Genesis: Acropolis 3000, #1

By Susanne L. Lambdin

   Trinity Academy is the only school in the city-state of Acropolis to accept three classifications of humans as students—the elite C-1s born of natural birth, C-2 replicons grown in tanks, and C-3 clones. Students attend four terms to prepare for a lifelong service in the Acropolis Army-AirCorps. In the Frontier live REMs, registered mutants created by the nuclear fallout after WWIII, and it's the AAA's job to protect and serve until death.

   For Demetri, a shy and awkward C-2, the academy offers the only opportunity to hone her fighting skills and learn proper social behaviors within a competitive environment where "pain is the best teacher." However, Demetri soon discovers something is wrong with her and her fellow replicons. Designed to be passive, celibate intellectuals, she and her classmates display a strange feral appetite for violence and intimacy.

   When students start to disappear overnight mysteriously, Demetri sets out to discover the truth about her creation and the world, placing her siblings and friends in jeopardy, for those who question authority do not live long.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susanne Lambdin
• Release date: Dec 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781386897675

Book preview

Remarkable stuff . . . science.

—Doctor Meyers, 3000 CE

Awake

Chapter 1

Green.

It was the first thought in her mind, for it was the color of the liquid the girl floated in. The cylindrical tank was one of many within the laboratory. Submerged, with a mane of black hair in her eyes, a breathing apparatus stuck in her mouth, and tubes in every other orifice, she drifted in and out of a dream-like state. Yet, she was aware that a doctor, three lab technicians, and a group of civilians stood in front of her tank. She was unable to open her eyes or respond, other than to blow bubbles and twitch in the tank, listening to the conversation.

These incubator-tanks are the latest design. Notice how the magnifying glass makes each replicon appear abnormally large for observation, the doctor said. Embryos are encased within jelly-like sacks and kept safe and snug, as if tucked within a mother’s womb. During the early stage of development, zygotes have more in common with amphibians, which is why my colleagues and I refer to them as ‘fish heads.’ We tinker with their DNA, so each octopod appears as siblings. Over a period of twelve months, our designer babies develop into adults, twenty years in age, while we transfer knowledge directly into their brains.

None show any abnormalities? a deeper male voice asked.

This particular replicon was designed to be male, yet for some reason has developed into a female, sir. We’re about to pull the fishes out of their tanks, the doctor said. If you will all follow me to the observation deck, refreshments will be served. The voices and footsteps faded.

Tentacle-like tubes attached to her skull and arms ran through an opening at the top of the tank and connected to a symbiotic-machine, which provided oxygen and nutrients, and removed waste. She knew languages, history, math, science, philosophy, art, and warfare from chemically injected Info-Pacs. Rapid eye movement beneath closed eyelids occurred whenever she dreamed. Images that made no sense appeared in her mind ―she lay in a bed, windows open to let in a warm breeze, hearing the sporadic electrical zap of mosquitos and moths striking a force field, creating white noise. Someone held her tight, a nose pressed against her neck. She heard a great beast roar in the distant jungle, which turned into human screams.

Frightened, the girl spewed bubbles from her regulator. She opened her eyes, frantic, and saw three empty tanks. In an incubator beside hers, a muscular boy floated and gazed at her until a technician opened his hatch. Two men in green coats pulled the boy onto a metal platform and disconnected his tubes. She waited while they removed three more siblings from their tanks before it was her turn. The lid popped open, and hands dragged her out of the water and jerked out the tubes.

Stop. It hurts, she said.

The girl, bleeding from various parts of her anatomy, whimpered in pain and curled into a fetal position. A technician carried her down a flight of metal stairs and set her on her feet. The moment he released her, she collapsed. From her prone position, the girl stared at three males and a female gazing back with bright violet eyes. All were of Asian descent—tall, dark-haired, and muscular, while she was diminutive and uncoordinated.

Can’t . . . walk. Help me, she said.

I have eighty fish heads to deal with and don’t have time to help. Most of you flop about when you come out of a tank, slippery when wet, and each one of you says the same thing. Of course, you can walk and talk. Inside your skull is a library of information, so figure it out, the technician said. Impatiently, he motioned at the large boy, first to come out of a tank. Come help your sister. Someone will come for you.

