Starting 6/25 the mainline story will be posted here I have 001 ready to go Good luck everyone lets write to have a little fun play with the story until its done.

Jill peered down the microscope and probed the tiny cell trying to coax the contents into the micropipette. Shed done the procedure hundreds of times but every time was a chore. Perhaps it was the weather. She felt a little out of sorts, nothing she couldnt handle, a cold maybe. The micropipette penetrated the ova and removed its contents. Another pipette soon replaced it with the eucaryotic nucleus. She added the mutagen and a small current watching as the spindles moved to the far sides of the cell.Nothing to do now for 48 hours then she would cleave the blast and the resulting clones would be frozen until they were implanted. She wondered who the lucky one was as she put the blast into the incubator and closed the door There were seven cones created that day, all male since the progenitor was male. All of the initial checks came out clean the DNA was a perfect match. The surrogates never knew the identities they carried only that they were well paid for their services.If fact the surrogates never even saw the children as the dream sleep made birth a distant process and the aferdase removed the short term memory of the fact. Even though the practice of cloning was fairly new the Government was one of the Tarin Companys biggest customers. Dale Tarin was always taking new potential clients around, showing the place off, explaining the procedure and answering questions.Today was no different. The senator had once been on the Bioethics Committee, but Dale sold him long ago on the procedures safety. Now he was trying to get him to have the procedure done on the same senator who once argued against his work. 001

Sybaritic Cloning PPD the Research Division of Tarin Industries has a tour for your education on a nearby site. The host is providing the space for free. To access the tour high light this link with your mouse then copy and paste in your browser. http://www.geocities.com/fleshpeddler_2000/clones.html
002

Dr. Collins shook his head with a wry grin just before he opened the door to the exam room. He would never have believed Magna had a heart, and now, it seemed, he needed a new one. "Magna, I am afraid I have some distressing news for you.',he said. "It seems that all your time spent eating fatty foods and enjoying the excesses of life have taken their toll on your heart. You will need to have a transplant as quickly as it can be arranged."

The wheels had been set in motion long before Magna was born. He knew what he had to do, but always hoped it wouldn't happen. The idea if taking another life to prolong yours was a moral dilemma he justified by telling himself over and over that he was their creator, not god. They would not exist without him. It sometimes worked. Federal service used to be a privilege. To serve your country was something you did for the satisfaction of helping others. That all changed after the colonization of Mars. The mutations from radiation forced enormous advances in clone research and Tarin Industry stock shares skyrocketed. The only way to ensure a clean gene pool was to leave nothing to chance. The federal government had been losing most of its younger workforce to higher paying positions in the private sector, which propelled the Office of Personnel Management to begin a new recruitment campaign: Give your service to your government and receive immortality--clones made from your DNA. A supply of squeaky clean spare parts should you ever break down. It worked, and Uncle Same became Tarin Industries largest customer. Those who served the government were granted immortality. It was time for Magna to accept his. "I need to make a vidcall. May I have some privacy please?" Magna forced a smile and the doctor obliged closing the door behind him. He looked out the window as the sky buses and cargo ships carved lines across the sky in an endlessly moving grid. He thought about trees and the sunset and wished he could see them. Then he made the call. 004

Status: U Return-Path: Received: from 181.24.33.14.189 ([181.24.33.14.189]) by mammy (StellarLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bEnf839o3NZFk70 Received: from tqkct@TarinInd.com (helo=YHXEUZPS) by [24.33.14.189] with HTTP; Message-ID: 000301c45bdb$74459860$c2170feb@PSAWLROAY From: "Daniel Crane" To: Subject: Donor Activation And Disposal MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/alternative; boundary="----=_NextPart_000_0000_01C45BB1.8B6F9060" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-Mailer: Rutan Outlook 15.02.3300.1402 X-MimeOLE: Produced By Rutan-Sabin MimeOLE V22.00.2800.1409 X-ELNK-AV: 1 Authorization is approved for for Magnus Request #001-D per Statutes. Activate Donor #MGN-001-C/42a and proceed with harvest of required elements per specifics attached. Donor's current status is inactive, range. You will need to secure them from their present situation and perform the extractions. Note, the extractions are terminal. Please follow all corporate saftey and health policies in the process of activation, extraction, and disposal. This memo subject to corporate policies on inter-agency communications, and will auto-delete in 36 hours. 005

