249 Versions

It’s a strange sensation when you have to bury yourself. As I shovelled a pile of dirt onto the lifeless face of version 46, I couldn’t help feeling an overwhelming sadness. It was like a part of me had died too. This version of me wasn’t just a clone, even though he looked exactly like me. He had his own mind and emotions. But now #46 was dead. Just like so many others whose graves surrounded me. I took a moment to stop digging and stood up straight to stretch my back, but was reprimanded with a club to my jaw. They never let you rest.

I had been digging since before sunrise. Two guards had burst into our cells and dragged me through the Hub to the lab, where #46’s naked body lay on a cold slab, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights. He had died overnight. Leg infection. I was tasked with loading his body onto a wheelbarrow and taking him to the gates of the Hub, where the two guards opened the forcefield and escorted me outside. I had never left the Hub before, at least not since the invasion.

It had been three years since the world ended. At least, that’s what they tell us. Time means nothing now. Every day is the same, and I gave up counting long ago. My first memory after the invasion was standing for roll call with 249 other versions of me in the centre of the Hub. 250 of us, and we all looked exactly the same. The same brown eyes, rounded nose, messy black hair and terrible posture. And we were all missing our tongues, which meant no talking or tasting. I was #134. The routine of our lives was simple – wake, stand, train, eat, stand, train, eat, stand, sleep. #212 was the first to disobey orders and immediately taken to the Pit. None of us knew what the Pit was, but the guards seemed to be afraid of it and warned us that it was not pleasant.

I tossed the shovel into the wheelbarrow and wiped sweat off my face. It was done. The sun was burning my neck. I needed water. The guards had been resting under a tree, smoking. Seeing I had finished, they threw away their cigarettes and put my chains back on, then led me back on the path to the Hub. For a second, I considered attempting to escape. This was the only time I was out of the Hub which made it easier. But the guards had guns and I was chained to them. And the fear of the Pit and whatever punishment lay in wait within prevented me from trying.

After three years, we had gone from 250 in number down to around 200, some from natural causes and the rest into the Pit. I had a theory they were whittling us down to find the strongest. Even though we all looked the same, I knew I was different. I had memories of before the invasion. My name was Eric. I had a wife. Two girls. I taught at a high school. I loved jazz. And I hated garlic. Deep down, I knew it. I was the original, real man, hiding within a group of imitations.

As we walked back to the Hub, I stared across the dry wasteland that now filled the landscape and wondered what used to be there before the invasion. So much had been lost. Homes. Families. I was broken from my reverie by the sound of bushes rustling and then the guard behind me grunting. I whirled around to see him slumped in the dirt, moaning in pain. The other guard in front of me yelled and raised his gun. “Back away from –“ He collapsed as well. Standing behind him, holding a large rifle and staring at me with wide brown eyes, was a teenage girl.

She didn’t look older than fifteen, but was fitted out like a soldier. Ammo clips, hunting knife, long brown hair tied in a ponytail. The only thing out of place was a golden locket in the shape of a heart that hung from her neck. But I recognised it immediately. I had given that to her when she turned ten years old. This was my eldest daughter. Kayleigh. She looked at me with curiosity. “Do you remember me?”

I hugged her, tears filling my eyes. I hugged my daughter and I thanked whatever was above me for letting her be alive and not dead. She pulled away and looked around us. “We have to run.”

The sirens began ringing in the distance about half an hour later. I wondered if they would look for me or leave me to die in the wilderness. I followed my daughter as we ran through the wild and desolate landscape. I was thankful for the training they had given us or I wouldn’t have been able to keep up with her. We paused a few times to rest, but otherwise kept moving. Finally we stopped to get water from a small creek. My back was still sore and my breathing was heavy. Kayleigh was deep in thought.

“How do you remember me?” she finally asked.

It was maddening not being able to respond. There was so much I wanted to tell her, ask her. I showed her I had no tongue, and she scowled. “Bastards. They think of everything.”

We walked in silence for a while. It was getting cold.

“We’re here.”

I grabbed her arm and cocked my head, to ask her where ‘here’ was.

“Sorry. The Pit.” My heart stopped. Why were we at the Pit?

She laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s the one place they won’t look for us.”

Something wasn’t right.

She thinks I’m just one of the 250 versions.

I had to convince her I was real. That I knew her. She was still talking.

