Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Test Tube Creation 001
Chapter One
6 reviewsCloning: a person or thing that duplicates, imitates, or closely resembles another in appearance, function, performance, or style.
2Original
Hi guys,
So you may have noticed that this was started years ago and that it's almost been forgotten. I'm re-writing it. Completely. Purely because my writing style has changed and this is now too happy for me to write. I write depressing stuff. That's not a reflection on myself, I'm actually an amazingly happy person :D but my writing's not.
What I'm doing is leaving this here, updated, so you can read this bit and get the general gist of what's happening, and I'll go away and make it more violent, darker and a hell of a lot more graphic.
See you soon! :D
Cloning: a person or thing that duplicates, imitates, or closely resembles another in appearance, function, performance, or style.
“Am I a clone?” “You’re a creation.”
“Isn’t that a clone?” “It could be.”
“So I am a clone?” “No you’re a creation.”
“But Daddy, I know more than you. I am a clone, a genetically similar model of your friend.” “Which could be a creation. Don’t call me Daddy, you’re 19 years old.”
“I’m not, I’m 3 hours old.” “Physically, you’re 19 years old.”
“But only because you modified genes, implanting them into empty cells and recreating human life. I can never age physically. So really I’m 3 hours old.” “Jimmy, erase all knowledge of cloning and advanced biology. Cut it out of the program for the next trials. Actually, just erase his memory.”
“Yes sir. Deleting Test 001 knowledge.” “Rename the program: Pete.”
That’s all I am: a creation. I was brought into this world by a scientist named Dr. Freeton and he tried to control me. He filled my mind with the internet, using advanced technology and experimental trials. I’m smarter than any of you and that’s how I worked out he was going to ‘dispose of me’.
Gerard’s POV
“That’s $9.98, please.”
“Oh come on, Gee! Family discount? I am your brother.”
“$9.98.”
“I don’t have that much on me!”
“Well put one of your comics back then.”
“Famil-.”
“Say family discount one more time Mikes, and I swear I’m banning you from this shop. Go get a job.”
“I had one, you fired me.”
“Because you wouldn’t work.”
“You were grumpy because you had just broken up with Bert.”
“Fuck off.” My younger brother glared at me in response, dropping the two comics on the counter and storming out.
For four years now, I’d worked for Connor’s Comic Store and every week Mikey would try to get a family discount and every week I would refuse. He just didn’t get it. I wasn’t going to give him a discount, if I did, it comes out of my wages, how shit is that?! I need the money to pay rent and for food and bills. My flat is expensive enough as it is and I borrow from my family too, so there is no way I would be giving any of my money away.
My eyes focus on the clock on the computer screen next to me, slowly watching it until it changes: three more minutes and we can shut up shop. Each evening is the same, counting down the minutes until I can leave. “Gerard! You can go if you want, we won’t let more customers in and I can handle these few.” I look over to my colleague, Frank, as he gestures at the remaining people in the shop. I smile gratefully, picking up my knee length black jacket and slinging a scarf round my neck.
I hear Frank laugh at me. “Prepared for the weather then..? Cos I thought it was 17th July, not 23rd December.”
“Its called fashion, idiot.”
“You’re going to boil in that outfit.”
“It a cool breeze.” With a last roll of my eyes, I leave the building, hitting the cool air. I knew it would be cold. I begin the short journey to my flat, burying my hands deep in my pockets as cars pass so fast its almost a blurring motion. Usually, I would stop by the store on the way home and grab a bottle of vodka or beer or something alcoholic, intending to waste the night away in front of the TV and complain to myself about not having a boyfriend. But last night I hadn’t drank it at home, so I still had some left over in the fridge, which meant I couldn’t be bothered walking the extra half a mile and decided to take the shortcut through the alley behind the CRC – Cloning Research Centre.
As soon as I step into the alley, the smell hit me. It was the overpowering stench of chemicals, the toxic gases burning the back of my throat as I breathe. I let out a choked gasp and clamp my scarf over the lower half of my face, willing my feet to back out of the alley, but they just drag me closer to the source of the smell. I hesitate, closing my eyes and counting slowly in my head in a vain attempt to calm my racing heart.”1..2..3..4-.” A heart wrenching sob echoes off the walls, my eyes flying open in shock. My senses have numbed slightly to the smell, leaving only a lingering scent around me. I drop my scarf, listening as I hear another quiet sob amplified by the confined space. I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out so I shut it again, inching forwards and trying to locate the distressed person. For a moment its silent and I turn, trying to hide my horror as I find him.
