Number 12

Miller flipped through the presentation binder without reading it, his anger evident. “These are the same results as last week, Number 12. What are you trying to accomplish again?”

“I told you yesterday sir, at the meeting” he replied meekly.

His boss stopped turning the pages and glanced up at the technician incredulously. He did his best to maintain eye contact, but as Miller’s stare grew harder he had to glance at the floor. There was no denying he was an intimidating presence, but really that’s all there is. He’s a military man, not a scientist. He doesn’t understand the cost of progress, the time needed to generate results. 

Miller leaned forward and interlaced his large fingers, resting his fists on the large oak desk, “humor me.”

“I-I-I’m researching cellular alteration and regeneration.”

“Water mutants. Right?”

“Y-yes, sir.” Not really, but close enough. Now was not the time for a debate. Nor was Miller the man for one.

“And you’ve burned through your third grant in two months, faster than any scientist here. Tell me why.”

The technician paused, thinking of how he can dumb down three years of research into one sentence. “Well, it began with researching abnormal cell development when exposed to an aquatic environment, mutating those cells using different, um, methods, and constructing a suitable environment to promote growth. Then I had to create multiple-”

“Enough, stop.” Miller waved away the words with a quick gesture. He stared at the technician carefully, first sizing him up. “According to your estimation Number 12,” his words dripped heavily with condescending sarcasm, “how much more money do you need?”

“I’m close, sir. I just need two, maybe three more clones. That’s all.”

Miller scoffed, “you get two. And one more month. But I want guaranteed results, or you’re being removed from this project. He pointed a fat finger in the scientist’s face to accentuate his threat. “Is that clear?”

“Yes sir, absolutely. I can finish this. Thank yo-

“Just get back to work. And take this with you, I have two just like it.” He handed the binder back to the technician. His words were dark, threatening.

The technician gulped and nodded quickly, and tucked the binder under his arm. He almost ran for the door. 

In the hallway he passed another scientist with his head hung low in shame. He knew the look, he was about to get taken off of his project. There was only speculation about what happened to techs who were demoted; they were never seen nor heard from again. Some say that they get incinerated with the defective clones, others think they become test subjects themselves. 12 chose not to believe the rumors, but the mere thought of becoming a test subject was terrifying enough to scare any skeptic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He began prepping a needle, filling it from a bottle of dark blue liquid.

“What’s that?” I don’t like needles.

“Just a little shot,” he replied coolly, “nothing to be afraid of.” He tried not to look at her. Limited contact with the clones ensured absolute detachment.

“But it was red last time.”

He paused, the needle shaking slightly in his hand. He looked startled, concerned, maybe a little scared. “What did you say?”

I shifted nervously in my chair. Was I supposed to say that? “It...it was red last time. Wasn’t it?”

His face went absolutely blank, eyes scanning my face. I looked away shyly; I don’t think I was supposed to say that. Or remember it?

After an uncomfortable moment, he went back to work. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But...but it was red. And green before that. And black, I think. I-”

“We’ve never met before.”

“Your tie was blue,” I mumbled quietly. The memories were too vivid, too accurate to be a dream, “blue with white dots.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What did she say?

Clones weren't supposed to develop memories, the hippocampus was deliberately nullified. And the black serum was developed months ago. Eight weeks of memory she wasn't supposed to have. This is way beyond a simple error.

This was it. His way to prove his value to Miller. His study was going nowhere, but finding a massive design flaw and fixing it could ensure more funding. Or possibly guarantee the validity of the project.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He strolled down the hallway with a confident stride, holding the thick binder with both hands like a holy relic. He finally had results worth presenting to his boss, that thick skulled ape of a man. Undeniable proof that he was an asset to Miller.

The fogged glass doors slid open smoothly and Miller’s assistant waved him in. Before she could page Miller, his gruff voice called the scientist in.

“What now, 12?”

“Sir, I have excelle-news. I have news.” He had to hide his excitement. Not a good idea to celebrate finding a massive flaw made by upper management in front of...upper management.

“Spit it out.” Miller was skimming through a pile of documents, barely paying attention.

“The most recent clone, sir. It has memories from seven previous clones.”

He glanced up at 12. This was bad. “What?”

