Chapter 2: Clones

When Keon felt he was far enough away that he was safe, he dipped into another alley and sat down on the cold concrete, arms wrapped around himself as he rested his head on his knees. An old TV playing the news blared around the corner through someone's open window.

"—another gang fight broke out over the weekend. Authorities cannot keep up with the growing number of clone casualties. The number of riots is rising—"

A loud groan escaped Keon's lips. His ears, instead of listening to the rest of the news, focused on the sound of loose trash scraping against the ground as the wind smacked it around. He was currently nursing his wounds in one of the worst areas in the city, yet he could not find the strength in himself to care.

After all, he was part of the garbage; he was what the humans feared. It was his people going around terrorizing and causing trouble for everyone.

He licked his dry lips in frustration at the thought.

The TV sounded off again, mimicking his current thoughts.

"—citizens are worried that they created monsters. Clones were created to help keep humans alive. They are nothing but medical miracles; they are an abundance of research material used for organ transplants and other phenomenon, while still being treated as closely as possible to human beings. Although, scientists and Government Officials see things differently. Foremost, they must be treated fairly in accordance with the law, but they are not to be mistaken for a human. We artificially created them for the benefit of humanity. This has been an ongoing battle for generations. Even religion—"

In other words, they were nothing more than trash.

A sigh overtook him as he buried his head in-between his knees. It was all over the news and yet nothing had changed. He hated hearing about it. Nothing changed the fact that he was a clone, a "human backup." One day, when the person who bought him was sick and dying, they would use his body to save theirs. His life expectancy was not a day over thirty, if that. Statistics he learned in school about his kind replayed over in his mind, unrelenting and unforgiving in their accuracy.

He lifted his head and brought his eyes to his wrist. Underneath the skin, embedded deep into his flesh, was a tracker that took away his humanity. With it, no clone was free. Under constant supervision, all information is at the humans disposal with a simple scan. His name, blood type, place of residence, date his creation—not birth—and who his current master was.

Freedom was a word for humans, not its look-a-likes.

Suddenly, as if his body knew, his wrist throbbed and ache. The phantom pain would never let him forget who or what he was.

A gunshot went off in the distance then, effectively sending a shock of distress through him.

"Fuck."

That could only mean another gang fight was about to start. He had to move before he got caught in it.

Keon stood up, using the wall as support. His battered body made walking even more challenging.

His master was going to be pissed when he got home.