Clone

Birth of a Clone

The steady beep of monitors was the first thing Rine heard as her eyes fluttered open. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the white-walled laboratory. The cold metal table beneath her sent a shiver up her spine.

A figure loomed above her. A man with piercing blue eyes and a smirk that didn't quite reach them.

"Welcome to the world, Rine," he said. His voice was smooth, calculated. "I'm Dr. Larson. One of your creators."

Rine's stomach twisted. Creators?

She forced herself upright, her muscles sluggish and unsteady. The scientists surrounding her watched with clinical detachment, like she was a test subject finally coming online.

Dr. Larson chuckled at her reaction. "I imagine you're confused," he said, tapping a tablet in his hands. "You weren't born like the others outside these walls. You were made. Designed to be stronger, faster, more intelligent." He paused, watching her carefully. "You, Rine, are a clone."

A hollow weight settled in her chest. A clone. Not a person. A product.

She clenched the sheet beneath her fingers. "What happens now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

A scientist in the background answered without looking up. "She's already been assigned. There's a buyer."

"A buyer?" The word tasted bitter on her tongue.

Dr. Larson didn't flinch. "You'll be sent to the factory. Labor assignments are standard protocol for your kind." His voice was gentle, but it did nothing to soften the reality of it. She wasn't free. She wasn't herself.

Before she could protest, the decision was made. Within hours, she was loaded into a transport, shipped off to a factory where she would spend her days assembling parts for machines she would never use.

But something was off about this place.

The Factory & the Rumors

Weeks passed. The routine was mind-numbing—work, eat, sleep, repeat. The factory hummed with the constant rhythm of machinery, clones moving like clockwork in an endless cycle of labor.

But whispers spread among them.

One night, Jack, a fellow clone, leaned over while they worked side by side. "Did you hear about the new batch?" he murmured, keeping his voice low.

Rine wiped sweat from her brow. "What about them?"

"They're different," he said. "More advanced. Stronger. Smarter. And..." He hesitated. "Some of them have powers."

Rine's hands stilled. "That's not possible."

Jack shrugged. "That's what they said about us, too."

Powers. That was ridiculous. Clones were built for obedience, for efficiency—not power. But the idea gnawed at her. If it were true, what else had the scientists been hiding?

And then she started noticing something strange.

The Moss

It started small.

A faint green glow near the factory walls. Tiny patches of moss creeping along the cracks of the floor. It wasn't normal—not in a place like this. It spread faster than it should have, its glow pulsing softly like a heartbeat.

One morning, while walking to her station, she crouched down and brushed her fingers over it. The texture was soft, almost...alive. When she touched it, warmth spread through her fingertips.

"What are you doing?"

She jerked upright. Dr. Larson stood behind her, arms crossed.

She swallowed hard. "Nothing. Just...noticed the moss."

His gaze flicked to the glowing patch at her feet. For a split second, something unreadable crossed his expression—concern? Interest?

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"You shouldn't touch things you don't understand," he said simply, then turned on his heel and walked away.

But Rine wanted to understand.

The Man Named James

That night, unable to sleep, she slipped out of the dormitory and followed the trail of moss. It was everywhere now—spreading through the hallways, along the walls, as if it had a mind of its own. It led her outside, toward the loading docks.

And that's where she saw him.

A man stood in the shadows. Tall, dressed in a dark suit. But beneath it, she could see the glint of an old military uniform.

"You've noticed it, haven't you?" he said, his voice smooth.

Rine tensed. "Who are you?"

"James," he said, stepping closer. "And I think you're finally asking the right questions."

She eyed the vials in his hands—one filled with shimmering purple liquid, the other a deep, murky orange.

"You've been changed," he continued. "The moss is drawn to you. It's part of you."

Her breath caught. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" He held out a vial. "Drink this."

Rine hesitated. She didn't trust him. But something deep inside her whispered that he knew more than he was letting on.

With a deep breath, she took the vial and downed it.

The effect was immediate. A warmth spread through her, like the moss itself was waking up inside her veins. The factory walls around her seemed...clearer, as if she could feel the structure itself, every weak point, every crack.

James watched her reaction with knowing eyes. "The scientists don't understand what they've created," he said. "But you do. And now, you have a choice."

Rine's fingers curled into fists.

For the first time since she woke up on that cold metal table, she felt something other than fear.

She felt power.

And she was done being someone else's experiment.

To Be Continued...