#flash clone

“My name is Castor Creed.”

No that wasn’t right…

“Hello, my name is Castor Creed!”

Too bubbly. Castor had definitely been more serious.

“Greetings, I am Dr. Castor Creed.”

Now that was too stiff.

“Hi! My name is…is…” Creed 01 trailed off, staring at the face reflected back at them in the tiny mirror they’d been provided in their room. “…I don’t know…I don’t know my name….”

The defeated whisper fell from their lips as their head dropped in shame, tears swimming in their eyes.

It wasn’t a new feeling, they’d been unable to identify with the name that was apparently theirs since they had first heard it, and the sound of it was always accompanied by a keen sense of loss they could never explain. Claiming that name had never been an option from the very start, as even the idea of doing so left a bitter taste in their mouth.

Perhaps they would have been able to accept the name with greater ease if everything else felt correct, but even their body felt foreign to them. They were surprised every time they looked down at their hands, like something they could never name was decidedly wrong with them. It was the same with their reflection. There was always an utter lack of recognition, as if they were looking at someone else through a window.

Turning away from the mirror, Creed01 went to sit on the edge of their bed, picking up one of the books they had been given to read, though it was really more of a bound informational book on L.E.I.D.A., its staff, and its mission. They opened to a page they had bookmarked and staring at the picture on the left page. It was of Castor, a photo taken of him working in his lab, leaning on the table. His brow was furrowed as if thinking, but there was the ghost of a smile on his lips. His head was tilted to the side, as if listening to someone through the earpiece in his right ear. They had stared at this one for hours, committing him to memory. Finding commonalities and differences.

They had the same curly black hair. Their facial features were identical in their structure, showing strong Terran Japanese heritage, as was their build and their skin color. They had mimicked the photo’s expression of concentration in the mirror before and discovered that was the same as well. And they had the same small dimples that appeared when they smiled.

But there were differences as well, some subtle, some striking.

Creed 01 looked back to the mirror. They seemed to put on weight more readily than Castor did. Maybe it was the lack of physical activity in the cell or maybe they were somehow more predisposed to it, but the naturally sharper lines of their face were softened by their healthier weight.

Then of course there were their eyes, which were fast becoming the most obvious difference. Creed 01 studied the slowly spreading centralized heterochromia. Their eyes had started the same warm, reddish brown that ringed the irises, but soon the brown was disrupted by a vibrant green that haloed their pupils. At this rate it was promising to become the dominant eye color, something they had overheard Dr. Tyne venting his frustration about to one of the other cloning specialists. That, apparently, was not normal, even for flash clones.

“Why didn’t I come back right…?” They whispered, touching Castor’s image with a fingertip. “Why didn’t you come back? You would know what to do…you wouldn’t disappoint people…you wouldn’t upset people…you’d be back…I’d be you…we’d be happy…”

They fell back onto the bed, holding the book up over their head to continue looking at the picture.

“I just…wish I knew what was expected of me…if I knew that it would be easier…I could have a place to start from…but no one’s told me anything. I’m supposed to just know how to be you…and I…I don’t even know you. What’s your favorite color? Why did you join L.E.I.D.A.? Who were your friends? Why’d you choose to wear those dorky glasses?”

They smiled a bit but it quickly faded as silence stretched out in answer to their questions. Their heart ached.

“It’s not fair…” They whispered. “I shouldn’t have to figure this out myself…I want help.”

Castor’s image offered no response and Creed 01 held the picture closer, whispering conspiratorially.

“Look, you don’t even have to come back for good if you don’t want to…just…just enough so I can remember…so I can live like you…I can do that, I promise. Just tell me how to be you…so the tests can stop…”

Their voice caught in their throat. “Please, I’m so tired…I just want to leave this room…I want someone who understands the pressure I’m under…I want…I want to know you…please…please it can’t just be me…I can’t do this by myself…I’m scared…Why did you leave me alone…?”

Silence.

There was only. Ever. Silence.

Silence from the people they tried talking to about Castor. Silence from the pictures. Silence from Tyne. Silence from the depths of their own short, blank memory.

It wasn’t fair.

“Why’d you do this?” They asked, their grip tightening on the book. “Why didn’t you come back? Were you scared? Is there something you ran from? I bet you knew how horrible it would be to come back and didn’t want to deal with it! I bet you couldn’t take it! I bet you have stuff you did that’s going to come back to bite me!”

The picture provided no further answers, and Creed 01’s patience snapped. Sitting up, they slammed the book down onto the bed in frustration.

“Why?! Why am I not enough? I know I’m not you but I have your mind! Isn’t that what matters? I’m here and you aren’t! What makes us that different really? Why won’t anyone tell me that? What makes you so goddamn special?!”

The smile in the picture looked smug now, as if Castor were pleased with the approval and sense of belonging that his clone would never obtain. Infuriated, Creed 01 grabbed the page and pulled, tearing it from the book.

“I’m the one who made it! I’m the one here! I’m the one picking up the pieces of your life and shouldering all your expectations! And you…you left no instructions! No plan B if the cloning process went wrong! Not even a fucking will! Nothing! So guess what?”

They crushed the page in their trembling fist.

“I’m done trying to remember. I’m done trying to be you. I don’t know who the fuck I am, but I will never be you, Castor Creed!”

They crumpled the page into a ball and hurled it across the room as they shouted their defiant declaration. It bounced off the wall and rolled part of the way back towards them before coming to a halt in the center of the room.

Creed 01 stared at it before letting their gaze drift up to the mirror, which reflected back the face that was not theirs, tears streaming down the cheeks. That was not their face, but every change that surfaced made it so it wasn’t Castor’s either. Perhaps one day, given enough time and enough change, they’d be able to claim it as their own.

They took a deep breath and tried to look brave.