Remainder (2 page)

I am being led down a hallway by two armed guards in black. In my red and their black, we stand out amongst the bare white walls. They take me in a room that has three chairs spaced out. They are reclined and look like the chairs you would see at a dental office. As the guards lead me to one of the empty chairs, my first and only instinct is to fight, struggle, do anything to keep them from strapping me into the chair. However, they are strong and overpower me. One guard holds me in place, while the other fastens the straps around my chest, waist, and legs. The straps are so tight I can barely move. On each side of the chair are small metal tables with empty IV bags.

I am so distracted by what is being done to me that I don’t notice that there is a chair in front of me occupied by a boy who looks to be my age. Like me, he is wearing red and is strapped in the chair. He is good looking with messy blonde hair, blue eyes, full lips, and broad shoulders. He is looking right at me, but he has a strange expression on his face, like he doesn’t really see me. His eyes are glassy and empty. He doesn’t move and just stares into empty space. Then I notice what is happening to him. There are IVs hooked to both of his arms in the crease of his elbows. I see the blood run through the tubes and fill the bags. He doesn’t flinch. I notice that he is pale and wonder how many bags have been filled before I got here.

Just then, I hear a familiar voice say “Are you ready?” It’s Dr. Kendall. She approaches my chair and picks up one IV with a gloved hand.

“You should get comfortable,” she says. “You’re going to be here awhile.”

I thrash my whole body trying to break the restraints, but they are too tight. All of a sudden the floor is red. Blood is everywhere. It is filling up the room and rising higher. I look up at the boy in front of me. His head is slumped to the side, his eyes open, but there is no life in them. In that moment, I just know that they have taken it all. They, whoever they are, have taken all of his blood. I look down and see the blood still rising. Dr. Kendall doesn’t seem to notice. She isn’t fazed and approaches me with the needle. I scream!

A knock on the door arouses me from sleep. I jump, thankful for the sound that woke me from my nightmare that seemed too real. Another knock and the jingling of some keys.

“Dinner,” I hear a young male voice from the other side of the door say. The door opens and a young dark skinned boy comes in. He has curly black hair and pretty light brown eyes. He smiles, a smile that make his eyes light up and I can tell that his smile is genuine. He walks over to the desk and puts down the tray of food.

“Roasted chicken tonight,” he says. “It’s usually a little dry, but the chocolate pudding for dessert is pretty good.” He smiles again, showing off his pearly white teeth.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Uh…tired,” I say confused, surprised that he is taking the time to ask how I am feeling.

“Yeah, it takes awhile for the sedative to wear off completely.”

“Sedative?” I ask.

“I always say too much,” he says worriedly, his smile fading, replaced by a look of concern, like what he just told me could get him in trouble.

“I’m Alden, by the way,” he says and smiles again.

“Where am I?” I ask shyly.

He hesitates and bites his lower lip as if he is trying to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t. I can see him pondering how he should respond. He walks over to the door, closes it softly, and then faces me again.

“You’re at the Avalon Research Center, or ARC as we like to call it,” he says with a sullen look on his face. I can tell he regretted telling me immediately.

“What is this place?” I ask, somewhat scared of his answer.

He averts his eyes before he answers. “Scientific research is conducted here.”

“What kind of research?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.

“Particularly identical human genetic reproduction.” He looks back at me with no trace of humor on his face.

“Cloning?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says and I see pain flash in his eyes.

“Does this mean…am I...” I can’t finish the rest of my question. Suddenly, everything is clear. The cold treatment by Dr. Kendall. My nakedness on the table. The talk of a failsafe and tracking device. The fact that I can’t remember anything about my life. The illuminated dream that seemed so real. I don’t need to finish the question because I already know the answer.

“You’re a clone,” Alden responds, confirming my suspicion. He raises his hands to emphasize his words.

“So, let me make sure I am understanding this correctly, you’re telling me that I am a copy of someone else?”

“Yes. I know this is shocking and you must have a lot of questions and I can’t answer them right now. I don’t have much time. I have to talk to you quickly before someone realizes how long I have been gone. Tomorrow, at Training Day, don’t ask any questions. Don’t show any resistance and you will be fine.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

We hear a door open and shut down the hallway. Then footsteps and the rattling of keys.

“Just do what they say,” he says worriedly.

“How do I know you are telling the truth? Or that I can trust you?” I ask.

The footsteps are getting closer.

