View Full Version : Cloning for Congress 1 of 9 2,700 Clone Nancy Becomes Aware.

March 13th, 2020, 07:58 PM
She heard the feeding tube rattle. It was only three steps away, at the other end of her cage. Falling to bare knees at the entrance of the cell, she was ready by the time a meal of table-scrapings plopped down into a metal trough bolted to the floor. The young woman had to be on her knees and elbows to dip her face into the mess in order to eat.

It wasn't thought necessary to waste valuable meat or spices on her. She, like her fellows, was given a specialized nutritional diet. After an operation, they were usually fed better but NC212E3 hadn't suffered any operations yet. She was still whole.

“Come and get it, idjet,” an attendant wheeling a large food cart called while measuring a portion for her neighbor. Then, after adding that particular clone’s chemicals into the mixture, poured it into the trough and moved on.

Scooping the mess up with her hands, NC212E3 ate her meal. Afterward she pulled a lever that rinsed the remains down a drain at one edge of the trough. Using her hands, she scooped a couple of handfuls of liquid into her mouth before wiping the excess into the hole and turning the tap off.

An overseer soon came down the row and checked to see that her cage and eating tray were clean. It was a ritual performed six times a day and the only break in the monotony of NC212E3's life. Besides the feeding apparatus, NC212E3 had been provided a thin stuffed pallet for sleeping and a metal stool to sit on. They were bolted to the floor and were her only amenities.

“Why can’t you do something simple like keep your cage clean, idjet?” She could hear the attendant, farther down the line. “I shouldn’t have to clean it myself.”

Next came the familiar sound of a water hose as the attendant indiscriminately sprayed the other cage, trough, and occupant. From a dim memory, she knew that would be her neighbor from four cages to the right. He was, perhaps, the dumbest of them all; the President’s clone. With no legs left and having recently had an internal organ removed, the male clone couldn't get around very well. The small spyhole the attendant used worked both ways. Watching happenings in the corridor was her only relief from studying rivets lining her cage.

Being positioned nearest the attendant’s station, NC212E3 had learned quite a bit of English over the years, especially in her more lucid periods. The young woman was more intelligent than the normal clones. But, then, she wasn't being raised for intellect, only for body parts. Her body was to be used for replacements if and when her original needed them. Due to a gene splicing mistake, NC212E3 exhibited a normal thinking ability. Useless for her keepers, since her brain was one of the few parts they had no use for.

NC212E3 had heard her designation spoken often enough to know it referred to her. Her first memory being of the cage, she had no way of knowing that it meant she was the two-hundred-twelfth clone of a normal human with the initials "NC", and that she had been bred for External parts, like limbs, being the third such clone for that particular congresswoman.

Ninety-eight-year-old Nora Collins was not only a popular politician but considered quite a sportswoman, often being damaged and needing spare parts. NC212E2 was still alive and younger NC212E3 was safe for the time being, until Ms. Collins should need a new leg or maybe spleen. NC212E4 still resided in the nursery.

None of the clones in her section were able to talk coherently -- except NC212E3 -- and she tried to hide that knowledge from the attendants. Over the years, the clones had perfected a rudimentary language among themselves, such as Neanderthals might have used.

She was used to the confinement, as were her fellow captives. They had been in their cages as long as they could remember, since being weaned and able to feed themselves. They did have excellent medical attention but nobody cared about their comfort or mental needs.

Although NC212E3 was still whole, many of her companions weren’t. They were missing limbs and internal organs. Every once in a while she would see one of them lead or carried down the passageway, only to return a few days or weeks later, missing another part. That was their function. If their patron needed an arm, it was taken from the clone.


Deep in the hills of Virginia stood a secret government complex. It had a code name of "Xena1212," and an extremely high security rating. Congress pulled strings to have the National Security Agency finance it with covert funding hidden in the budget of the Department of Education. The public was unaware of its existence. In the event of a national emergency it would help ensure the continuation of congress by keeping politicians healthy and whole. It was the place where NC212E3 was incarcerated, along with her companions.

Although cloning humans was illegal, Congress gave themselves a secret exemption, hidden in the fine print. It was one of the undocumented perks that came with their positions. And, of course, if you were a special friend or heavy campaign contributor you might also rate a clone or two.

