One Is One and All Alone

Dear Diary,

I get so lonely, that's my trouble. I am the only child on this ship. Everyone else is a grown-up, with things to do. They're all busy running the ship or checking their equipment for when we land on the planet Trion.

Yes, we're heading for Trion! Now that might sound exciting, but it's not. It's not exciting at all.

When we set out, I used to tick off the days on my calendar. We left Earth on 12 March 2045. So I ticked off March 12, 13, 14, 15... Then April, May, June. Then I gave up. We don't reach Trion until mid-January 2047. By then I'll be 13!

Dad does his best, he's always poking his head round my door, grinning at me and asking, 'Hey Trish, how's things? Everything all right? How do you fancy meeting me in the diner at 6 o'clock for a chocolate milkshake?'

I grin back and say, 'Yum, yum!' but even as I say it his face changes. The grin is still there but the busy look is back in his eyes. There are a thousand things on his mind. After all, he's the ship's Executive Officer, a big man. Even when he talks to you he's glancing sideways at the latest printouts.

And I suppose he misses Mum as much as I do. Almost as much, anyhow. She's on Trion, helping set up the space station. Busy Dad, busy Mum.

Which leaves me all alone in front of my Voice Printer, talking to it, talking and talking. Then I watch it print out what I've been saying. It's my private diary. It corrects my spelling and punctuation. It's clever. It gives me school lessons, but it also plays games with me. My favourite game is Pop Star, where I can act out being a pop star on VP's enormous screen.

I can switch it from Diary to Dialogue too. I suppose it's my best friend, really. I'm going to switch from Diary to Dialogue now…..

ARE YOU MY BEST FRIEND, VP?

I HOPE I AM, I TRY TO BE. BUT LATER, ON TRION, YOU WILL MEET HUMAN COMPANIONS: BOYS AND GIRLS LIKE YOURSELF.

NOT FOR A LONG TIME, VP.

WE MUST BE PATIENT. FOR NOW, I AM YOUR TRUE FRIEND. SHALL WE PLAY A GAME? POP STAR! SHALL WE PLAY THAT?

OK, VP. GIVE ME A HEAVY DRUM ROLL, THEN SOME CLOUDS OF COLOURED SMOKE SO THAT I CAN MAKE MY ENTRANCE. I'D LIKE A BIG SWINGING CHAIN ROUND MY NECK.

THIS OK?

GREAT. RIGHT, HERE I COME, THROUGH THE SMOKE... TWO, THREE, FOUR ACTION...

All this might sound exciting, but it's not. I'm sick of Me. I'm sick of being the

only child on the ship. I'm sick of computer images and sounds. If only I had someone to talk to, to be with! Someone of my own age...

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. DON'T YOU, VP?

OF COURSE I DO. I SYMPATHIZE. SHALL WE PLAY SOMETHING ELSE?

NO, LET'S NOT PLAY ANY MORE. TEACH ME SOMETHING. WHERE DID WE GET TO IN THE LAST DICTIONARY LESSON?

WE REACHED 'CLO'. SO I TAUGHT YOU ABOUT CLOCKS.

WHAT FOLLOWS 'CLOCKS'?

CLONE. C-L-O-N-E. CLONES AND CLONING.

TEACH ME ABOUT CLONES AND CLONING, THEN.

CERTAINLY. A CLONE IS THE EXACT REPRODUCTION OF A LIVING THING, MADE BY TAKING A SMALL PART OF THE ORIGINAL SAY A SCRAP OF TISSUE AND USING THIS SCRAP AS THE PATTERN FROM WHICH A DUPLICATE OF THE ORIGINAL IS CREATED.

OH DEAR! THAT SOUNDS VERY COMPLICATED. NO, WAIT, I REMEMBER NOW. THEY CLONED SHEEP IN THE LAST CENTURY, DIDN'T THEY?

SHEEP AND MANY OTHER ANIMALS.

THAT'S RIGHT. THEY TOOK A TINY SCRAPING FROM THE SHEEP'S SKIN AND SORT OF BREWED UP HUNDREDS OF SHEEP FROM THAT LITTLE SCRAPING.

QUITE SO. AND ALL THE SHEEP WERE IDENTICAL BECAUSE ALL WERE CONSTRUCTED FROM THE SAME ORIGINAL AND TO THE SAME PATTERN.

I BET IT WAS COMPLICATED!

IT WAS. IT IS.

YOU MEAN, IT'S STILL DONE?

CERTAINLY. WHY, THE RESOURCES AVAILABLE IN THIS SHIP'S BIOLAB WOULD BE SUFFICIENT TO SET UP A CLONE LABORATORY. YOU SEE, ALL THAT IS REQUIRED...

VP went on and on describing cloning techniques so I decided to press 'Save' and listen to it all later. For now I had some serious thinking to do.

I'll tell you what I was thinking. The BioLab in this ship is very big. It has to be, because biology is what this trip is all about the biology of Trion - what lives there now and what, and who, could live there in the future. At the moment the ship's BioLab is deserted. It won't become busy until we reach Trion.

I need to use it.

I need it all to myself.

I will make a clone. It will be my perfect friend and companion. Perfect, because I am going to clone myself. Make another Me.

Dear Diary,

I haven't spoken to you for ages because I've been so busy with my new friend Clo.

Clo for 'Clone'.

