#because i am! i love my dog! hes a grade-a Supremely Good Boy

[occupyscifi]

The clone killer

The illegal had been running all his brief life and now, he knew, that life was coming to an end. Recently he’d been hiding out in the ruins of an old mall, living off old cans of food left behind by survivalists and roving bands of white nationalist militias who were the only other inhabitants of the county. At first there had been three of them hiding, but now the other two were dead. The first had been caught in a trap just off the highway, electrocuted as he had lapped at a pool of rainwater. The second had been poisoned – either on purpose or simply as a result of his poor immune system, unable to cope with the scavenging diet. That was part of the problem being an illegal, there were so many ways you could die. It wasn’t always the hunters that got them. However for him, he knew, it would be. He knew with grim certainty he would not see the light of morning.

Night was falling, and some instinct told the illegal that the hunter was near. Quickly he made his way back through the deep shadowed ruin of the mall. Some of the old storefronts had been gutted with fire, others used as drug dens or hideouts for other illegals now either free in Canada or dead and buried. The illegal’s breath quickened. The prickling on his neck, the sense born from generations of fearful evolution told him that there was another human being near. And if there was then there could be only one reason they were there. To find him. As that thought struck home there was the slightest rustle and he looked up to a balcony above where once there had been a food court and amusements for children.

Now there stood a single figure, watching back. Black clad. Infinitely patient. For a moment the illegal hoped that it might have not malign intent. You heard of groups that were kind. Human rights organisations that sheltered illegals, that supported them in court cases. Spirited them across the northern border where their legal status could be redefined and they could be given a second chance.

“are you….” Began the illegal, allowing hope to blossom in his heart. But the figure in black pulled off his mask to reveal the one face that the illegal had hoped never to see. The one face that meant swift and certain death. You might bargain and plead with any other headhunter or scalptaker. Could try to bribe them with money or favours, but not this one. This one meant only one thing

“not who you wanna see” said the figure, pulling out a pistol and putting a bullet through the illegals chest. The illegal’s last thought, as his life blood pumped out on the stained fake marble floor, was the face of the man who had killed him. The illegal had never had the time to look much at his own reflection, but he knew the man murdering him was identical to him in every way, down to his very DNA.

“its nothing personal” said the man in black, looking down at the illegal who bore his face “just protecting my brand identity. Copyright violation is a capital offense, and cloning without a license has to be met with maximum force” he looked up to where a tiny beecam live-streamed his image to his many faithful followers “and if you wanna subscribe to my series ‘Ray Carter kills illegally made clones of himself’ then click that button’”

 “I got nothing against them” Carter explained to a skype drone that had been granted access to his person for the ride back to civilisation. Carter had taken an auto Uber because they were a sponsor, and because he’d got them to put on the ‘Black Ops’ patch to his account that meant he could run down people who hadn’t left good feedback to previous drivers. As he rode through the twilight he looked out of the window. Nothing but rusted old signs and buildings falling apart, and the worst part was it wasn’t like there was any border between town and country now. There was either ruined small towns, abandoned suburbia or Monsanto agri fields behind chain linked fences patrolled by ret-conned military drones. He saw more greenery on the Carter family estate, but that was because his ol’ papa had evicted every other human being and had their houses demolished and covered in quickgrowing vegetation “it’s just, they’re illegals, you know? every one of them is illegally trying to cash in on my brand identity”

“they’re human beings!” squawked the interviewer over the skype bot, for all Carter knew it might have been automated software. Most progressive outrage could be managed easily by algorithms these days, leaving more room for liberals to feel guilty about things “you can’t treat them this way”

“technically they aren’t” said Carter, sure of his words and not least because his smart contact lenses brought up the latest legal rulings on the matter “Supreme Court has been pretty clear about that. They don’t have full rights under the constitution because they aren’t natural born Americans. And in the state of Iowa so long as you have a licence you can hunt vermin and copyright criminals, and these guys are both”