That was a death sentence. Fitch put the paper down. The clones were raised for this. It was their whole purpose for being; still, they were like his children. Years of teaching, feeding, clothingIt makes one feel like a parent. The clones all knew they had to, someday, be reincorporated. It was a rebirth for them solitary thoughts, memories, the engrams had to be as perfect as possible to insure the rein corporation would run smoothly. Jill, Would you do a scan on the Magna clones weve got a call. The clones were in their twenties. One would die. He always hated choosing. They were identical in the most perfect way he could make them. He walked to the back door and opened it for some air. A noise startled him. It was only Levine poking around, golf club in hand. Levine was an elderly gent and worked security, but years as a detective made this man hard. At sixty he looked elderly, but his eyes could cut steel. Workin a bit late tonight?, Mike growled. The rain didnt do his arthritis any good I was checking Ward 21. Springer was running the sequencer without a hat on again. Bothas running a scan over in lab 6. Whats going on? In lab 6 Jill Botha ran the sample a third timethere was no mistake. How could it happen, a viral contamination on all but one. Fitchs decision was a lot easier this time, but what about the other six. They were useless now. The company wouldnt continue to act as a corporate parent without getting the warehousing stipend She wrote the results on the lab report and walked over to where Fitch and Mike were standing handing it to Benjamin. Im sorry . I dont know how it could have happened. I checked and checked, but Magna 5 is the only one that can be used. All the others are contaminated with RX781. Its a retrovirus and its intercellular. Levine spoke up, I told you Springer was running the sequencer without a hat on.. Fitch shook his head. Call Mary into my office. Weve been over this enough times. If she scans positive for the virus, shes gone. Ill tell Tanin. Hes going to flip. http://www.renderosity.com/viewed.ez?galleryid=696023&Start=1&Sectionid=3&filter_genre_id=36&WhatsNew=Yes

Dale Tarin walked out of the Episcopal Church into a bright sun with big fleecy clouds. Behind him the sounds of St. Augustine's "City of God" poured out of the open doors of the sanctuary. Looking over at the celebrant who was now shaking hands with the congregation as they left he could feel the burdens of the cloning matter leave him. As he walked up finally to shake the celebrant's hand a flash went off in his face. What an annoyance! There was no TV sound truck or video crew. He would ask Mike Levine to review the footage from the drone they had hovering in the tree across the street to try to identify the old fashioned camera man. Oh! Now this was going to be agony! the celebrant was asking about Mary Fitch and Jim Botha and he was offering the name of the audit followup. It was a small company and he often liked to eat in the cafeteria with them avoiding the expense of the private club room for members of the board. "I've let Mary go" He said. The celebrant smiled. "Good for you, I do that every Assumption." Then it seemed he would have to go further. "Jim is going to deliver a codicle of the clones will which each must sign to the lawyers on Monday." Now the celbrant seemed concerned. "I hope it doesn't change your giving. We count on not just you but all the members of your firm?" Dale was non-commital. They had been friends for years. He bent over and whispered something in the celebrant's ear and the man smiled. He walked past and onto the sidewalk. 007

The clones woke up, and began to survey the world around them. The accelerated growth and mental conditioning was as complete as could be, yet even with identical nature, and nurture, there were obvious psychological differences between them. They began to wonder..'should we have names? What would they be?'..with an almost instinctual reaction, they each began to speak, almost as one, almost the same words, but not quite..who would be the leader? what tasks would they perform? why did one feel stronger, smarter, than the others? Each began to move their arms in an unconscious body language, yet the positions assumed had a slight difference..they pondered the question, are they the same person, or different people? the debate went on into the night..at last, the one clone, the healthy one, began to notice the others were tireing. "If it's not too much trouble," he said, "I'd like to organize us"..and watched with small satisfaction as 6 weary heads nodded in tired agreement. With that settled, they lay down to sleep, and the lights went out.. The next morning, the leader, or "#1" as he though of himself, woke up to find himself the only one awake. And also the only one moving. The other 6 replicants lay unmoving, and unliving, on their customized gurneys, the faces showing small differences even in death. He felt the first tremblings of fear, and looked wildly and hopefully at the technicians entering the room. "What happened to them", he whispered, as if not to wake them from a slumber he knew was impossible to break. The technician looked at him with a sombre expression, and said "The other subject succumbed to a viral infection. Their hearts couldn't take the strain" "Will the same thing happen to me? he asked. "No, your heart is good..you will make it" the other said, with an unreadable expression, as the other technicians began to cart the 'failures' away..
As the door closed behind them, the youngest one looked at the other, and then at the 'bodies' on the gurneys "wow, I didn't think it was possible for them all to die at once..", he faltered, "I mean, what are the odds?"
The other tech smiled "Of course they're not dead, but we've found that the 'seperation anxiety' that can form between clones is best broken at an early stage. We just sedate them, them move them to another location. The successful subject just isn't told..don't worry..we'll have plans for these", he said, chuckling as they carted their loads down the soundless corridors.. 008

