“It’s your turn to go to God Damn work today, buttmunch,” I said to myself.
Well, not technically myself, I suppose. The lesser me. The clone that I bought. The version of myself that I paid an experimental, black market company for. I found them on the deep internet, and I paid in Bitcoins to have a replica of myself made. If you don’t believe me, Google “3-D printer living tissue” right now and see what comes up on the mainstream internet. Now imagine how much you aren’t being told beyond that advancement in technology. I’m not going to work today. My clone is.
“Hooray” my idiotic, giddy clone exclaimed, “It’s crazy tie Friday!”
Creating the living tissue replica of myself was the easiest part-technology wise for the company. The grueling, one week personality and memory test is where I think I wasted my money with the result that I got. Do I sound like the kind of person that gets excited about ‘crazy tie Friday?’
“Don’t wait up,” my clone announced, “I think the sales team and I are going out for happy hour!”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, disgusted. “I don’t want to be around those guys.”
“Well, you…aren’t. I am,” he said.
“HEY!” I jumped up and grabbed him by his tie that looked exactly like a fish, “YOU ARE ME! DON’T THINK YOU AREN’T AND DON’T YOU START FUCKING UP MY LIFE BY HANGING OUT WITH ASSHOLES THAT I HATE!”
It had been three months since he was delivered and we started living together. The first week was just me coming home from my shitty bank job and having him do chores around the apartment. Making fancy dinners, scrubbing out the toilet, stuff like that. I never thought that I was taking advantage of him, because he never really complained. He was just happy to be here, I guess, and that proves he is the lesser me because what kind of life is that? No real dreams? No sense of adventure? Then fine, clip my toenails, you meaningless clone!
Around the second week, I decided he was able to go do my mind numbing job. No one suspected a thing. I trade off every other day with him, just to make sure everything is going smoothly and he’s not going to get me fired or anything, but honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck anymore. I sometimes think that maybe I’m the one talking to other people’s clones at work. They’re not real. They are exaggerated versions of people that I have nothing in common with. I wanted a way out, but with my resume and experience it was all going to be another clone of the job I already had.
Sure, you’re probably asking, ‘well then why don’t you just have your clone always go to work for you?’ I could get paid from him doing all of the work and travel the world. I certainly could.
But what you have to understand is, I’m the kind of guy who hangs out on the deep internet. I’ve done terrible things. I’m a bad person. I don’t like that the clone version of myself is being happy at my job. That’s not me. That will never be me.
So, today is my day off and as my clone goes into work to get arrested for the rest of his life, I’m packing up a small suitcase full of clothes, some suntan lotion, and a briefcase of one hundred thousand dollars that I stole from my job last night.
I’m off to Central America. I won’t be getting a shirt that says ‘You better Belize it’ because that’s not the kind of guy I am. Even though I am one thousand percent going off all grids, I can’t say that you will never see me again.
They probably made copies.