Lauviah and Holo-clone

For hours, a woman had been pacing back and forth, her presence now and then disturbing the harmony of the place. At times her immaculate white wings quivered with impatience; at others her faithful staff beat the rhythm of her stride. She stopped to gaze at the eternal flame nestled at its tip, cradled in an arc of metal. What if she was wrong? The Great Protector was a model of virtue, adored by all for her strength, her courage and her unshakeable will. With a firm hand, the angel pulled her hood over her head, even though she knew the gesture was futile. If she was mistaken, the fabric would hardly shield her from the wrath of so powerful a being.

With a beat of her wings, she rose above the Garden of Floating Waters. The Great Protector cherished this place above all, for here sprang a fountain whose turquoise nectar flowed down to every lower stratum. The purple cherry trees blossomed all year round and carpeted the mossy ground with heady-scented petals. The angel flew at full speed, circling this haven for the fifth time, hundreds of metres above the capital. The Great Protector came here often to meditate at the foot of a tree or to enjoy the restorative virtues of the nectar. Disheartened, the angel decided to land on one of the four cardinal bridges beneath which the fountain flowed. Hardly had she folded her wings when a flock of cherubs swirled around her, brushing her legs and stroking her hair in a frantic ballet.

— Guni! the angel protested, clutching her staff. I don’t like it when you pull my hood off.

— Hee hee hee! Hello, Véhuiah. My friends whispered that they’d seen an angel fly over the Garden of Floating Waters again and again. I was sure it was you! Do you like our hairstyle?

Taken aback by the torrent of words, Véhuiah carefully felt her hair. Her long blond locks had been neatly braided. She tucked them into her robe before pulling her hood back up and stroking Guni’s round cheek with one finger.

— It’s perfect, you little rascal, said Véhuiah, amused. Have you seen the Great Protector, by any chance? I need to speak with her.

— Someone seems to have seen her going to the Sphere. See you soon!

Guni rejoined the flock of cherubs and vanished in bursts of laughter. Calm returned, and Véhuiah raised her eyes towards the mighty solar ring. The Sphere had bathed her land in its gentle rays since time immemorial. Véhuiah had visited many worlds and tasted the light of each, yet she had never found this feeling again. Here, people could stay in the sun all day without burning their skin, and look straight at the Sphere without fear of going blind. Centuries had passed since her last visit to this sacred place. A thrill of excitement seized her as she took off: with a little luck, she might glimpse the inside if the door was open. Véhuiah drew on her magic to speed up, taking care not to create any shock waves. The peace of the inhabitants and the serenity of the Great Protector were absolutely essential for her audience.

The centre of the solar ring marked the entrance to the Sphere, a golden door watched over by two guards. As she set foot on the platform, Véhuiah noticed no reaction from them; they stood firm, hands resting on the pommels of their massive swords. The closer she came, the more she expected to be stopped by a command. Instead, the golden doors swung lazily open with a crystalline chime. Tightening her grip on her staff, she crossed the threshold and found herself plunged into a heavy darkness. It was the first time she had been freely invited into the Sphere. Centuries ago, she had met the Great Protector on the glass steps. They had discussed ongoing missions, the need to supervise research and to keep the troops ready. Véhuiah had always wondered what lay up there, at the heart of the Sphere, and today she was going there. The flame of her staff barely revealed the outlines of the room, but it guided her towards her goal. The central platform took shape before her eyes, as thin as a fingertip, smooth as a mirror and vast as the ocean.

Invisible until then, a titanic crystal lotus flower stood enthroned at its centre. The crystalline structure withered and was reborn in an unchanging cycle, giving off waves of blue, red and indigo. Its movements fascinated the angel and drew her ever closer, step after step. Véhuiah felt a discomfort in her mind, an unconscious warning that something remained to be discovered. She stopped to scan her surroundings and focused her senses to detect any danger, but only serenity reigned here. Then her gaze fell on the reflection of the crystal lotus in the platform, and her imagination took over. It was not a lotus but the Ether, whose shape made sense only when its two halves came together. The image of the Ether filled her being and seized her energy to become one with her. The pull was powerful and the angel could not break free. A gentle warmth enveloped her, undoing the bond and bringing her back to her normal state. There, just two wingbeats away, sat a cross-legged figure dressed in a triple white kimono. Her long, curly jet-black hair revealed two deep red eyes.

— The shadow of a reflection is intangible, said a woman whose voice filled the whole room. When the candle burns, is the flame merely an echo of its being, or is its existence born of its shadow?

