The Experiment

The experiment had been a success.

I was staring at my clone, marveling at how different he looked from my self-image. He was a living reflection with new independence and he examined me with the same sense of wonder and bewilderment.

My colleagues shared the joy, and I could think of nothing better than to raise my hand and greet him into the world with a handshake. He was taken aback by the motion, but reluctantly accepted it.

His hand felt rougher than mine. I looked down and what I thought was an imperfection in the process was only a confirmation of its perfection. My hand was an adult hand but with fresh, uncreased skin.

I reeled back and went to pull up my sleeve, but I only now realized I was without clothes. It was cold and I didn't have any hair and my appendix scar was not there because I still had an appendix and I was covered in fluid.

And I looked up and saw pity painted across my face.