I, Clone Part 4

Part 1: Welcome Back
Part 2: The Goodness of Our Heart
Part 3: The many deaths of Kendar Zek
Part 4: Impostor

Ockham's Razor: The simplest answer is usually the correct answer.

A) Thanks to advances in medical technology, the victim of a degenerative genetic disease can be cloned and cured. In the absence of a full neural backup, external memories can be synthesized and uploaded, giving the patient a new shot at life.

B) It is a scam. Dead people cannot be restored to life without using a capsule.

---

Kendar had given up on becoming all he was once. It was like trying to become a stranger, the endless study, the neural therapy, the constant forgetting of simple facts. Cloned or not, he would never be whole again. This much he knew.

He had gone back to his old habit of keeping a journal. He found those precious few moments unmonitored and, during those, he tried to keep rack of anything notable. Because it was private, he kept his journal in the same spot he had hidden Coat's wallet.

Then, there was something else, something deeper. He did not know, but he knew that something else had changed. He often found himself wondering if he old Kendar Zek would have done a particular thing the same way he had. Character, was that called character? One thing was his memories and another, his character. How do you save character for later? And, can it be restored? He felt like he had Kendar Zek's memories -some of them, at least,- but not his character.

He felt like an impostor.

Get up, let's go.

On the bright side, he had this treasure trove of memories. If he looked not at how much he had forgotten, but at how much he remembered already, it was fantastic. Flight training, connections in the Federation Navy, a name. He was already privileged to have those. There was no shame in not recovering the rest. He was beginning to feel at ease with himself.

Whatever the holes in his mind were, they were his holes. He would learn to live with them -damned if he couldn't. He already had more than people expect to have during their entire lifetime. He smiled at the thought of steering his life forward rather than back; he would become all he could be -rather than whatever he had been once. He opened the journal at a random page and read.

Who the hell was this 'Ambriel' person? Who had written this in his journal?

His own handwriting stared back at him.

--

Doctor Kraak was rightly concerned about his patient.

The patient should not have any recollection of those issues after the morning therapy. It was normal for him to have questions every day and he did his utmost to answer them, but one of the questions was out of spec.

He dealt with the fiancée question deftly. The best lie always contained an element of truth, so he did not deny anything: "You may have forgotten, but an investigation is underway."

He would have to erase that again. Maybe there was a technical glitch somewhere. How was he remembering what had been erased? Maybe there was an information leak. External? Security would have to be checked.

The next question was poignant but expected and therefore easy to answer. The patient wanted to know if he was going to live. "Mr. Zek, I am afraid I do not have the answer you want. Our technology has limits. We have restored you but cannot cure your genetic condition. We estimate, based on your biological age, that you still have three years of life ahead. On the other hand, this may be enough for a man of your resources to find a solution." Of course Kendar Zek was going to die, who would expect anything less?

The cloning story had had to be carefully prepared and, bullshit as it was, it walked the fine border between a medical clone wonder and bad science fiction. Kraak was not going to commit himself to a more outlandish claim to a miracle gene cure; he simply did not have the expertise.

Lie as little as possible, as consistently as possible to make it believable. Ockham's razor. "We brought your body back just as you were. We are unable to change things." Done. Things were going well.

--

Ken did not betray his surprise. Sugar had told him he was going to live. Coat was telling him, to his face, that he was going to die. To say that something did not quite fit would have been an understatement.

I, Clone: Part 3

Part 1: Welcome Back
Part 2: The Goodness of Our Heart
Part 3: The many deaths of Kendar Zek

Kendar had died before, several times. Like many capsuleers, he had been killed in space, safely awakening as a pre-arranged clone with his memories intact. He had also, like many of Intaki descent, been reborn a new man, to the mixed blessings of pain forgotten. But unlike many people, he had found fiery death in a sun and ultimately, peaceful oblivion in his sleep.

Death was not new to him.

His answer was always the same: get up, let's go.

---

Kendar switched the desk off and straightened up. Enough for the day. He had recovered fifty million ISK already, mostly from the DNA-authorized deposits. He had spent eight hours plugged in dreaming and studying his own life, passion and deaths. Apparently he had a knack for getting killed and losing his mind, so in some way it was comforting to know he had gone through the same recovery ordeal before, and survived. Sort of.

It was a month already since waking up as a clone, and Kendar had dutifully followed his daily regime. Morning therapy, a couple of hours at the machine, then study the dossier, lunch. An afternoon nap to let his brain rest and sleep to weave his newfound memories back onto his rag of a brain. After the nap, he would work until evening therapy, dinner, free time, sleep.

Now, work entailed putting his frayed memory to use. He would interact with the outside world based on what he remembered. Baby steps, had recommended Coat.

