Been writing a book for fun and wanted to share it even though it's not complete yet!

Immortals Anonymous

Chapter 3: old and familiar faces

There is something unique about having someone who looks exactly like you. I’m not sure of the feeling myself. I can no longer remember the faces of those who shared my cheekbones and eyebrows, but I’ve been told the experience is nothing to make light of. It’s a comfort, a bother, a curiosity, a horror, a friend, an enemy; all in one person who looks back at you with your own eyes, who shares your same face, whose arms are the same length as yours. The experience changes from person to person, day to day. But Seven had only felt one thing toward Five, unwavering through the years: fear.

Further, Seven knew Five had only ever felt one thing for Seven. He had seen it in Five’s eyes all his childhood and, as they grew, it never stopped. Everytime Seven looked at Five, he saw his own eyes full of contempt.

Seven dodged those eyes as he tried as hard as possible to stand tall in the Laboratories on the tenth floor. He kept his attention forward at the cityscape out the window. He felt Five’s cruel look on his skin as he focused on the little people on the street.

This one here is getting a coffee, Seven thought as he watched the small figure on the street below, and that one on his way to meet a friend, and that lady with the purse is on her way to quit her job and buy an island in the Bahamas.

Seven smiled at the thought. Good for her.

“You’re not listening, Seven.”

There was the contempt, again. “I am.”

Five spun Seven away from the window so suddenly Seven raised his arms in defense. “Then what– I’m not going to hit you.” Five pushed Seven’s hands down. “What did I say?”

“You want me to debrief your team on the research project you gave me.”

Five furrowed his brows again and put his hands to his face. “I said, I need to debrief you because the research project has changed. You will be attending the Recall Seminar with the rest of my team so you won’t mess anything up.”

Seven stared at Five blankly. “When did it change?”

Five sighed, exasperated.

“I’m not telling you again.” He resigned himself back to his desk, standing behind it like he owned it. “If you can’t be bothered to hear it once, you don’t deserve to hear it repeated.”

Seven thought of all the things he could say. There were many, most of which contained a plethora of words he felt one should try not to say when they were angry, several he wasn’t sure Five would understand, and a few Seven himself wasn’t sure of their definition. Seven thought of Dasha and her insistence on standing up for him. Seven thought of all the ways he wanted to stand up for himself. He balled his fists, opened his mouth, and looked up to face Five, but Five snapped his head toward Seven and Seven froze, mouth agape and hands shaking.

The door to Five’s office opened and a short woman in business casual stepped into the room. “Five, your monthly appointment– oh.” She stopped when she spotted Seven by the window. “That saves us a trip.” She scribbled on her tablet and stood by the open door.

There was a moment of silence as Five and Seven hesitated to move. “Chop, chop.” The woman gave them an impatient smile, like the task of fetching the two clones impeded her from her real duties; it probably did.

Seven moved towards her, though he wasn’t quite sure where she’d be taking him. He’d find out when he got there, he supposed, but Five lingered by his desk. “It’s not the 15th yet.”

“Change of plans.” The woman said and looked at her watch. “We don’t have all day.”

Five wavered by his desk. He had never been the sort to appreciate sunlight or treetops or savor the feeling of riding in an elevator, but he did appreciate his desk. It was made of polished wood and he had taken great care to not leave any scratches on it; it was the only piece of furniture not made of plastic or metal in any of the offices past the 7th floor; and it was the only item Five treasured in his life because it was the only thing Five had to treasure, as he was not allowed to keep many items in his possession. The previous occupant of the office had left and taken the metal FTT regulated desk with him to his promoted office on the 15th floor, and so, a new desk had to be acquired for Five.

Five was given the FTT Regulation Office and Workspace Furnishings Catalog to sift through and he chose item number DL-5024 PINEWOOD DESK on first glance. He was told to choose his desk carefully as he would not be allowed to request a new one without serious, unintentional damage to the first and, though it was not explicitly stated, he had no hope of getting a new office elsewhere and, therefore, a new desk. Five knew from his time in the older clones offices, that he would not have a promotion at any point in his life or the luxury the previous occupant of his office had of moving to another office on a different floor with a different desk and a different position. The desk he chose from this catalog would be the desk he sat behind for the rest of his life and Five was certain DL-5024 PINEWOOD DESK was the desk he wanted.

I managed to procure a copy of the FTT Regulation Office and Workspace Furnishings Catalog and, after scouring through it, I found the advertised image of Five’s desk.

In the advertisement, there is a man behind the desk. He is wearing a blue pinstripe suit and an overstated watch. He reminds me of a 1950’s mobster or a 1980’s stockbroker, someone seemingly admirable, respected, perhaps incredibly obnoxious and mean, but in charge. It’s not difficult to look at this image, this cartoonish man, and see why Five chose DL-5024 PINEWOOD DESK out of all the desks in the FTT Regulation Office and Workspace Furnishings Catalog. When the desk arrived on his first day at work, Five sat behind it, leaned back in his chair, and, in an instant, he became the man behind the desk; and though he only owned three sets of FTT regulated office wear, he felt he was wearing that blue pinstripe suit and overstated watch, and controlled the world from where he sat.

