One Hundred Versions of Me

When I awoke I knew instantly that it had happened.  During the night, while I slept, I was taken from my bed by alien beings from a distant world, and, using their advanced technologies, they cloned me.  They copied my genetic code, replicated my DNA code. Not just once. Or twice. As I slept they repeated the procedure again and again until there were 99 identical copies of me.

In the morning, when I awoke, I knew instantly that there were 100 me’s awakening.  100 indistinguishable versions of myself. And only in that one fleetingly momentary instant we were one.  In every second that advanced after that moment the uncountable multitude of molecules that composed our very existences veered off in countless different directions, creating 100 different and differing individuals.

One

I awoke and I knew instantly that it had happened.  I pulled the covers back and sat up in bed.  My feet were cold so I pulled on my slippers and made my way to the kitchen where I started a pot of coffee.  As the machine steamed and gurgled and dribbled out the hot, dark, caffeinated brew I wondered if it were true.

Two
I woke up with a headache.  One of those headaches that begin right behind my eye and grow all day long. 

Three

I woke up thinking about the bizarre dream I'd had.  I turned to my right so I could tell my wife about it.  “Which one am I married to?” she asked.  “ I'm the real thing, baby.”  I joked.  But she didn't laugh.  “How do I know? Prove it,” she said and when she went into the bathroom for her morning shower she locked the door behind her.

Four

I woke up knowing about them.  All of them.  And I knew that that they all knew about me too.  Each and everyone of them knew everything about me. And I knew, without any hesitation, that they had to die. 

Five

I awoke and I knew instantly that it had happened.  I pulled the covers back and sat up in bed.  My feet were cold so I pulled on my slippers and made my way to the kitchen where I started a pot of coffee.  As the machine steamed and gurgled and dribbled out the hot, dark, caffeinated brew I tried to dismiss it all as a bad dream, as the random electrical firing of my cranial synapses and nothing more.  But even the hot cup of coffee couldn't sooth my doubts.

Fifteen

I woke up knowing what happened.  I slapped at the alarm-clock’s snooze button and went back to sleep for another fifteen minutes.

Twenty-Seven

I woke up knowing that I was free, free of him and his doctrinal hang-ups.  He believed all that rubbish about God and sin and death and hell and whatever.  But waking up different I could finally leave all that behind me.  The woman in the bed beside me was his wife, not mine.  The children in the rooms across the hall were his little brats.  I dressed and left the house and never thought of them again.

Forty-Two
I woke up knowing what happened and understanding the meaning of it all.  It was all so simple.  I leaped from the bed, startling a cat that was sleeping on my feet and that I didn't realize that I owned.  I put on my bathrobe over my pajamas and ran outside to share this revelation with my neighbors.  I never saw the garbage truck that hit me.

Sixty-Six

I woke up knowing that I’d forgotten something. Something very important. But I could not remember what it was.  All day I wondered.  I looked at my daily calendar for some clue – but there was nothing but the ordinary daily events of my life.  The vague memory of something vital hovered just beyond my cognitive ability to reach, tormenting me with its intangible presence. 

Seventy

I woke up knowing all about the others.  But I knew also knew that there was absolutely nothing I could do about them. They were there. I was here.  I dressed and went on my life.

Eighty-Nine

I awoke and I knew instantly that it had happened.  I pulled the covers back and sat up in bed.  My feet were cold so I pulled on my slippers and made my way to the kitchen where I started a pot of coffee.  As the machine steamed and gurgled and dribbled out the hot, dark, caffeinated brew I wondered if I could contact them.  What could we do as a team? What kind of collaborative projects could we accomplish? If two heads are better than one, then how great would one hundred be?  Together we could be unstoppable.

Ninety-Three
I woke up sweating. My chest hurt.  I couldn't breathe.  I… I… I…

Ninety-Five

I awoke and I knew instantly that it had happened.  I pulled the covers back and sat up in bed.  I yawned.  My feet were cold so I pulled on my slippers and made my way to the bathroom to relieve myself.  Later.  I would think about all those others later.

One Hundred

I awoke alone.  I'd always been alone and would always be alone.  I knew about the others but how did I know about them?  My perceptions – the things I see and hear and smell and taste – are only projections anyway.  My experiences are manipulated by the engineers who've placed my brain in this vat.  Why should I believe that the other ninety-nine me’s are any more real than anything else in this manufactured reality?