“I figured you would ask that. All clones are marked on the back of the neck. I left you something under your napkin on the tray. Tomorrow you will see.”

With that, he opens the door and walks out. I hear him greeting someone in the hallway.

“Hey Roderick! How are you tonight?” asks Alden.

“What is taking you so long down here?” Roderick asks in an authoritative tone.

“I am so clumsy; I dropped a tray of food all over the floor, so I had to clean it up,” replies Alden without missing a beat.

"Why didn't you call a purifier to clean it up?" asks Roderick suspiciously.

"There's no need for that. I am capable of cleaning up my own mess," responds Alden.

“Take care not to make any more messes, that is unless you want to be reassigned,” I hear Roderick say, sounding annoyed. “Get back to work.”

“Yes, sir. I will be more careful,” replies Alden.

Their footsteps begin to fade and I know they have gone. I walk over to the tray of food and lift up the napkin. Underneath it is a small square mirror, about the size of the palm of my hand. I pick it up and walk over to the mirror above the sink. I stare at my reflection as I move my golden locks to one side. Turning around, I hold up the little square mirror in front of me. There on the back of my neck is a red, puffed mark. Like a piece of merchandise, I have been branded. This mark is my past, present, and future.

That night, I barely sleep.  I toss and turn thinking about Alden’s warning and the brand on the back of my neck. I wonder why I am marked and where I fit into this society. I am flooded with many emotions. I cannot help but wonder what will happen to me.  Alden told me not to show any resistance...but resistance to what?  I am locked in this place.  Am I a prisoner? I feel a mix of fear and anticipation for Training Day, as Dr. Kendall and Alden called it.  That is where I will get some answers to the questions that are rushing through my head. That is where I will find out who I am.

The next morning, I am too anxious to eat. My breakfast wasn’t delivered by Alden, but by a thin mousy-looking girl instead. I hope Alden didn’t get in trouble by that guy he called Roderick. My door opens and a tall man dressed in all black military garb with a gun holstered to his side walks in. He is young, probably in his mid-twenties, with dark brown hair and light brown eyes. His long hooked nose and thin lips don’t make him look pleasant. The stern look on his face makes him appear to be unapproachable. He stands straight and tall, as if he is trying to be intimidating on purpose.

“Time to go,” he says with authority and I recognize his voice. He is Roderick.

I walk outside of the room into the hallway and see more people in red, like me. Most of them cast their eyes down, probably terrified of making eye contact with Roderick. There are more men dressed like Roderick with guns holstered to their sides. No one speaks. The silence is almost too much to bear until Roderick breaks it.

“Listen up everyone,” Roderick demands. “Follow me and don’t say a word.” He looks at me with cold eyes.

“Not one word.”

It is a short walk down a couple of hallways until we reach a door. Roderick opens it and leads us into a room that looks like an auditorium with stadium seating.

“Everyone file into the first three center rows,” says Roderick.

We all obey and file into the seats. Scanning the people around me, I can tell there are about thirty of us. I am sitting on the second row in the center and have a good view of the stage in front of us. A single table and chair occupy the large stage and a large white curtain, spanning the length of the stage, sits behind the table. I eye the nape of the boy’s neck who sits in front of me, thankful for his short hair. I lean in a little closer to really look at the brand that decorates his neck and mine. The brand is a simple “s” shape that is slightly diagonal. It is big enough that one could see it from a distance, however, not too big that is spans the length of the entire neck.

“Hi. I guess you are new here too,” speaks a sweet voice beside me. The girl sitting next to me has a pleasant smile and hopeful eyes. She’s attractive with long light brown waves that match the color of her eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” I respond, not sure of what to say.

“I would tell you my name if I could remember it,” she says and then laughs nervously. I laugh too. I appreciate what she is trying to do. She is attempting to keep the mood light, although, from the way her beautiful face contorts, I can see that she is just as uncertain as I am.

We hear the sound of a door opening and then slamming shut. Dr. Kendall walks up to the front of the room and climbs the stairs, her heels clanking with each step.

“Good morning everyone and welcome to Training Day,” says Dr. Kendall like she is ready to get down to business. Without missing a beat, she continues.

“Fifty years ago a deadly disease wiped out the majority of the world’s population. In order to preserve the human race, the survivors of our city, the ones who remained, discovered a way to help heal the population and future generations. The Remainders, as we like to call them, brought us out of the darkness and into the light. They created a new world for us to prosper...to survive. Identical human genetic reproduction, or cloning, was and is the solution." Dr. Kendall speaks without faltering, like she has said this same thing a thousand times before. She scans the room, looking at each one of us. I guess she is studying us to see our reactions. Just like a scientist, always studying everything. She continues.