The impersonal was easy; talking to banks and people who did not care whether he was Ken Zek, King Khanid or the Spirit of Emperors past. He would just provide DNA proof and they would be happy.

It was harder to talk to people who cared. Secor, usually as together as two peas in a pod, almost broke down at first when he saw him on the holo. That was shortly before becoming impossibly defensive -who could blame him, anyway. He had not spoken to Takashi yet. Maybe he had read the news on the forums, but talking face-to-face was what mattered.

The hardest part was the unexpected. People that Ken was supposed to care deeply about: there were none that he remembered, nothing in the dossier. Yet names of strangers kept popping up as he talked to people he knew.

"Have you talked to Ambriel?" had asked someone.

Ken did not have a clue who that was. Her name was not in the file, not a single reference and -surprise, surprise- he did not remember. So he got her contact and tried calling her next. Five minutes later, an uncontrollably sobbing woman had hung up on him.

Fiancée? How could they have missed that?

--

Doctor Kraak looked at the monitors, then back at the call reports. Kenny was progressing as expected. Of course he would hit a snag here and there, something unexpected would pop up once in a while. Nothing that next morning's therapy could not fix.

For Kendar's peace of mind, they had had a Talk. Not unlike a father-son talk, he smiled, the child needed careful guidance. He had warned Kendar that not everyone would receive him with open arms; some would be distrustful, some openly hostile. He should keep in mind that his recovery was supposed to be distressing for others. Very.

Now, there were unscrupulous people in the world. Some would even go as far as to try to get advantage over him, claiming some sort of privileged relation of friendship or, god forbid, love. He should beware of any long-lost cousin, flame, attorney, fiancée or wife. Oh, one had popped up already? And not in the dossier? It could be real or it could be a scam. Better be careful about that. It would be investigated, of course, he promised.

And promptly forgotten, tomorrow first thing in the morning.

Kraak's attention went back to a more mundane issue; where had he put his wallet?

--

Kendar had spent too much time without a drink. He needed a drink.

Heck, he needed a woman.

He had been disappointed not to find 'Kendar Zek's little black book' in the dossier. That would have been grand, not just because of the fun but because it could probably help him remember. He noticed that small shift in his priorities and welcomed another piece of himself back home. In any case, not all was lost. He called out to the comms and asked for the 'S' screen - Sugar...

No, wait. 'M' screen, Martens.

She had turned him down already so many times, saying she could be Nurse Martens, honey, and nothing else. But unruly patients happened once in a while. Kendar would not take 'no' for an answer, the next day he would be back and be twice as charming. By now, he had a feeling he was getting really close...

"Call Martens."

Get up, let's go.

--

They laughed as they reached her door.

"That was fun!"

"Yes. I can't remember when was the last time I had so much fun. And I mean it," he grinned, as he pulled her closer to him.

She looked at him "I think I should go now. Goodnight, Ken, and thank you."

No night cap? No way. "You heartless woman, you are killing me. I don't think I will survive," he said in mock pain.

"Of course you will, silly..."

It suddenly hit him. "Actually now that I think of it, I am dying. I was ill, I am only back for a while, am I not?" he asked, this time honestly.

"No, you are not. Did he not tell you? You are not going to die on us," she replied with a smile.

It was an innocent statement and, while technically true, she would not realize the seriousness of the mistake until too late. He would not die.

He was surprised.

She then stood on the tip of her toes and kissed him.

I, Clone: Part 2

Part 1: Welcome Back
Part 2: The Goodness of Our Heart

Kendar Zek died in April 110. He had been diagnosed with a degenerative disease, and there was nothing that could have been done. No treatment, no med clones, no Intaki rebirth would bring him back. Because he had been a gentle and orderly man, he died as he had lived: he said goodbye to his dearest friends, distributed his considerable wealth and finished his business. He was grateful that death had announced herself in advance, for he would leave a legacy worth keeping alive. Death would be forever this time. Or so he had been told...

And one good night, he passed away in his sleep.

---

"Please sign here, here and here," said Coat, pointing at forms on the tray. He knew already that his name was Kraak but to Kendar, somehow, he would always be the Coat.

Kendar read the forms, smirked and tried to sign. He tried once. He tried again. After a few more tries he gave up saying "I can't, I do not remember how to sign my name." It was a week after he had woken up in the clone vat and he still had trouble remembering some things. He read the forms again:

I, Kendar Zek, am awake and self-aware.

Coat clarified, "do not worry, this is just a formality. We just need your gesture, the statement is just a legal requirement as you are not expected to posses all your faculties yet. Keep in mind what matters, we have your DNA print and it matches the one in our contracts. We will look after you."

"Why is it that I do not remember?"

The doctor -had he rolled his eyes just there for a second- explained yet another time. "Your situation is special. We went through great lengths to bring you back. We are very proud of it, mind you... medically speaking, you were not supposed to be alive."