Dressed in a white robe and slippers, the tall boy with slanted purple eyes held out his hand to pull her to her feet. He offered a sympathetic smile and embraced her.

Hello, Demetrius. I am Darwin, the eldest in our pod. You are my little brother.

"I’m a girl. I think my name is Celeste. Demetrius, Dorian, and Niles are missing. Why were they taken away? Were they abnormal?"

Not your concern, a man in a white coat said. He pushed a cart stacked with slippers forward and stopped to point at a tank where Demetrius was written on the side in black. I pulled you out of this tank. Male or female, this is your official name. Deal with it, you slimy little sardine.

"And you’re a slimy Anguilla with a rostrata-sized nose."

Jumbled words appeared in a multitude of languages, until her eyelids fluttered open, clearing her mind. ‘You know what to do,’ a youthful voice whispered. ‘Accessing personal information requires a single thought. What do you want to know? Focus, and you will know the answer.’ The girl confirmed her name was indeed Demetrius, not Celeste, and designed to be male. An error had made her develop into a female.

You are correct, sir. I am Demetrius.

It’s okay, the technician said. He was a clone, dark-haired, lean, and a duplicate of each worker in the lab. Gender only matters when it’s a decision to sit or stand to take a piss. Make up your own mind. Turning on his heel, he went to a control board and started flushing the tanks arranged in four rows, making a loud whoosh.

"I think Demetri suits you much better, sis," Darwin said.

All right, Demetri said.

Another boy with lank black hair hanging to his lower abdomen, no bellybutton, and pale skin approached. A handsome boy stood behind him, wringing out his hair, and at his side was a beautiful girl.

I am Milton, your brother. With a long index finger, he pointed at the pair behind him. This is Baron and Vega. We are your family. He waited until the noise of flushing tanks reverberated in the massive chamber to whisper in her ear. "Three of our siblings were found defective. I heard screams, too."

Am I defective, Milton? Demetri asked.

You are small and underdeveloped. Who knows? Perhaps you will grow.

Nothing is wrong with Demetri, Darwin said. Put this on and try to walk again, little sister. He helped her into a white robe made from a soft fabric that smelled a bit musty. Showing kindness and the utmost patience, he placed his hand beneath her elbow. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall, he said. Now, take a step.

Her movements were awkward as a toddler, and she kept hold of Darwin as a million thoughts whirled in her mind. The floor was damp and cold, not a pleasant experience for her first time trying to walk. Something smelled awful―a ripe, pungent odor that clung to her skin and long, tangled hair, and she promptly pictured a fish. Extinct, she thought, accessing the information on Earth’s past with a mere thought. Aquatic and land animals, plants, insects, and humans were destroyed in a nuclear fallout in the 21st century. Those fortunate enough to live beneath the surface survived and relied on scientists to create superior specimens of each of them. They resided in Acropolis, an enormous city kept safe beneath a domed force field. She was in a laboratory in District 15, one of many labs that specialized in the creation of replicons and clones, overseen by humans born of women and men—an elite ruling class known as C-1s.

Demetri took another step and slipped on a patch of water. Losing hold of Darwin, she crashed to her knees. With a groan of pain, Demetri pushed her hair aside from her face. All four of her siblings stared at her, but only Darwin showed compassion.

If at first you don’t succeed, Darwin said with a smile, try again.

My mind is a jungle. I can’t control my thoughts or my muscles, Demetri said. At this rate, I’ll be on my belly all my life.

Baron burst into laughter. One can only try, he said as he helped Vega put on a robe. The tall girl appraised Demetri with contempt before she led Baron to a large group of C-2 replicons, all barefoot, in robes, and eager to make new friends.

I was afraid Vega was an alpha. As pod leader and the firstborn of this generation of replicons, it’s my job to take charge before Vega does. You’re not the only one having difficulties. Take your time, Demetri. Milton is here to help you.

Darwin lifted Demetri to her feet and placed her hand on Milton’s arm. She teetered on her heels and clung to him.