As '#1' was being led away from his brothers a flood of confusion staggered him. 'Me.' 'Me', at one time, was the least complicated word or concept in human thought. We are born with 'me' and we die with 'me'. Most of our memories are records of what has happened to 'me'. Science has now complicated even the most fundamental of concepts. Michelle, the 'Psych Navigator' or (informally) 'Psych Tech', sat with the chosen clone watching the employee lounge on a lower floor through a two way mirror. A lone employee was sitting spinning a coin in his boredom unaware that he was being observed. " Dammit," thought Michelle, " it would be nice if he was up to something more intellectually stimulating." " What is he doing? ", asked the clone. " He is spinning a coin. You know, a disk used for currency. Nothing you have to worry about." " Why is he spinning it?" " There could be many reasons. Maybe he's deciding something. If the disk lands on one side he'll do one of two options and if it lands on the other side he'll perform that option instead." Michelle smiled at the clone. " You are beautiful," said the clone without emotion. " Well, thankyou." " Everyone here is beautiful except me." the clone still spoke without a hint of expression. Michelle frowned in a friendly way, " What makes you say that?" " I am pale and have marks all over me. I am different. I am broken. Just like my brothers." " You are pale because you live indoors so much. And the marks all over you are our fault. They will go away in time. We give you medications and nutrients...and nano treatments with needles. They bruise the skin. You certainly are not broken." Michelle smiled again. She wiped some long blond hairs away from her mouth. The chosen clone paused as the coin silently wobbled to a stop on the table below. " If I am not broken, why should I die to save a man who is broken?" Michelle stiffened. " Um... it's not that he's broken... and it's an honour for you to be chosen for this function, we've already told you that. You are very special. You have learned things so quickly it's..." Michelle stifled the word 'scary'. "... interesting." The chosen clone smiled and looked back at the employee who had spun the coin again. " I was told the old man was broken... that he had a broken heart." Michelle's face softened and she smiled. " Broken is a simple way of putting it. We've been trying to simplify things so you'll understand... better. Don't worry so much. You're doing a wonderful job." " Are you teaching me how to live or are you keeping me calm so I won't be a problem up to the point when they kill me?" The chosen clone stated this so logically an observer might be tempted to laugh. Michelle's face flushed a little and her throat constricted. 'Um, that's not...". Suddenly a red light went on in the lounge below and the employee hurried out the door. A soft bell sounded in the room. " Michelle, we need your help in observation room 4." " Who was that?" asked the clone. He didn't seem frightened just curious. " That's Cee Cee, she's one of my aids. Quiet just a sec." Michelle stood and walked to the door where she pressed a small green button on the wall. " I have 'someone' with me Cee Cee, let me get him back to his room first." " Sorry Michelle, we have a 'situation' happening. You're the only Psych Tech on the wing and someone needs 'sleeping pills'. There are no other authorized staff available." " There may be a 'situation' developing here Cee Cee, besides this isn't a code-card room, it's a lock and key room." Michelle smiled gently at the clone. " Michelle pleeease, things are being broken," the voice spoke with strained patience and with the tone of a child's song." " OK, Cee Cee, hang on." She turned to face the clone. " I'm going to give you something important so please don't misplace it." She took her locator clip off of her lab coat. " This will let the people in the building know where you are in case something happens. Noone wants you to get hurt. I want to talk to you more about your concerns later but I'll be away for 5 or 10 minutes. That's all. Will you be OK?" The clone smiled at Michelle. "I'll be OK." Michelle turned and departed out the door. Someone who had heard the routine many times before might have noticed that in her haste Michelle had locked and then unlocked the door in the same motion. The clone merely examined his new locator clip. His face hardened and he started to speak aloud. " No, I am not broken. The old man is broken. And you who made me.... you are all broken. You gave me life and gave me the ability to know who I am but you expect me to die and to understand. You are broken." The clone threw the locator chip at the wall. It broke into many pieces and the clone was attracted to the colourful plastic shards. One jagged piece cut him as he pressed his finger on it. He tasted the blood. He stood and walked to the door and as he pressed his face to the windowthe window the door opened. It swung outward into the hall. "You are broken", the clone said smiling. " It is time for me to stop being this," he looked at his pale bruised arms, "and start becoming me." '#1' ran to a stairwell and descended two and three steps at a time toward his peculiar freedom. He reached an exit and nearly forgot about old Mike Levine. The security guard was a sharp sober man but years of inaction can make the best security guards complacent. Only 50 feet from the doorway where the clone hid Levine was grumbling about someone having left a gate ajar. Levine swung his golf club in a circle in the air and the tool flew from his hands. Embarassed he looked around and went to retrieve the club. The clone tip-toed a dozen long steps and began to run. Five minutes later Levine sat on a step and swore at himself for scratching the finish on his club, still unaware that the chosen clone had escaped. 009