“You are all clones and the person of whom you are a copy is your pure blood. For the past eighteen years, you have been in a cryogenic sleep. That is why you have no memories before the present. You have not created any," she says matter-of-factly. “Your purpose is to serve and provide your pure blood with blood in order to secure the survival of our race.” We look at each other. Some people whisper words under their breaths and others gasp in shock.

“Quiet,” exclaims Roderick sternly. His eyes are like daggers piercing into us.

“After the devastation, the Remainders renamed our city Avalon. They divided her into three sectors and they are as follows:

“Researchers serve as our doctors and scientists. They are responsible for all our medical work as well as keeping our society up to date with the latest technology.

“Enforcers are our military. Their purpose is to keep order among the pure bloods and clones alike. They protect all of us.

“Laborers make up the third sector. They are the most populated sector and our most diverse. They are the cooks, tradesmen, sanitation workers, etcetera. They are the backbone of our society.

“You will live in the sector where your pure blood resides. Your names reflect your sector, followed by the number of clone you are in that sector. For example, a clone who lives in the Researcher sector and is the five hundred and second clone to be made in that sector would have the name Researcher-502. Does everyone understand their names?” Dr. Kendall asks. We all nod.

That explains the sign on the door of my room. My name is Enforcer-656. I belong to someone in the military sector. With the little knowledge we have been given so far, I do not know if belonging to the Enforcer sector is good or bad.

My comrade next to me leans in and whispers, “Looks like I am Enforcer-658,” she says. “Not much of a name. Couldn’t they have come up with something that sounds better?”

For a moment, I stare at her blankly. She is worried about her name? I have so many questions about where I fit into this new society and this girl is concerned that her name is not more creative. I want to shake her or slap her to make her wake up and see there are more important things than her name. However, before I speak and shut down her insignificant trouble, I take notice of the fear in her eyes. “I am Enforcer-656,” I respond.

“That means we will be in the same sector. I hope we will see each other around.” She smiles sweetly and I find myself hoping the same.

Dr. Kendall scans the room again as if she is looking for something. Her face reminds me of a statue. She is hard, cold, and shows no feeling in the way she carries herself and her expressions. She acts annoyed, as if talking to us is beneath her.

"Now that you have been given a basic history..."

"Wait a minute!" She is interrupted by the boy sitting in the front row whose neck I inspected. "Why would we believe you? Why would we give you our blood? You are crazy if you think we are just going to let you take what is ours.” He looks at the people sitting around him. "What are we doing here? We can just leave." With that, he stands.

"Ah! There you are!" replies Dr. Kendall, almost smiling, giving her a look that is sinister. I think I preferred her expressionless face. "There's always at least one! Roderick, would you give me a hand? It's time for a demonstration," she says, and this time she is smiling.

Roderick is all too happy to oblige and walks over to the boy and stands in front of him.

Dr. Kendall continues her lecture. "Every clone has a microchip. Through this microchip, we can upload information to your brain. That is why all of you can walk, talk, and know the basic information that anyone your age would know. Once the information is uploaded, your brain stores it in your long-term memory. A tracking device is a feature of the chip. We wouldn’t want any of you getting lost. Your personal information is also stored in the chip. The date you were born, the district in which you live, the name of your pure blood, etcetera.  While your chip serves many purposes, the most useful purpose of it is inflicting punishment. If you so please, Roderick." She nods at Roderick.

With one hand, Roderick grabs the boy's head, pulling it toward him. Shocked by such a forward movement, the boy struggles to get free. Roderick takes his free hand and holds his wrist over the base of the boy's head. His wrist is decorated with what looks like a silver band. As he holds his hand up, I notice a golden mark on his wrist in the same location as Dr. Kendall's mark. From what I can tell, the mark looks like a lion head turned slightly to the side, its jaws open wide in an attempt at a powerful roar, however, silent by the fact that it is made of ink. Its amber eyes have a fierceness about them that make me think I wouldn’t want to run into it in the jungle. A powerful and majestic creature is the lion. I would almost think the mark beautiful if it wasn’t for that fact that it decorates someone who seems to baste in cruelty. Roderick pulls his wrist back and a hologram appears, just like the hologram I saw of myself. It shows a picture of the boy and has writing beside it, too small for me to make out.

