NewEu

1.

Perhaps no one had noticed the similarities. Aamiina couldn’t tell if they were being obtuse. The developers in her own department were nose-to-the-grindstone; their screens might have kept them from seeing the new hire’s appearance. And maybe the few qualities that differed between the two women were reason enough to leave the topic alone. No one would want to mention those qualities to Aamiina—she’d be furious. They would never bring up the sight of the new hire’s hair, unobscured by hijab. They wouldn’t ask Aamiina if her hair had the same shine underneath her scarf. They wouldn’t mention the new girl’s smooth, hazelnut skin, virtually free of imperfections. Or how Aamiina’s imperceptible wrinkles looked hard and rigid compared to the stranger’s supple complexion. They would never admit those differences to her. But they hadn’t mentioned the identical features, either. They didn’t consider the two to be twins. If this girl was anything to Aamiina, she might be a younger version of herself.

Whatever she was, she had taken Aamiina’s old position.

Or so she’d heard. Aamiina hadn’t had the chance to glean the information from her manager yet. She was too busy clutching her own body, dealing with the unexpected sight of the woman who looked just like her. It was like she had walked late into a theater production about her life.

The embarrassment was debilitating. She went straight to her office and sat. She stared at the walls. Each one was a blank canvas she hadn’t begun adorning. She tried to focus on what she pictured to be hung up in her new office. Tried to focus on anything that would ground her to her life. If she didn’t, she was afraid she might let these new emotions rule her mind. But it wasn’t enough of a distraction.

First, she needed Max. Talk to him. But where was he? Busy guiding the girl from cubicle to cubicle, showing her where to find her resources. He introduced each developer to her. She imagined how the speech went. This is the woman we got to replace Aamiina. She looked too happy. She wasn’t the least bit ashamed to be holding seniority over employees who had worked in the department for a longer time.

Through passive eavesdropping, she learned her name: Xoriyo. Senior Software Developer. It didn’t make any sense. As far as Aamiina knew, there had never been another instance where an external hire took anything above an entry-level position. Normally, she’d explain it away by giving herself conciliatory words: There must be something special about her. Not this time. Xoriyo’s only special quality was that she was cut from Aamiina’s cloth.Xoriyo. A Somali girl with a name like that, rejecting traditional dress. How furious her mother would be—if she had one.

Deep in Aamiina’s digital archives was an email exchange between her and the company, from another time, when she was still an undergrad. The money for their new program was so good that it didn’t matter whether she even needed it. It was easy to start the process. She had filled out the first forms on her phone in the break room at her previous job. When she finally came to NewEu to have them take samples of her DNA, she was spellbound by the facility. Soon afterward, the campus became Aamiina’s workplace. Call it a turning point: she was young, fascinated by artificial intelligence, and determined to be part of something important to the progression of technology.

The researchers called it “Re-Peopling.” A scruffy man in a video waxed poetic about the company’s vision for advancements in human reproduction. It involved the grafting of two distinct branches of humanity: biological lineage, and the corporate economy.Be the leader of a new generation—all uniquely you.

It wasn’t quite the same as cloning. As they explained it, the process was more like donating eggs. The researchers were clear that this would not be a copy-paste clone program—that would defeat the point. They encouraged Aamiina to think of it in a different way. This sample we take from you will be put into our custody. Custody. Their language ensured the contract would never be misconstrued. Even when the samples matured, test subjects had to understand that the decision was binding. This is not your baby. This is our collection of cells. By signing, you acknowledge that we will use this material in the creation of a fully-realized organism composed at least partially of your genetic make-up. You acknowledge that you revoke all rights to guardianship or possession of the life created by NewEu from such means. On our part, we guarantee there to be zero loss of life. It will be a fast, carbon-neutral upbringing, one that no human could have boasted before.

She was fascinated by the purpose of the program: to fill the quickly-draining reserves of their labor force. NewEu’s business model, while efficient to a “T,” relied on a high turnover rate for their lowest-paid workers. As time progressed, NewEu became less able to obtain and retain employees. General striking and the shifting of societal norms gave their workers more power. Those who earned wages as drivers, warehouse employees, and custodians tended to leave within a couple months of joining. For a company so unique, it was a fittingly unique problem to be running out of people to hire. They launched the Re-Peopling Program to replenish their workforce pool with clones that would have every incentive to join the company. Housing, food, and employment all came easily to them.

The generations that had grown up the old-fashioned way had their incentives, too. In exchange for the rights to use her genetic material, Aamiina and the other thousands of volunteers would be listed on the company’s payroll for each clone that possessed an adequate portion of their genes. NewEu would match a small percentage of the clones’ earnings—she recalled something like 0.5%—and apply it quarterly to each donor’s account. Remembering this fact made Aamiina feel slightly better after seeing her clone in the office. Still. Something wasn’t right.

She must have read something wrong when she signed on. Upon submitting her DNA, she remembered how much they stressed that their goal was not to produce exact duplicates of anyone still living, but rather to create new faces by bonding genetic materials from more than one subject. This new generation was meant to follow the same reproductive pattern that humans have always practiced—plus or minus a few technical differences. NewEu researchers rarely used the word “cloning” because of the negative connotations to synthetics and inhumanity. Aamiina searched for evidence to support her confusion. Where had they written about avoiding sameness? She couldn’t find any outline of the program in her email chain. She clicked around the website, too. No luck.

Aamiina hunched over the screen with her nails digging into her scalp. The nonchalant banter outside her door hiked sharply. There came a voice, greasy and dull. She jolted.

Max opened the door with a gesture like he was doing her a great service. He wore a lavender polo, the kind her dad once wore to a work friend’s wedding without knowing that it was a trademark of White people’s leisurewear. At first, Max stood in Xoriyo’s way, but he couldn’t hide her. She walked in the way of his ceremonial gesture and came up to Aamiina. Aamiina raised her eyes boldly. The room was dark, as she had begun searching through her email before even turning on the lights. She swiveled and reached for the strings on the blinds.