He’s curled up on the floor with his head buried in his arms, so only the greasy tousled hair is showing. His naked, skinny frame is trembling with sobs that seem to shake his whole body. I can see cuts and grazes littering his arms, not too deep but so many that you can see they cause him pain. I gaze at the bare flesh, taking in the image. I step forwards cautiously and rest my hand on his shoulder, startling him as his head jerks up and his body flinches away from me.
“P-Please don’t h-hurt m-me.” He pleads through tears, his brown eyes glistening as he scrutinizes my face. I bite my lip nervously as I pull my hand away.
“I won’t hurt you. I just wanted to..to…” to what? Sure I wanted to help, but how? “To…uh…see if you were okay..” I only realise now, as I draw closer to him, that he’s shivering almost violently and his eyes are filled with fear. “Are you cold?” He nods silently, still staring at me, looking like a rabbit caught in headlights. I slip the long jacket off my shoulders, unsure as to whether I should hand it to him or wrap it round him myself. When he doesn’t make a move to take it, I wrap it round his shoulders pulling it round him awkwardly.
“Thank y-you.” he mumbles, curling up tightly in it. I stand there for a moment, unsure as to what to do, so I slowly sink to the ground, resting against the grimy wall.
“Are you…are you hungry?” There’s a moments hesitation before he nods again, looking up at me almost hopefully. “You want to come get something to eat?” Another silent nod. “What do you like to eat?”
“W-what?”
“Like…what do you like? Um…sandwiches? Chinese? Home cooked food..? Not that I have any though..”
“I-I don’t..know..” I stand up, holding out my hand to help him up, but he just stares at it, unsure. “Where a-are we going-g?”
“To get some food.”
He pushes himself to his feet, taking slow cautious steps almost like a small child learning to walk. I reach out to steady him, his hand gripping my arm tightly as we slowly head back to my flat.
-----
“What’s your name?” He looks up at me with a mouth full of chicken, swallowing slowly before answering.
“My program name or my creation name?”
“Your…your name.”
“Te- Pete.” He blinks a few times before looking down and attacking his food hungrily again. I just sip my coffee silently questioning why I was looking after him. Creation name? He’s probably on crack or some sort of drug. As soon as we got to mine I took him to the bedroom to find him some clothes while I ordered a Chinese for him: now he’s sat in one of my oversized band t-shirts and a baggy pair of jeans, held up round his skinny waist with a black studded belt.
“What’s a creation name?” He looks up again and I laugh at the sight of sauce dribbling down his chin. I reach over, wiping it away with my thumb and seeing the corner of his mouth tilt up.
“You won’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
“A creation name is when a…someone like me…is, uh, well….created. I’m…I’m a, uh…clone.” His voice is hesitant as he looks at his plate almost embarrassed. I frown.
“Are you on crack? Because, if you are-”
“I’m not on crack, I’m serious.” I open my mouth to speak, my eyes widening in shock, but no sound comes out as I stare at him. Clones are like…experiments, you don’t just find them lying around in the streets. They’re supposed to be born like normal and brought up by families like a normal child, not found weeping and naked in an alley. He should be sat home eating a proper meal, complaining he’d eaten too much and couldn’t eat more, not sat opposite me tearing into chicken and chips from the Chinese like a ravenous dog. They should have their own clothes, not wearing mine which are too big for him. “Mister…please talk to me. I’m sorry.”
I must have been staring at him for too long because his voice drags me out of my thoughts. “So you’re really a clone?” He just nods before yawning. He doesn’t stand up, just flops his head forwards, his face landing on his plate as he falls asleep. I raise an eyebrow, confused but walk over to him, trying to lift him and supporting his sleeping body to the bedroom. I lay him on the bed, pulling the blankets over him before returning to the kitchen.
I was getting more confused as I speak to him: I was looking after a clone.
(A/N: Well, I'm still waiting for more ideas for these chapters in the "Roll Up, Roll Up!", so review that as well and you can make this story your own! But I write a few things and I notice that a lot of people are reading them, but I only get a couple of reviews from the same people each time. Come on, how hard is it to click a couple of buttons and tell me what you think? So please, read, review and rate it!
