The Cloning of Malcolm Brent, Malcolm Brent.

The Cloning of Malcolm Brent, Malcolm Brent.

Malcolm Brent was a unique individual. His mother had told him that pretty much every day since the day he was born.

Malcolm's Dad had left home when Malcolm was four years old

mainly because he couldn't cope with his son's unique individuality and partly because he couldn't cope with the way his wife embraced it.

At school, learning support assistants would say, "Well

Malcolm, when they made you, they certainly broke the mould."

Malcolm always wondered whether it had been him who had broken the mould because he was well known for breaking things.

Interactive white boards in the classrooms were never very interactive. Teachers used them like glorified blackboards and they were always mounted too high for little children to interact with unless they were standing on a chair, which was against health and safety guidance. During a particularly frustrating maths lesson, Malcolm finally threw a chair at the interactive white board. It came off unscathed. Unfortunately for the child the chair hit on the rebound, she didn’t.

The exclusion however, worked to Malcolm’s advantage.

Real learning fascinated him and he would sit for hours trying to

master new ideas and understand innovative concepts.

Within four days he had learned to play the ukulele from scratch. He remotely took control of his teacher's computer screen in an IT lesson. Watching Mr Brown’s face as the screen melted into a mass of letters and numbers and scrolled off, was a moment he would enjoy for some time.

Despite a visit from the local neighbourhood policing team following that incident, Malcolm's interest in computing did not wane. When he was fourteen he managed to enroll himself on a degree course about robotics and artificial intelligence. He had of course lied in order to be accepted but he had been lying in order to be accepted for as long as he could remember, and his Mum had sort of encouraged him.

It was during his studies in this field that he had an idea.

How would it be if he could clone himself and watch what

happened if he was no longer a unique individual?

The idea consumed Malcolm and shortly after his fifteenth

birthday he sent himself to school while he sat at home on his computer to watch the day unfold through the built-in video camera housed in the clone’s left eye.

The first thing that shocked Malcolm as he watched himself, was

how alone he was. He sat alone in lessons, he wandered alone at break times and he noticed other children purposely avoid him during lunch. Malcolm had no idea he was a loner. He saw himself as a unique individual with a good number of friends. Perhaps other children saw a kid who was odd, rather than one who was exceptional.

The second thing Malcolm noticed, which wasn't shocking but nevertheless somewhat surprised him, was how many times teachers said his name.

"Malcolm Brent, stop tapping", "Malcolm Brent stop waggling your

feet", "Malcolm Brent pay attention", "Malcolm, do you want

to spend the rest of the lesson in the corridor?"

That last question had always irritated him but watching it on

screen made him angry. Of course he didn't want to spend the rest of the lesson in the corridor, what a stupid question from a supposedly intelligent educationalist. Malcolm had once challenged a teacher who asked him that, arguing that if the teacher really wanted him to learn, it was counter-productive to send him out of the lesson. The teacher didn’t take kindly to rational debate with a minor and an extended period of time in the isolation unit ensued.

When the clone got home, Malcolm put himself on charge and gave some thought to his next move. Feeling that watching his behaviour in lessons might help him understand his unique individuality more deeply, he took the decision to allow Malcolm II to see the week out in school. His LSA kept asking him if he was feeling quite himself and if there was anything wrong at home. He realised that she actually cared about him and wanted him to do well. So often he had made her life difficult, and she put up with it, day in day out, for nine pounds forty pence an hour. Watching yourself was salutary and disconcerting.

The following Friday after a week back at school, actual Malcolm won “Star of the Week.” It had never happened before. Malcolm felt as if he’d cheated because he really owed it to Malcolm II and his ability to keep calm under pressure the previous week. This was a programming deficit rather than a deliberate choice the clone had made but Malcolm felt relieved he hadn’t had time to work on that aspect of the design yet. "Star of the Week" was an award Malcolm despised but as he stood at the front of the assembly hall and received loud applause from the whole school community, he had to admit it felt good.

At the weekend Malcolm dismantled the clone. It was a shame to disassemble months of painstaking research and exquisite engineering, although hopefully what he had discovered would one day come in useful.  In his heart, Malcolm knew if the robot child didn’t disappear, he would live in the shadow of himself and that was hardly being unique or being an individual.

School continued to be challenging but break times were less lonely and the corridor was where he went on his way to the next lesson, not where he stood during the current one. His frustrations about the inadequate use of technology in school grew by the hour but he managed not to throw furniture.

The day Malcolm Brent left school, his LSA cried. He wasn’t very comfortable hugging her but it seemed the kindest thing to do.

When Malcolm became CEO of Automational UK on his twenty fifth birthday, his LSA cried again, his Mum told him he was a unique individual and his Dad sent him a congratulations card.