Xoriyo reflexively put a hand to her face. Aamiina felt her tongue get dry just waiting for the second of obstruction to pass. Then she saw. The short-lashed eyes. The thin lips. The petite ears and round-sloped nose. Even the subtle dimple in the center of her chin. All features she knew like the back of her hand.

“Please, Aamiina.” Max forced a short laugh to distract from her gawking. “I hope you two get along. You oughta have a lot in common. Although you’re not both—” Max started pointing to his own scalp, miming something, but then thought better of it.Go on.

She wasn’t sure whether she was telling herself to say something, or urging Xoriyo to satisfy her curiosity about the sound of her voice. When the voice came, she wasn’t ready. It was the sound she had predicted to hear. Words that belonged to her were put to use by another set of vocal cords, teeth, lips. Aamiina’s body had been robbed. It was violent. But through the icy layer of sickness, fear, confusion, and excitement that coated her senses, a beam of reassurance breached the hull: the look in Xoriyo’s eyes. There was a flurry of feeling there as well. Xoriyo chose to respond to her own feelings with a coy smile, but Aamiina could tell that she wasn’t actually at ease. She, too, was trying to circumvent distress.

Aamiina stammered. “I’m sorry, can you repeat?”

Xoriyo swallowed some air and said, “To sum it up: I’m glad to meet you.”

Their voices were identical, but not their accents. Xoriyo’s was rock-solid Midwestern. Though Aamiina went to elementary school in the States, she couldn’t quite dispel her mother’s influence on the way she shortened her long E. Xoriyo, however, glided through the word “meet” with grace.

They exchanged niceties. It took all Aamiina had to keep her composure. Xoriyo began talking about her onboarding process. “I was told I was only the second Somali woman to be hired at this level,” she said. A grim smile shielded her lips, but she winked, and Aamiina decided not to prod the topic of her ancestry. Instead, she asked her how long she had been working in her field before joining NewEu. Xoriyo looked down, picked at the paint on her nails—something Aamiina would never do, she recognized.

Max grimaced, ruining his own attempt to keep the meeting light. “We’ll reconnect in a bit,” he said, dismissing Xoriyo.

She nodded and left without looking Aamiina in the eye. Aamiina, on the other hand, stared unabashedly. She waved her hand and made a plea to Max. Well?

He closed the door, but he was in no mood to oblige all her requests. He stared back at her. She fumed. Why do I have to be the one to bring it up?

“Where did you get her?” she said.

He cocked his head. “We scrubbed through all the best applicants. No one’s better qualified to take your place.”

“Oh, yes?” Panic and disgust rose in her. “Can you explain? What makes her the best one?”

Max's eyes bore a hole through her head. “This isn’t about what she looks like. We’re looking at assets, experiences, qualities, skills.”

“How much experience?”

“Almost as much as you.”

Aamiina had been working in web development for six years. She joined the company eight years ago. She had donated her DNA only two years prior to that.

“Impossible,” said Aamiina. “Look at her. The face. You know who she is, right?”

By now, Max’s shock was insincere. “We don’t look at that kind of background. It’s against HR.”

“But is she?” She didn’t even want to fight. Forget everything else on her mind right now—all she really needed was simple recognition from another person.

“Even if I knew that,” he muttered, “I wouldn’t be protecting her rights by telling you. Let’s say you are—you know—genetically linked. It doesn’t mean you have the privilege to dive into her private life.”

His line of logic troubled her, but she wouldn’t call him out on it. He didn’t take criticism well. Aamiina was one of his doubters, having worked and excelled quickly in every role related to his position. But she never stepped in his way. At the same time, she never let him use his authority to impair her own. It was hard at times. She knew how he viewed her—an anomaly. Not a brilliant woman, but his own pet project. He liked to think that she succeeded only because he believed in her. There was some aberrant truth to it.

If she was going to make any headway, she needed to change her approach. She took a deep breath and smiled cheekily. “Good news—my evening’s opened up.”

He was disarmed and instantly charmed. “What changed your mind?”

A week ago, before he and the hiring panel offered her the job, he had offered to take her out for drinks instead. She had been dealt that card before. She passed on the date, or whatever he tried to call it, knowing that her refusal had probably forfeited her spot. It was a dark thing to come to terms with. But Aamiina was young. There would be another opportunity to take the next step up at NewEu. In the end, by little more than luck, he did award her the spot—with a catch. Rather than the standard 25% increase in her salary, she was only promised 15%. The numbers listed in the offer weren’t set in stone, and there would be time to get the raise she deserved. But to get it, she knew she would have to beg for it. She had begged for it many, many times. It never got any easier.

He grinned sheepishly. “Were you worried I would make you drink alcohol?”

“I was embarrassed to say it,” Aamiina lied. “But they have lemonade, yeah?”

It worked like a charm. He seemed to have forgotten about the awkward introduction. Was he aware in the slightest that she would be using their date to dig for more information about Xoriyo?

“I’ll be at Dempsey’s tonight, till they kick me out,” he said, fingering the doorknob. “Come say hi."

Max chuckled and left her office with the door ajar. Once he was gone, sensations of guilt and stress settled in. Then her mind was stuck again on one thing: her clone, here, picking away at her new computer, getting her accounts set up, behaving like any new hire would. Aamiina was accustomed to devoting her energy to her work, but today, she let it fall to the side. While Max spent his day visiting meeting rooms and making phone calls, Aamiina used the privacy awarded her to spy on Xoriyo whenever she got the chance. She walked up and down the corridor between the cubicles and the private study rooms, past the cubicle that she had occupied last week, catching glimpses at the hermit crab who had taken her shell. Xoriyo never looked up. It was uncanny, actually, how much Xoriyo was rooted to her seat. It came to the point that Aamiina was practically begging to see her slack off, or to stand, turn around, stretch, use the bathroom, grab some coffee. But nothing. Even at the end of the day, Max had to shake her free from her headset. Realizing she, too, was at work later than expected, Aamiina slipped out of the office as soon as she saw Max catch Xoriyo in a conversation. Before she left, Aamiina noted their mutually bright eyes. Their clemency. She wondered what they were discussing. Even as she climbed behind the wheel of her car, she obsessed over the image. It had never been a goal of hers to flirt with Max or to give him even an inch to trod on. So if Xoriyo was being authentic, as it appeared, there was nothing that Aamiina could put into her own act of coyness and promiscuity to persuade Max to favor her. It was a surprise to admit that she needed him to like her. And the more she thought about it, the more fiercely the desire raged. She had wanted to scream at Max. You know what this looks like, don’t you? She’s here to get rid of me!