Véhuiah stammered in confusion before collecting herself and taking in the question. Was she asking whether the object behind her really was the Ether, or whether the Ether, by its very nature, could be seen at all? Perhaps the Great Protector was hinting at a discussion beyond the very foundations of life. The answer was out of her reach, and Véhuiah had to focus on the reason for her visit. Like a mother watching her child’s progress, the Great Protector smiled.

— Great Protect… Véhuiah began, before her throat tightened.

An unknown force stopped her from speaking, and breathing grew harder and harder. Her whole body was crushed to the floor, her wings pinned down, and she could not use her magic to fight back. The platform shook as if about to fall apart, and the Great Protector slowly rose into the air, her face twisted with anger. Her two pairs of wings unfolded, unleashing a hurricane so fierce that it would have hurled the angel out of the Sphere had she not been pinned to the ground. All Véhuiah could make out were the blood-red vertical lines above the Protector’s shining eyes. She had forgotten an important detail.

— La…dy…Lauviah, she finally managed to say.

The tremors stopped, her limbs could move freely again and air flowed sweetly back into her lungs. Once she had caught her breath and picked up her staff, Véhuiah straightened up and bowed.

— Titles do not define us. Only our actions can, Lauviah declared, adjusting her katana in her obi. Now tell me why you have come.

— Something unexpected has happened at the Northern Rampart, Véhuiah explained. We have received several reports of humanoids.

— This planet is inhabited. There is nothing unusual about the natives venturing that far, she replied.

— That is what I told the guards, but one detail keeps coming up and it troubles me. These beings seem to move stealthily, alone or in small groups, and they all have one thing in common: they are blond.

— Clones, Lauviah breathed, clenching her jaw.

— And as you know, if there is one…

— There are hundreds, Lauviah finished, leading Véhuiah towards the exit. You will bathe in the Garden to recover your strength, and then you will tell me everything, without leaving out the slightest detail.

---

Sheltered behind a rock, a man was polishing his pistol with gusto. Not far from him, his exact copy, with the same millimetre-perfect haircut and the same thick beard shaved down the middle, was training his binoculars on the imposing rampart perched on the mountain. He carefully counted the guards on duty and noted the kinds of defences.

— You done yet? My teeth are grinding from eating all this dust, grumbled one clone.

— One last check… and done! Are we pros or what?

— You said it, buddy. Up top!

The two clones high-fived, then jumped and bumped chests. Weapons cleaned and stowed, binoculars in their case, they slipped stealthily away from their lookout post. The rocky expanse gave way to a dense forest where life thrived in a multitude of shapes and colours. A good hour’s walk later, one of them raised his hand to stop. Signing his next move with his hands, his partner drew his gun and aimed at a target straight ahead, then nodded. The clone pulled a blade with a serrated back from his boot and crawled through the undergrowth. A rustle of leaves, two stabs and a short whistle signalled the all-clear.

— What was it, 1047?

— I’d say a rat… with eyes on its back? What do you reckon, 1048?

— I reckon we’re gonna eat it, he answered with a nudge of his elbow.

— You think? 1047 worried. Shouldn’t we chuck it in the machine instead? It’s gotta work as raw material, right?

— We’ll ask 13, he knows everything about everything, 1048 concluded. Put it in the bag, we’ve gotta hurry or we’ll be late for the report.

With their catch in a bin bag, the two clones went on their way to a tree trunk near a rock wall. They carefully walked round it and slipped into the hidden opening. A distorted space swirled endlessly and swallowed the two men whole. 1047 and 1048 came out the other side coughing; they hated the way portals made them feel. And yet, as they looked up at the great concrete wall, their hearts swelled with joy at the sight of their homeland’s flag: an octagonal head surrounded by three interlocking rings on a red background. Welcome to the Blast Corporation!

One security gate after another beeped like music to their ears. The clones on guard duty that day remained stoic and alert; professionalism was something you worked on every minute. The two pals eagerly breathed in the scent of the cleaning products used by the janitor clones, the gun oil and the indispensable hairspray that gave them as much class as the president. They took a path they had walked a thousand times to reach the great elevator and went up to the eighth floor: the laboratory. New gates, new salutes, how good it was to be home!

— Hey, Doc! 1048 called out as he walked into 13’s office. We’ve got some stuff for you.