All right, everyone. Lower your voices. I am Darwin, he said, the firstborn, and I’m taking charge. There are ten pods. Form a line behind your pod leaders. A counselor is coming for us. Doctor Meyers will answer all of our questions.

How does he know what’s going on? a girl in the crowd asked.

Focus, Demetri, Milton said. Your Info-Pacs are scrambled. Reboot your brain by relaxing. Now, place one foot in front of the other. It is all rudimentary, sister.

Demetri froze in place when Milton removed his steadying hand. With one step, she toppled onto her backside as her legs shot out from under her, knocking over the cart and scattering slippers across the floor. She bit her tongue, and blood filled her mouth. Her hair fell across her face again, requiring a hand stroke to clear her view.

Hi, I’m Caelum. I need shoes, a boy with curly blond hair said.

Demetri muttered her name in reply and frantically scampered about to collect footwear into a heap. As she searched for a pair to fit the boy, she came across her own size and slid them onto her cold feet. Vega appeared with three girls, each tall and beautiful, and snickered at Demetri’s expense.

Why, you’re nothing but a wet little mouse, Vega said.

A girl with red hair squeaked, Mouse!

"Good one, Scarlet, Vega said. She stood over Demetri. You’re small, your nose twitches, and you scamper on all fours. Mouse is your new name."

An accurate comparison, Milton said.

Says you! Baron rushed to Demetri’s aid. He crouched, pushed her hair from her face, took her hand, and helped her stand. Ignore Vega and her friends, he said. "The doctors assigned me the wrong name too. I should be King! He winked. I’ll look after you, Dee. It’s just what brothers do."

He’s the funny one, Demetri thought and smiled for the first time.

A door opened to reveal a stern, dark-haired man with a mustache and wearing a white lab coat. Demetri instinctively knew it was the counselor. Four male security guards came in behind him. The guards were identical clones and came from a different donor than the technicians, wearing dark green uniforms and armed with pain wands.

Allow me to introduce myself. I am Doctor Meyers, your counselor. It’s time for your orientation class, he shouted. Many of you are confused by your surroundings or find it difficult to process your Info-Pacs, and a few are barely able to walk. Allow me to clarify. This is Birth Station 3, District 17, in the city of Acropolis. It is the year 3,000 CE, for ‘current era,’ and it is September 11. A few of you may speak a language other than English, but you’ll adjust soon enough. Please save your questions for the debriefing. We are behind schedule. He lifted his arm. Follow me, guide cadets.

What is a guide? Demetri asked. She turned to Baron and accepted his outstretched hand, glad to have his help. The counselor is not like us. He’s a C-1, natural-born. He’s a higher-class human.

I don’t care, as long as he feeds us. I’m starving, Baron said.

The counselor took them through a long white corridor, stopped in front of a red door marked D-1, and pointed at Darwin.

Enter with your pod and dress in the provided clothing. All of you pod leaders, take your siblings to the rooms I’ll show you, Doctor Meyers said. Trinity uniforms are blue to designate you as C-2s, the scientific term for ‘replicons.’ As soon as you are in uniform, join me upstairs in Conference Room 2-23A. Refreshments will be provided. He walked on, and while still speaking, assigned rooms to the other pods.

Come inside, Darwin said and opened the red door.

Two metal benches had folded uniforms, black boots, and brown belts with a single suspender. Demetri found her size, and as soon as Darwin closed the door, she stripped and dressed in her school clothes. She assumed the single red stripe on each shoulder designated them as freshmen at Trinity. There was no mirror nor any other way to see her reflection. Her siblings dressed and tossed their robes and slippers into a corner. The suspender on her belt crossed over her right breast and had two small silver loops on either side, which she assumed was to hold a scabbard and a holster.

I’m able to access my apps without difficulty now, Demetri said. It is the year 3,000, President Jefferson Howard leads the Forum of sixty senators, and the military is commanded from Fort Berlin by General Thorndyke. We’re guide cadets and will study for four terms of five months each, graduate, and be assigned to a master guide at one of six forts.

Guides serve officers, Darwin said, planning battles, drawing maps, and locating mutants with the assistance of hybrid scouts. Tamburlaine was the original First Guide—a war hero, the author of the ‘PTG Regulations,’ and considered an expert swordsman. We may not be officers or soldiers, but we will see as much action.