It wasn’t just jealousy. Fear and confusion were at the top of the list. She couldn’t comprehend it. The science was beyond her understanding, but so was the philosophy, the ethicality, the practicality. Why had they started releasing clones so soon? If Aamiina had known that they would have a fully-matured person ready to release to the public in less than a decade, she would never have given away her DNA. She had thought the payout program would be a benefit to reap in retirement, not that she would have to compete directly with her doppelgänger for the same position. It must be a mistake, not to mention an astronomical irony. Part of her wondered if someone in the company had orchestrated the whole thing to target her.

She was after an answer, and though she didn’t know where to begin, she was determined to use the truth to set things right. Xoriyo may have been made with the same DNA as Aamiina, but she was born two decades after her. She had taken a shortcut made possible by Aamiina. She was a branch growing out of her tree. A tributary. There was a social order innate to their relationship. Aamiina was inclined to maintain dominance as the main river, to ensure that the River Xoriyo flowed into her, and not the other way around.

As she sat with her chin on the wheel, she saw Xoriyo walk out of the building at a quarter to six. It was no less unsettling to see her outside than it was under the fluorescent lights. In both environments, Xoriyo left a rotten impression on an otherwise normal world. She was obscene. When Xoriyo finally made it into her car, Aamiina was relieved, like she had just watched her naked self find cover.

Aamiina leaned forward and peered at her license plate. YYAT055. She opened a new note in her phone and entered the number. Then, she pulled out of her parking spot and circled the lot, keeping an eye on Xoriyo’s movements, until she led the way out of the lot.

She should have known that they would be headed for the community. There was no way to sneak up to the expansive maze of two-story lofts spread out over the flat North Dakota prairieland. Heavy construction had encroached into farmland outside the perimeter. The Red River Valley, its fertile soil the envy of the country, offered little sustenance to the clones who lived in this community. So they tore up the good soil to make room for more units. Each was filled with all the amenities that the clones would actually need to sustain themselves. Namely, the units were equipped with the ability to feed clones intravenous solutions manufactured by the company. No need for meal breaks—the Re-Peopling class got all the needed nutrients for the day while they slept at night. Aamiina wondered if they ever felt pangs of hunger, or if the promise of the nightly silent drip was enough to keep their eyes on their work.

Aamiina couldn’t hide out here. Her car was one of the only shapes roving the prairie horizon. She stayed far behind to watch Xoriyo approach the gate. While far away, Aamiina noticed the warehouse behind the community. It was a mixed-use facility, owned by NewEu, mainly operated by the clones who stayed in the adjoined residential plot. It was the ideal place to live and work. There was virtually no commute. To be fair, it wasn’t just the best option for clones—it was one of few. The community was reserved only for clones who worked for NewEu. If anyone wanted to work elsewhere, they would have to forfeit their lease and live in the other apartments and houses in the city, which were still expensive. Aamiina didn’t have to wonder if the plan had worked in NewEu’s favor. Their supply of potential hires, now stacked, all wanted to live right next door to their employer.

Xoriyo approached the gate. Aamiina considered entering, but she was beginning to think she had gone too far. After catching sight of the security setup, her decision was made for her. The gate could only be opened by card. Xoriyo waved hers at the post and drove in. Aamiina stayed put. Then she rolled at a slow pace, passing the entry. From here, she managed to see a little bit of what was inside. She saw narrow, damage-free streets and pretty, well-kept hedges. The streetlamps had just begun to glow. There might as well have been white picket fences outside every door.

She drove around the perimeter, but no angle gave her a better view. It was also getting dark. Aamiina wasn’t hungry, but it was a good time to head home. There was nothing to see out here.

After making a stop at her apartment, Aamiina took a roundabout path to the bar. She went onto I-29, past the plot of land where the warehouse was stationed, and bowed to her impulse to exit the interstate and take another roll around the facility. It was all so quiet and still now, though there were lights in some windows of the warehouse. The community was the same. Ordinary. Her curiosity was natural, but to a point, she knew how crazy it was for her to encroach on these people. She ended her detour, brushed away her guilt, and re-entered the interstate.

Once she reached top-speed, she looked at her surroundings and noted a vehicle on the on-ramp, fast approaching. The sky and the road, both blending into the same wash of gray, were so empty that the singular car stood out. It had come from the community. It began as a black dot. Then its headlights turned on, and it grew from a dot to a clump of black metal in her mirror. It sped up. She didn’t push her speed any higher for fear of drawing attention from the cops that camped underneath the overpasses, but the car behind her risked it. Its engine revved. Aamiina wasn’t one to get intimidated, but she knew Xoriyo drove a black car as well. From this angle, she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t the same one.

She took her next chance to exit. It wasn’t the road she wanted to take, but it would still get her to Dempsey’s. Unfortunately, the black car did the same. It slowed down at the same rate that she did. Aamiina held her breath as she looked at the lights in her mirror, searching for the driver’s indicator to tell her which way not to turn. The driver didn’t signal. Aamiina couldn’t wait at the light for the car to creep up behind her. She broke free from the red light while the driver took their slow, deliberate time to come to a complete stop. They were far behind now. No chance to get a peek at her face through her rearview.

Halfway to the road to the bar, she saw them again. It worried her less now that they were in the busiest part of town. But her driving was still erratic. She switched lanes and broke away from slow drivers on her way to Dempsey’s. The black car did the same.

Just before turning onto Broadway, the black car lurched past her and stole her lane. Aamiina twitched to hit the brake, expecting the driver to pull a brake-check, but there was thankfully no need. The car kept coursing forward. She let herself slow down, but she couldn’t relax yet. When the car passed, she could see its passengers. In fact, Xoriyo was in the front seat. But she wasn’t driving. There was a man, too.