Cookies?)
So you may have noticed that this was started years ago and that it's almost been forgotten. I'm re-writing it. Completely. Purely because my writing style has changed and this is now too happy for me to write. I write depressing stuff. That's not a reflection on myself, I'm actually an amazingly happy person :D but my writing's not.
What I'm doing is leaving this here, updated, so you can read this bit and get the general gist of what's happening, and I'll go away and make it more violent, darker and a hell of a lot more graphic.
See you soon! :D
Cloning: a person or thing that duplicates, imitates, or closely resembles another in appearance, function, performance, or style.
“Am I a clone?” “You’re a creation.”
“Isn’t that a clone?” “It could be.”
“So I am a clone?” “No you’re a creation.”
“But Daddy, I know more than you. I am a clone, a genetically similar model of your friend.” “Which could be a creation. Don’t call me Daddy, you’re 19 years old.”
“I’m not, I’m 3 hours old.” “Physically, you’re 19 years old.”
“But only because you modified genes, implanting them into empty cells and recreating human life. I can never age physically. So really I’m 3 hours old.” “Jimmy, erase all knowledge of cloning and advanced biology. Cut it out of the program for the next trials. Actually, just erase his memory.”
“Yes sir. Deleting Test 001 knowledge.” “Rename the program: Pete.”
That’s all I am: a creation. I was brought into this world by a scientist named Dr. Freeton and he tried to control me. He filled my mind with the internet, using advanced technology and experimental trials. I’m smarter than any of you and that’s how I worked out he was going to ‘dispose of me’.
Gerard’s POV
“That’s $9.98, please.”
“Oh come on, Gee! Family discount? I am your brother.”
“$9.98.”
“I don’t have that much on me!”
“Well put one of your comics back then.”
“Famil-.”
“Say family discount one more time Mikes, and I swear I’m banning you from this shop. Go get a job.”
“I had one, you fired me.”
“Because you wouldn’t work.”
“You were grumpy because you had just broken up with Bert.”
“Fuck off.” My younger brother glared at me in response, dropping the two comics on the counter and storming out.
For four years now, I’d worked for Connor’s Comic Store and every week Mikey would try to get a family discount and every week I would refuse. He just didn’t get it. I wasn’t going to give him a discount, if I did, it comes out of my wages, how shit is that?! I need the money to pay rent and for food and bills. My flat is expensive enough as it is and I borrow from my family too, so there is no way I would be giving any of my money away.
My eyes focus on the clock on the computer screen next to me, slowly watching it until it changes: three more minutes and we can shut up shop. Each evening is the same, counting down the minutes until I can leave. “Gerard! You can go if you want, we won’t let more customers in and I can handle these few.” I look over to my colleague, Frank, as he gestures at the remaining people in the shop. I smile gratefully, picking up my knee length black jacket and slinging a scarf round my neck.
I hear Frank laugh at me. “Prepared for the weather then..? Cos I thought it was 17th July, not 23rd December.”
“Its called fashion, idiot.”
“You’re going to boil in that outfit.”
“It a cool breeze.” With a last roll of my eyes, I leave the building, hitting the cool air. I knew it would be cold. I begin the short journey to my flat, burying my hands deep in my pockets as cars pass so fast its almost a blurring motion. Usually, I would stop by the store on the way home and grab a bottle of vodka or beer or something alcoholic, intending to waste the night away in front of the TV and complain to myself about not having a boyfriend. But last night I hadn’t drank it at home, so I still had some left over in the fridge, which meant I couldn’t be bothered walking the extra half a mile and decided to take the shortcut through the alley behind the CRC – Cloning Research Centre.
As soon as I step into the alley, the smell hit me. It was the overpowering stench of chemicals, the toxic gases burning the back of my throat as I breathe. I let out a choked gasp and clamp my scarf over the lower half of my face, willing my feet to back out of the alley, but they just drag me closer to the source of the smell. I hesitate, closing my eyes and counting slowly in my head in a vain attempt to calm my racing heart.”1..2..3..4-.” A heart wrenching sob echoes off the walls, my eyes flying open in shock. My senses have numbed slightly to the smell, leaving only a lingering scent around me. I drop my scarf, listening as I hear another quiet sob amplified by the confined space. I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out so I shut it again, inching forwards and trying to locate the distressed person. For a moment its silent and I turn, trying to hide my horror as I find him.
