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3 - Social hour: Something to prove

My third trip today to the lounge, a den of dizzy dimwits and high-handed hooplah . . . But once again, I will survive. This place seems to wear me down quite quickly, though I do manage to leave on pretty good terms -- I think.

Earlier I actually caught the supervisor of the Cloning center in here and cornered him for a little chat. Off duty, he seemed rather nice, until I started prodding about why things are the way they are. Then he rolled his eyes and began spewing his usual tripe . . .

"Trust me," he said . . . Alarm bells ringing in my head (no, not literally but they ought to be with all this unfathomable set of bells and whistles they installed without asking in my unsolicited clone body (there, I said it) . . . "I've been working with cloning for a long time. We're all clones here, well, most of us anyway. We all go through the same period of disorder and disorientation. If you hadn't walked out every single time, you might have caught that part of it."

"If you all weren't so condescending, I wouldn't have had to walk out," I quickly replied, "for YOUR safety."

He sighed and sat back, seeming to shift gears a little, but I knew what was coming. "Please understand, we see this all the time. You're having a little trouble processing all that has happened to you, "

Any moment, genotype, genotype, . . . BLAH BLAH BLAH

"Please, sit back down, I think you should know--"

I was already lost in the crowd, hoping his funny lights would be confused by all the name tags, but I could still hear him, which he clearly didn't know . . . "

"Oh, why do I bother trying to talk to a colonist?" he muttered, almost under his breath.

No problem. Out the door I went. Time to head back to my sty . . . uhm, stancheon . . . uhm . . . well . . . never mind. I just needed a nap.


What's that? Oh, the government center has seen fit to magnanimously release a food package to me. Really, is that stuff even edible?

Oh well, maybe if I eat at least SOMEthing, I might be a little better prepared to deal with these witless morons who think they're better than me.

I'll figure them out and skew their studies. They think they know all about me because of the DNA THEY added to mine for this monstrosity, Just like everything else, they really did a poor job. That tells me they aren't ready for someone who breaks out of their cookie cutter. This should be fun.