The idea of facing your own mortality had awakened something in Magna, and he began to think about the things that bothered him most and how they seemed so trivial now. After he gets this new heart, he is going to savor every single day. Then he got the call. The one clone who could save Magna escaped! He was furious and shocked. Then his anger quickly subsided and he began to feel sorrowful. It's one thing to have a body part ready to go, but to know that it will be taken from a living, intelligent being that desparately wants to prolong its own life--it's just not the way Magna wanted this to go. Maybe this was his time. "Why should we try so hard to cheat death?" he thought. "The clone is a copy of me. The clone is me." And with that final thought, Magna decided the clone must live. By helpng the clone, he would be helping himself. And he discovered a new unselfish purpose in life that made him feel good about himself. There just had to be something he could do. 010

"Karl...I thought you might want to get out a little"

The nurse was coaxing him to climb into a wheel chair. She was tall. lanky, dark hair, could have been a model. Karl wanted to get out of the hospital. The white walls were brain-nubing after a while. He swung into the chair...

"OK, I'm game. I like the mall. There's a lot of people there. A lot of little kids to watch. Theyalways seem to have so much energy just running around the fountain."

Karl felt suddenly old the idea of children...That was a dream that could never happen. He didn't have the time. 011

Message edited on: 06/29/2004 14:39

The mall was the perfect environment for his escape. He could easily blend into the crowd and get away. Then he would find a way to help the clone somehow. The children playing by the fountain made Magna regret that he had never had any of his own. There would be noone left to carry on his legacy. "Nurse, I'm parched. Would you please get me some cold water?" She motioned toward the wheelchair and Magna stopped her. "No, please... I want to watch the children." She smiled and said, "Sure. I'll be right back." She walked toward the nearest concession stand and looked back at Magna. She smiled then turned away. Magna made his move. He wheeled as fast as he could toward the nearest exit. If he could make it to the elevator fast enough, she would have no idea where to look for him. He tunred the corner and could see the elevator doors near the escalator leading to the subway. He made a beeline to the elevator doors. Somehow, he would find a way to save the clone. 012

'#1' studied the photo he'd taken from the lab. 'It can't be him, or else it's a setup of some sort...,' he stared at Magna in disbelief. 'If I kill him I can live my own life, but a life on the run...'. The prospect didn't seem inviting but none did for the chosen clone. It wasn't hard to spot an escaped clone in a crowded area. The process was something like finding a white sheep or albino tiger in a crowd of the usual beasts. '#1' had drawn attention to himself when he became fascinated with the escalator. He'd been wandering through the mall and in his confusion and hunger forgot how much he stood out. Security from the mall and from the lab were close by but hesitated to act as he was so close to Magna. '#1' decided to act. He ran up to the startled old man and spit out jumbled sentences concerning his previous plans to kill him and how he had suddenly decided not to, pleas for help and twisted strategies. Magna was afraid of the pale man who was spilling ideas a dozen at a time. It was obvious that this was the clone and although he'd had second thoughts about destroying another life to save his own he now felt threatened. The clone yelled, 'I'm sorry!', and started to run as he knew this had been a mistake. As he turned a security guard was in his path charging at him. '#1' turned around and ran directly into Magna's wheelchair sending the old broken man down a flight of stairs to his death. Magna's nurse stood nearby with her face in her hands. The chosen clone's assignment had suddenly closed. Several security personnel raced to the dead man as '#1' fled through the crowd. The only sounds they heard from the pale animal were tiny cries of, 'I'm sorry'.

The crowd milled about as Magna's body still lay swrawded on the floor. "Who was he?" "Some government dude". "Went flying down the stairs". A policeman was taking statements. Number one had run out a side door down the street. The securit guards chased him. There would be no escape. Everyon knew that it was a clone that skin palor was unmistakable. Tarin had choppered in and was telling the press that the matter was being looked into as a police alert was issued. The clone was a murderer and having killed was still at large. 014

in a room not far away, the other clones talked quietly about their situation. "Do we live, or die?" said one, "Imperfect copies? The people who made us are not perfect, either", brought answering nods around the room. Another spoke up, "They are killed, and it is murder, or a tragedy..we are killed, and it's good medicine..why are we so different?"

the rest of them muttered to themselves..that was the central question. If a clone killed it's maker, is that patricide? or suicide? or some other crime yet to be named. The copy still existed, so was the original life all there was?

They turned as one when the door opened. The technicians entered, followed by Tarin. The technicians gestured to the small crowd in front of them. "These are the other copies..I just don't see what good it will do to talk to them about it..they know nothing".