He’s curled up on the floor with his head buried in his arms, so only the greasy tousled hair is showing. His naked, skinny frame is trembling with sobs that seem to shake his whole body. I can see cuts and grazes littering his arms, not too deep but so many that you can see they cause him pain. I gaze at the bare flesh, taking in the image. I step forwards cautiously and rest my hand on his shoulder, startling him as his head jerks up and his body flinches away from me.
“P-Please don’t h-hurt m-me.” He pleads through tears, his brown eyes glistening as he scrutinizes my face. I bite my lip nervously as I pull my hand away.
“I won’t hurt you. I just wanted to..to…” to what? Sure I wanted to help, but how? “To…uh…see if you were okay..” I only realise now, as I draw closer to him, that he’s shivering almost violently and his eyes are filled with fear. “Are you cold?” He nods silently, still staring at me, looking like a rabbit caught in headlights. I slip the long jacket off my shoulders, unsure as to whether I should hand it to him or wrap it round him myself. When he doesn’t make a move to take it, I wrap it round his shoulders pulling it round him awkwardly.
“Thank y-you.” he mumbles, curling up tightly in it. I stand there for a moment, unsure as to what to do, so I slowly sink to the ground, resting against the grimy wall.
“Are you…are you hungry?” There’s a moments hesitation before he nods again, looking up at me almost hopefully. “You want to come get something to eat?” Another silent nod. “What do you like to eat?”
“W-what?”
“Like…what do you like? Um…sandwiches? Chinese? Home cooked food..? Not that I have any though..”
“I-I don’t..know..” I stand up, holding out my hand to help him up, but he just stares at it, unsure. “Where a-are we going-g?”
“To get some food.”
He pushes himself to his feet, taking slow cautious steps almost like a small child learning to walk. I reach out to steady him, his hand gripping my arm tightly as we slowly head back to my flat.
-----
“What’s your name?” He looks up at me with a mouth full of chicken, swallowing slowly before answering.
“My program name or my creation name?”
“Your…your name.”
“Te- Pete.” He blinks a few times before looking down and attacking his food hungrily again. I just sip my coffee silently questioning why I was looking after him. Creation name? He’s probably on crack or some sort of drug. As soon as we got to mine I took him to the bedroom to find him some clothes while I ordered a Chinese for him: now he’s sat in one of my oversized band t-shirts and a baggy pair of jeans, held up round his skinny waist with a black studded belt.
“What’s a creation name?” He looks up again and I laugh at the sight of sauce dribbling down his chin. I reach over, wiping it away with my thumb and seeing the corner of his mouth tilt up.
“You won’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
“A creation name is when a…someone like me…is, uh, well….created. I’m…I’m a, uh…clone.” His voice is hesitant as he looks at his plate almost embarrassed. I frown.
“Are you on crack? Because, if you are-”
“I’m not on crack, I’m serious.” I open my mouth to speak, my eyes widening in shock, but no sound comes out as I stare at him. Clones are like…experiments, you don’t just find them lying around in the streets. They’re supposed to be born like normal and brought up by families like a normal child, not found weeping and naked in an alley. He should be sat home eating a proper meal, complaining he’d eaten too much and couldn’t eat more, not sat opposite me tearing into chicken and chips from the Chinese like a ravenous dog. They should have their own clothes, not wearing mine which are too big for him. “Mister…please talk to me. I’m sorry.”
I must have been staring at him for too long because his voice drags me out of my thoughts. “So you’re really a clone?” He just nods before yawning. He doesn’t stand up, just flops his head forwards, his face landing on his plate as he falls asleep. I raise an eyebrow, confused but walk over to him, trying to lift him and supporting his sleeping body to the bedroom. I lay him on the bed, pulling the blankets over him before returning to the kitchen.
I was getting more confused as I speak to him: I was looking after a clone.
(A/N: Well, I'm still waiting for more ideas for these chapters in the "Roll Up, Roll Up!", so review that as well and you can make this story your own! But I write a few things and I notice that a lot of people are reading them, but I only get a couple of reviews from the same people each time. Come on, how hard is it to click a couple of buttons and tell me what you think? So please, read, review and rate it!
Cookies?)
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