A Heaven for Toasters

CHAPTER 4: Guide

1:13 p.m.

"Which way, again?" I asked, not bothering to hide my irritation.

Leo glanced at the sun. "I believe it's this way."

"We've been going around in circles for the last ten minutes," I complained. "This bench right here... I swear we've been through here before." I let out a frustrated sigh and sat down.

"We haven't actually—" Leo started to say, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

"Let's sit down for a second, shall we?"

The bench was in the middle of a courtyard-like opening among the snakelike, narrow streets. Streams of houses surrounded us—each with a small garden at the front. Despite their identical architecture, some had manicured gardens, others unkempt. They were all painted in different colors—some garish, others subdued. I squeezed my eyes to chase away the dull pain between them.

The small square was empty, which suited me fine. We had only seen a handful of residents so far, all clones of the same man: Doctor Morgan, reclusive billionaire and cloning pioneer.

The clones we had seen all differed in age, but I knew they were all born between 2072 and 2099, the year when the Shanghai Convention was signed. A village consisting solely of adults between forty-five and sixty-four was unnerving. I kept expecting to hear children's laughter. Its absence raised my hairs. I was used to having kids of all ages playing around in villages like this.

A sprightly old man approached us, a jovial expression on his wrinkled face. "You two look lost." He opened his arms as if to hug us.

I leaned away. "What is it to you?" I snapped, not bothering to hide my annoyance. I rubbed my temples. My fingers came out wet with sweat. The heat and the humidity were getting to me. That, and the fact the sea was so close by, yet I couldn't see it. I wanted to go full Godzilla on Clonesville and tear through the garish buildings to reach it.

The man approached the bench. "May I?" He sat down beside me without waiting for an answer and rubbed his temples, mimicking my gesture. "Scorcher of a day, isn't it? Then again, most are nowadays."

"And you are?" Leo asked, leaning toward him.

"A guide. And a good guide knows when he's needed."

"We wouldn't have any need for you if my hololens worked," I said with a growl. "What's with this place?"

He straightened his back. "Clonesville has a unique arrangement with its host country," he recited in a stilted voice. "As the world's only place where conscious clones can live in peace, we are not to be surveyed by any electronic means. This includes maps."

"So Doctor Morgan is rich enough to buy his own island," I said with an ill-tempered smirk.

"Just a small part of it," our guide corrected me. "The doctor bought the land surrounding one of the old mansions. He built Clonesville around it to house all his clones."

I followed his finger to a series of tiled rooftops farther up the hill. The building they belonged to peeked with contempt over the plain buildings surrounding us. A tall wall obstructed my view, but I could still make out a white sprawling compound built in a Bauhaus style with slender openings.

I studied the wall separating the rest of Clonesville from the doctor. Sharp barbed wire sat snuggly atop a stone wall, looking positively forbidding. I had no doubt that entering the mansion would be anything but easy.

In sharp contrast, each house on the square was barely big enough for a small family. They were all built the same: low, with a tiled roof, a small front yard and—I assumed—a similarly miniature back one. Even though they all had the same specifications, they each had a distinguishing feature, from ridiculously out-of-place pink flamingos to brightly colored walls. Cats were everywhere. Some were well kept, others obvious strays.