Clo is me. I am Clo. We are identical twins. No, even closer than that. Clo is made of me, from me. We are one. Except that there are two of us - which is tricky. I mean, suppose Dad put his head round the door and saw two Trishes instead of one!

But I've solved that. My cabin door leads to an identical cabin next door. Clo can vanish through that door in a split second. The next-door cabin is empty, of course all the cabins are. They won't be filled until the return trip from Trion. So I sleep here, Clo sleeps there. Clothes, food, toothbrushes? Well, yes, I now need two of everything - but the ship is loaded with stores. Nobody notices or cares about an extra toothbrush or an extra towel.

In fact, everything's fine as long as we don't both appear in the same place at the same time! We simply arrange not to. Though, just the other night, we nearly made a big mistake...

In the middle of the night I had to go to the loo. It's just down the corridor. I got out of bed, opened the door – and met myself, face to face! For there was Clo. We stared at each other, eyes and mouths wide open, then burst into identical giggles.

Which all goes to show how identical we are. We even go to the loo at the same time!

No wonder we're such perfect friends.

Dear Diary,

Once again, it's been a long time since I spoke to you. There have been so many things on my mind. The truth is, Clo can be a bit of a pain sometimes. Only in small ways, nothing serious. But she has this picking habit. When Clo has nothing to do, it's always pick, pick, pick. Rolling bits of skin around a fingernail. You can't avoid looking at her fingers. They writhe and fiddle all the time. Pick, pick, pick.

The other evening, I'd had enough. I gave Clo a good old glare and said, loudly and plainly, 'Look - do you mind? Stop picking at yourself!'

You'll never believe it, but at the very moment I said those words, Clo glared at me and said, 'Look - do you mind? Stop picking at yourself!'

Me, a picker! I never pick at my fingers. Those tiny little bits of frayed skin - well, they just happen naturally.

Everyone's got them.

I can't stand people who pick.

Dear Diary,

Hello again my dear old VP, my only true friend.

Clo is in the other cabin, having a sulk.

She always sulks these days and it always starts the same way...

'Don't keep repeating me!'

'I wasn't repeating you, I spoke first!'

'You didn't. I did.'

'Well, even if I didn't say it first, I thought it first. I can't even have my thoughts to myself, you're always butting in and - and - interrupting my train of thought!'

'Interrupting my train of thought.' We even use the same words at the same time.

At first it was a joke. We'd catch ourselves doing it and laugh. But I'm not laughing any more, I can tell you. I don't want to share everything: some thoughts are private.

Last night Clo did something I cannot forgive. I was thinking about Mum - I'm always thinking of her - and I suppose I gave a sort of sigh and murmured, 'Oh, Mum...'

As I said it, Clo said precisely the same thing. 'Oh, Mum...' Clo said, and gave a sigh.

Now, that's going too far, don't you agree? I mean, my mum is my mum, nothing to do with Clo. My mum, mine only.

I'm not going to put up with this kind of thing. It's like being swamped, invaded, taken over. She wears the same clothes as me. And crossword puzzles! Well, how would you like it when, after puzzling over a clue for ages, you suddenly find the answer and shout it out - 'NAVIGATOR!' and, at that very moment, hear a voice from the cabin next door shout 'NAVIGATOR!'

And those are only the small things.

To be truthful, I can't stand the way Clo's mind works. I can't stand Clo's corny jokes, and her dismal sulks. I can't stand Clo's laugh or eating habits or finger-picking

And I won't stand Clo intruding on my most private and personal thoughts.

One of the features of this ship is its

disposal system. There are five big hatches, each one marked 'DISPOSAL. You open the hatch, put the thing you want to get rid of into the hole, and whoosh, it's gone. Disposed of for ever in infinite space.

One of the five hatches happens to be just outside my cabin, in the corridor.

There's never anyone in the corridor at night.

There you are, then. Tonight's the night. I'll be disposing of something, definitely. I'm going to write a note to go with the item. The note will read, 'Goodbye, Clo. Have a good trip. Yours never, Trish.'

Well, it wouldn't be murder, would it?

How could it be? You can't be charged with murdering yourself, can you? You couldn't even be charged with suicide, because there will still be a person left and that person will be alive - walking and talking, eating and sleeping.

So it's foolproof. 'Goodbye, Clo. Yours never, Trish.'

Dear Diary, Over and done with. Finished and forgotten.

No, that's not true! There's no question of forgetting. Just the opposite. Every minute of every hour, I mentally hug myself and give a silent shout of 'Whoopee!

Yarroop! Hooray! Finally free! Alone at last!'

Even Dad noticed a change in me.

'You're looking wonderful today,' he said. 'Suddenly you're bright as a button!'

'I feel terrific,' I said. 'Can I have a chocolate milkshake?'

'Have as many as you like.'

Just one,' I said. 'Only one. One's enough, isn't it? Who needs two?' Ther's only one Me! No longer do I have to

remind another Me to wipe chocolate froth from its greedy mouth. No longer do I have to listen to that other Me's corny 'Yum-yum!' noises whenever chocolate milkshakes are mentioned. From now on, there's only one Me. You've no idea how wonderful it feels, how bright the future looks.

Too bad about Trish, of course. 'Down the hatch!' I said. The hatch went whoosh. 'Goodbye, Trish,' I said. 'Happy memories, I don't think.'

But that's something I must remember from now on my name. It isn't Clo any more. Now I'm Trish.

Trish, that's me.

What would be the advantages and disadvantages of having a clone?