“I’ve been waiting for days for one of you to leave your Hub. And when I saw you, I just – you look so much like him.”

I frantically pointed at myself and then her, trying to convey to her that I was him. I had a name. I was Eric. I bent down and grabbed a stick and spelt out her name in the dirt.

KAYLEIGH. And something else. I REMEMBER.

The girl looked at me, tears welling.

“This was a mistake. You’re not him.”

I underlined the words and added a new one. I REMEMBER YOU. I smiled at her hopefully, but she looked away.

“You can’t. It’s impossible. During the Invasion, they collected bodies of people that died in the fighting. Then they began making clones. We don’t know why, but there are hundreds of Hubs across the country and they all have 250 versions of a single person.”

She bit her lip and her voice trembled.

“You are a copy of my father. Eric. He died three years ago trying to save us. I’m sorry, but you’re not real. These memories must have been planted in you when you were made.”

I frowned in disbelief. It wasn’t possible. I began to pour through my mind, the memories. They were so vivid. So tangible. The taste of the burnt pancakes that Kayleigh had made for me on Father’s Day. The smells of the forest when we had gone camping together as a family. I had watched her grow up, played with her, fed her, taught her how to ride a bike. I shook my head in frustration – it wasn’t possible.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d remember me!” Kayleigh walked away, hands on her head. “I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t be here.”

I fell into the dirt, erasing what I had written. My mind was numb.

I’m sorry, but you’re not real.

But I was real. I was Eric. Wasn’t I?

You are a copy of my father.

You are a copy.

You’re not real.

I had no purpose. My memories were nothing but planted imaginations. This wasn’t my daughter. This was a random teenager looking for her dead father. She’d tricked me. I wasn’t real. Anger filled me now. Anger at being foolish enough to believe the lies that I had been told for so long. Anger at being kept in a cell for years hoping and believing that I would find answers. Kayleigh’s rifle was on the ground by a tree. She was standing away from me, facing the Pit. It would’ve been easy.

You’re not him. You’re not real.

It was quick. Painless. Afterwards, I dragged her body to the edge of the Pit. I wanted to see what was so terrifying. The sun was setting now, casting golden light across the trees. I looked down, bracing for monsters. Nothing could have prepared me for what was down there. I gasped. This changed -

** ** **

Trevor Hayward, Commander of the Northern Hubs District, put a sugar in his coffee and stirred the mug slowly. He hated instant coffee, even with sugar. When you were in the field, luxuries like coffee became slightly more difficult. He looked around at the other officers in the room.

“Well? Any incidents to report?”

The man to his left spoke. Trevor couldn’t remember his name, only that he was in charge of Hub 52. He was bald and he looked nervous. Trevor had that effect on most people though.

“One of the clones made an escape when he was burying #46, another copy that had died. #134 managed to disarm two guards and ran away. We tracked it for a while to see what it would do and then shut it down remotely.”

Trevor frowned. Clones didn’t usually fight back or try to escape.

“How far did it get?”

“That’s the thing, sir – it made a direct beeline for the Pit. As if it knew where the Pit was. We sent a team to find its body, but it must have fallen in.”

This was alarming. Trevor took a sip from his coffee.

“Did it know the truth about the Pit?”

“No. Only what we told it. So we’re not sure why it went there then. Also, there is one other thing...” His bald forehead was glistening now.

“We found a girl’s body by the Pit. We’ve discovered that she was also a clone. #211 from a Hub down South – she’s one of our early models that didn’t have a tracking device or remote control. And she still had the ability to speak.”

“Why was she up here? Did she know about the Pit as well?”

The bald man shook his head. “We don’t think so, but someone had shot her with a rifle.”

“Could it have been #134?”

“Possibly. She had a locket with a picture of his face in it.”

Trevor’s heart stopped.

“She knew #134? They found each other?!”

“Again, we aren’t sure of…”

Trevor stood up, spilling his coffee. “Is there anything you do know? Shit!” This was bad. “Scan the area - we need to make sure no one else has seen the Pit. I want to see the bodies and I’m ordering your Hub shut down. Eliminate them all - there has to be a glitch.”

The bald man’s face paled. “Yes. Sir.”

Trevor gripped his chair. How did they know each other? The clones weren’t supposed to have memories. She had a locket with a picture of his face in it. They’re just copies. They’re not real.