Minutes later, Aamiina parked next to the car, now unaccompanied, a block away from Dempsey’s. So they hadn’t technically followed her all the way, but they still ended up at the exact spot where she was headed. Aamiina couldn’t conclude that they were waiting for her. But what else?

She saw her at the deep end of the bar, at a long table beside a stage. Xoriyo was sitting with her driver, a man with a scratchy black beard and smudgy tattoos. Aamiina was headstrong, making a beeline straight for them. Her determination faltered when Xoriyo stood up from her stool and excused herself to the ladies’ room. That only left the man. He intimidated her. But she kept walking, slower now, as he made conversation with a server.

He was placing an order for drinks. He pulled out his phone.

“Do you take Newallet?” he asked.

The server blinked a couple times. There was finally a look of recognition, but she shook her head. “We have an ATM,” she offered.

His forearms fell flat on the table. “You do Apple Pay, but not Newallet?”

“I don’t know . . . We’re an Irish bar. Our system is pretty old. Newallet is pretty . . . new.”

“Go check for me.”

“Kay.” The server swiveled and strutted away.

At the same time, Aamiina crept up to Xoriyo’s vacated seat. The man did a double-take as she pulled the chair aside.

“Yo!” he said. “You changed?” But as he looked her up and down, taking in every detail like someone shopping for something expensive, recognition crossed his eyes. “You look just like her.”It’s about time someone said it.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Jack.” He said it with trepidation.

“What are you doing with her? My clone.”

Jack held out his hand. “We work for the same company.”

She narrowed her eyes. If he had something to do with this prank, he was great at hiding it. He was looking at her as though she was the strange one. Someone new. Someone he knew nothing about.

“You were following me. I saw you leave the community with her.”

He glanced in the direction of the bathrooms. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I mean, yeah, we came from the community. That’s where we live. What do you want?”He’s a clone.

It took Aamiina by surprise. She would never have known he was synthetic by the looks of him. Wrinkles and ashy skin on his arms, worn tattoos, callused fingertips. He must be reaching the end of his lifespan. Or maybe labor had just frayed him.

The server returned. “No Newallet,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Where’s my drinks?” asked Jack.

She paused to summon a response. Her book was flipped open, as though she’d find the answer there.

But he admitted, “I have cash."

He was still shaken, but he pulled out a twenty. The server gratefully brought it with her to the bar.

Aamiina had heard about Newallet, but this was the first time she had seen it used. Clones were paid in NewEu’s electronic currency. All of the amenities and utilities and even the food that NewEu provided could be purchased with ease from their Newallet accounts. She heard Newallet wages were superior to dollar wages. It was part of the reason why the clones got everything they needed at such a low cost.

“I’m only rich in theory,” Jack muttered. He caught Aamiina staring at him. “So, what’s up? Did she tell you to come bug me?”

Aamiina withdrew.

“What’s going on?”

She ignored the question, realizing she was missing the opportunity to catch Xoriyo alone. She walked away and let him dangle. Past the stage, she went into the ladies’ room.

Xoriyo was standing by the mirror, adjusting something under her shirt. Before Aamiina could get a sense of what it was, Xoriyo swiftly pulled her shirt down and faced her.

The longer they stared, the less Aamiina knew how to approach what was on her mind. She wanted to get it out, to relieve herself of the burden of facing this truth alone. But no question she could ask was polite. No accusation she could pose was nuanced. She couldn’t pretend that her fear was driven by anything but the one enormous mystery of what Xoriyo was doing here—not just in the bar, but in her life, shadowing her every move. What mysteries hid behind that face that looked just like hers?

At last, she said, “What do you want with me?”

Xoriyo gaped. She swept strands of hair away from her face. She couldn't fool Aamiina—she was stalling.

A sourness filled Aamiina’s mouth. “Out with it. Do you hate me? Is that why you took my old job?”

“I had no idea I would be taking your job,” said Xoriyo.

“I won’t let you replace me,” she said. “I’ll stand my ground.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t hate you.” Xoriyo gasped over her own words. “I’m in awe. But . . . I am afraid," she admitted.

Aamiina hadn’t thought of fear existing without hate. Xoriyo’s gentle tone caught her off-guard. “Afraid of me?”

Xoriyo shook her head. She held her hand out for Aamiina.

There was less hesitation this time: Aamiina reached to shake it, officially. She had been curious about the feel of her skin. As it turned out, Xoriyo had a firm grip.

“I know I’m not you,” said Xoriyo, almost like issuing a warning. Her voice was determined, edging on grim. At the same time, the brightness in her eyes signaled her admiration. “Who could’ve guessed we’d ever meet?”

Aamiina was not ready to warm up to her all at once. She sensed Xoriyo was wary too, although she was making a more committed effort to bridge the gap. Aamiina stayed on her toes, but she mirrored Xoriyo’s tempered eagerness.

“I know it’s not your fault,” she said—her eyes nearly betrayed her by misting over—“It’s not your fault you were made . . . to look just like me.”

The two stared at each other.

“But I’m in shock,” said Aamiina. “They never told me. I wasn’t prepared for what would happen when you grew up.”

“Didn’t you give yourself willingly?”

The words chilled Aamiina. It was the language of prostitution. The hours she spent in the lab were nothing like being violated. Her body had been respected, carefully considered, and catered according to her consent alone. But consent, it turned out, was incongruent with intent. Her consent was powerless to protect her from the worst of what they would do with her sample. So far, had any part of the process turned out the way she expected? She had joined the program to see the miracle of synthetic human life. Didn’t she still feel the same? She had looked forward to seeing her face imbued on the leaders of a new generation . . . just not this soon, and not this close to her own reflection. Aamiina tried to look past the uncanniness. Whether she intended it to go this way, she was now looking right at the outcome of a wish that had been granted precisely.

Aamiina was unresponsive. She sighed and bowed her head.

Xoriyo raised a guiding arm and led the way out of the restroom.