How do I look? Vega asked, puckering her lips at Baron.

‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall. You’re not the fairest. You’re just tall.

Vega balled her hand into a fist and punched at Baron’s chest. He spun on his heel, grabbed her arm, brought it behind her back, and lifted her onto her toes. Milton, ignoring the pair, zipped his jacket shut and tugged at the bottom hem. The uniforms were tailor-made for each of them and turned robed, wet kids into cadets.

Milton looked uncomfortable in his livery, while Darwin appeared distinguished. Baron and Vega stopped grappling at a sharp glance from Darwin. Behind Darwin stood Milton, Vega, Baron, and then Demetri. Aware they were ranked in a pod according to who was pulled first from the tanks, a totally random act, it felt like a disadvantage.

Darwin entered the hall as the other pods exited from their dressing rooms. No one spoke as Darwin assumed the lead and escorted the group to the second floor, where they found armed guards outside a set of open doors. Bright lights shone from within a white room, lined with tables and benches, into which the replicons entered. Demetri noticed a dozen metal slots on the far side of the room. She knew these were replicators at once, which created whatever food desired, yet having never tasted any substance, whatever she imagined seemed delicious.

I’m salivating for a processed steak and a milkshake, Baron said. His eyes widened when he smiled at Demetri, and he led her toward the nearest replicator. He let out a shout when a large boy cut in front of him and punched a number on a keyboard to select his meal, which became visible as a hologram floating in the air. Hey, pal, Baron said. My sister and I were here first. Whatever you ordered, I’ll have, and you’ll wait your turn.

Oh yeah? The boy, fists raised, turned to Baron. His eyes were golden, his skin ebony, and his muscles were stupendous. I’m Ajax. Hamlet is my pod leader. Seems I’m bigger, so if I want to cut in line, I will, and there is nothing you can do about it.

I’m Baron von First-in-Line, and you’ll move, or I’ll introduce you to the floor.

Over here, a soft voice said.

Demetri noticed a boy with curly platinum hair and dimples waving her over to his line. He stood in eighth place of an attractive pod, each with straight hair and pale blue eyes. Six boys and two girls. Nordic. Demetri heard a scuffle as she changed lines to stand behind the friendly boy. Baron had pinned Ajax in a headlock and was laughing his head off, while Vega snatched the ordered meal and joined a table of girls with different-colored hair.

I’m Caelum. Orion is our leader. Who are you? the boy asked.

Demetri. I’m the youngest, and I’m a girl.

I never thought differently. I have no body hair. Orion says I am slow to mature, same as you, which sometimes happens, Caelum said. His cheeks grew pink, and dimples appeared when he shyly smiled. As this is my first time to eat food, I thought I might order a vegetable shake. Does cucumber and carrot sound good?

Demetri laughed. A lot of things sound good, she said. Flying, like I do in my dream, is impossible in real life. I would never jump off a building to confirm what I know to be true. Since taste is all that matters in this experiment, it’s safe to order a shake.

I imagine the color will be disgusting. Part of the fun. Caelum winked at her as he punched in the code to order his creation.

The youths sat at tables with their pods and traded food off their plates to try something different, yet not all pod-mates seemed excited or even chatted. A group of large girls of Eastern European heritage―Svetlana’s pod―sat at a table devouring synthetic steaks. Kipling’s pod represented India's Dravidian line, dark-haired and dark-eyed, and laughed every time they lifted skewered fruit to their mouths. Each of the pods had unique ethnic backgrounds from a world no longer in existence—Slavic, Nordic, African, Germanic, South American, and Asian, which helped identify siblings. Caelum took the two bright-green shakes and handed one to Demetri. When their fingers touched, Demetri automatically knew Caelum’s siblings were named after Greek gods from mythology, and all had long platinum hair, except Caelum, who had dimples and curls.

For you, my friend, Caelum said.

Are we? I’d like to be friends. Thank you, Demetri said. She tapped her glass to his and carried the shake to her pod-mates’ table.