Dressed in a white coat covered in various dubious stains, 13 looked at them over his glasses. His right eye was bigger than the left, his back was hunched from hours of research over his instruments, and patches of his scalp showed through his thinning hair. This clone had a legendary reputation within the Blast Corporation, for he was the fruit of an accident as unusual as it was astonishing. The president had written him off as a failure and was preparing to recycle him when he grasped the full extent of his mutation. Whatever you look like, the Corporation is there for you! Once he reached maturity, 13 proved to be a major asset for the Corporation thanks to his extraordinary intelligence. He brought a wind of change to the company, opening a fantastic door for those who did not yet understand the benefits of Blast Corp. Since then, its numbers had grown exponentially, converting the ignorant and assimilating every lucky soul possible. Join the Corporation and your life will be nothing but a sweet dream!

— What have you brought me? he replied simply.

— A rat! said 1047 cheerfully.

— More or less, added 1048.

— Let’s have a look. (13 weighed the package in his hand, looked inside, then went over to a hatch in the wall. He opened one hatch, scratched his buttock, closed it again and threw the bag into the one next to it.) Signed, sealed, delivered!

— Wasn’t it good raw material? asked 1048, reading the signs above the hatches.

— It was! But I’m hungry! And when I’m hungry? asked 13.

— I eat!! 1047 and 1048 answered in unison.

— Off you go, boys, take a blood crystal each and go and line up in the great hall. The president is about to give his speech.

— Oh, awesome! I haven’t seen him in ages, 1047 exclaimed, picking up an elongated red crystalline stone.

— Hurry up, I don’t want the back row! 1048 pointed out.

The two clones rushed out of the laboratory and dashed to the lift: off to see the president!

On another floor, a little earlier, a group of clones was on the move, led by a man of lofty bearing. Two muscular clones with cannons grafted onto their left arms flanked him, while four clones, their faces weathered by time and war, marched behind in a perfect diamond formation. The man at the front bit down on his enormous cigar and blew a thick cloud above his head. A long window looked onto clones running or lifting weights and, despite his precious time, he treated them to a wink. Inside, the room erupted; the glass could barely hold back the cheers. Satisfied, he turned straight towards a private elevator. A clone was waiting to let them in and select the desired floor.

— If you would be so kind as to step in, Mr President! said the clone, bowing so low that his head almost touched the floor.

— Good job, soldier! Second-and-a-half floor, the president ordered.

The elevator doors closed and they went down without the slightest jolt.

— Whoever has gas, own up, the president ordered, puffing on his cigar.

The generals and the toughs looked at each other, baffled.

— It was a joke!! the president sniggered. Aaah, I love you guys. You there!

— General 6, President Holo-clone.

— Great! Is the reconnaissance finished?

— Of course, it was completed today at 3:49 p.m. The list of their troops and defences is in the file.

— You! the president shouted, pointing at another general.

— General 2, Mr President.

— Incredible! How is blood crystal production going?

— We have finished supplying our men. And the icing on the cake: the process has been improved and efficiency is up five points.

— Hell yeah! You know how to talk to me, I like that. Handsome at the back, what have you got?

— General 11, Mr President.

— Fabulous!

— 13’s report says that female cloning has been a success.

Never had the background music and a single fly been so clearly heard as in that moment.

— Bring her to my office later for a routine check-up, Holo-clone continued.

— Ah… no, actually, the female raw material produced a clone that met expectations. It’s not easy to read. Hmm!

The president raised his hand and the toughs tilted their cannons towards General 11’s head.

— Give me one reason not to repaint the elevator with your brains.

— 13 is very hard to decipher, Mr President, he replied, swallowing hard and holding up the report.

Holo-clone skimmed the notes, the lines running onto new lines, the arrows indicating that one word should replace another and that some had to be swapped for the numbered asterisks on the back of the document.

— Forgiven! By me, it looks like my dog wrote it!! Holo-clone guffawed. Come to think of it, which one of you is it? You? Or you? Ha ha ha! I love you guys, never change! Enough chit-chat, we’re here.

A chime rang out in the elevator to announce their arrival at the second-and-a-half floor. This floor was reserved exclusively for the president and his advisers. It led to a vast hall overlooked by his terrace, where he could be seen and heard by all. A curtain hid his approach and let him watch his men below.

— Now that’s a beautiful sight, Holo-clone breathed. You, the quiet one. What are our numbers?

— General 4, Mr President.

— Breathtaking! And so?

— Your army consists of ten thousand clones, a thousand enhanced clones, a thousand bomber clones, seven hundred tough clones, four hundred sergeant clones and fifteen general clones.

— Fantastic! Come on, hit the music, Holo-clone ordered.