Jack was no longer at the table. Xoriyo scanned the bar. Aamiina followed where her eyes had landed: Max. He was standing by the bar, still wearing his work clothes. And Jack was standing beside him, engaging animatedly. Aamiina could tell, behind the pleasant look on his face, that Max had no idea who Jack was. He was forcing his way through the encounter. While Aamiina was confused, she was grateful that Max’s attention was not on her.

“I’m supposed to sit down with him,” Aamiina groaned.

“I heard,” she whispered.

“What’s he doing?”

Xoriyo didn’t reply directly. She drifted toward the wall, where strangers standing nearby provided decent cover. “He’s talking to a friend I met a while ago, when I was still working at the warehouse. My first role.”

Aamiina watched. Jack pulled up a hand to shake. He had his other hand stuffed in his back pocket. He turned away, then made his way back to the table, averting his eyes from everyone until he was safely away.“Jack,” said Xoriyo, “This is Aamiina.”

“Mm-hmm.” He grimaced. “Hello.”

“So?” Xoriyo nudged him. “Success?”

He patted his back pocket. “Yes. Let’s get out of here.”

Xoriyo nodded, but she didn’t make a move. She looked carefully at Aamiina.

“I want to take her with us.”

Aamiina glanced at Xoriyo. Then at Jack. He drank up the idea, his hard face changing to one of friendliness.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“He works by the nursery,” said Xoriyo. “I haven’t been there since I was born, but I need to go back. There’s no other way to get in, unless you have an appointment, and even then, they don’t let you see everything.” She didn’t say all that was on her mind. There was a storm roiling behind her eyes. “Jack can show us everything,” she went on. “I want you there, too. If you’re anything like me, I know you’re dying to see inside.”

The look on Jack’s face gave nothing away except his readiness for Aamiina’s answer. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being jumped by the two, like they were kidnapping her. But Xoriyo was right. If there was a way for Aamiina to discover all that she needed to know about the program, it wasn’t going to happen in an evening of pulling Max’s teeth. It was going to happen with these two.

Jack said with intensity, “If you’re down, I could get you in there tonight.”

Aamiina took one final look at the bar. Max stood glancing intermittently at the front door.

“Fine,” she said. “But we're going out the back.”

2.

The nursery was at the same warehouse that Aamiina had been circling. The long, flat building nearly disappeared into the silhouette of the North Dakotan plains. Jack parked away from the gated community, on a side of the facility that faced only a shelterbelt. Of the building’s numerous loading docks, this was the most protected. It was laid into the wall like a crater. Before they left the vehicle, Jack pointed out a glass boil on the side of the building—a camera. Aamiina noted that they could walk a direct beeline to the loading dock without being seen. Jack disregarded any plan to be sneaky.

“They won’t check ’em as long as we keep everything as it is. Once people start rolling up in the AM and they see something’s changed, they’ll look at the inside cameras first—and there are thousands of ’em. There’s no escaping all of ’em.” Jack consulted Xoriyo. “But that’s okay, ’cause we’re not touching shit. Not this time.”

Xoriyo looked a little green. She walked at the head of the group with her jaw clenched. Aamiina walked at the back. She felt more comfortable having both of them in her line of sight. She still wasn’t quite sure why they wanted to bring her here.

They came to the top of a metal stairway, at which point Jack produced a keycard. He touched a plate. The light turned green.

“Aamiina,” whispered Xoriyo.

Xoriyo looked over her shoulder and met her eye.

“My technicians all said you would be happy to bring me to life. But they never promised I’d get to meet you. I didn’t quite get it, how my upbringing was somehow revolutionary. I didn’t have anything to compare it to. Then, they taught me about history, and social learning, and how everyone else was born from a mother and father, and how their education could last more than twelve years, and—if they were lucky—their parents would be there for them, to guide them, to love them, and ensure that their history and social learning was passed on.”

Jack swept the wall by the door and found a row of light switches. He only flipped one on. They were on a catwalk that hugged the outside wall. Down below was a warehouse filled with industrial shelves, forklifts, trucks, and shipping containers. Aamiina’s eyes scanned the dimly lit interior hungrily, but nothing came as a shock to her. She followed Jack down the catwalk, away from the empty room, toward a white corridor.

Xoriyo continued. “The closest I had to a mother and father were my technicians. But I don’t think they—well, I know they don’t—function the same way. They don’t check in with us now that we’re out of the facility. Well, we’re not left to fend for ourselves exactly. Our training was pretty thorough, and we have the attendants and maintenance workers and etcetera, etcetera. Still. It’s not quite the same as being with a real parent, is it? With the little I know about family and the lives of Alphas like me, I know how special it is that I even have the chance to talk to you like this . . .”

Aamiina spoke up sharply. “Alphas? What’s this about Alphas?”

“That’s what we’re called,” she explained. “The clones who don’t have a mother and father. We’re called Alphas.”No mothers and fathers? The researchers had said something very different. Each clone would be made from the DNA of two compatible volunteers.

“You do have parents,” Aamiina insisted, “in your own way.”

Their feet hit clinical white tile. Jack took them down a bend to the right. Xoriyo looked Aamiina in the eyes. “No. I don’t have a mother and a father in your sense—two people, each devoted to me.”

Aamiina felt her throat tighten. Not every human could count on that. But was this who Aamiina was supposed to be to Xoriyo—a mother?

“They never let me find out who you are,” said Aamiina. “They never told me when you’d be born, or where, and especially not that you’d work in the same building as I do. That’s not your typical mother-and-daughter relationship. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“But it is,” said Xoriyo. “So, what I wanted to ask . . . but it’s too hard to spring this on you. Don’t be worried. Now that you see me . . . I want to know . . . what would it take for you to be like a parent to me?”

Her confidence faltered at the end. Aamiina could tell that Xoriyo wanted to go on, but she was saving her breath. It was brave, considering Aamiina’s initial resentment. She was touched. But she was not willing to put Xoriyo under her wing. Not so suddenly. She had her own life, her own home, her own ambitions. Although she was beginning to understand that Xoriyo wasn’t a threat to any of these, she still posed a threat to normalcy. NewEu might be ready to change everything about her life in an instant, but she needed more time.

Aamiina tried hard to avoid a dismissive tone. “First. We need to find your dad.”