"Nothing? they're perfect copies of.." whispered Tarin, and changed expressions as he looked at the face of the technician.."What I mean to say", he began in a 'I'm being overheard by someone' voice, " is that the thought processes of these people are much the same as the original. It's almost like interrogation by proxy", he smiled. He walked to the middle of the room.

"I have something important to tell you", he said. "The clone known as #1 has escaped and murdered his creator. It may have been an accident, or not. What I'd like to know, is..what would you do in his place?", and looked meaningfully around the room at the assembled copies..

Message edited on: 07/08/2004 19:04

Magna's body still lay on the floor surrounded by the crowd. "Did anyone see where the one who did it went?, a policeman asked." "It was one of those clones. You could tell from the pale skin",a young woman answered." " He ran out the emergency door over by those plants" The officer opened the door setting off the alarm. St Matthew's Church, a rather rundown old building, was about fifty yards away. Number one ran into the darkened building gaining Reverand Biddle's attention as he watched from the stairwell. The officer and crowd folled close behind. He threw himself on the floor before the altar crying out "God help me!" Suddenly Reverand Biddle was involved.

"There's no sactuary for you son", the officer chuckled snapping on the cuffs. The reverand spoke up, "What did this man do that you barge into my church manhandling him so." "This man is a clone, a souless clone, he was called to duty and murdered his progenitor." Number one looked at the reverand. "I don't want to die. They want my heart. Killing my progenitor was an accident. There were six others like me and they're all going to be sacridiced as well, as garbage." "He came into the church as his first choice officer, certainly you must have some thoughts as to his emotions and state of mind?" "It's not my call reverand. Ther'll be a hearing before the disposition I"m sure. You'll be welcome to tell the judge about the events here then. Rousting number one sharply the officer led him away. 017

The next day number one was sitting in his cell and Michelle, his phyche tech came for a visit.

"You have a visitor".

Michelle tried to tell Number one eveything would be ok. There was a large bruise over one of his eyes where the crowd had punctuated their feelings on his capture. He looked so small sitting in his cell.

Years ago it seemed a pretty simple affair to carry the child. It wasn't hers after all. Someone else's eggs mixed with some strangers sperm. She was well paid for her time and discomfort. Being his psychetech kept her close though.
She tried not to get involved, but she told him things, things well outside of the programs intinerary. Perhaps that led to his seperating out from the rest.

She tried to comfort him, holding him close for a moment.
He looked into her eyes and she burst into tears. She knew it was wrong but she kissed him, the difference in their age made no difference. She knew it was wrong, as it seemed she could still feel him moving within her womb.

018

Message edited on: 07/12/2004 10:32

"If you don't mind dear, I would like to be alone with this man". Reverend Biddle told Michelle. Michelle stared at him for a moment and then nodded and began to walk towards the door of the cell. Michelle stopped and walked over to the Reverend and with a voice filled with anguish she managed to squeak out, "Help him please". The Reverend looked at her and noticed that she was a genuine person, something in short supply now days. The Reverend looked at her softly and whispered "God will care for him if he chooses to be cared for". Not sure what to say to the Reverend, she looked confused and the Reverend replied to her puzzled look. "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved...Acts 2:21". I'll do what I can, the Reverend said. Michelle smiled and left the cell leaving the two men alone. "What happend to your eye" the Reverend said. "They hurt me" the clone replied. "They tell me that you murdered someone, is this true"? the Reverend said. "They hurt me" the clone said again. The Reverend looked him over and felt no hatred in this man only fear. "They say I don't have a soul" the clone mutered. "We all have a soul my friend" the Reverend replied. "Not me". the clone said with anguish on his face. Cont...

The Reverend leaned back and removed his Bible from his trench coat. He flipped through the worn pages and the clone looked on in anticapation. "Ah here it is" the Reverend said. The clone widened his eyes but made a painful face from his bruised eye. "Here there is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all...Colossians 3:11" the Reverend said. The clone looked hopeful for the first time as he managed to eak out a smile. "Who's this Christ"? the clone said. "For starters He is your hope of a confident and protected soul" the Reverend said with authority in his voice. "Tell me more" the clone said. The Reverend thumbed through his Bible once more and said "and how from infancy you have known the holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through Christ Jesus...2 Timothy 3:15". "Holy Scriptures"? the clone said puzzled. "Yes these right here my friend" the Reverend replied. Cont...

