The Replacement

It’s one thing to know you’ll die someday, but another to know the exact date and time that it will happen. It seemed trite though to worry about my fate when so many bodies cluttered the landfills.

The fall of civilized life happened quickly. Following several pandemics, Primatech clinics surfaced across the globe—and they seemed to have answers. No one thought Harold Vance, the brilliant mind behind the company, had ulterior motives. In search of hope, great and small had flocked to his facilities, and he gained swift control after accessing literally everyone.

Then our world really changed.

His supporters appeared everywhere, demanding that quarterly health checks become obligatory. But once these “wellness visits” were mandated, people with diseases started vanishing, families could only have one child per household because “children carried diseases,” and, eventually, Primatech began monitoring ALL communications—to discover who might be infected.

Within two decades, Vance firmly became the new world leader in this desolate world where he'd cut nations, countries, and even families apart from one another.

Yet, none of this bothered me today as I walked into Primatech’s downtown headquarters. I had my own battle to fight. A year before I'd been diagnosed with stage 4 melanoma—something not allowed in this society. “You won't make it past two years,” the doctor had said.

I smiled sardonically. Like they would let me live two years. “I knew something was wrong, but cancer? I'm only 31.” This couldn't be right.

“Listen, Emily. You know what this means.”

“Please don't tell the authorities.” I'd tried avoiding my health check for this very reason. “I'll do anything. Dr. Corrington, I have a family—a little girl. She's only five. How do you even know it's really cancer?”

He removed his glasses and wouldn't meet my eyes. “There's nothing I can do for you.” And after the statement, he simply slipped from the room.

“But, Dr. Corrington!”

As the door shut with finality, I remained dumbfounded, waiting for the nurse to return and end the appointment. But minutes felt like hours as I sat on the exam table, fidgeting, staring at the scans he'd left on the screen. My back had hurt for months, but I'd never imagined tumors had been eating at my spine. I absently fingered the heart-shaped locket that hung around my neck. What would Nick do without me? How would he raise Sam alone? I suddenly had flashbacks from the news, from when things had been freely broadcast. I thought of all the infected bodies piling into the landfills. Is that where they would dump me?

The nurse finally returned. “This is pretty uncommon, but Dr. Corrington has asked me to give you this card. Please don't talk about it with anyone. Just visit the location, and go as soon as you can. They have your information.”

I'd left immediately for Primatech’s downtown headquarters. It loomed sterile and immaculate, far more beautiful than our dystopian world called for. And when I met with the specialist there, his words shocked me. “You have two choices: We can end your life right now or you can decide to be part of a research project.”

“What type of research?” I'd asked.

I'd signed all sorts of documents then. They explained that I couldn’t tell anyone about my “treatment” at the facility—otherwise my entire family would be culled from our world.

Dr. Kushing talked about cloning and how they could take cells from my body to create a new version of me, just without cancer.

“And within a year, she'll look just like I do now?”

“Yes, all of the tissue will have grown. She'll have your memories from the 'date of inception'—which would be today if you choose to proceed. She'll even think she's you.”

“But how...? And what will happen to me?” I'd asked.

“We want you to come back weekly for the next year so we can monitor your labs and cells. We'll compare them to the growth rate of the clone's cells. At the end of the year, it will be time for your expiration and for your clone to 'wake up' and take your place in society.”

I'd sat there, even more stunned than I'd been about the cancer. “And she won't be sick at all?”

“No, she'll be a perfect, healthy version of you. Resistant to disease.”

I couldn't help feeling jealous.

“You can do all of this, but you can't cure cancer?”

“We've pursued more proactive forms of medicine.” He paused and set down his clipboard. “Mrs. Summers, if I may, do you know what happens with melanoma? With the cancer you have, the way you have it?”

I shook my head.

“Well, first it begins devouring your spine until it burrows its way up into your brain. Which, by the way, it has already started to do with you. You know you have two brain tumors as well?”

“No, he didn't tell—”

“They're small right now, the size of peas, but they grow quite quickly without treatment. It's just a matter of time really. Like worms, twisting, feeding.”

I swallowed hard.

“Once cancer invades your brain, things start to change. You might not have headaches now, but those will start. You could suffer from a stroke and have memory issues. Your husband will need to begin caring for you in demeaning ways that you’ve never wanted. You could lose movement and no longer control simple bodily functions. It's horrible really. And this will all happen to you within the span of two years. You'll see slight changes within the next year, some loss of movement, difficulty doing 'normal' things. But this clone, she would replace you so your daughter can grow up with a mother—and so your husband doesn't lose his wife.”

“But...it won't be me.”

“She... She won't be you, exactly.”

In the end, I agreed. I didn't want my daughter growing up without a mother. I'd even come back each week for an entire year, until this day: my date of expiration.

