"Dearheart Bioindustries PLC, making your life easier by using our own."


Everything is-

"He's coming round."

It's all-

"Hurry it up, there's a quota to fill here."

A colour? Is that what it is?

"You want quantity, you keep hurrying me. You let me do my job, and then you will get quality!"

Pink, my... mind? I have a mind?

"Fine, fine. Just be quicker, okay?"

Pink, my mind supplies. Everything is all pink.

"There she blows!"

I open my... my eyes. Colours. So many colours.

"Leave the excitement to the pioneers, doc. Get him on the cart, boys."

Things are touching me. All these blobs, they're moving me? It's all going by so... quickly? Very quickly.

So many colours. So beautiful.

"Put him with the others and move onto the next one. Remember the quota."

Darkness. But I like the light! If that was what it was. I liked the light. All the beautiful colours.

I think... I think I want them back. But then I realise that isn't going to happen.


There are lights again, they pass from one side of me to another. Fast. Very fast.

It's so crowded in here. Yes, that's the word. Because it's like a crowd. I can hardly breathe. I shout, for just a moment. I actually open my mouth and feel the strange noise garbling from my throat. It feels sort of nice. Natural, almost.

I surprise myself by understanding the noise I make. I am saying, 'Help!' That means I want assistance, because I don't want to be here.

Because it is... not nice in here. In this rattling box filled with other... other... other... it's so crowded. It's full of crowd. A large, rattling crowd. I am stuck in the middle and it is hard to breathe.

Then some things on the outside of the box make some different noises, and the rattling stops. I am glad, I think.

The light comes back again, bright and painful in my eyes. Things touch me and I leave the box. They are hurting me, so I shout, because that makes sense. Shouting makes me feel better.

It does not this time, however. The things, they hurt me some more. They make pain in my legs and in my arms. I do not like it.

I am shouting, but they do not care. I am crying, they do not care.

I think I am broken, otherwise why would this be happening? One of the things... the men... says something to me. He says the word 'Clone' and then he hurts me.

Clone is a bad word, this much is clear. I wonder what it means...