The anthem of the Blast Corporation rang out across the second floor, and every clone stood to attention, saluting towards the curtains. The president beat time with barely contained joy and, on the last note, stepped forward with his arms spread wide. The curtains swept open and the cheers swelled through the hall. He let himself bask in this all-consuming fervour, then raised a fist for silence.

— My dear Corporationists! My soldiers! My visionaries! …my children, he concluded, his hand on his heart. Today is a great day for us! The time has finally come to make ourselves known to a new people. They don’t know how lucky they are to welcome us, but… we do!! We know what a blessing the Blast Corporation will bring them. We are the future of the world! We are the future of the universe! We are everyone who must be, we are the Corporation!!

— President, president, president! the clones chanted in perfect unison.

— General 4, Holo-clone called, waving to the clones. Who are the inhabitants of this planet?

— A bunch of primitive barefoot savages who wander around in loincloths all day. The scouts even mention disguises made from bird carcasses.

— Yet another people we are going to save from extinction, Holo-clone sighed. I dream that one day, even the ends of the earth, where the fires of injustice and oppression burn, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

— That’s beautiful, Mr President! exclaimed the clones beside him.

— I read it somewhere and managed to slip it in. Well done, me! he said, kissing his biceps. General 11, I’ll leave the wrap-up to you.

— With pleasure, Mr President. This is a simulation! I repeat, this is a simulation! President Holo-clone does me the immense honour of letting me conclude this speech. Allow me to remind you that you must only use your cloning ability when the signal is given. As a reminder, the signal is as follows: hand on your heart to start the process, then hand over your eye to control the cloning, and finally, fist raised in victory once the cloning succeeds. Next…

Holo-clone had not listened to the speech; he was already heading back to the elevator, thinking about the next world to visit.

— Generals 2, 4 and 6, Holo-clone called. Are you sure there’s gold to be had behind those ramparts?

— One hundred per cent sure, Mr President, General 2 replied. Ramparts like that are undoubtedly the sign of economic power. The Corporation will be able to refill its coffers in no time.

— That’s perfect, really perfect. Those suckers will get to join our side. It’ll be a piece of cake! Holo-clone burst out laughing. I can’t see any other possibility!

---

— Are you sure? asked a hooded woman, frowning.

— I can’t see any other possibility, Lady Véhuiah! a guard declared.

— It’s strange, she went on. We have no gold, no food, not even a drop of alcohol. How would they know what is here?

— I have no idea, but if that’s not why they’ve come, then why are they massing at the edge of the forest?

— That will be all, Lauviah announced. You have done well. Return to your post.

— With pleasure, Lady Lauviah! Your presence is always a great source of inspiration for us all. A thousand thanks!

The guard flew off to rejoin the ramparts, where his men awaited him. From where they stood, Lauviah and Véhuiah could not hear the orders this angel gave. Yet a procession of angels soon formed between the storehouse and the ramparts to bring fresh weapons and arrows. The line of defence visibly strengthened and patrols were organised.

— I must say I’m jealous, Lady Lauviah, Véhuiah admitted with a sigh. The truth is I would have had to throw fireballs to get that result.

— Your deeds will be recognised one day, Lauviah said soothingly. Do not fight the flow of the water.

— I must… be the leaf that follows the current? Véhuiah ventured.

— No, you must be the rock that diverts the current, the channel that waters the fields.

Véhuiah wanted to go on, but the Great Protector raised her hand. She was staring intently at the edge of the forest.

— I sense a very strong energy coming from the forest, she said. The Ether is growing denser by the second. How is that possible? Abariel!

— I am here, Lady Lauviah.

The angel appeared in a flash, his crescent-moon scythe on his shoulder. Abariel might look like a teenager, but he was feared all the same. His ethereal grey hair, standing up towards the sky, gave him a certain style, but the whites of his eyes were black. Some even called him the Reaper’s Right Hand. His naked body landed beside the Great Protector, and he took a sweet from the pouch at his waist to offer her. When she did not react, he crunched it himself.

— Their troops are massing dangerously, he announced point-blank. They have grown too numerous in too little time. I suspect a hidden portal.

— When we are done with them, I want that portal destroyed, Lauviah ordered.

— It shall be done according to your will.

Birds began to flee the forest in every direction. In the first minutes, a calm settled over the rocky plains while the tension slowly rose in the ranks of the angels. Then the first tremors could be felt. The vibrations were faint at first, growing steadily stronger. Pebbles jumped on the ramparts, stones were dislodged from the walls and quivers now and then spilled their contents onto the stone. A dark tide poured out of the forest and relentlessly covered the plains. An unintelligible echo repeated over and over, swelling as it drew nearer.

