Flash Fiction: The Clone Makers

I know this person I see before me. Yet, at the same time, I don’t. I don’t know him at all. He looks like my brother. He talks like my brother. But he’s not my brother.

“Hi,” I say, looking into his eyes. They are bloodshot, and his face is too hard for someone as young as he is. I search in those eyes for any sign that the brother I grew up with is still there, but he isn’t.

What have they done to him? Is it like the Kanye West thing? The robot thing? And the people of this little town had abducted my actual brother and replaced him with this: this mechanical replica?

“Hi,” he says back and lights a cigarette. I wait for him to ask me how I am, but the question doesn’t come.

Our exchange is short. There as we stand in front of his girlfriend’s house as it lightly rains. I tell him of some company looking for workers. He has a baby on the way, after all, and unlike me he didn’t finish high school. So I have to help my little brother – no, this robot clone – get a job. He says yes, that he would go to that place I was talking about.

“I guess I’ll see you then,” I say. Smiling also, but not really meaning it because truly, my heart bleeds.

That’s it for our little exchange. I go, leaving that robot thing at it’s girlfriend’s house.

They said it would be storming today. The sky is all kinds of grey and the wind is fast and cold. My toes: I don’t even want to talk about my toes

I go home, thinking about all those YouTube videos I watched about Trump fulfilling Biblical prophecies and Kanye West being a robot clone.

Little brother, I hope these words find you and they find you well someday because I suspect that I won’t be here much longer. The people responsible – satanists and whatnot – for making the clones… I think they’ll come after me soon because they know now I’m not like everybody else. A puppet of this “Matrix”.

In a truly Biblical context, I guess that you could say that I am Cain and you are Able, because, by bringing you to this town, I have killed you. The real you, anyway. I was never jealous of you though. I loved you like most brothers don’t love each other these days and after Mom died, we were all we had, you know. I think it’s all God’s doing though. Perhaps He made us polar opposites like this for a reason. Perhaps it’s not the Mark of Cain I have on my forehead, but some other mark spoken of in the Bible. I don’t know, I’ll have to open that Book again. Scrounge around on YouTube and stuff.

Perhaps you are still there in that shell that looks like you. Perhaps you don’t understand what you’ve become.

It hurts, to tell you the truth. I’ve put so much effort into you, yet you betrayed me in the end. Impregnated some girl you’ve just met and forgot about me as if I never existed in your life at all. But I hope, one day, that you see Satan for what he truly is.

I was good. And I have fallen. But God has picked me up again and shown me the way Home. I pray He shows it to you too.

A car stops in front of me, a guy gets out and shoots me dead. Just kidding. Not that kind of story. I know death is coming for me, as it comes for us all, but I don’t fear it anymore. I don’t fear anything anymore. Not as I used to.

Little brother, your big brother has been a good man falling, but I will show you, despite what the clone makers will have you believe, that it is us, the fallen good that rise in the end.

Image found on Pixabay.

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