Darwin took a bite from an apple with a crunch. I just met Hamlet and Kipling, he said, chewing. At Trinity, we’re listed under the name of each pod’s leader. I am our pod leader. Try to remember the others' names―Jakiro, Galahad, Svetlana, Nim, Scarlet, Taylor, and Orion. The leaders just took a vote and agreed I should be class president. We’ll make it official once we’re on campus, as each of us must fill out an application to prove we understand what’s expected of us.

Disclaimer, Baron said. "None of us knows shit about shit."

Speak for yourself, brother. I know everything there is to know, Vega said.

A limited viewpoint, I’m sure, Milton said.

A bowl of noodles, a fizzy drink, and a plate of cheese, crackers, and grapes sat in front of Vega. She ignored Milton but caught Demetri staring and threw a grape at her.

I don’t like your androgynous appearance. I can’t tell if you’re a boy or a girl. Orion’s sisters and Scarlet’s sisters are gorgeous. They asked me about you. I told them you should be tossed into the tank for a few more weeks to grow.

Leave her alone, Baron said. He jabbed at Vega’s hand with his fork but missed when she jerked it away. Vega glared at him.

Whatever you’re drinking, Dee, looks absolutely revolting, Darwin said. You need solid food to get used to your teeth. One of my back molars feels loose.

I’m sure it’s fine, Demetri said.

She took a sip of her shake and wrinkled her nose, tasting cucumbers, carrots, and something bitter. She peered into the thick drink, spotted tiny pieces of red beets, and gagged. Caelum had tricked her, for nothing else could taste that awful by accident. She rose to her feet and looked for the blond boy in the crowd. Two tables across from her own, Caelum stared at her, a stupid grin on his face, and burst into laughter. The boy was too adorable to be angry with, and she mouthed, "Funny," took another sip, and swallowed.

The counselor entered the room, and all noise ended. Demetri sat on the bench and kicked Darwin before he took another bite of his apple.

May I have your attention? Doctor Meyers said. He had entered the room ahead of six security officers and a tall, dark-haired man wearing a bright red jacket, and black slacks with a scarlet stripe on the sides. While all of you eat, I would like to introduce you to the Guide Cadet Superintendent, Master Strombo. He gestured toward the impressive man in red. Your classes are already selected, though you will be allowed to make modifications should you prefer something else. All of you may know Einstein’s Theories, but it does not mean science is your best subject, and Master Strombo is here to assist you. Strombo?

Good afternoon, guide cadets, Strombo said. His voice was deep and resonated with a warmth that matched his eyes.

Doctor Meyers looked annoyed. Answer him, cadets!

Good afternoon, Master Strombo, each student said.

Demetri disliked the counselor, finding his brusque manner as unpleasant as his appearance. His dark eyes were too close together, his face pinched as if caught in a pressing machine, and he radiated a snobbish superiority. Doctor Meyers was a C-1, she thought, while Master Strombo was a replicon and a professional tour guide. Strombo, lean and handsome, kept his hand on the hilt of the saber attached to his belt as he walked with a smile between the tables. Caelum sat between Orion and his sister, Nova, one of Vega’s friends. The curly-haired boy smiled at Demetri, lifted his green shake, pointed at it, and shook his head, mouthing the words, Awful stuff. Demetri laughed but quieted when Master Strombo paused at her table to shake Darwin’s hand.

Darwin, it is a pleasure to meet you, Strombo said. He glanced at Demetri. Only five siblings? I was not aware any pod lost siblings. I’m sorry.

It is not your fault, sir, Darwin said.

A loud sniff from the counselor drew Demetri’s gaze. Doctor Meyers appeared annoyed. She assumed he considered Master Strombo’s apology as unnecessary. The counselor had not explained her siblings’ deaths, which left her of the opinion Doctor Meyers was unsympathetic and indifferent toward replicons.

A table near the door has all your schoolbags and duffles, Strombo said. "Inside, you will find clothing, personal items, and a com-pad, which is a small computer coded to each owner. Your class itinerary is listed, along with your assigned room numbers in Tower B. Attending Trinity Academy is an honor, and those of you selected will be expected to pass each term of five months. Upon graduation, you will be assigned to a master guide at one of Acropolis’ military forts. There are six installations. Fort Berlin is the largest and is where the First Guide, Master Ambrose, is stationed. He is the head of our military division, and as guides, our purpose is to prepare operating orders, intelligence reports, and details maps, and to provide reconnaissance."

