The Purgatory Project

“They say hell is other people… but really, it’s yourself.”

When my teacher taught that saying to my first grade class, I remember saying to her, “What? But, yourself is the only person you can count on!”

The teacher had smiled and nodded, saying, “Many would think so, Kaiya. However, when you grow up, you’ll soon realize that many people are, in fact, their own worst enemies.”

But despite her efforts, I had believed the saying was stupid for a long, long time.

In fourth grade, I had learned about the Purgatory Project of 2039.

It was inspired by the pandemic, and the difficulty of being enclosed with others for a long period of time,” my teacher had said. “It was called the Purgatory Project because it decided whether you could go back to normal life, or stay with the… well, the hell that subjects have made themselves into.” We had all laughed, because in third grade “hell” was still a curse.

We all knew what the Purgatory Project had turned into. It was the reason we had the modern jail system we did. Anyone who was accused of a crime, and whose accuser had any substantial evidence, would go to prison; this prison, a blank white room with a few necessities such as a toilet and a few changes of clothes, would be inhabited only by two people. These people were the prisoner, and a clone of themselves.

“The system was designed so that the clone would have all of the looks and tendencies of the original,” the teacher continued. “Although science has still not developed a way to collect and transfer memories, we have the ability to scan and apply personalities to the clone. In the end, the doppelgangers are almost identical to the prisoners. If the prisoner can cooperate with their clone and make it through the year, they are deemed safe and released back into society. If not, then they go around again.”

“Why do they put them with clones, instead of a normal other person?” someone asked.

“Good question; because the object of jail isn't to test cooperation with others; it is to test the ability of a person’s own behavior. A person who is kind and caring deep down will easily make it through the year, because true kindness cannot be faked with oneself. A hateful person will most likely attack, or even kill, their clone. The system tests self-control and self-sustainability. Meaning, if a person is stable enough to handle themselves, then they are stable enough to re-enter society.” Our third-grade logic had accepted it, although the older I got the odder the logic seemed.

At least -- until I was sent to jail myself.

--

I watched as the number on the screen ticked down, the handcuffs tight around my wrists. I could feel my heart beating, could hear the mechanism moving, lowering me to my fate. The little “1” on the screen went to 0, and I adjusted the sleeves of my white prison uniform. 

One of the guards cleared their throats, not loosening his grip on my arm. The other glanced over at him, as if the throat-clearing was a signal of some sort, before she turned back to the door. I smirked at the thought that something so small could trigger a reaction like that. I was feared, or at least recognized as a threat.

There was something disheartening about the elevator ride down, though, knowing that you would spend a year under everyone else. Under the rest of the world. But it would be okay, I knew, because I’d have myself to talk to. I could hardly imagine a better punishment for murder. Well -- alleged murder. It was never proven, and the so-called “evidence” was next to useless, but I was sent here anyway. It put a real kink in my plans, but what had to be done had to be done.

The elevator dinged as we arrived on floor -3; the doors opened and the guards guided me out. We passed door after door, each with a prisoner and their doppelganger inside of it. I couldn’t see them though, couldn’t hear a thing. That was the point, after all; you disappeared, you stopped existing as far as everyone else was concerned, until you were deemed safe enough to return.

We stopped at a room marked 35-B, and the female guard opened the door. She stopped for a moment, presumably checking the room, before nodding to the male guard. He nodded back before shoving me in, and the two stepped out, closing the door behind them. I heard a ‘click,’ and knew that was it. My year had begun.

In front of me, I saw myself. The clone was perfect; she had long, orange-red hair, dyed white at the tip just like mine. I wondered why they had bothered giving her that, considering it was a lot of extra work for a small amount of payoff. Like me, she also had jade-green eyes and tanned skin. She seemed a little shorter than me, although maybe that was just perspective, or a trick of the light.

“Hey,” the clone said. “I’m Kaiya. And you are?” she said with a slight smirk. I smiled a bit as well, not quite sure what to say. The clone was the one who broke the silence by saying, “Well, we’ve got a year. Why don’t you tell me why you’re in here, first off?”

“You’re too friendly,” I said. “I’m a little more edgy than that.” The clone considered this for a moment, then gave a slight nod. “I’m sure you know everything; I was accused of murder and sent here even though there was next to no evidence.”

“Did you do it?”

“You tell me. You’re supposed to know everything about me.” The clone had no response to this. “What should I call you?”