The clone reached out his arms and the Reverend was reminded of Sunday morning when the people of Christ would come to communion at the altar of his church. The Reverend handed his Bible to the clone and the clone grabbed it and held it too his chest, "I like Jesus" he said. The Reverend smiled and thought about how simple faith really is, this mans reaction was testimony to that. "Does this mean I have a soul"? the clone asked. "Yes you do" the Reverend replied. "Tell me, what did they do to you" the Reverend asked. "They hurt me" the clone replied a third time. Suddenly the guard came knockin' on the cell and bellowed "Time's up Padre, let's go". The clone looked at the Reverend and asked "Will you help me"? The Reverend reached into his coat pocket and handed the clone his business card; "Yes I will, have your lawyer call me when you're ready for trial". The Reverend then exited the cell and the clone sat on his bed with the Reverends Bible in hand as the light from outside bathed his content face. 020

"You are all aware, I'm sure, of the recent events, concerning Tarin Industries. I shall waste no time in repeating them. I am to inform you, however, that yesterday, I have been contacted and entrusted with the duty to represent the public in the forementioned case.

The crime, tragic as it may be, is not without widespread repercussions. The act itself cannot be straightforwardly called murder, as it consists of more than just the volitional removal of one's life by another. The victim is the progenitor, and the persecutor his clone; a clone, allegedly incapable of such an act, thus giving rise to various questions concerning the cloning practices used by Tarin Industries, or even cloning in general.

I am convinced that responsibility lies not with the clone itself. Such a closely monitored being should be predictable at any time. Surely by mistake, I dare not think otherwise, the clone was either led to this act, or the authorities monitoring it have failed. Public anxiety, seen under these assumptions, can be understood, and is more than justified; it must, however, be moderated.

That is why must act now, with reason and logic, to ensure justice is being done, and that this novelty of a crime is never repeated."

--- Statement made by civil servant Markus C. Langston, INN broadcast, on account of the murder of Magna

020

Dale Tarin walked to his closet and began to paw through the suits. He had a small wardrobe here for changing when his attire just felt wrong or he had to go up town right after closing to a benefit and required white tie or black tie. Today he had a video conference scheduled and he needed to avoid patterns that would look garish on a monitor or projected in a board room or conference room. The wolves were circling for the attack. He drummed his fingers on the doorframe. Was it too much of a threat to use Samson and tear the temple down? No one wore togas anymore or animal skins. He took one of his white shirts over to the light and frowned at how it flashed and showed iridescent in the glare. No martial arts move. No upper body strength at all. This was going to be a main lobby train station kind of thing. They come in looking for a man with a worried look and he stops feigning surprise. Weak, frail, fearful of disease he moves quickly to stand with his back at a pillar where they cannot figure out how to corner him as the lobby is open all around. 021(1)

He drops down to tie his shoes. Then standing to full height, he bellows out at the top of his lungs. Guard, get Mike and help these folks to get their cameras set up! They are shocked to ear the bellow out of someone so frail. A reporter rushes up with a microphone. Dale hands him a card turns and walks away to the elevator. There is a hubbub in the lobby with everyone confused and the guards directing the camera men to where the best setup points are and going out to the street to help setup the camera trucks. One of the network anchors queries whether We didnt just get blown off!?? They look up and the president of the company is just emerging from the elevator briefcase in hand. He is moving very fast and a cordon of guards keeps the reporters away from him. Just then a monitor on the wall lights up with Dale Trains head and shoulders. He is giving a briefing on the state of the company to various research firms and the guard says, Go ahead point the cameras at that. You guys are in on the phone call this time. No need to explain any insider matters. Tarin is pouring a big glass of liquid nitrogen. The liquid is surrounded by froth and a cloud of vapor rises. The clone has been found which was needed for the most important project we have before us... There are reasons why the intended augmentation of Magna has not occurred. The damaged clones will be removed from the experiment and there is no need to inquire about them further. The reporters are uneasy. They like a direct feed with their own equipment and this is just a camera shot of video with the adverse effects of ambient light and all sort of bad choices effecting the quality of the picture. Frankly its just too public.021(2)

Even as this display is proceeding, the soundmen intercept a signal in their earphones. "Dale Tarin has setup a private feed for you on the pending court case. You can plug your equipment into the T4 line connection right over there." There is a rush of technicians to be the one to hook up and all have pigtails when they arrive at the location pointed out. Once hooked up they begin to monitor a voice that sounds like Tarin's. It is saying that the grand jury proceeding against Tarin Industries is far from complete. The civil suits filed to attach the premises of Tarin are defective and have no grounds in law. It can't be Tarin. He is on the monitor right now talking live to researchers. How could he anticipate every possible interaction on two sepate lines private and public in order to prerecord one or both and have the timing and line of attack fully covered? He was just there in person and entered the elevator. That man seemed almost incapable of a short interview and this one was on two communication channels at once.021(3)