Who is the enemy, sir? a boy asked.

Big bugs, a girl with white hair said. Students snickered.

You will learn more about the enemy tomorrow, Strombo said. Be glad you were selected for Trinity, for you are now on the fast-track to becoming professional tour guides. PTGs are what Acropolis Army-AirCorps officers consider their ‘right hands.’ Strombo pressed a hand to his chest. All professional guides wear these red jackets, which certainly stand out, and befits every PTG who serves Acropolis. I served the AAA for twenty years before I retired and came to Trinity Academy. The school will prepare you for your specialized field, and while at Trinity, my office door is always open.

The master guide approached Doctor Meyers, flanked by the security guards. Strombo spoke briefly to the counselor, and glancing at his wristwatch, seemed anxious to leave but waited for Doctor Meyers to address the assembly.

Master Strombo must leave for a meeting with the school faculty. Classes begin tomorrow, the doctor said. I’ll take it from here.

After Doctor Meyers performs the psychological evaluations, you will follow after me to the academy. Your first night will be in the dorm, Strombo said. He walked to the door. I will see you tomorrow morning at the Dome. Be well. He left the hall.

Seems knowledgeable. I am impressed, Milton said. Noticing Demetri was drinking her meal, he pushed a protein bar toward her. Try sustenance, little sister. This is mint-chocolate flavored. I think you will like it.

We’re an odd number. I’ll room with Baron, Vega said.

We’ll see, Darwin said.

The counselor gave a speech, reiterating the rules must be obeyed and that pain was viewed as the best teacher at Trinity. His words faded as Demetri lost focus. Too much information overwhelmed her mind. She finished her shake, decided it was good, and wanted to try something else. When she realized Doctor Meyers had started to call pods to a table for interviews, Demetri had missed his speech.

Stay put, Darwin said, then left to approach a table where the pod leaders had gathered. Each found the schoolbags and duffle bags for their pods.

Demetri ate the chocolate bar and made yummy sounds as her brother returned, handed out their gear, and sat with his schoolbag on his lap. He removed a com-pad, black with tiny silver buttons, and turned it on. A hologram screen, which listed names and dorm room numbers, appeared.

Demetri and Vega are assigned to Room 1803, Darwin said. Baron, you are with me, which leaves Milton the odd man out.

I prefer to be alone, Milton said.

Milton removed his com-pad and a large book bound in animal hide from his schoolbag. The book was old, and the tops of the pages yellowed. All leather now used in Acropolis came from mycelium, made from the roots of mushrooms. Animals bred in captivity were considered exotic, neither hunted nor eaten, though Demetri had heard a small percentage of C-1s consumed meat, eggs, and milk.

Where did you get that book? Demetri asked.

She and her siblings reviewed their bags' contents—pens, notepads, com-pads, and several textbooks. The paper was recycled bamboo. No one else had an old book like Milton, and her brother stuffed the curious item into his bag and offered no explanation. He kept his com-pad out and used an etch-pen, a thin black wand used instead of a finger, to type on a projected hologram keyboard to sign his name. Words appeared in thin air, and once saved, emerged whenever the same hologram image requested the information.

Baron paid no attention to Milton. He kept eating, not only from his lunch but also from Vega’s and Darwin’s meals, and finally released a loud belch.

"Good one, Baron von Belcher, Ajax shouted. Rising from Hamlet’s table, he approached Baron, stealing food off the other cadet’s plates. Due to his mammoth size, no one protested, and he sat next to Baron, offering him a banana. Doctor Meyers is interviewing Galahad’s pod. We will be here for hours. I say we look around."

Not a good idea, Milton said.

Stay seated, Darwin said. He glared at Ajax. Return to your table and wait your turn. No one is exploring. Nor are you getting past six guards.