— Holo-clone! Holo-clone! they chanted once within earshot.

— So ugliness has a face, Lauviah sniffed, drawing her sabre. Prepare for battle!

The ramparts bristled with drawn bows, mages preparing spells and countless shields raised in perfect harmony. Véhuiah watched the Great Protector with interest, for she showed not the slightest trace of fear. Better still, Véhuiah could feel the Ether flowing perfectly through her body.

A group broke away from the mass and began a rough construction with hammer blows. A wooden stage framed by two flags of the Blast Corporation took shape.

---

— Testing, one, two, one, two, said a sergeant into a megaphone. All in order, Mr President!

— Thank you…

— Sergeant 137, Mr President!

— Whatever! Right, what have we got here? Holo-clone peered through a pair of binoculars and spoke into the megaphone. Is this a nudist convention? Oh? There’s one who isn’t too naked. My, she doesn’t look easy-going, the little lady! Just my type. Sergeant 137, the camera!

— You banned it on missions, Mr President!

— By me, I’m a genius! No distractions on the battlefield. Well, well? Chickadee just lowered her hand…

The sky suddenly darkened. A strange whistling spread between the ramparts and the clones. All at once, five clones threw themselves on the president to cover him from head to toe. Holo-clone heard the rain of arrows piercing flesh, breaking bones and splintering wood. When it was over, two toughs came to pull him out and set him back on his feet. The five clones were barely recognisable, so riddled with arrows were they.

— We have failed, Mr President, one of them said, coughing up blood. We will no longer be able to assist you in your glorious plan.

— Failed? All five of you are alive, you’ve won. Won the right to be reborn stronger. General, over to you.

The general laid his hand on them. Their bodies liquefied and piled up in a shapeless heap. Arms knocked against legs, spines cracked, and muscles appeared and disappeared endlessly. The arrows stuck in them fell to the ground as the ball of flesh rose up. Holo-clone’s face formed before the rest of the body, displaying emotions entirely unknown until then. A steaming body in brand-new military clothes was created. The enhanced clone stood two metres tall, with arms as thick as thighs and a bovine stare.

— My new friend, Holo-clone began. Would you kindly thank our chickadee up there? But first, everyone take your crystal.

As one, the clones brought the blood crystals to their mouths and bit down hard to break them. Their eyes became bloodshot, veins bulged on their muscles and primal howls rose on all sides.

— Guuuh! the new clone answered, drooling.

The enhanced clone jumped heavily off the stage and picked up a boulder as tall as a man. With a sharp jerk, he tore it from the ground, aimed at the white dot and hurled his projectile.

— Everybody down! Véhuiah yelled, crouching.

But the boulder split in two and crashed into the mountainside without so much as grazing its target. Lauviah grimaced with disgust and Véhuiah, her hands still raised, heard the sound of a sabre being sheathed.

— Come back up, my friend, the president ordered. The second volley won’t be long.

All the clones on the stage crowded behind the president and his enhanced clone. The arrows rained down a second time, never managing to pierce the clone’s thick hide. However, this new volley was powerful enough to reach the front line and claim victims. Holo-clone grew irritated with this ill-mannered enemy and ordered the toughs to return fire at once. The cannons lined up in front of the president, and the crackle of weapons ready to fire could be heard.

— Fire… he said softly.

The counter-attack was deadly accurate, the result of relentless, regular training. The angels fell by the dozen, some pierced through, others blown apart. The president raised his hands to the sky: the moment was historic, almost legendary. His army would conquer this stronghold with magnificence and compassion. All would be reborn within the Blast Corporation. One hand on his chest, he felt a growing excitement whose boldness only a loving being could measure. With a slow sweep of his hand, he wiped away a small tear of joy at having a potential so great it made mountains tremble. The clones were him and he was the clones. He was the Corporation! His fist rose proudly towards the sky.

Not far away, 1047 nudged 1048. He had not missed a thing and had seen the president make the cloning sign. The two clones jumped and bumped chests, then placed a hand on their chests to start the process. Behind them, thousands of clones began cloning in turn.

Pop! Pop!

Splash! Pop! Splash!

Splash! Splash! Splash! Splash! Splash!!

The president turned round to watch in horror as his clones exploded, repainting the plains with guts, boots, guns and blood.

— What the hell is this mess? he roared at the generals and sergeants.

— You made the sign, Mr President! Sergeant 137 replied.