“but its not their fault” said the skype bot, the passionate female voice making Carter feel more than a little turned on. He hoped the reporter was real, he could do some old fashioned Iron Man style loving, turn her to him through the power of his masculine allure, that sort of thing. Course he preferred the Downey Jnr era  iron man, because he was a creature of taste and because when he’d been a kid his dad had bought a legally license Downey Jnr clone for his birthday. That had been rad, and he still felt bad how he’d accidentally drowned it in the family mega pool “most of them have been bred in labs for illegal sale and only get out because they’ve been dumped after a police raid. Plus the majority of them are so badly cloned that they would barely survive for a few weeks in the wild before their organs shut down anyway…”

“all the more reason to hunt these suckers down” said Carter, glancing in his smartcontacts as a sub routine edited the hunt down into several different videos for  different demographics. Everything from the epic fail big splatter for the tweenie boy market, to the sensitive doomed romantic version for the ladies. For that one the subroutine had edited on a few tears onto Carter’s face and faded to black with him cradling the body of the clone “in fact, you could say I’m doing them a favour. You know, like a mercy killing” he leaned back in the fake leather seat – the leather was real, the cows it had come from were not. Like most animal products they were made from great lumps of cloned flesh grown in enormous sheds - probably somewhere in the Midwestern darkness around him “you can call me a hero, if you like”

“if you were a hero” said the voice provocatively “then you would have taken that poor clone  to get medical treatment. You could have used your status to raise awareness of the plight of illegally cloned celebrities. Instead you decided to make the killing of other human beings into nothing more than…than a game show”

The girl sounded genuinely upset, and Carter felt the sort of stirring in his trousers that usually meant he speed dialled one of the many nubile members of his fanbase. He quickly checked the reporter’s real life location and background info. He was gratified firstly to see that she had one and secondly that she was within twenty minutes by ubercopter from his location. Anything that took more than twenty minutes to complete was outside his boredom range. Subtly he rerouted his uber towards the nearest copter pad, hearing a chime in his ear telling him that a military grade machine was waiting for him.

“look, I can see you feel strongly about this” he said, making his voice carefully deeper and more intimate. He’d majored in human manipulation at Yale, an essential pre requisite for anyone attempting a career in the celebrity industrial complex “why don’t we meet up in person. Maybe you can convince me” he changed his tone to sound more reflective, as if his opinion might be changed by something another human being said or did “perhaps I’ve not been thinking this through….” He sighed loudly “I get so caught up in this business sometimes. Its dog eat dog. I’ve got so many people trying to get a piece of me. So many people out just to get dollars from me”

“umm, yeah. I suppose” said the interviewer, sounding taken aback. As she should be, Carter thought, it wasn’t everyday that a member of the number one most powerful celebrity family in the USA decided to drop in for a little talk “sure, that would be great. I can send….I can send you my location”

“that would be wonderful” said Carter smoothly “you know, we don’t speak enough to people who don’t share our views, am I right?” carter smiled as the girl’s address arrived. He’d seen her vids, of course. He hadn’t expected her to be anything but hot, it didn’t do even to be interviewed by the ugly, the fat or the poor. That sort of shit was contagious, everyone knew that “I can be there in less than half an hour”

And in another hour, Carter thought fondly, I’ll have forgotten your name.

The ubercopter dropped down to land carter in the reporter’s location. It was a startup co-op in an old multi-story mall doomed by the advent of online shopping. Carter had heard that there were a whole bunch of old big box stores and decaying malls that were being taken by innovative kids who’d realised that they could rent out an entire acre of real estate for next to nothing so long as they covered the roof with solar panels, hooked up water recyclers and watched a few viewtube vids on sewage reclamation. Since these materials could be had for less than the price of the average hipster loft it made sense. Especially since law enforcement was so lax you could do anything from copyright fraud to pharmaceutical printing to creating illegal Apple apps. That they might also do some illegal cloning crossed Carter’s mind, but he thought it unlikely. They so much as printed out one member of the Pitt clan or more than a wig’s worth of a Kardashian then they’d find themselves carpet bombed from above. Carter may have liked to make the hunt personal but compared to some A-listers he was Mr Merciful.

