NewEu
October 2022 | SciFi, Horror, Dystopian | 10,300 words
PART 1 / Part 2
Accepting Offers to Publish
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.