Morgan Anderson

“I wake up to the bellowing blare of my alarm clock. Another day, another blank slate. What the hell is this? Why would I get a tattoo of 001 on my wrist? I’m getting tired of this. Every day for the past week, I wake up with terrible amnesia. As if half of my memory just up and vanished. The weird thing about it is that I get these small moments, these blips I call them, where I remember something, something foreign. I know they’re not my memories, but I don’t know exactly who they belong to. It’s as if I borrow them for a few seconds, then they’re gone. But enough talking to myself in my head, I gotta head to the library, see if I can find out what’s going on.”

The redhead begins to make her way to the library, not making any extra stops on the way. She’s waiting at a red light when she notices a black muscle car has been following her for the past 4 turns. “What the hell is going on? I know this car isn’t following me. Let me make four left turns, then I’ll just be making a circle. I’ll know for sure if they’re following me then.” The redhead makes her four turns, with the black car still in close pursuit. “Shit.” She decides to stop at a gas station so she can try to get a good look at the stalker. As she pulls up to the station, she looks around for the black muscle car, but it is nowhere to be found.

“Strange. Might as well use the bathroom while I’m here.” She heads inside the gas station and walks up to the attendant. “Good evening,” she says. “May I please have the key to your restrooms?” she asks. The attendant responds with a nonchalant, “Sure.” and hands her the key. She takes the key and heads to the single bathroom, but before entering she takes another long look around her surroundings. She doesn’t see anyone following her so she enters the bathroom and locks the door. She looks at herself in the mirror. “You’re not going crazy Serenity. Well, maybe you are.”  She then walks over to the toilet and begins to use the bathroom. Not long after she sits down, she hears the doorknob start to jiggle. It sounds like someone is picking the lock. Serenity feels ice beginning to flow through her veins. Her fight or flight is beginning to kick in. She has never fought in her life, and there is nowhere to run, she becomes frozen within her fear. As her breaths begin to pick up, a man in a back trench coat bursts into the bathroom. Serenity screams and charges towards the man but he holds a gun up. Freezing her in her tracks. “Why are you doing this?” she asks the man. “It’s complicated,” he says as he pulls the hammer back on the gunning, making a click sound. Serenity intervenes, “Wait! If you’re going to kill me, at least tell me why.” The man in the trench coat thinks for a few seconds, shrugs his shoulders, then says, “You might believe me, or you might not. But you are property of the government. You are not the only you. There are about 20 clones, just like you. You all share a single mind. A mind that the government is able to tap into to spy on the unsuspecting public..” Serenity has a look of disbelief on her face. “No. That makes no sense! I am me. A living person! I’m Serenity!” she says. The man in the trenchcoat continues talking, “Well, you weren’t always…. Living. Russians hacked into your cloud server and implanted an A.I sentience program. Basically allowing you to teach yourself to be human, to learn.” Serenity bumbles out, “But, but, but.” But she starts to piece things together. The memory loss, the number on her arm, the blips. They all make sense to her now. Even though she’s beginning to understand, she is still confused. “But why are you killing me? I’m not hurting anybody,” she asks. The man sighs and says, “The Russian program. It contains a code, that when activated, will activate you into a kill mode. You’ll basically do whatever fucked up thing they want you to do. After I kill you, I have 19 more to locate throughout the city. I’m sorry. I’ve already said too much.” Serenity starts to walk towards him to beg for her life, “But what if I can fix it? What if I ca-.” The gun goes off.

“I wake up to the bellowing blare of my alarm clock. God my head is killing me, why am I so sore? Oh well,  another day, another blank slate. What is this on my arm? The hell? 002?”



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