“Kaiya. That’s my name.”

“Sorry, it’s already taken,” I said. “I’ll call you Kai, for short. That way it’ll be less confusing.” 

Kai shrugged. “Whatever you say.” We sat down, unsure of what else to do. “Well, we’ve got a nice place here. The bathroom’s around the corner, over there, although it’s not a bathroom as much as a toilet nook.” I followed her gaze and found that there was, in fact, a toilet around the corner. I hadn’t seen it at first because the white paint all blended in together, making it all look like one wall instead of two next to each other. “It took me a moment to find, too,” she said, as if reading my mind. I supposed she was; after all, her mind was essentially my own.

“So,” I said, sitting down. “What do they do to clones after… well, after the originals are released? Do they just kill you, or…? Sorry to be blunt, but I’ve never understood.”

“No, they don’t kill us!” Kai said, shocked. She had a tone in her voice that I never used, one that was scared and a bit weak. Then again, if I was born knowing I was the throwaway copy, it would make sense for me to turn out like that. “They put us on this fancy cruise ship, where we live out our lives getting whatever we want.”

“Where is this cruise ship?”

“There’re a bunch, and obviously they don’t stay in one spot,” she replied, her tone turning much more casual and snarky. More like mine. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying, it sounds made-up. Long-term, it seems like a waste of time and resources. It would be much better to, y’know, get rid of the copies.”

“What could you possibly gain from saying this to me?” Kai asked. I stared at her, and she let out a dramatic sigh. “They wouldn’t kill us, obviously. That would just be cruel. Maybe the cruise ship isn’t made up, but we might get put on a farm somewhere.”

“A farm?”

“Shut up,” she snapped, standing up. “Just shut up. Who do you think you are?!?”

“I’m you, remember? Except I’m the version of you that’s not going to die after the year is out. I thought I’d tell you that this was your last time to live; that’s a lot more than most humans get.” I didn’t know why I was saying this, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

“So I should be thanking you, then. I should be on my knees, praising you for opening my eyes to my inevitable future.”

“No, but--” I began.

“Well guess what?” Kai interrupted. “You only get out of here if we work together. If I refuse to work with you, I get more than a year. I can make both of us stay here until we’re old and gray if I want.”

“Listen, we can’t make enemies of each other on day one. We’ve got a year to go.”

“Oh, we’ve got more than that,” she said, crossing her arms and turning away.”

“Look, I take it back,” I said. “I don’t know why I said what I did, but I take it back, all right? You’re right. It would be stupid and cruel for them to kill you. There’s probably an underground bunker somewhere that only a few real people know about.”

Kai stiffened, and I instantly realized my mistake.

“That came out wrong. You are a real person, I--”

“Shut it,” she said, not turning around. “Shut your mouth and leave me alone.” 

I sighed. I had never felt so vulnerable or so weak in my life, as I did right then. 

“Okay,” I said finally, “If that’s what you need.”

--

Two months went by, and Kai’s edginess barely faded. Every time I noisily made a scratch on the wall to mark a day passing, or whenever I took a little extra bit of food, she would make sure to point it out and make a thing out of it. I hated her for it, even though that tendency was only there because it was present in me. She hated me, too, but in a different way. I think she was jealous that I got to live a normal life, knowing what came next. I tried to explain to her that humans never knew how, or when, they were going to die, and that it was really the same for her; but she wouldn’t listen.

So, we grew apart. We split our meals 50-50, came up with a few games to try out, but other than that we never really interacted. Every day, I almost asked if we could start over, and every day I decided against it. I kept waiting for her to say something instead, to break the silence she had made for us, but she never did.

“How do you think they watch us?” I asked during a meal. I had no idea where the food came in through, but every time six or seven hours passed, we’d find a small plate of food in a place we hadn’t been looking. I wondered if it was brought up to us through a trapdoor underneath us, or slid through a broken bit of concrete on the wall. “I mean, they have to determine whether we worked together or not, so they must watch us somehow.”

“Probably tiny cameras in the corners,” Kai replied without looking up from the plate of rice. She scooped more up with the plastic spoon, talking through her mouth as she said, “Ones we can’t get to and break without something small, like a toothpick.” I nodded. I had been thinking the same thing, myself. Kai swallowed her mouthful of rice. “That’s probably why they never give us forks,” she continued. “Even plastic ones. We could break off one of the tines and use it to damage the cameras.”

