When Charlie looked just below his elbow, he saw ... the number fifteen.
"Then it's true. I am a clone," he said, staring off in a daze.
"Hey, snap out of it," his cellmate said. "It's not as bad as you think. At least you're alive. From what I know, all the clones live as long as any normal human. You've got your whole life ahead of you ... provided you can stay alive that long. I've heard about clones that have been used in medical testing and shooting practice."
"Shooting practice?"
"Yeah. I think that's why I'm here. The cops don't see us as people. They see us as things. And it's every clone for himself, so to speak."
"How many clones are there? I mean, does this thing happen a lot, for different people?"
"Yeah, actually. But usually it's women who are cloned. You know, the hot ones. But I think those are given different memories or something. Apparently, their owners don't want them as smart as the original."
"Owners?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah, female clones are usually used as sex slaves. But male clones, those are rare. I can only imagine what the original Charlie wanted clones of himself for," the man said.
The original Charlie. Up until now, Charlie thought that he was the original Charlie. It was so weird, knowing that he was not.
"So what's your number?" the man asked.
"Fifteen."
