The final segment:
Brodie sat in a narrow chair built more for function than comfort. For reasons beyond his understanding Doctor Wilberman had asked him to stop by his office. He was sure it had something to do with the clone who had recently confronted him in the men’s room.
“He didn’t say anything at all?” Doctor Wilberman asked as he worked to keep his pipe lit.
“They can’t speak,” Brodie assured him, sticking to the proper narrative, it was safer that way, for him at least. He recognized the clone as the assistant manager of a co-op his grandfather used to take him to when he was a small child. Reminding him of a man who went missing when he was a teen. Several years before the restrictions on cloning were lifted.
“True,” Doctor Wilberman said as he exhaled a cloud of smoke and flipped through the file lying open on his desk. “There are some who believe a bit of the past remains with the cells we use to create these clones. Are you sure he didn’t say anything?” Doctor Wilberman said as he continued flipping through the pages of the report, “according to the foreman’s report the clone in question tried to speak to him in the mess hall.”
Brodie shrugged, his fingers working along the edge of his hat, hidden below the lip of the doctor’s desk. It wouldn’t do for them to see how nervous he was. While cloning was now legal, it hadn’t always been that way, and he remembered a time when several of the larger corporate farms operated outside the law in that regard.
“He didn’t say a word sir, he tried to, but nothing came out.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“Why would I recognize him? Aren’t all the clones taken from the same cell source?”
“They are, but every so often a mutation occurs, such as it did here.”
“If you say so sir, you know more about this stuff than I do.”
“Very well then,” Doctor Wilberman said as he closed the file, “if there’s anything else I need to ask I’ll be in touch.”
“Can I go now?” Brodie said as he moved to get up, he couldn’t wait to get out from under the doctor’s scrutiny. If he did admit to recognizing this particular batch of clones what would happen to him?
“You’re free to go,” the doctor said and Brodie got out of the office as fast as he could. He was halfway across the compound when he saw the latest batch coming in from the fields. Each one of them reminded him of that manager who had gone missing nearly thirty years before and he wondered how he was going to keep his mouth shut while working around them every day. On the other hand who could he say anything to? Cloning was now legal, and while it might have been safe to reveal what he knew, there were no absolutes. He’d felt a connection with the clone, a recognition of his plight, and as he watched them moved across the compound he worried another one might try to make contact with him.
This completes the story I AM. Join me next week when I begin a new short story. I’ve been itching to go a lot darker than the past stories so we’ll have to wait and see what I come up with. The letter will be J, and that opens up so many possibilities.
Richard Schiver 
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