Doubling Up
Imagine if there were two Bonnie Burtons…
Clones get a bad rap. Sci- fi movies have been flooding our brains with anti-clone propaganda for ages. Poor clones are either shown as mere obedient soldiers as in the Star Wars prequels or as walking organ farms in movies like Parts: The Clonus Horror ( 1979) and its dumber 2005 Michael Bay version The Island.
But what about those of us who want human cloning to be a real option? Don’t worry; I don’t want to clone myself so I can swap livers after consuming a lifetime of strong martinis. I want a clone for something much more banal than better organs. I need a clone to get stuff done. I can’t ever say no to party invites, writing assignments, podcast interviews, web series appearances and convention panels. And then there’s all the really boring stuff like grocery shopping, standing in line at the post office, walking my dog, cleaning my house, doing paperwork, filing taxes, organising my bookshelves, doing laundry, answering endless emails, and so on.
I don’t want a slave. I promise to send my clone to just as many celebrity- infested industry parties as I have her planting tulips in my backyard. I just don’t have time to accomplish everything I set out to do on a daily basis. Granted, if I stopped binge- watching Game Of Thrones and The Flash, and didn’t waste so much time scrolling through Twitter, I might be able to better prioritise my To Do list. But who does that?
I want to squander my hours on social media and make a dent in my Netflix queue just like everyone else, while writing my next novel, shopping around my screenplays to Hollywood and having a social life too. Is that so much to ask?
And the only way to get everything done like a pro means I need to invest in a human clone of myself. I can’t send a robot into parties to impersonate me! What if I short circuit at the buffet table or accidentally injure my dance partner with my metal left foot?
Robots and Replicants can only do so much before something goes horribly wrong. If I learned anything from Blade Runner, it’s that synthetic humans can’t be held responsible for rampaging through rainstorms and having panic attacks when asked about tortoises.
The main difference is that I won’t be made of metal or have a finite existence of a few years. I’ll be human still, and my clone will know she is a clone. I don’t want to give her the impression that she’s my twin. She exists because I paid for her to be created to share both my workload and my social obligations. Heck, she doesn’t even have to live with me – just do my bidding.
It’s not exactly slavery if I create her, right? She didn’t have a life before I came along. My clone has life because I came along. Her sole purpose is to make sure we both lead an active life – my life. Of course, she can’t go around making her own decisions on what to do, where to go or who to hang out with – those choices are all decided by me. But she can still have fun, just as long as it’s with none of my exes.
I need a reliable facsimile of myself, and the only way to fool friends and family is with a human clone that looks, thinks, drinks, eats and dreams just like me. That means I need a double that still says inane puns and can’t seem to refuse a dozen donuts. I don’t want a better version of myself – that would give me away for sure. Plus the last thing I want is my clone to have a better social life than the real me!
I need a clone that has the same desires and passions as I do. But perhaps, I do need a clone that isn’t as lazy as me, or else I’ll just have another version of myself to share the couch with as we shamelessly watch an entire season of Arrow all at once.
My clone can have fun, just as long as it’s with none of my exes