in the legs, so as to not harm any of the good stuff. Also, my ankle has been hurting me lately, so you never know.
It is time for me to go now, little clone. I can hear the slop-wagon coming down the hall, and the cook yelling at the other clones. Don’t forget to eat your hormone balls.
One last thing, little clone: After you read this letter, please burn it. But be careful, don’t burn your fingers. ◊
This article originally appeared in The American Bystander #5.