Deep in the underground reaches of "Xena1212" could be found a large Super Computer. Part of its function was to keep track of its charges, their status and medication. One day a diode shorted out due to a rusty component. Condensation formed above it and very slowly dripped moisture onto the contact. The resulting short circuit deleted a portion of some of the clones' records, including NC212E3’s prescription for drugged meals.

She and a handful of others began receiving non-drugged though barely-palatable food directly from the cafeteria. The lack of medication slowly had its effects on them. Those clones were becoming more coherent. NC212E3 began to reason and think. Although aware of the change, her attendants weren't exactly hired for their own intelligence, more for loyalty, and could only judge that higher-ups had done it on purpose. Not for them to question why.

The administration didn't really lock their cages very well, using only a simple latch. That way, it was made easier for the keepers to get their charges in and out of the cages and extend the shower hoses without needing to bother with keys. The latch was too complex for something like a chimpanzee to figure out but, for ever more intelligent NC212E3, proved to be easy enough.

Since it hadn't been opened for years, her cage latch was crusty from disuse but, with a little effort, would yield to her manipulations.

At night there was only one attendant for the entire block of cages, a hundred individuals in that room alone. He sat at a desk halfway down the row. With nothing much to do, the attendant usually read, watched television, or slept his shift away.

As she developed intelligence and reasoning ability, she and others like her decided to hide their new skills. Even the drugged could pass messages in their rude language down the rows. Eventually, they craved freedom.

All that was needed was that proverbial spark.


“Ma, Jerry stole my red ribbon,” Janet called to her mother. At the time, Mary Edwards was busy at the long process of fixing supper for her family. They lived in a small cabin in the wildest part of Virginia. The shack was far from the nearest highway, only accessible over miles of unpaved roads, some more like Indian trails. It was a dirt-poor living but all the family had ever known.

Mary had mixed baking powder biscuits and was currently rolling the dough preparatory to baking them in an ancient wood-burning oven. A brown gravy roué made from meat drippings and flour was thickening in a large iron skillet at the back of the stove while a pot of boiling water waited for it to brown. The odor of baking chicken suffused the building.

Mary had heard her daughter's plea but chose to ignore it unless the kids became unruly. At the moment, she couldn’t easily leave the stove to check on them.

She was a widow with four kids to clothe and feed alone. Her husband had died in an industrial accident which gave her a small settlement -- barely enough to exist. She was lucky to have a little land and the old family home.

As Mary began the process of stirring boiling water into the gravy mixture, she saw that her oldest daughter, Susie, had finished setting the table. The gravy gave off a meaty odor as it thickened, with a cloud of steam rising above the cast-iron skillet.

“Get the other kids in, honey. Supper will be ready in a minute,” Mary told Suzie then, after the girl left, returned to stirring gravy.

By the time all the children were inside and sitting, the odor of finished biscuits told Mary it was time to take them out.


Along with increased cognitive ability came boredom. Wanting out brought a tension to the cell-block, not noticed by the attendant but all too obvious to certain inmates. That tension brought impatience, which gradually led to courage.

Late one night, PG426E4 saw the attendant was asleep, a magazine open on his lap. Courage and impatience finally won out. Quietly, he unlatched his kennel. Creeping slowly down the line, he opened other cages. Although many inmates were confused, crouching and watching, others slowly emerged into a bare institutional hallway, partially atrophied muscles flexing as they, in turn, opened more cages.

The guard didn’t have a chance. Perhaps sensing something, maybe hearing small noises, he woke just before the companions reached him and was soon back to sleep with a concussion.

With simple language and arm motions, the more intelligent escapees took time to instruct others in opening cages and sent them off on their mission. Most of the newly-freed captives, still drugged and stupid, simply wandered aimlessly around the large room. As the more intelligent opened doors and left to filter into adjoining pens to let more captives loose, the drugged clones followed in their wake. The few unarmed night workers on duty were no match for the largely senseless mob.

NC212E3 and her fellow captives moved throughout the building, finding other blocks of cages and opening even more doors. The complex was soon flooded with thousands of clones. Most of the intelligent ones eventually headed for the outside fence. Others, not having any direction, simply milled around in curiosity.