Xoriyo slowed her footsteps. “Why do you keep bringing that up?” she said. “That’s what I don’t understand. You think I have parents. Before, in the bathroom, you said you’re confused why I look just like you. Didn’t they tell you what I’d be made of?”

“Shhh,” said Jack. “We’re not alone anymore.”

They had come across a massive elevator lift. The hall they walked through now was wider. There were two sets of doors across from the elevator: a double door for people to pass through, and a multi-paneled garage door for machinery. Jack approached the double door and flashed his key card. But Aamiina was still too stuck on Xoriyo’s question to wonder what was on the other side.

“Yes, they told me," she said. "They explained everything. They planned to combine my DNA with the DNA of a man, and from there, yes . . . you would be born.”

Xoriyo squinted her eyes. “That sounds like how they make the Betas. Not the Alphas.”

“What?”

“It’s part of the process. They copied your DNA and made me—I’m an Alpha. We don’t have mothers and fathers. We’re just copies of the original volunteers. The Betas are the ones who have mothers and fathers. Two gene pools mix—two Alphas make a Beta. That’s how my kids were made.”

Aamiina swayed. “Kids,” she repeated. She hadn’t even had any kids of her own. She was still at the age when the thought of starting a family was no more than a pressure put on by her parents.

Jack was ready at the double doors, but the comment stopped him from opening them. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m not the father.”

“Those kids . . . the Betas . . . what happens to them now?” Aamiina asked. Xoriyo stared. “What do you mean? Same as everyone. They live in the community if they want to work for the company. And my kids do want to, because they were taught well. They can meet all their needs here.”

“They live with you? Are they home now?”

Jack and Xoriyo smirked at each other. “They bought their own rooms. In the community, there’s enough space for everyone to live freely—alone.”

“How many kids do you have?”

“Two, for now.” She shrugged. “That’s what they recommend.”

Aamiina didn’t know if she should congratulate her or not.

“You’re a mother now,” said Aamiina, and she ignored her own wonder at the concept long enough to add, “So you know what it’s like. You know what you’re . . . missing.”

Xoriyo squinted. “I know I’m missing something, yes. But I have no idea what it is exactly.”

Aamiina was perplexed. “You just need to love your children, the same way you want to be loved.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

Aamiina didn’t know how to explain it. “Think about that feeling you got when you saw their faces,” she said. “Your own kids. Do you know how to find them?”

“Of course I do. But it's been so long.”

“You have to reconnect with them. They’re family.”

“Yes,” Xoriyo sighed. “I know you’re probably right. That’s why I’m here tonight.”

She faced the double doors bravely. Jack took his cue to open them.

The lights were already on, illuminating the upper level of a two-story mailroom. Aamiina’s initial thought was that someone had left the light on after the day was done, but it wasn’t a mistake that the room was lit up. There were people below working their overnight shifts. A cart stacked with glossy gray packages rolled into her periphery. Xoriyo stepped forward to stay out of its way. She set her fingers delicately on the railing and looked down at the workers below.

Jack muttered, “Everyone, pretend like we’re supposed to be here.”

Xoriyo followed one young man with her pointer finger: a skinny Brown boy climbing the ramp to the bottom level.

“His name is Ramón,” she whispered.

Aamiina took her place beside Xoriyo and leaned over the banister. “He’s already so old.”

“Clones don’t age like humans do,” said Jack. “They're like dogs.”

Aamiina was captivated by this boy Ramón. What did this make her—a grandmother? An aunt? She couldn’t even see him as her son. Given a few years, Ramón would have more gray hairs than she would. He even looked mentally mature. It was clear, even from a distance, that he was a strong-willed young man. Although he might not be exactly lean with muscle, his head was sturdy like a rhino’s. He was engrossed in his work, operating some kind of tool that beeped as he passed it over each glossy gray box. He handed each one off to a straw-haired girl who promptly loaded them onto her cart.

Xoriyo looked on, melancholy, but admiring. She enjoyed watching him work. “They’ll never fire him,” she said.

Aamiina nodded absently. She waited for Xoriyo to make a noise, to call down to her son. Instead, Xoriyo recoiled after a minute or two. She shifted her weight to her heels. Her eyes were still drawn to him, but she glanced inadvertently at everything else, too.

“Is this all you wanted?” asked Jack.

Xoriyo shrugged.

“How long has it been since you spoke to him?” asked Aamiina.

“Months.”

Aamiina’s heart ached. Being decisive on Xoriyo’s behalf, she called down to him:“Ramón!”

She grabbed the railing and waved to him, knowing that Jack would be staggering to reel her back if she didn't move fast. Aamiina didn’t care. It was worth it to see Xoriyo’s son turn and face her, finally acknowledging her. His focus on his work was steadier than a heartbeat, but she disrupted it.

“Up here, Ramón!”

She ensured Xoriyo was at her side so that he could see them standing together. And oh—the way her heart was enveloped by joy at the sight of his face. This was the feeling she had wanted to come from Re-Peopling. Though the possibility of having a child as grown as Ramón was hard to accept, once she saw his eyes, his nose, his lips, and everything else, she knew he belonged to her. He belonged to someone else, too—a man with lighter skin, it looked like. Warm in tone, like sugar just beginning to brown at the sides of the pan. His jawline was sharp for someone so young. No facial hair. Long eyelashes, too, long enough to see them bat from the balcony.

But once he blinked, the glint left his dark eyes. No smile lifted the corners of his cheekbones. In fact, to her alarm, he glowered.

He spoke with a grating tone: “. . . You. What are you doing here?”

Xoriyo was horrified. She blamed Aamiina. “Can’t you see he’s working!”

Ramón snarled. “And working a lot harder than you, apparently.”

He looked around the room as his coworkers scoffed and chuckled at his remark.

Xoriyo went cold. Not angry, but visibly impaled.

She didn't speak, so Aamiina felt it was her right to. “Watch your tone."

A couple of Ramón’s coworkers stopped what they were doing to watch.

Aamiina turned to Jack for support, but he was frozen in shock. She persisted alone. “That is your mother!”

