Author: Aftertaste of a Razorblade
Chambry twirled a strand of fair hair on her fingertip without listening to a word the teacher was saying. She knew it all. She knew she was a clone. She knew there were dozens of little girls who looked just like her everywhere. She knew where people who weren't clones came from. She knew it all.
"Everything is disposable now," the teacher chirped, "everything! Even people. Of course, a century ago – yes, Keith?"
Keith had been raising his hand. "Molly." Molly was the teacher's name. "How come people didn't want to have all this a hundred years ago?"
Molly offered a light, phony laugh. "It's not that they didn't want to – "
Chambry looked over at Keith. He was so stupid, she thought. Didn't he know this was all people had ever wanted?
" – it was just that they didn't have the technology."
Of course. Technology took years to develop. Decades.
A man and a little girl Teleported into the classroom. The little girl was a living replica of Chambry, one of Chambry's clones.
Chambry was excited. Even though she knew she was a clone, she'd never seen a copy of herself before. And this girl was just like her in every way…
"Hello, Don," Molly cooed. Don must have been the man. Chambry didn't care about the man.
She watched the little girl intently. The little girl was just like Chambry…but her eyes were purple. There was nothing especially unusual about that, eyes came in every color imaginable, but Chambry's own eyes were brown. They weren't entirely identical, after all…
"Keith," Molly instructed. "Stand up." Keith stood. "I'm afraid you'll have to go with Don and Bridgette here." Keith nodded, nervously.
Bridgette. That was the purple-eyed girl's name.
The three of them Teleported. All Chambry could think about was Bridgette's eyes. Bridgette's eyes were purple. Chambry's eyes were brown.
"Molly," a little boy shouted, raising his hand but not waiting to be called on. Most children didn't wait to be called on. "Where did Keith go?"
Chambry knew where Keith went. You only got taken out of class for one reason – for being bad. Or thinking bad thoughts. But Chambry knew Keith hadn't thought bad things – if you thought bad things, they were projected from your eyes for everyone to see.
Eyes. Bridgette's eyes were purple…
Molly chuckled. "You remember, Roger, when I said that people were disposable? Well, that's what happens to bad people – we dispose of them."
Roger's brow furrowed. "How?"
"Don't ask so many questions!" Molly chided. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes – "
"What, Chambry?" Molly asked. She didn't mind that the lesson had been interrupted. The lesson always got interrupted.
"Bridgette looked just like me," Chambry said excitedly. "Only, only, her eyes – they were purple!"
"They were the same color as yours."
"No! Mine're brown. Hers were purple."
Molly made a disdainful clicking sound with her tongue. "Chambry, Chambry," she said, "what have I told you about noticing individual differences?"
Chambry bowed her head. "That it's wrong, and don't do it."
"Good. Do you want to end up with Keith?"
No, Chambry didn't want to end up with Keith.
"All right then," said Molly, "behave yourself. Now, where was I? Oh, yes – "
Chambry tried hard to pay attention, even though she knew it all.