The courtroom went silent as the magistrate entered sat down and read the brief. She looked at the gallery. Tarin was sitting with his entourage of lawyers. Number #1 was chained to a chair. Biddle was pacing back and forth near the door. " The case before me seems to be a fairly simple matter,"she started, " This clone, has no legal rights in our system. Under current patent law my initial feeling is that it should be returned to the rightful owner. I also has been brought up that since the progenitor has been terminated that all successive clones should face disposition." She shuffled the papers and looked over at Number#1. "It can also be argued that since no progenitor exists that the clone has become independent of the source. In running to a church to seek solace, and through other acts the clone has demonstrated an independent will and anima. This presents a further difficulty in that one clones singularity forces consideration of the others as singularities and this is the matter for the court to decide: whether to collectively dispose of nonfunctional collectives, or treat each as an individual bringing them up to full status as citizens within our society." "Since this is a matter for debate, I will entertain both sides before rendering a decision. Baliff, who's first on the list of testimonials?" The baliff glanced at his clipboard " Sigfried Toker, a fellow worker of the deceased". "Mr Toker are you in the courtroom? Please come to the podium." 022

Toker approached the podium as if it and all present were enemies. He was a huge man, the sort you wouldn't approach with bad news. "Mr. Sigfried Toker, do you swear..." and Toker's eyes scanned the room for something to hate. They found the pale thin figure seated in the defense area. Toker was asked to describe the character of the deceased. "Magna and I have known each other for 41 years. We co-managed the old C.Z. Tech corporation. Magna was a class act and a good friend." Blood was visible boiling in Toker's face. If Magna were in the courtroom he'd advise his friend to calm down and take a seat. As is the case with many great teams the two men used personality contrasts to make a whole greater than the sum of its parts. They'd enjoyed many a success with Magna using cold sober logic and his friend providing the incentive and passion. "Magna was the kind of man who saved lives just by appearing at work each day..." and thus began a long trail of inflated claims and exaggerated anecdotes. The magistrate allowed Toker to finish and then spoke. "Mr. Toker, I'm sure there are many here who loved and admired the deceased but he is not running for office from beyond the grave. We're all reasonably intelligent adults here, let's confine our statements to the world of reality." Toker's face was now red as the cherrywood podium. "I just want it known that Magna was a great man and demonstrated his worth with actions. A much greater man than the swollen skin scraping who murdered him." Toker stared at #1 as if his eyes themselves could gain revenge for the death of his friend. The courtroom was suddenly a hive of noises and discussion. "Order, " the magistrate yelled. "This kind of insulting behavior cannot help justice in any sense. I will tolerate no more! Please step down. Toker looked at the jury one last time and his eyes told them to believe in Magna, threatened them to believe. 023

A tear formed in Jen's eye as she composed her thoughts to answer the prosecuting attorney's questions. "I have been employed as Manga's secretary for just over five years..er.. had been employed." Her breath caught in her throat and escaped as a tiny sob. "Manga was the kind of boss who always let his employees know how important they were to his work." "He was devoted to his family and his career.' she went on, "I will miss working for him." She raised her head and looked around the courtroom until her eyes fell upon #1, "He did not deserve to die the way he did!" 024

"Thank you" the prosecuting attorney said " I would like to call the nurse to the stand, Miss White are you in the courtroom?"
" I was walking with Karl Magna when the clone came up yelling incoherently about something pushed me aside and, at the same time, Mr Magna down the escalator."
The prosecutor wanted the courtroom and the magistrate to feel sorry for Magna he continued, " Tell me what was Magna like in his final days...?"
"Well he seemed depressed. I recall him telling me about a dream he had where he was visited by his dead wife, about shopping for a place to live. They were going to have children, but they never did. Magna was a devoted civil servant. Let his job come first. Then she got sick. It was very sudden and then she was gone."
"Was Magna affeted by his wife's death?"
Oh yes. It left him a shell. And that's when his heart started to cause trouble and I came to know him."

The prosecutor told her she could step down. "There you have it. Karl Magna, devoted husband and civil servant, suddenly attacked by the very clone that was to sustain him, by that clone that was created for that purpose."

He lowered his eyes " Gentleman without that purpose that clone has no reason to be at all. He and the others created to serve Magna should return to that natural state from which they were created. They should return to the realm of nothiness that without Magna is the only place available to their kind and purpose." 025

Message edited on: 07/24/2004 06:30

Mr. Rifkin walked up to the microphone. He cleared his throat and nodded acknowledging the jury. Then he looked the judge straight in the eyes. The prosecution seems to have covered all the bases to satisfy habeas corpus. A man is dead. The whereabouts of his deceased form is known and under the control of the state and the alleged perpetrator of his death is in police custody. You honor I would like to congratulate the servants of the law on this feat. There is the further matter of the six other clones which were to have been identical with not only the one in custody but also the deceased, though physically more perfect in their recently. These the state is holding in protective custody for what reason? If it is because they are identically identifiable to the average person as the perpetrator of the deed and thus material witnesses then they should be brought forth and that fact established. Why are they not in court? I ask that the judge so order at this time. The defense wishes discovery of the differences between these and the one in custody. Rumor and innuendo has not established the so called flaw in the other six. Only my client, Dale Tarin, their maker has the means to establish the difference. I would ask that they all be remanded to his custody until he can properly adjudicate this matter.