Some harbored a primitive hate for their captors and went looking for attendants. Fear, dislike, curiosity and hate are instinctive, no matter levels of intelligence. NC212E3 herself took off for the fence. The remaining night attendants were beaten or forced to hide from their former charges. Since escape had never been contemplated, there was no alarm system in place to warn the gate guards. Being a secret project of the highest order, the buildings had no outside communication lines except for several telephones in the office building, locked up and empty for the night.


Allied Security Guard Thomas Adams happened to be one of the first to see the escaped clones. He was stationed at the little-used South Gate and had his attention concentrated on the outside. His mandate to guard against intruders, he'd never been inside the buildings themselves. When he heard a commotion behind him, he tried to ignore it. But when he heard gunshots he couldn't resist turning around to see what was happening.

Thomas had never been told -- not having any need to know -- what the facility was used for. He'd arrive for his shift, take over from a previous guard, and leave after being relieved eight hours later. Working for a private company, the interior behind his small guard shack was forbidden to him. The facility presumably had its own internal security.

The guard was astounded to see a sprinkling of naked men, women, and children on both grass and parking lot, some headed toward him with others wandering, at apparent random, around the area. Sporadic gunshots were coming from inside the building.

Pressing the send button on his radio, he asked, “What the hell's going on, sarge? I got people coming from the inside. They’re naked. What should I do? I can’t shoot naked unarmed women and kids and don't know if we should let them out. They look like some sort of crazies.”

“Hold on a minute. I’ll get back to you,” the sergeant told him.

The sergeant knew no more than the others, the buildings being off-limits to him as well. All he could do was call a number. He supposed it was to some office inside the complex. He looked at his own office clock, noting the time was 11:14 pm, then opened a safe. There were a few more telephone numbers locked up inside. It took the sergeant another ten minutes of leafing through his Post Orders to ascertain that there were no instructions to cover a breakout. Then he called those emergency numbers. Getting no answers, he realized the decision was up to him.

By that time, the first of the people were almost up to the gate. Also extremely hesitant to shoot, he called his guards to instruct them to do all they could to keep the naked individuals inside but to avoid deadly force unless in self-defense. Then, he returned to try his telephone again. It was all he could think to do. To the sergeant, shooting unarmed people without authorization wasn't an option. His job of keeping unauthorized people out was well documented. Keeping them in was not.

“Stop right there. You can’t leave. Hold it!" Thomas tried to talk to two naked youngsters, both gazing at him with apparent curiosity.

While he spoke, they simply kept walking, smiling as they advanced. Someone even pushed him aside, grinning at the perplexed guard. One pretty girl walked past him to pull up a wooden bar holding the gate closed. It had never occurred to Thomas to secure it and, in any case, it was then too late.

Thomas rushed over and grappled with the naked woman, bringing the bar back down. Others, seeing what she had done, pushed past and raised it again, even as another crouched to cross under rhe obstacle then turned to watch the altercation from outside.

Despite the guard, the gate was swung open. Some of the others, seeing the open space, ambled over, curious.

Thomas was pushed aside, his weapon useless. He couldn't bring himself to shoot helpless people -- especially while they were smiling at him without threatening in any way.

“Sarge, they’re getting out. I can’t stop them," he called on his radio. There was no answer from the sergeant, who had his own similar problems. Thomas could only stand and watch as dozens of mostly mindless clones slowly exited the gate, grinning at him as they left. Surprisingly, one woman tried to eat the leaves from a nearby tree, spit them out and ambled back inside.

Eventually, the sergeant reached an official returning home early from a party. Troops from a nearby military base were alerted and sent to help. It didn't take long to encircle the complex and round up all the clones they could find. The naked men, women, and kids didn't resist. It was like herding mindless cattle.

The search went on all night and into the next day. It was complicated in that they had to be careful. The clones were of very important people and heads would roll if any were damaged unnecessarily. Some were wounded or hurt themselves in the rough terrain but none seriously.

By the end of the day, only a half-dozen were unaccounted for. All except one of them were subsequently found when they wandered into civilization. They, of course, stood out and were reported to the authorities, who simply drove up and grabbed them.

End of section one of nine. If interested, let me know and I can IM the rest to you.