A ripple of chortling spread over the mailroom. Xoriyo placed a gentle hand on Aamiina’s back. Aamiina hated to be patronized, but she let it happen. While Xoriyo and Jack led her away, Aamiina kept looking back, compelled to go down and interrogate the boy. The opportunity had passed, and she knew it. No one in the warehouse even glanced in her direction as they retreated. Ramón’s expression returned to a face of neutrality. A calm set around his shoulders. He went back to his diligent work.

Once all three were back in the white corridor, Aamiina shrugged Xoriyo’s hand away and apologized, simply saying “I’m sorry,” since she didn’t have the depth of understanding to pinpoint what had gone wrong.

After a moment of silence, Jack offered, “You’re so proud of him.”

Xoriyo nodded. “He has good reason to hate me.” She sniffed, not from crying, but from the satisfaction of affirming what she already knew.

Aamiina had put her guard up before coming here tonight. She wanted to protect herself, to find out whether Xoriyo’s placement in her life was a mistake, a prank, or something worse. Now, all she cared about was grasping how Xoriyo felt. She couldn’t guess the scope of the pain she was going through. Ramón, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by their torn relationship. Perhaps he wasn’t mature enough to understand.

“Sometimes I regret even opting in for a baby,” said Xoriyo. “Childbirth is such a constricting process. They want us to have children, and we want them too, but we can only have them with NewEu's help. For the medical aid, which can cost thousands, we have to surrender certain rights to the Betas—like the right to teach and nurture them. I didn’t see him much at all during the first year. I don’t think that’s good for a child.”

“That’s not fair,” said Aamiina. “What’s the purpose of asking you to have children if they don't even want you involved in the process?”

“Because they need workers,” said Jack darkly.

Aamiina shook her head. “I know why they started the program. But if they need workers, why don’t they keep making clones of the originals? Why ask for kids?”

“They used all of your DNA when they made Xoriyo,” said Jack. “The first part of the process, the cloning, is the most costly part of Re-Peopling. And they can only clone an Alpha so many times before the copies start mutating. Besides, who’s to say the program would even continue to grab new samples from new donors once the world sees what happens to their DNA after they donate? Optics might change. The company knew from the get-go that they would need to find a way to protect their project from risks like that—not to mention to make a bigger return on investment. They need this new program to keep running to infinity. Clones can solve problems, think creatively, and speak from the heart, and they’re loyal to the company. But they only live so long. NewEu needed to make sure their genius plan would survive even without the support of the natural-born. To do that, they had to make themselves a gift that keeps on giving.”

Aamiina was appalled. She didn’t know whether to be upset with Jack with the researcher’s lack of honesty. Of course, they hadn’t lied to her. They had only neglected to mention the process that came before the Betas, the step that required creating Xoriyo. Maybe they thought a focus on the second phase was more palatable. Maybe they knew they wouldn’t get as many volunteers if they explained the whole process. They would’ve lost Aamiina, for one.

Jack went on: “As advertised, it’s a program that revolutionized cloning to create non-identical offspring. They put the focus on how this benefits you, how you can be part of something special. Really, they don’t give a shit about scientific breakthroughs, or the public’s part in 'em. These days, technology only advances if it can help companies reduce their costs. NewEu mastered cloning only so that they could use its fruits to start a bigger plan: making a workforce whose members are disconnected from everything else, from history and tradition. The clones are a customizable class of citizens who serve a function shockingly similar to slave labor—or as close as they can get without breaking any laws.”

Aamiina peeked at Xoriyo’s response. Slavery? There was a gloomy look in her eye.

Xoriyo spoke up. “I think that’s why he doesn’t recognize how much I love him. I really do, even if I had some trouble understanding that concept. Once we’re born, we’re put through training that catches us up to speed on everything we need to know. We’re tested thoroughly. But we aren’t encouraged to socialize. Everything I know about family, humanity, love, and life, I had to take from conversations at work, or in ads, or TV shows. But Ramón—and my youngest, Sadiyo—I don’t know what they know. How much have they learned? Where are they taking their knowledge?” Jack said, “Love—real love, right—comes unconditionally. But your kids don’t know what that means. Their whole lives are conditional. Ramón’s gotta be on edge all the time, or else he’ll be replaced by one of his peers.”

Xoriyo wasn’t following. “But isn’t it like that for everyone? That’s what life is about, really. Everyone has to work diligently.”

It looked like the circles under Jack’s eyes had darkened. “It’s harder for some. Life and work.”

They had been so deep in discussion that Aamiina had hardly paid attention to where they were going. She remembered again once they appeared at a fork in the halls. An arrow pointed their way to the nursery.

She had expected something like a hospital. The nursery was no different from the other rooms in the facility—a warehouse, with metal shelves stacked up to maximize space. There were metal staircases and lifts to help reach the children who were placed on the hard-to-reach shelves. Each crib was contained in its own plexiglass container. Some of the children slept, while others kicked or rolled around. Aamiina’s attention was on a baby girl, eye-level, situated on the third row from the bottom of a nearby shelf case. Her face was red, her eyes were squinted tight, and her mouth was wrenched in a wailing scowl. Aamiina could only just hear her when she approached the case.

“These are the gammas. I think. If we’re still following the Greek letters.” Jack shook his head. “I don’t know how long they’re gonna keep up that naming system. New generations are popping out fast.”

He tried to move on ahead, but Xoriyo was glued to her spot. She was still taking in the massive crop of clones before her.

“These babies are going to be fit to work in a year or two,” she said. “Why would they let so many be made? Some aren’t going to find jobs. What if they force Ramón out? Sadiyo?”

“Ramón looks old enough to have a baby himself,” Jack said. “How do you know your kids haven’t already opted in?”

There was a twitch of anger behind Xoriyo’s eyes—or maybe terror.

The three kept moving forward, even though Aamiina felt like she and Xoriyo had each already seen enough. There was a door at the end of the hall that Jack wanted to show them. A sign led the way: Labor Room.