"He belongs to the Researcher sector. Researcher-703," exclaims Roderick. "I should have known. They are always the ones who are more inquisitive and give us the most trouble at first," he says smiling. It is as if the thought of inflicting pain on someone is exciting to him.

Roderick then touches his silver bracelet like he is pressing a button and releases Researcher-703. The boy grabs his head and topples over on the floor. His entire body thrashes as though he is having a seizure. Some people stand to watch what is going to happen, mesmerized by the event unfolding before them. Unfortunately, from where I am sitting, I have a clear view of what is occurring. The boy lies on the floor in a fetal position, grabbing his head and screaming.
Please stop. Just make it stop,
I think to myself.

"That's enough. I think the point has been made. We don't want to permanently damage him before we send him off to his pure blood," proclaims Dr. Kendall. Ironically, she was the savior and the torturer.

Roderick touches his bracelet again and the boy stops screaming. He stills on the floor for a minute before getting back in his chair. His face is red and soaked with sweat or tears or both. The two people who sit on either side of him shift in their chairs, trying to put more distance between themselves and him. They act as though if they touch him, they, too, will feel the effects of the bracelet of torture. The visibly shaken boy doesn’t say another word.

"When the microchip is activated for punishment, all the pain receptors in the brain are set off, causing excruciating…” She pauses as though she is trying to find the right word. “Discomfort that resonates throughout the entire body of the offender," exclaims Dr. Kendall. "Your pure blood has this ability and authority to punish you, as do all Enforcers. This is necessary to maintain peace between clones and pure bloods.  Sometimes clones don’t understand how important it is that they obey all the laws we have set forth for them.  Clones sometimes don’t trust that our intentions are pure, and that the pure bloods are working toward a greater good. The chip is our way of reminding you to be obedient and mindful of our goal to maintain peace in Avalon.  We have found that clones do not often need to be reminded more than once.”

Peace. She speaks of peace, but it is not what she means. Control. That is a more appropriate word. The pure bloods, as she called them, want to control us by any means necessary.

"Now, before I was interrupted, I was going to tell you about the laws which govern the clones," continues Dr. Kendall. "You must follow all the laws that govern the pure bloods; they have already been programmed in you, in addition to the laws specifically created for the clones. They are as follows:

“No clone is permitted to have a romantic or sexual relationship with a pure blood.

“Under no circumstances is a clone permitted to harm or kill a pure blood.

“A clone cannot decline any order given to it by its pure blood or Enforcer.

“No clone is permitted to travel without their pure blood unless the pure blood has provided written documentation for the purpose.

“No clone is permitted to own personal property or personal belongings.

“No clone is permitted to have a romantic or sexual relationship with another clone.  

“No clone may alter his or her appearance.

“No clone may provide blood to another pure blood who is not his or her own.

“There are severe consequences for breaking any of these laws. Roderick, bring him out."

Roderick disappears and then reappears, pulling behind him an older man with gray hair. He is wearing red like the rest of us. Roderick sits the old man down in the chair at the table on the stage.

"This clone stole from his pure blood," explains Dr. Kendall. "Stealing is not acceptable. So, he must be punished."

"I just wanted to eat. I was starving! I just wanted to eat." The old man is pleading, his voice quivering as he speaks.

Roderick punches him in the back of the head and the man screams out in pain.

"Silence!" screams Roderick. I gasp in disbelief. How can one treat another person with such cruelty? Especially when that person is so advanced in age. It is like punishing the lamb instead of the lion.

Another man appears, wearing the same uniform as Roderick. He is carrying a handsaw. Roderick grabs one of the old man's hands and stretches it out across the table. The other Enforcer places the saw on the wrist of the old man’s stretched out hand.

“No. Please,” the man pleads. “I was starving. Please don’t do this. Please, no.”

His words become replaced with screams as the other Enforcer saws his hand off. Blood splatters everywhere. I think I may faint or throw up. Some people have already beaten me to it and are hurling in their chairs. I close my eyes, as I don’t have the strength to bear witness to human flesh being torn apart. I can’t escape the unimaginable event taking place. Although I can’t see it through my closed eyes, I can still hear the man’s screams. I clench my fists and my body tenses up. I can’t stand this. Why are they doing this? Why could they not use a sharper weapon, something that will quickly do the deed? They, the pure bloods, want to be cruel. They want us to suffer. This act is a violent show of power meant to frighten us…..and it is working.