“She..it can recall-”

“That was two months ago.” Very bad.

“Well, yes, but I had to be sure before-”

“You waited two months to report this?!” Miller’s voice boomed through the office and echoed harshly. His large fist crunched the reports in his hand. 

12’s confidence quickly shrank into fear. “I wanted to be absolutely sure before I reported it. It would be a very costly waste of time if I was wrong. I don’t mean to be flippant sir, I only had your best interest in mind.” He approached his boss’s desk hesitantly and gently placed the binder on its surface.

Miller glared at the scientist, unblinking and expressionless. After a few moments of tense silence, he leaned back in his chair and let go of the crushed papers. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Number 12.”

Should he say thank you? “Of course, sir.”

“Is the clone still alive?”

“Yes, it’s stored safely for further testing.”

“Where is it stored?”

12 paused. This was his only chance for advancement, but betraying her felt-

“Where is it, 12?”

“Sector 2, in the east wing.”

“Clever hiding place.” Miller casually reached for the phone on his desk and dialed a short code, then hung up. “Closed due to fire damage, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” 12’s palms started to sweat.

“I appreciate your commitment to our work.”

Two masked security guards opened the heavy doors and stood silently behind 12. He started to panic. 

Miller continued. “And to show my appreciation, I would like to promote you. How does ‘supervisor for research and development’ sound?”

12 immediately forgot about the guards. “Not to sound ungrateful sir, I very much am. But isn’t the position already filled?”

“I’ll take care of that.” He gestured towards the guards, “they’ll escort you to your new office.”

“What about the clone, sir?”

Miller smiled coldly. “It’ll be passed on to another scientist for further testing. As you anticipated.”

A pang of guilt spread through 12’s chest. He knew what ‘further testing’ meant. The poor girl.

“Very good, sir. Is there anything else I can do?”

“No, that’ll be all.”

One of the guards placed a hand on 12’s shoulder and steered him out of the office, down the main corridor, and into a narrow unfamiliar hallway. It led to a steel door with a keycard security system. The right guard removed a gold card from his vest and unlocked the door. Behind that was an enclosed freight elevator. 

“Hey, guys, I thought this was the only R&D floor?” 12’s voice trembled nervously as the automated gate opened.

The guards stayed silent and pushed him into the elevator. One guard stood next to 12 and gripped his shoulder tightly. The other pushed the blue button on the panel. The buttons didn’t have numbers or symbols, only colours. The metal gates closed and the elevator  deescalated at an alarming speed. 12’s entire body was shaking. R&D was supposed to be the bottom floor of the facility.

The elevator slowed before reaching the bottom, then halted with a sudden jolt. His heart sank; this felt all wrong. The guard pushed a green button and the gate opened. 12 tried to run forward in a feeble attempt to escape, but the second guard pulled him back. They prodded 12 forward wordlessly, and walked down the concrete hallway. They passed windowless metal doors, each with their own keycard system.

Nothing else but eerie silence.

With every step 12’s chest tightened with pure fear. He tried turning to face the guards and pleaded, “please, I won’t tell anyone what happened. No one knows about her. Please let me go!”

The guards ignored his desperation and continued towards the end of the hallway. The guard removed his card again and opened the last door on their left. Intense heat and a foul odor emptied into the corridor as the door swung open. The guards shoved him inside of the brightly lit room and closed the door behind them with a soft click. 12 stumbled forward and tripped on his own feet, landing painfully on his hands and knees. The room was pure concrete and bare. White industrial lights highlighted the dark stains on the hard floor, all leading towards a small drain in the centre. 12 glanced up from the floor and gasped. A rusted cremation furnace burned against the far wall.

He started sobbing, unable to look away from the furnace. “No, no no, please god, no! I won’t say anything, I swear.” He heard a soft rustle behind him. “I’m begging you, just let me go PLEASE LET ME GO!”

He only felt the blade on his neck for a moment, before it completely severed his spinal cord. His body went limp and leaned forward. The first guard caught his shoulders and pulled him back, while the other lifted his legs. They carried his corpse over to the furnace and tossed it onto the metal table. They searched his clothes for jewelry, additional ID, anything that could be salvaged. There was only lint and gum wrappers.