— What are you talking about?! Holo-clone growled. Give me that damn megaphone! One, two, one, two. Can everyone hear me?

---

Véhuiah no longer knew what to make of this strange scene, in which the enemies were blowing themselves up. Tens of thousands of clones were vaporising before the angels’ astonished eyes. A voice reached them from the battlefield: their leader had picked up his megaphone again and seemed to be asking for something.

— Is he asking to postpone the attack? Abariel thought he heard, straining his ears.

— Lady Lauviah, what do you think… by the Ether! Véhuiah swore at the sight of Lauviah’s tense face and the veins bulging to bursting at her temples.

The Great Protector drew her katana with ease, spread her wings and slowly left the rampart. The Ether seemed to be drawn towards her, condensing at the tip of her weapon. Véhuiah shuddered with fear when she realised what was happening.

— Brilliant Protection! she screamed at the angels until her voice nearly broke. Hurry if you don’t want to die! Brilliant Protection at full power along the whole rampart!!

Lady Lauviah kept moving towards the insolent clone. She had just lost members of her family, and he had the nerve to ask her for a truce.

— Filthy, insolent cockroach, Lauviah hissed, the glow in her eyes at its peak. You dare to defile these lands with your presence, you have spilled a tide of filth, and you would have me let you go?

— Dang! Holo-clone cursed. I know you, you uptight angel. You’re Lobiah, Lavioh, Glavioh or something like that! (Holo-clone spat on the ground and raised his middle finger at her.) Here you go, chickadee! I’m sure you know where you can shove this one.

Lauviah’s knuckles turned white with rage and she pointed her blade at the sky. The clouds parted for kilometres around, revealing earthlight and a double moon in the planet’s sky. A wave burst from the tip of the katana and grew dramatically. The ground melted, the rocks disintegrated and every form of life was vaporised. Panting and greatly weakened by the power of her attack, Lauviah struggled back onto the ramparts. Her kimonos were torn, the tips of her wings were singed and the hand that held the sabre was covered in blisters. With a fluid gesture, Lauviah sliced through space and time to open a portal to the Garden of Floating Waters.

— I must rest, she admitted to Véhuiah. Destroy that portal for me and make sure not a single one of those crawlers is left on the planet.

Her wings dragging on the ground, Lady Lauviah stepped through the portal and closed it at once, a faint smile on her face.

---

Between two barrels, a female figure in a loose black dress was twirling a large key. She had managed to slip inside the rampart’s walls just before the terrifying explosion. The protection cast by the angels had held by a hair, and they had unwittingly saved her life. The area was quiet for the moment, and she took the opportunity to dust off her pink corset, then tighten her red bow-shaped belt. A polished shield reflected her skull-shaped half-mask and let her check her lipstick.

— Flawless right down to the lips, she said, putting her fists on her hips. No point hanging around here, by the looks of it. Shame, I’m sure there were some breathtaking relics. It’s only a matter of time.

Her hand commanded a key twice her size. With a confident gesture, she flung it at the mountain, where it stuck fast. Instead of a crash, the key opened a rift in space, and the young woman ordered it to turn. A door took shape and flew open, swallowing the young woman, her key and her mischievous laughter.

---

The door to 13’s laboratory was kicked open as four clones rushed in. 13 sent his slide flying to the ceiling and cursed up a storm before getting up. He thought better of it on seeing the pitiful state these clones were in.

— Am I to conclude that things went badly? asked 13, preparing a first-aid kit. Where is the president?

— In here, 1047 answered with difficulty.

The clone pulled out of a torn bag a hand with its middle finger raised, still gripping the handle of a megaphone. Clones 1047 to 1050 looked on, crestfallen, at the last fragment of their beloved president. 13 reached out with trembling hands and gently lifted the object from the table.

— It’s… it’s…

— Horrible, I know, 1048 admitted.

— It’s terribly aesthetic! 13 cried, ecstatic. Should I graft a light bulb onto it to make a bedside lamp, or varnish it to display on my desk? I’ve got it! I’ll cast it in resin and put LEDs underneath. Thank you, children, this makes me very happy.

— How can you treat the president like that? 1047 protested. He sacrificed himself for the cause!

— And he’ll do it again, said a powerful voice behind them.

Except for Doc, all the clones spun round with a start. An impossible sight greeted them, one that brought tears to their eyes. Their president was there, in the flesh, in one piece, with an even bigger cigar between his teeth.

— You don’t destroy the Corporation that easily, kids! And I AM the Corporation!!