Alexis_A Clone Crisis Prequel Read online

  Alexis

  Clone Crisis:

  A Prequel

  BY MELISSA FAYE

  Table of Contents

  Fall 2414

  Winter 2414-2415

  Spring 2415

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  CLONE CRISIS: BEGINNINGS

  In the year 2107, the last baby boy is born in Sydney, Australia. With fertility rates at 0% and no solution in sight, the Unified Countries comes together to find a way to keep the human race from going extinct.

  In this prequel to Clone Crisis, learn how countries around the world decided to use cloning as a stopgap measure until they can find a solution to the fertility crisis.

  GIVE ME MY FREE STORY!

  Fall 2414

  The day before my internship started at the Fertility Lab, I cleaned my apartment, scrubbing deep into every nook and cranny. I imagined how busy I’d be as soon as the internship started. I was going to be the best, and that meant focusing all of my time on my work. Not on keeping my apartment looking nice. I finished by late afternoon and looked around with a grin. The apartment was beautiful. Hardwood floors, glass and marble countertops, tall windows with a view of the park, my own bathroom and kitchen. The Gold commune was the nicest in the community.

  It was September and the weather was still uncomfortably hot. It hadn’t rained in a week, and the air was dry. I walked towards a nearby community center with my head held high. The Gold insignia on my chest and the Gold border on my TekCast were a clear indicator to everyone who passed by that I was doing the most important work in all of the community. Gold was only awarded to those in Fertility, Cloning, Leadership and Records, and Medicine.

  The day I was assigned to be a fertility researcher was the happiest one in my life. It was November of my first year in High Class, and all of my classmates were gathered in the front of the Chancellor’s Mansion to receive our assignments and earn our insignia. I had worked hard throughout middle class and suspected I would get a Gold assignment, though I didn’t have a preference between the four Gold careers.

  My best friend at the time, Laisha, was hoping to get Gold. We both knew it was more likely for her to have a Silver career like Finance or Technology. Her math scores were incredible but she never excelled in science. We planned on being Gold together: we would be in the same dorm, then move into a shared double apartment in the Gold commune, then buy houses next door to each other in a Gold Community.

  Before the assignments, Chancellor Lorenzo gave a long, dull speech about the history of Young Woods community and the way our society functions to benefit all community members. I was never convinced that how we did things was best. Hundreds of years ago, the fertility crisis began. With no one able to have children biologically, Canada shared their cloning technology with the world. From then on, humans were “born” by being cloned every twenty to forty years. You were never in the same community as your clone, of course – this was determined to be too much of a distraction to the way society ran.

  Still, much of what the Chancellor said was correct. Young Woods functioned efficiently. Everyone had their career assignment, whether it be in Gold, Silver, Bronze, or Gray. As proud as I was of my Gold insignia, I felt a little tug in my chest when I saw an older man wearing his Gray maintenance uniform emptying garbage cans late at night. Bronze and Gray jobs required manual labor. Their hours were longer than mine would be, and they were paid less. The apartment I would have as a Gold intern would be much nicer than my classmates in other colors.

  All those thoughts escaped from my mind when Lorenzo called my name to the stage. He was an older man with dark hair – and a few grays - and hard features on his face. When I got up close, I noticed how dark his eyes were. Looking into them was like standing on the edge of a black hole. I paused hopefully as he announced my assignment.

  “Alexis. Gold. Fertility.”

  The next few moments were a daze of euphoria as I shook the Chancellor’s hand, received my Gold insignia, and watched a council member attach a Gold wrap-around to my TekCast. I was smiling so broadly that my cheeks hurt. I practically skipped down the steps and sat down with the rest of the Golds.

  I rarely saw Laisha after that day. She was assigned Silver, Finance. Most people stuck with their colors, and there was no career connection between Fertility and Finance. After the ceremony, Laisha and I tried to meet a few times, but there was no real hope for our friendship. We went our separate ways.

  I HAD A MIDDLE-CLASS mentee, Yami, who I ate dinner with that evening before my first day in the F-Lab. We met once or twice per week to talk about school and go over her coursework. She was starting her last year of middle class, making her just one year away from her career assignment. She was a strong student and would likely get something Gold or Silver. She didn’t like talking about it, though. And that day in September, with school just beginning, we could chat more about her friends and my internship starting.

  Yami had big black curly hair that her classmates made fun of. All through middle class she tried different ways to tame it without much success. She tried straightening it, but the curls popped back up with a few hours. She tried a variety of braids, but they always left a large fuzzy halo around her head. I gave her hair product to try to make the curls more even, at least, but it didn’t help. To be honest, I was a little jealous of her hair. Mine was long and auburn, and couldn’t hold a curl.

  Yami and I ordered dinner from a vending cylinder in her dorm’s cafeteria. She wore a scarf around her head, her current favorite hair-hiding method. She seemed down, so I asked her what was wrong.