A memory stirred within Kendar. "Wait... I was sick, wasn't I? There was no coming back..."

"But you are back. We had a contract with you, and we are on track to meet our obligations." Coat was beginning to sound enthusiastic. "Never give up on technological advance, I say."

"Contract?"

"There is a disaster recovery contract to your name."

Coat explained how it was not a regular clone operation. The contract had been triggered the day Kendar's death was announced in the news; how agents had scoured the cluster for material, information and memories. They had found four discarded medclones, assorted biomass, news clippings and -bingo- corrupted snippets of pod emergency comms. A new body had been grown, partial memories recovered, a neural image prepared and uploaded.

Unfortunately, the best material had been three years old and synthesized memories had to fill the gaps in an image full of holes. As a result, the clone would not quite hold all of its former memories, something that was all too familiar to careless capsuleers.

"You are in an imperfect vessel, if you will, so you will find trouble keeping up," Coat had warned.

Therapy would help him recover to a comfortable level and, for the rest, study would have to do.

It made sense.

Coat was clearly enjoying himself with the story by now, a glimmer in his eye telling on him. "We have brought you back to life, we have provided you with learning implants, we have prepared dossiers for you to study your own life and help you remember. Basic quarters and sustenance have been arranged."

Ken felt fortunate. Fortunate indeed that his old self had been so cautious, fortunate to be in such capable hands, fortunate to be alive. "Gee," Ken said, "thank you so very much." So fortunate, that he wondered what the catch would be. He teased Coat with a bit of sarcasm, "I wonder if I will ever be able to repay you."

"There will be enough time to worry about the issue of payment. As you claim back your life we are confident this will be taken care of, so do not worry. Our first priority is helping you get better."

Kendar's eyes opened wide. Resurrection without guarantee of payment? What if he did not pay? What if he did not want to come back to begin with? Well, he did, but he wondered if he could use that in court. Ken smelled money.

Coat saw the question in his mind, smiled wryly and warned, "We did not do this out of the goodness of our heart, Mr. Zek. We have a contract. With you. As a business opportunity this is worth almost half a billion to us, an amount that you can easily afford as you once told me yourself. You made your down payment years ago so we are confident that when, not if, you recover your life and your assets, we will all be satisfied."

"So I owe you money?"

"You owe us your life. What is money in this case?"

Good question. How much? Better question.

I, Clone: Part 1

Welcome Back

The man in the vat stirred as a mash of memories made its way through his subconscious -darkness, scuffle, yelling, people, dark, alley. Clone restoration was supposed to be an everyday procedure, but this one was different -death, sadness, goodbye, team, Victory. Something did not quite fit -reborn, determination, friends, justice. He opened his eyes and could see shapes beyond the vat -sun, fiancée, allure, academy, slave, amarr. Detecting his distress, the vat mercifully shut him off.

Upload: 10% complete. It would take an entire month.

---

"How do you feel?" asked a soft voice.

He croaked, and was surprised at the sound of his own voice. Trying again, he managed to answer "like shit."

"Good! It means that we are feeling something, and it also means that we are on our way to recovery."

His head hurt and every single part of his body ached. His ears whistled, his head floated in the air, things moved slowly while his own mind was a mess of hastily arranged memories. His brain was tired, as if he had spent a couple of centuries awake. He opened his eyes.

She saw his confused look. "You have to sleep, hon. You are allright and will get better but, right now, you are very tired and we must get you some rest."

What had happened? His thoughts changed faster than he could chase them. He looked at her, then looked around, dazed. With some effort, he could actually focus enough on his surroundings. He was lying in bed in a white room, the nurse standing at his side -how was that side called, right or left?- medical equipment in the room, monitors, subdued beeps pummeling his ears, a door in that corner. A lab coat standing at his side, with a man inside... he looked back at the nurse, attempted a smile but failed.

But she did smile back, and that sweet smile would become his first memory for quite a while. Hello Sugar...

The Coat spoke "I am Dr. Kraak, this is Nurse Martens. First of all, you are in good hands and will make a full recovery. Can you tell us your name?"

The patient looked at him, blankly. Name? Name, name, namenamename... He looked at Sugar, then back at Coat. He had not studied that. That, that was forgotten, irrelevant, lost... But this was an important question, a test of character. He did not want to fail. He focused, then something was on the tip of his tongue. Ken.

"Ken... dar. Ken, dar, Zek. Am Kendar Zek"

The Coat smiled widely "Excellent! Congratulations on a miraculous restoration." He nodded to Sugar who, relieved, entered a code into the bed monitor.

As the patient felt the warm embrace of sedatives, he heard one last thing before falling asleep.

"Welcome back, Mr. Zek."