The straps cinch my arms and legs to the operating table. I struggle against them yelling at the team gathered around me, “You have the wrong one of us!”
The corporation lawyer steps forward and reads from a script, “Due to insufficient payment by Martin E. Taylor, his Identi-Clone is hereby remanded back to custody of Hospex Industries where it shall be sold for bids on the organ market.”
In the back of the room I see a surgical mask come down and the smile set on the face of my clone as the repo surgeon makes his first incision.
About the Creator
Don Money
Don Money was raised in Arkansas on a farm. After ten years in the Air Force, he returned to his roots in Arkansas. He is married with five kids. His journey to become a writer began in the sixth grade when he wrote his first short story.
The Dangling Bead
My life is splashing before my eyes, as I precariously suspend and prepare for the end, the consumption of my Self and identity. I know that gravity will be the victor in this struggle. Like a pendant, slipping from the chain, the tension has caught me in this moment, bestowing one last gift of reflection. I cling desperately, questioning my purpose. Searching for comfort. And I remember…
By Leslie Staven6 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.