“You’re being talkative,” I noted. “That’s what I do when I’m nervous. Is something wrong?” 

Kai glared at me in response. 

“Look,” I said, "I know we’re kind of in an awkward spot right now, but you’re me and I’m you. We may as well just accept our similarities and start over, right?”

“I’m going to die if I do that.”

“We’ve got eleven months to go. We can start attacking each other or whatever at the end, right? In the meantime, we may as well make the best of our situation.”

Kai thought about this for a minute. Then, she smiled. “You’re smart, aren’t you? All right, I can do that. But when the last week comes, prepare for war.”

“Oh, you’re on,” I said, smirking. We continued eating, and for the first time in a while, I felt at ease.

“Let’s make this year interesting,” Kai said as we finished the last of our food. “The first person to jump onto that wall, bounce off, and touch the ceiling gets all of the next meal.”

We had a lot of fun for a while. By the time the seventh month rolled around, Kai and I had become sisters; identical twins, more than clones. We had our fights, but we would die for each other in an instant, and we both knew it. 

But, truth be told, I was still sick of Kai. I loved her, but I was just so sick of having her around, sick of her talking to me all the time and keeping me awake when I just wanted to sleep. I was sick of counting the meals to figure out when days went by, sick of digging the days into the wall with the plastic spoon. I was sick of the bright light that never turned off. I was sick of my prison uniform, and sick from my and Kai’s smell. I couldn’t imagine another year like this, without at least being able to shower… And yet, I knew I would do it in an instant to save my newfound sister. 

I never thought I’d be happy to be accused of murder before, happy that the judge convicted me just because some friends reported that I was good with knives and guns.

There were a lot more differences between Kai and I than I would have expected, but I supposed it made sense. I had loving parents, a fascinating childhood, and more. All Kai knew was the lab she woke up in, the tendencies that were programmed into her, and the instructions she was given. 

We still celebrated holidays, although there were very few ways of doing so, and we didn't have very much fun. We would celebrate by trying to make music with our plates and spoons, or by fasting for a day so we could have a big feast when the time came.

When the last week finally arrived, we let loose on each other, just as planned. Insults, attacks, the works. I told Kai she was stuck-up and a cheap copy of me that barely made the cut before breaking her nose; after scratching me in the arm, leaving a deep gash, she told me I was so desperate for attention that even after all that time I wouldn’t say whether I committed the murder or not, and so scared of the truth that I wouldn’t admit that I did. I hated her for saying that, without knowing anything about who I had killed, or why.

Every word we said was true.

And neither of us wanted to hear them.

I had scars all over, and new ones each day. Kai did, too. 

We would take breaks at points during the day, for meals or just to catch our breath, but one of us would always slide in a punch or an insult. By the end, I really did hate her. I hated everything about her, because she was me, but better. And, I think she hated me because she was jealous that I got to have a life, and felt guilty for making me stay in here another year so she -- someone designed to die -- could live.

The last day finally came, and I was more glad for it than anything in the world. We decided we would call the truce and take back everything we said and did when the next meal showed up, when we were sure the second year had begun.

But the next day’s meal never came.

There was a click, and the sound of a door creaking open. Our door.

A guard stepped inside.

“All right, clone,” she said, “you know the drill. Stand in the corner while the prisoner gets out.”

“What?” we said in unison.

“You did it, Fox,” the guard said. “You bonded with your clone so well, you were willing to make yourselves hate each other to keep her safe. And now, you get to go free, and your clone gets to go to the… the sanctuary.”

“It’s not real,” Kai said. “We both know that.”

“You have no rights, clone, and no choice but to trust me. Now, stand in the corner!” Kai shook her head, and I forced myself to stay put. I wanted to leave, abandon her and leave her to die, more than I’m willing to admit. I wanted her out of my life.

But, I forced myself to hold her hand.

The guard rolled her eyes, and her arm moved for something on her belt. 

Before I could think, I heard a gunshot, and Kai fell to the ground.

“NO!!!” I screamed, dropping and kneeling next to her. I shook her. “Kai, wake up. Wake UP!!!” But her eyes stayed closed, and I knew that was it. “I take it back,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. “I take it all back.”

“Fox,” the guard said. “It’s time to go.” I wanted to turn around, to scream at her, to kill her, anything. I hated her, hated her more than the man I had killed.

But all I could do was lay next to Kai and cry until I was finally dragged away.