  “It’s kind of sad.” She looked down at the table in front of us, where our trays were stacked with slices of pizza and one brownie each. “My friend Jacob, you know him? His mentor is starting his internship tomorrow, too. He’s Gray. Maintenance. He spends all of their time together complaining about how hard he’s going to have to work, and how poor his salary is compared to everyone else. I don’t think I know any Grays too well. Jacob and I were talking about it, and I thought it was unfair.”

  “Yeah, I think so too,” I said. “The color system isn’t ideal. No one knows exactly how assignments work. It’s not fair that someone can’t get a higher paying job once they’re assigned a color. And there’s no space for much promotion, particularly in Gray.”

  Yami took a few bites of her pizza, looking around to see if anyone she knew was there. She waved at a few people. I chuckled to myself. I remembered being her age. That was the year when I learned more about the Underground and joined their work.

  “Cloning itself is a little problematic, right?” I said. Yami looked back at me now while she chewed. “It’s unnatural. And we haven’t made any progress in fertility research in hundreds of years.”

  “That’ll change once you’re there!” Yami said. She was my biggest fan. I winked at her.

  “Even so,” I said. “Where are my other clones? What color did they get assigned to? Why can’t I talk to them?”

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing another Yami,” Yami said. “It would be like visiting the future. I could see what I’m gonna be like in twenty-five years.”

  “You could probably learn from yourself,” I said. It was something we talked about in the Underground – why were clones kept apart from one another? The rule never made sense to me. “I wonder if the other Alexis’s are in fertility. Maybe they’ve done research that I could learn from. Maybe just being the same, genetically, we could bounce ideas off one another and come to better solutions.”

  I thought about that part a lot. I wanted to be the one to solve the fertility crisis. Sometimes I knew it would be me
– I could feel it in my bones. But having a second Alexis there would help us reach the goal faster. I changed the subject back to Yami’s social life. She had gotten in a big fight the previous year – one of those girl’s bathroom, claws out, tears, high-pitched screaming fights that only happened in middle class. I felt a responsibility to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Especially if it went on her record and would factor even a little bit into her career assignment. We ate pizza and talked about her and her classmates.

  On my way back to my apartment, I stopped a floor below mine to check in on my friend Javi. He was starting his internship in Leadership and Records the next day. We weren’t just friends because we were both Golds; we were both part of the Underground, too. He and I found out about it the same time, and had been going to meetings regularly. It was a group of like-minded citizens who weren’t happy with the way the government ran. Most of the members were Bronze or Silver, so it was helpful when they could recruit Gold members. Javi would be in high demand once his internship started. Leadership and Records workers had access to government information that no one else had.

  “You ready?” I asked Javi. He stood in his doorframe, already getting ready for bed. Javi was a nervous person when it came to school and work, and probably wanted to get extra hours of sleep in preparation for the next day.

  “I hope so, Lexi,” he said with a smile. “See you tomorrow?”

  “After we’re interns and ready to take on the world? Yup.”

  The F-Lab was located only a block away from my commune, probably since my building was for Golds and all the fertility researchers were Gold. It was the second most impressive building in Young Woods after the Chancellor’s Mansion. It had a rich cream-colored edifice with old-fashioned details, including intricately carved columns reaching from the gardens to the top of the second floor. The community motto was etched in stone above the doors:

  WHAT’S BEST FOR THE COMMUNITY IS BEST FOR ME

  The lobby featured glass and leather furniture, a Bronze receptionist, and a large screen on the wall touting the accomplishments of the greatest researchers our community had seen. Walking into the building with the other Gold interns, I felt the weight of society’s future on my back.

  The first-year interns started our day with a meeting led by the Chief of Fertility Research, Greta. She was one of those Golds who you rarely saw around the community because she spent so much time at work. It had paid off, though, since she was Chief. She had a tough, strict face that could stop a person in their tracks. We were all a little terrified of her.

  After a speech welcoming us to the fertility team, Greta organized us into three small groups to tour the building with an experienced researcher. I was in awe of the entire building. In high class, I had access to some updated laboratory equipment because of my course load, but it was nothing like what actual researchers had here. While the outside of the building made it look old and regal, the inside was all breezy, open lab spaces with different machines and equipment I didn’t even recognize. There were glass walls separating different lab areas, researchers walking back and forth in freshly pressed white lab coats, and large screens in each room with up-to-date information about research results.

  It was all happening. I felt it while we finished our tour and practiced some basic laboratory procedures with another intern. I was going to solve the fertility crisis. And when I did, it would shake apart the community organization that put people into groups when they were fourteen and kept them there for the rest of their lives. We could go back to family units, with parents and siblings, and change the way we educate children. Everyone would have a fair shot. My mind raced as I imagined the changes that would come about from my discovery. I smiled the whole day.

  A WEEK INTO MY INTERNSHIP, I missed a meeting with the Underground. It was impossible to balance my personal life with the work I was doing at the lab. I received a message from the Underground leader, Omer. “Missed last meeting – all ok?” I didn’t respond.