But Carter was reassured by the presence of banners arguing for clones rights on the walls as he approached the bright pink nineties façade of the mall. There might be illegals here, but the chances of them being printed in the mall was unlikely. The sort of bleeding heart liberals  that tried to pretend a random flesh printing of an A lister was an actual human being wouldn’t try to make their own. Something about having ethics, carter had been told. And it also helped that Carter didn’t give a fuck. All fucks were to be directed towards the young journalist who stepped out of the mall, followed by the sound of some godwaful fusion music that sounded like a dying robot to Carter’s refined ears.

“hey, I didn’t think you’d come” said the girl, stepping shyly towards him.

“I made a promise” said Carter seriously, doing his best to act worldly and wise. He wanted to look like the sort of serious business man that would arouse any daddy issues this girl might be hiding. He stepped from the copter, making sure his hair was artfully ruffled  “I keep them”

“sure, well come on in” said the girl, leading Carter inside the mall. The once mighty atrium had been cut up into dozens of different temporary looking structures. There’d be anyone from illicit gamers modding their favourite levels to identity refugees hiding from big data. Despite the borderline criminality of these people he was happy to wave off his security. He’d spend the day in the Iowa Badlands hunting clones like he was Harrison Ford. He could handle any hippy crap they might pull “I guess we got a lot to discuss”

Carter was so busy focusing on seducing the girl that he didn’t notice the two other figures hiding behind the door. He didn’t see the needle till it plunged into the back of his neck, making the world explode into darkness.

 “ahh shit” muttered carter to himself in the darkness. As any scion of a celeb family he had been trained in how to deal with hostage situations. It mostly consisted of offering money and confirming the common rumour  that his family would hunt down and publicly execute anyone responsible “umm, anyone there?”

Carter stumbled around in darkness, hands fumbling in the black. His outstretched fingertip brushed a concrete wall, its surface greasy with dust and age. There was silence, but the smell of decay told he was probably in a mall. But whether it was the one he had entered into he could only hope. He felt his way around the room until he found a door, counting his luck when it swung open.

That was where his luck ran out. Not only was he no longer at the mall with the hot journalist he was fairly sure that he was back at the mall where he’d killed the illegal clone of himself. What was more now he could see in the light of the moon through the broken skylight he was not wearing his business gym casual wear. Nor did he have his smartcontacts. He felt around with his tongue and cursed. His specially adapted tooth with its high frequency transmitter had been removed. With a growing horror Carter realised that if his abductors had known enough to remove the tooth they had probably been able to fake his identity to the security bots that were meant to ensure he didn’t come to a sticky end. Which begged the question of what exactly they did want with him. You didn’t let hostages run around free. He looked down at himself, at the cheap oversized clothing he was wearing and the stink that wafted from them.

“Jesus, these smell like someone died in them” he said, fingering the cheaply fabbed coat, noticing with alarm that not all the holes came from its cheap manufacture. Several looked distinctly bullet shaped.

There was a noise in the mall behind him and Carter wheeled around. He wasn’t pale enough to pass as a white nationalist but he knew enough of their culture to at least bargain with them. Whether they would listen was another matter. He tensed as he heard heavy boots crunch around the corner.

“oh man” said Carter, relaxing and grinning as he saw who was there “am I glad to see you” he looked at the heavily armed pair of men. Both were decked out in exactly the sort of gear that Carter wore when he was hunting clones. They even had the special glasses that could tell whether the person in front of them was really a famous person or just a clone pretending to be “you guys would not believe the night I’ve had”

“nother carter clone” muttered one of the men to the other, raising his rifle “I got dibs on the spleen”

“no wait” said Carter raising his hands “don’t fuck around I’m the original”

“another one who thinks he’s the original” sneered the second clone hunter “that’s a twist that got old real fast”

“what the fuck?” said Carter “how about you use all your fancy equipment. I bet its....” that was the point Carter realised two things. The first was that with his tooth removed there was nothing to identify him as anything different to a common clone like the one he had all to recently executed. The second was what his abductors had wanted to achieve. Poetic justice  

Unfortunately Carter realised this at the same time the first of the clone hunters squeezed the trigger on his high powered rifle.

“make sure you livestream that one” muttered the other hunter as Carter expired on the floor “Carter family pay big when you take out one of their clones” he looked down at Carter’s corpse “man, this one doesn’t even look like him. He’s way uglier”

“cheap clones never do” said the other “wonder why they even bother”

#clones #sf