Markus Langston was standing in front of the microphone. He tapped it twice.

" Your honor, I was called here as a result of public unrest, to question whether the clones possess a soul. I believe this matter, though indeed somewhat remote, is essential, as it can pose a basis on which to treat not only the perpetrator, and the other six clones, but also the company by which they were created."

He turned to look at the jury.

" There are two points of view from which this issue can be addressed. First, the practical view of the soul, as the sum of life, identity and purpose, can guide us to a reasonable deduction.

Life must be questioned first of all. While it is unlikely to prove a subject as animate, one must accept that it is possible to ascertain oneself of the existence of life by means of intellect. The only thing that separates a living organism from a well-programmed well-behaved machine is it's manner of creation. While manufacturing serves only the manufacturer's goal, birth is a proccess which empowers the flow of evolution. And, while an organic body can be percieved as a very complex machine, birth, creation by means of genetic coupling, in all its purposeful randomness, cannot be replaced by any kind of man-directed fabrication. The clones, serving no evolutionary goal, and, while organic, not born, can be said to possess no more life than a complex computer. They are, in this case, subject to T.I.'s desire, and any alleged crime they may have commited is nothing more than a grievous malfunction.

Even if the above is denied, and the clones are considered alive, one must continue questionning their identity and purpose. It is a fact that the clones mirror in a perfect manner the genetic pattern of their progenitor. In fact, given the proccess of their creation, they could be considered as parts of the progenitor's body : they share his DNA, and exist to heal him, serving a role similar to an internal organ. In the latter case, they are non-entities, under the illusion of self consciousness. Alive but soulless, as a single human cell is alive, but not human itself. The fact that at least one of them has behaved inadequately does not differentiate them from their progenitor's heart, which , also, has proven itself inefficient. As of the accused clone's actions, they are not proof in the existence of spirit or soul. For, while we can guess its motives in finding his progenitor, Magna, and killing him, or in fleeing into a church, we are doing nothing more than guesswork, seeing what we expect to see, in our misconception of the clone as human. True motive and thought may not be present. Also, there is no spiritual significance to the fact that it was a church the clone chose as refuge. Even if we had believed its actions as deliberate, there could not possibly be a way for it to recognize and comprehend the symbolical meaning of a church, given that the clone was never presented with such knowledge.

On the other hand, to assume that, somehow, the progenitor's identity survives in them wholly, is implausible practically, for, while they have the same biological body, they lack experience and memory, which undoubtedly are important aspects of the self. Furthermore, this train of thought, should it be accepted, would lead to the conclusion that at some point in time, several Magnas existed simultaneously, which is, of course, unacceptable.

To examine the latter more thouroughly, we must abandon the practical view. Religion and theology teach us that the soul is given to man by God. As it remains yet undetected by science, we must accept this for a fact, or completely

deny its existence. Is it sane, thus, to assume that the gift of the soul can be affected by human meddling? Surely not. The soul, therefore, cannot be transplanted nor split, as it exists not in a human's genetic code, but in his relation to God. Magna's soul has departed. It does not reside in any man-made body, nor has it ever been subject to manipulation.

There remain two possibilities. Either the clones are soulless, or they possess unique individual souls, like humans. At which point, though, during their strictly monitored creation did God's hand gift them with a soul? Clones, as opposed to human beings, have not been created by God : they are not part of evolution or nature. They are products of a careful human decision, living tools used for a single well-defined purpose. They would not have existed were that decision different, were they unneeded, they should have stopped existing when their purpose was fulfilled. They have no soul.

Oh, some will say that it was under God's Will that they were created. I find this particular subject above my capabilities. I choose not to elaborate on it, further than questionning myself how it is that some are so distinctly , and may I say conveniently, aware of God's Intentions, while the rest of us are so ignorant.

My conclusion is this : the clones, by their nature, are neither guilty nor innocent of murder. True, one of them commited the act of killing a man, though the blame and responsibility belongs to their creators. It was through their errors that this act was made possible. It is they that must be thoroughly questioned, their procedures be examined, if there is to be any result at all from this trial. And if it comes to be so, there is nothing of much interest to be done with the clones.
Should they be returned to Tarin Industries, or be confiscated, should they be terminated or kept, it is of little ethical consequence. "

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