Jack reached into his back pocket and took out a wallet. It was not the same wallet Aamiina had seen before when he was paying for his drinks. When he opened it, Aamiina saw Max’s driver’s license. She looked up with shock, but Jack was avoiding her gaze. Instead, he and Xoriyo glanced at one another with grimness cementing their lips. Jack took something out—Max’s keycard.

Aamiina was already feeling chills before even laying eyes on what was inside the room. Once Jack waved the card in front of the reader and opened the door, they passed through a set of plastic strip curtains, then came into a room where countless lumpy curtains hung from the ceiling—each one was about fifteen feet long. They were pressed together on one end of a long rack, bundled together like collapsed window blinds.

Jack drew their attention to a machine. After fiddling with it, he was able to show them how it worked. It cycled through the panels, allowing whoever was in charge of the unborn to expose each of the bellies. Bellies was the word that came to Aamiina before she understood the grotesque irony in using it. The material around the lumps of each hanging panel was nearly translucent, stark white, and riddled with a capillary network. Flesh. Some of the lumps were rather flat. Others, like the ones on the sheet Jack showed her, were the size of basketballs, spaced in analytical rows. The flesh around the biggest bellies was stretched straight out to its limit, causing the blood network in the lining to shine through. Aamiina took a closer look. Beyond the inflamed redness, she could see the curve of the babies’ spines. Their fists were clenched beside peaceful, closed eyes. Their feet were drawn to their bodies, relishing the security of the womb. And beside each unborn child, separated by an economically spaced stretch of synthetic flesh, its neighbors slept in the same fashion.

Aamiina sweated, and not simply from the temperature the room was conditioned to. She turned to Jack. “So this is how you were born.”

Jack’s brow scrunched. “Me? Not at all!”

Aamiina was lost. “What do you mean? Is it because you’re an Alpha, and not a Beta? Were you born differently?”

“A lot differently!” Jack turned to Xoriyo for help. They stared at one another in a long silence before Jack understood. He gave a dry grunt of a chuckle. “You thought I was like her, didn’t you? No, ma’am. I don’t mean disrespect, but that’s not me. I’m no clone.”

“What?” Aamiina searched Xoriyo’s face. She was humorless, lost in thought, walking toward the walls of flesh. “Help me understand,” said Aamiina. “I thought you said you lived in the community with her. You have Newallet!”

“Newallet isn’t only for clones,” he said. “Right now it’s mostly clones, but in an ideal world for NewEu, everyone would be paid with Newallet. That way, they'd control where everyone spends their cash.”

“You get all the benefits, too,” said Aamiina under her breath. “Affordable housing, shorter commute . . . but they didn’t make you . . .”

“Exactly. I’m just a guy who wanted to work somewhere that’d pay me more than enough to get by. Picketing and protesting have worked for the rest of the country, but it doesn’t work for people in my line of work. Everybody else is fighting for proper salaries, but I can’t do that when this is my competition. Not for US dollars, anyway. Good thing is, this company saw how good their business model worked. So they opened it up to anyone who wanted to join the company, whether you’re a clone or not. Even at the start, I knew it wouldn’t be ideal. The rooms aren’t built with humans in mind. It was what I needed at the time. Now, the deal’s looking more and more sour. These clones keep coming, accepting offers for lower and lower wages. It’s impossible to keep up.”

Aamiina’s head spun. “They can’t treat you the same way they treat the clones. It’s not fair. They don’t own you.”

He scoffed. “If you expect to receive any special treatment for being born the old fashioned way, let it go. We all work here, don’t we? We all add essentially the same value to the company. As far as NewEu’s bottom line can tell, there is no difference between us.”

“They don’t own us clones, either.” Xoriyo spat it out. “But you can’t really tell the difference, can you?”

She had walked forward, past the wombs, to an opening in the far wall. There, hoses and cables converged. Aamiina and Jack were surprised to see her hand hovering over the equipment.

“They only officially own us when we’re unborn,” she said. She followed her eyes from each cable to its point of origin. There were cords hanging from the corners of each panel. “Is this what powers it?” she said. “Everything—right here?”

Nobody answered her. Not even Jack, who almost looked excited. They were both uncertain about what she would do. They were nervous to see her make any move.

Xoriyo wasn’t complacent to their silence. She jerked forward and brought her hand around a latched cable.

“Wait,” said Aamiina.

The feeling she had at the bar, the feeling that she was being jumped by the strange pair, came back. She knew Jack and Xoriyo well enough to know that speaking out might put her in a corner. Perhaps they wanted to see it all destroyed. But something was holding them back—all of them, not just Aamiina. It was like all three were waiting on one another to tell them not to speak, act, move, lash out. Aamiina felt the pressure to keep her fear, anger, and despair in check. Was it right to end it all? These were human lives. More than that—it was company property.

“The cameras,” Aamiina reminded them. “We can’t touch anything.”

Xoriyo was locked in tension. She didn’t even look up at Aamiina. Her eyes were glued to the cable, so large that she needed two hands to hold it. But after an indulgent pause, she let the cable go.

Jack deflated. He had wanted to see them die. And maybe that would have been best. As she watched him put the room back to the way they found it, she figured out this much, too: He had brought her here to alter her perspective. Whether it worked or not, he was now downtrodden. He made a point of showing his disappointment.

Aamiina wondered how often he had felt powerless in his life. She had spent the last 29 years of her life that way, playing the game, following the system enough to survive. All the time, she waited for something to switch, whether it be within her or in her surroundings. She wanted to cross a threshold where power would come more easily to her, and stay for longer. What would it take to get there? How much time? Was this her moment? Had she missed it?

She ruminated on these questions while she took Xoriyo by the shoulder, leading her away. It reminded her of taking care of a senior citizen, and it occurred to her that such a life was on the horizon. In a few years, Xoriyo would be old, unable to take care of herself. She’d retire from the company, if such a thing was possible for a clone. There was no promise that anyone would be there to watch over her in the future. Thinking of this, Aamiina stayed close to her the entire way out of the facility. Behind her, the electricity in the labor room stayed on, still humming. The blood kept chugging. The hearts kept beating. In the mailroom, the Betas kept working. As far as NewEu was able to tell, nothing had gone wrong.