Yes, I’m a clone. But don’t ask me about souls and identity.
I just know that I’m alive and have the memories of Juan Parker, so I must be Juan Parker.
From how I see things, I am the original Juan Parker. It doesn’t matter what happened to the other one. I have no memory of what happened to him, so it doesn’t really matter to me.
Unless whoever did what happened to him comes after me.
But I highly doubt that.
What? You think I killed him?
That’s absurd. Why would someone create me to shoot hi-
Never mind.
Tag: science fiction
Whispering Trees
It all started back in the Sixties when an advertising executive was sitting on his back porch, listening to the wind whisper through the trees.
“I’m listening to trees,” he said.
And that’s when the idea hit him: Trees that whisper advertising when the wind blows through them.
He mastered botany, genetics, grafting, and meteorology.
Then, he raised generation after generation of trees to perfect a single strain that whispered advertising.
“Eeeeeeat Hossssstesssss Twinkeeeeeeees,” whispered the tree.
By then, of course, Hostess had gone bankrupt.
So, the ad man used the trees for firewood.
They screamed curses as they burned.
Shrink
Richard Matheson’s book “The Shrinking Man” was retitled “The Incredible Shrinking Man” by his publisher.
I suppose it’s possible for someone to think a shrinking man is not incredible unless told so bluntly.
Go ahead and try it yourself. Walk up to people at random and shout either “I’m the shrinking man!” or “I’m the incredible shrinking man!”
See which people are more impressed, stunned, or horrified.
If someone calls the police on you, forget about bail or calling anyone. Just wait until you’ve shrunk enough to fit between the bars.
Feel free to shout that out at the guards.
Galactispeak
Galactispeak is a dialect of Ancient Varadne.
There is no Modern Varadne. All life on Varadne was exterminated in a planetary civil war many centuries ago.
The species may be gone, but archaeologists and xenoanthropologists pieced together the culture as best they could.
Their language was revealed to be amazingly flexible, descriptive, and efficient.
It is also incredibly easy to learn and master in a short amount of time.
So easy, Varadne spread like a virus across the galaxy, replacing almost all other languages.
We call it Galactispeak.
And we shout it as we fight each other to the death.
The asshole in the past
If I had a time machine, I’d go back in time to when I was 20 years old and slap myself silly for being such an asshole.
Of course, back then I was such an asshole, I’d shoot anybody that threatened me. So I’d have shot anyone slapping me around.
Right. Wear a bulletproof vest?
No. I’d shoot the dude in the face. A bulletproof vest doesn’t cover the face.
Wait… shooting the dude in the face?
The dude is me.
Well, future me.
Maybe I shouldn’t do the time machine thing.
And just leave that asshole in the past.
The Event
The catastrophic event happened faster than we could respond.
We tried to reduce pressure in the tank, but it exploded, killing 22 workers.
We are budgeted for 60 casualties in a cycle.
The plant manager congratulated us, and gave us a bonus.
However, more workers died as a result of radiation sickness.
The casualty count increased rapidly.
Soon, we had surpassed our budget, and our bonus was revoked.
We received a reprimand.
However, we were not terminated, as the plant manager had died.
Not that this matters much to us, as we vomit blood and await our own horrible deaths.
Count Your Gooses Before They Hatch
You’ve heard of the goose that laid the golden eggs, but have you heard of the golden goose that laid eggs?
I’m not sure which is weirder: An inanimate object laying living, organic eggs or a living creature laying solid metal eggs.
I tried to explain this to the guy who owned the golden goose, but he just wanted to melt the goose down and sell the gold.
“Have you seen the price of gold?” he replied.
“This is a miracle goose!” I pleaded. “You can’t melt it down!”
He did anyway.
The goose turned out to be gold-plated lead.
Researcher
We knew from the start that my project would be greater than a single researcher’s lifetime, but no assistant matched my abilities or experience.
So, I cloned myself, and trained my clone to be my assistant.
And when I die, my clone will take over my research, and then he will clone himself.
To train as an assistant, just as I did with him.
And just as was done with me. And the me before.
How long has this been going on?
I don’t know. We never bothered keeping track.
I remind Junior to call himself “Professor” when my time comes.
Wipe
Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?
I thought I’d solve that problem when I developed MindWipe.
Neurotransmitter blockers combined with targeted quantum spin alteration treatments to eliminate specific memories.
It wasn’t hard to formulate champagne with the blockers, but how do you convince someone to lay still in a quantum spin generator?
That’s when I came up with the relay.
We shaped it like a sparkly tiara, and I made the whole ballroom a quantum spin generator.
When the clock struck twelve, I threw the switch.
Oh, poor Dick Clark.
We’ll say it was a stroke.
Grepton
The Grepton metabolism cannot handle large amounts of salt.
Nobody told Rufus this. Or told him the fact that Greptons exist.
He fired his rock salt-loaded shotgun at the the “college kids” who were making circles in his crops.
Instead of scaring them off, the salt killed the little bastards.
The Grepton Ambassador demanded Rufus’ extradition so they could charge him for murder.
The Deputy Undersecretary For Alien Affairs said “No.”
“They were my children!”
“No.”
Deeply hurt, the Grepton Ambassador left.
So, when you say Elvis is dead, technically you’re right.
But to Elvis, Earth is dead to him.