The woman tapped her foot at the door and Five rubbed the edge of his desk as he walked to the door, in a similar fashion one knocks on wood to prevent horrible happenings or rubs the feet of a statue for protection; Five prayed the power granted to him behind his desk would follow him out into the Facility. He trailed behind the woman as she led Seven and him to the elevators.

“What happens on the 15th?” Seven leaned over to Five.

Five shook his head, “Oh my god. You can't remember anything.”

“I’ve retained a lot about Internet Codes from the 21st century–”

“Shhh!” Five hit him on the shoulder and looked around to see if the woman overheard Seven, but she was preoccupied with her tablet. “Not here, idiot.”

They arrived at a special service elevator on the back wall. This elevator was not made of glass and required a special code to use. It was only used by maintenance workers to carry big items on dollies and things that Steven Hodges thought didn’t need to be seen. The woman entered a code in the key-pad and Five and Seven stepped inside the lift. As the elevator jolted up a few floors, Seven suddenly remembered what happened once a month, usually on the 15th: doctors appointments.

The thing about clones is you never quite know what quality you’re going to get. At least, this was the thought Steven Hodges had in the early years of the Clone Project. There were two big issues he had still not worked out of the cloning process: lifespan and inherited trait quality.

Seven learned about his predecessors in the little schooling he received at the Clone Project Dorms and what little information wound up in the FTT Archives. There had been many failed attempts and many cells that had died in artificial wombs in an underfunded lab Steven had managed to set up in his early twenties, but the first successful clone came soon into the project and was a perfect replica of Steven in mind and body. He had inherited most every trait Steven had intended him to inherit and then some. He was smart, quick, and, though the scientists had expected some physical deformities, was not sick or ill in any way. One was a healthy child and grew up just as everyone had intended him to: studying and expanding the scientific field for the world and its people.

Five years passed and two more clones were developed and born: Two grew up just as smart but somewhat withdrawn and Three was born with a weaker stature but was considered an even more perfect reproduction than One.

A few years later, Four was born. Four was a madman, even as a child. He was intelligent, strong, charismatic but disturbed in some way. Five was born strong and healthy, but wasn’t developing intellectually as the other clones had at a young age. There hadn’t been much worry about these quirks affecting the project, until Three died suddenly at ten years and fourteen days.

A sixth clone was well in the development stage and so, when they did Three’s autopsy and found Three’s poor development was a defect and a result of the cloning process, they reexamined the existing clones and discovered there was a significant decline in the quality and lifespan of the clones since One was born. There was no apparent reason for it.

The scientists adjusted their data and reasoning to prepare for Six’s development, but he was born with little strength and quickness and none of the brilliant intellect that made Steven Hodges the greatest mind alive.

Then, on the 17th anniversary of the Clone Project, One died at seventeen years and nine months.

Seven was planned as a Hail Mary. He was supposed to be a perfect replica of Steven. He was never intended to have a long life span, only to be so intelligent the few years he would spend alive would be so overwhelmingly beneficial to the advancement of mankind, it would be worth the effort.

But, much to the disappointment of the scientists, Seven was born without anything. No intellect. No strength. No quick mind. He failed to pass many basic tests given to ordinary children, he was incredibly frail, and lacked any social ability.

The scientists considered an eighth clone, but when Seven was a year old, Six died at three years and five months and the Clone Project was shut down.

The clones were given an estimated life span shortly after Six’s autopsy.

Two was expected to live a normal life span.

Four was expected to live to fifty.

Five was not expected to reach thirty.

And Seven was not expected to live past ten.

“Arm.” Seven looked up from his thoughts. A woman in a lab coat held out her hand expectantly. Seven lifted his arm and she grabbed it and administered a shot. She never told him what it was for and Seven assumed it was to prevent a liver deformity Four was developing. Five sat in the chair next to him, being given the same shot and across the room, Four and Two sat in similar chairs with doctors flurrying around them.

Seven sat awkwardly in his chair as the doctor typed on her tablet. Being in a room with all of his fellow clones always felt strange, especially with Two and Four who were fifteen and ten years older than him respectively and with whom he rarely interacted. It was unnerving to see his own face so much older and weathered, and knowing it was likely the only way he would see his face that old. He wondered if they had ever looked young.

However, Seven started to think, Five didn’t look very old (just very angry) but he always seemed older during their trips to the doctors. Like there was something about the antiseptic in the air or the fluorescent lighting or lack of windows that made him look much older than he was. I wonder, Seven began, if Two and Four become younger when they leave this room.

“Alright, it looks like the surgery we did last year on your heart tissue has stayed intact.” The doctor turned off her tablet and faced him. “We’re doing our best to make sure your liver has a long healthy life; I don’t see any issues on the horizon.”

“That’s good.” Seven said blankly.

She smiled at him and walked out the door with the rest of the doctors. The last one shut the door, but it remained partially open, and as the Clones put their jackets and shoes on, they heard a few faint voices.

“Looks like Erin won the pool.” Someone chuckled.

"I was sure Seven’s heart defect would reappear.”

“Really?” Another faintly said, “My money was on number Five dropping before 26.”

“There’s always next year.” The voice said as it disappeared.

Seven stopped tying his shoes and looked up at Five. He looked impossible old.

Chapter 4 is being edited :D