Last Week’s FFF: Clank Part 3
“We got another one!” I yelled.
On the porch, I tore open the plastic wrap and inspected the goods. The fully grown male body appeared to be completely intact. But we wouldn’t know for certain until we opened it up.
My husband stumbled out from the front door. He looked a lot like the man in the wrapping, only, where this one was young and fit, my husband was thin and frail. His skin had taken on a yellow tone, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“Is it good this time?” he asked.
“So far. There’s no obvious deformations. I’m just glad they sent us a new one at no cost.”
I rolled the man on his back. His breathing was shallow. Beside him, taped to the pallet was a pill. I inserted it into his mouth, and after a moment he awoke.
He stood and stared with a blank expression. He may have had my husbands eyes, but I could tell he didn’t share a soul.
These clones were grown for one reason only: parts. They grew at substantially accelerated rates, and were lobotomized at the expulsion from their artificial womb. This made them easier to work with.
I coerced it into a a standing position.
“Ready?” I asked my husband.
He smiled. It was the first time I had seen him do so with any authenticity since the last man showed up. He had hope.
I took my husband and the organ donor to the hospital, where the doctor was already prepped and waiting.
I knew that the clone wouldn’t survive the surgery. But my husband would.
I didn’t feel bad for it. I don’t care what the label said, these things weren’t really human. How could I feel bad about killing something that never knew it was alive?
Last Week’s FFF: Celestials
Daren looked around at the wasteland that used to be his neighborhood. Destruction had consumed the cul-de-sac. The smoldering remains of homes still billowed smoke into the sky. He turned to look at the plot of land where his two-story home sat just yesterday. Now it was an unrecognizable pile of debris.
He walked over to the rubble. He could feel the warmth from the burnt out brick and wood under his feet. He kicked about the shattered pieces of his life, looking for any evidence that he had once lived here. That he had lived at all. Continue reading
Last Week’s FFF: Hydropunk
Dr. Jack Kingsley watched the toddler through the viewing window. The next room was decorated in bright colors, with a slew of stuffed animals and train decals. The child gripped the edge of of his swing, pulled himself standing, and tentatively let go. A moment later, on shaky legs, he took a step. Then two more before falling onto his bottom.
Jack put a digital recorder to his lips and pressed record.
“Subject E is progressing as expected. Despite the accelerated rate of growth, subject is meeting all expected milestones for projected age. Currently, subject E’s age is approximately one year old. This is seven weeks after birth.
It’s still Friday in some part of the world, right? No? Oh well. Enjoy!
Zach, sipping his coffee and shuffling along down the corridor, squinted against the rising artificial sun. The transition from night to morning was merely a courtesy on the ship. Zach assumed it was to keep all aboard from having psychotic breaks. Though he had never seen a real sunrise with his own eyes, he could remember it well, and knew that it occurred less abruptly. He could vaguely recall the gradual swatches of pinks and purples that colored the early mornings, ending with glorious oranges and blues. Continue reading