  Omer worked diligently to keep the Underground numbers up. People often left when we didn’t see results right away. Right now there were about twenty members, but when I joined there were thirty. Omer was a good leader – thoughtful, diplomatic, and intelligent – but somehow he had ended up in Bronze in Agriculture. Javi and I thought that was probably why he was so motivated to make change. He was wasted in Agriculture. Omer never saw it that way, though. He yelled at Javi one time for bringing it up. Omer wanted his coworkers to have the same chances mine would at career advancements and decent salaries. It wasn’t just about him.

  Javi was as busy as I was with his new job, but some nights he would come to my place to study. “People were asking about you at the meeting the other night,” he told me. “Don’t you still want to be involved?”

  I was reading a research paper about the impact of genetically modified foods on fertility compared to the impact food had on fertility before modern farming techniques. It was basic research, but the kind of work interns engaged with before getting to the more complex stuff. I only half heard Javi’s question.

  “Involved?” I looked up. “Oh, the Underground? Sort of. I mean, yes. I don’t know.”

  Javi sat at the kitchen table with me. “Why wouldn’t you want to be involved anymore?” He looked concerned, cocking his head to the side and frowning. His dark hair fell over his forehead and he had to constantly brush it out of his face so he could see. He didn’t make time for things like cooking or haircuts or socializing when he was busy with work. I was glad he still hung out with me, at least.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to get involved,” I said. I hadn’t really thought about it, but I realized what I was thinking while I said it. “I don’t think the Underground is making any progress in changing people’s minds. We should do something bigger, but we have no resources. Maybe the best way I can make a difference is by working hard and solving the fertility crisis. That would make a lot more change than going to meetings and complaining about the Chancellor.”

  “I suppose,” said Javi. “I think we can help Omer more, though, now that we have these jobs. You could be snooping around the F-Lab to find out more about the work they’re doing. Everyone is always wondering why no one’s made any progress. And I told the group I would look for more information about the Chancellor and the council.”

  So that’s why Javi is particularly worn down these days, I thought. He’s working double time, serving the government and the Underground. There weren’t enough hours in the day.

  “I don’t know how I’d find time for that,” I said. “It would just put me behind on my research and reading.”

  “I think it’s worth it to find the time, Lexi. Besides, no one has found a solution in hundreds of years. I know you’re smart, but...”

  I stood up in a flash, scraping my chair legs across the tiled floor. Javi looked at me with his mouth slightly open. I knew what he was implying, and it was unfair.

  “I’m sorry, Lexi, I don’t mean it that way-“

  “I’m tired,” I said. “You should go.”

  “I’m really sorry, Lexi!” Javi said. When he saw my glare, he started packing up his own things. I watched as he walked towards the door with puppy eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say more, but closed it again. I shut the door behind him.

  It was true. I was only nineteen and there wasn’t anything that special about me besides being smart and passionate. And every other intern was, too. I would have to work harder and longer, but I still couldn’t shake the thought that I would do great things. Something about me and my work was going to make a difference. If Javi couldn’t see it yet, he could just stay out of it.

  OVER THE COURSE OF the next few weeks, the interns cycled through different research departments in the F-Lab. There was a group of scientists exploring the relationships between lifestyle modifications and human fertility. There was a group of scientists exploring the various illnesses that impacted fertility in the twentie
th and twenty-first centuries, seeing how cures for those illnesses might increase or decrease the odds of conception in the twenty-fifth.

  Lab technology meant we rarely needed actual genetic samples to conduct tests; we had the equipment and programming to model results over time. Some researchers, with the help of Technology workers, created and monitored the programs that would run hundreds and thousands of simulations to analyze different solutions based on different chemical variables. These programs rarely saw success. When a failure or false-positive came, you might think it would cause disappointment again and again. Instead, everyone seemed enthusiastic; one more wrong test meant one idea to scratch off the list of possibilities. It brought us closer to the goal.

  I was most interested in how researchers were using in vitro fertilization and pre-implantation genetic diagnosis to create viable embryos outside of the human body. Based on my own reading, this was a common solution for fertility before the crisis began, and I secretly thought it was our best option for arriving at a real solution. I tried to finagle my schedule to spend more of my time in this section of the lab, but often ran up against my biggest competition, an intern named Laurel.

  Laurel was universally liked among the researchers and interns alike. She was sharp; she rarely missed a question or made a mistake in her work and analyses. I wanted so badly to dislike her. She was also highly motivated, and wanted to work on the IVF team just like I did. It was hard to see her as my enemy, though, because she was just so...nice. She befriended everyone quickly. While I spent my lunch and break times studying, she would be surrounded by the other interns, chatting and laughing.

  “Alexis, come here!” she said one day at lunch. I was hunched over a report in my TekCast in the corner of the break room, barely paying attention to my food. I was stuck on one particular passage in a research paper published just a few months earlier. It talked about the results of using a new technique to fertilize an egg in a few different biological scenarios. I couldn’t make sense of it. The way the technique was described, I could only come to two solutions. One was that the actual results didn’t align with the technique. The other was that the technique should have worked. I had saved the paper on my TekCast to review, but after a few days, I was still stuck. I could never bring it up with anyone. I didn’t want anyone to see my confusion, and didn’t want to hurt a researcher’s pride.