“Are you ready?” Tammy, the nurse, called soon after I'd entered the building.

My heart quaked like a caged animal. It seemed strange thinking back over all the memories. The doctor had been right; I had felt worse over the last several months as if a massive infection raged within the base of my spine. I even limped from the pain as my right leg lost muscle mass. Nick had finally begun asking incessant questions: “Do you feel all right?” “Are you okay?” “Are you having another headache?” I couldn’t stand seeing the pity in his eyes.

Tammy led me to a new room that I'd never been in before. “Oh, my God.” I looked down to see a replica of myself.

“This must be surreal for you. We normally don't show subjects their clones, but you've been exceptionally easy to work with. We felt you deserved to see her.”

I gaped at the clone, then paled at my reflection in a nearby mirror. “I didn't realize how skinny I've gotten, or how sick I look.” I stepped back, stunned. “I seem almost ashen compared to her.” A shade of myself. As if I were the paltry duplicate. As if I were already…dead.

“Here, Emily, have a seat.”

I uneasily slumped onto an exam table at the other side of the room. Tammy opened her computer, and I answered the same questions I'd been asked once a week for the past year.

“Any headaches?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“More than last week?”

“About the same.”

“Any blood in your stool?”

“No.”

“Any trouble with urination?”

“No.”

“Do you have any final questions for me before we begin the procedure?” Tammy asked, shutting her laptop.

“Are you sure my husband and daughter will be okay?”

“They won't even realize she's not you. She…won't even know she's not you.”

“But I'll be gone.”

To make such a great sacrifice and not have my family ever know...

“I'm sorry, Tammy.” I gasped. “This is harder than I thought it would be. I've been strong this whole time—suffered with cancer in silence. I've been so sick, some days that I thought I might die. And my husband didn’t even know.” I paused momentarily to process my own words. “But now, seeing this better version of myself and knowing she'll get to raise my daughter…” Enormous tears rolled down my face. I remembered my daughter's first words and her laugh. I longed to see her as an adult. What would she look like? What would she choose for a career? And most of all, who would she love and eventually marry. Albeit a dismal world, there were still moments of joy—and I wanted to experience those with her. But all of those hopes and dreams would perish along with me. I’d never see my little girl grow up—never see her beautiful face smiling up at me again. She’d have a new mother. My husband would sleep with his new wife…. And they’d never even know the difference.

Debilitating pains raged through my spine as I involuntary rocked on the godforsaken exam table in the place where I knew I was meant to die.

“It's time for your IV.” Tammy grimaced before forcing me to lie back. The needle found my vein rather quickly, the sharp poke nothing compared to be irrevocable fate. Tammy squeezed my hand. “Ready?”

“I won’t cause trouble. I know what I signed up for,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Can I ask you a favor?”

She seemed uncertain.

“The necklace.” I held the heart-shaped locket that hung around my neck. “I always wear it. It’s from my husband. Can you make sure that it stays with me even after I die?”

“Yes. I can make sure.” She swiftly hooked a yellow solution to the IV tubing and sent it dripping directly into my veins.

I held the locket and thought of my love for Nick. He hadn't known where I'd gone. I'd simply kissed him while he slept and sneaked out of the house. So strange, that I'd last seen him sleeping and I'd be sleeping forever now—an unknown sacrifice.

Crippling waves of lethargy overtook me quickly, sucking at my sanity and my breath. I lost the ability to move my hands, my arms, my mouth. And after minutes of staring blankly at the ceiling, everything went black.

A devouring fear accompanied the paralysis as I overheard Dr. Kushing's voice descending on me like waves as he talked about my clone. “She's come along quite nicely. We'll antiquate her today.” He paused. “This subject really wanted her child to have a mother, didn’t she? People do such strange things for children. Anyway, it should be an easy transition since the clone has all of her memories up until last year.”

“You're sure it’ll be easy? A year is a long time.”

“Well, it worked with the last one, didn't it?”

“Barely…”

“It’s for science, Tammy. Who cares how it affects the subjects’ families.”

“Oh, before I forget,” Tammy said. “We need to remove that necklace and put it on the clone! She always wears the damn thing.”

Tammy's hands suddenly wrapped around my neck. God, her fingers burned like hot irons. My head hung limply at an odd angle as she unceremoniously struggled to unclasp the necklace Nick had given me years before.

This final betrayal undid me. They'd taken everything, even this one last shred of dignity.

“There we are,” Tammy said. “Now, everything’s set.”

And with those final words, I simply thought of my daughter. At least she would still have a mother and Nick would have a wife free of sickness. Hopefully the price for all of this would be worth it…the price for a disease-free world and a chance for my family to have a semblance of normalcy.