Bathroom break. Ajax patted Baron on the back. Come on, buddy. We’ve been in a fish tank with a tube crammed up our backside. Wouldn’t you rather experience a toilet? Not that I need to go. It’s an excuse to explore. He smiled at Vega. You’re attractive, and here I thought Jade and Amber were the prettiest.

You’re a gorilla. Go away, Vega said.

Demetri winced as her stomach cramped, her food not agreeable, rose to her feet, and made her way to the exit. The security guards stared at her, not moving aside to allow her to leave. She placed her hands over her pelvis, grimacing.

Either I am allowed to use the bathroom, or I’ll go right here, Demetri said.

Fine, let her go, a guard said. Older than the others, though a duplicate to his companions, he had seniority. He handed Demetri a keycard and motioned her forward as his men stepped aside.

Demetri entered the hallway with no idea where to find the restroom and went to her left. A light came from large windows at the far end of the corridor, and eager to see the outside world, she momentarily forgot about her full bladder. She ran to the window without a misstep, came to a halt, and stared at an enormous green field and a blue sky. She was on the second floor of a large building staring at a parking lot filled with aircars of all shapes and sizes, which hovered three feet above the ground. A departing shuttle appeared in the sky, and she imagined Master Strombo sat on board. What had he seen in his lifetime? Had he fought in battles? Why had he retired? The man looked no more than three decades old, in his prime, yet reduced from official field duty to a mere school counselor for guide cadets.

She heard muttering echoing in the corridor, and then the sound of footsteps and the rolling of a cart, turned, and saw lab technicians. Three men in white lab coats pushed trolleys containing prone forms, covered in sheets. When they noticed Demetri, they fell silent, passing her at the window. A pale arm hung over one side. She sensed this was one of her dead siblings and snatched at the edge of the sheet, pulling it back as the cart rolled past to expose a naked boy. His face, frozen stiff, was twisted in agony, and one eye, colored a dull gray, remained open. The technician snarled, lifted his pain wand, approached Demetri, and jabbed her in the side.

Don’t touch, he said.

Electricity shot through her body. Her toes curled, her hair, on head and arms, stood on end, and she hit the ground and spasmed. In pain, she whimpered, aware drool poured from her lips. The technicians left her on the floor and pushed their carts around a corner. When the pain ended, Demetri tasted blood in her mouth; she had bit her tongue again. Swollen, she rubbed the cut against her teeth, winced, and finally noticed a bathroom. At least she hadn’t lost control of her bladder. She stood, tears in her eyes, hurried inside, and went to a set of three sinks with mirrors on the wall. The water automatically turned on as she gripped the sides of the sink and gazed at her reflection.

It’s me, Demetri whispered.

A pair of large violet eyes stared back at her. Long black hair, a slender nose, and high cheeks bones appeared feminine. Her lashes were thick. Attractive, she thought, yet she lacked curves. Placing a hand on her flat chest, she imagined how it might look to have breasts. Demetri turned to the side and witnessed slight bulges appear in the proper places. She touched two soft mounds, not enough for a brassiere but noticeable. Her jaw dropped.

Oh, look! It’s Mouse, the red-haired girl said. Seven other girls with brightly colored hair, each a different shade, followed as she entered the bathroom and pushed Demetri from the mirror. I’m Scarlet, and this is my pod. Vega told us you’re a boy. She lowered her eyes. Vega has no idea what she is talking about. Cute.

Thank you, Demetri said.

Stop touching yourself, a girl with short green hair said.

She’s Jade. I’m Mauve, said a sister with purple curls.

I saw techs go by with three dead replicons, Demetri said. I think they were my siblings. She opened her jacket, pulled up her shirt, and touched a reddish path on her taut stomach. "One of the men zapped me."

You seem recovered, Scarlet said.

Pity about your pod-mates. Defective. Best hope you pass your psych evaluation, Jade said and snickered. She opened her schoolbag and removed a bag of makeup. Her sisters did the same and skillfully applied colors to their eyelids and lips.

Demetri entered a stall, dropped her pants, and urinated. She listened to the girls laughing and heard more arrive as she finished her task. When she came out, Vega stood with two platinum blondes, Orion’s sisters, who uttered little squeaks. No one moved from the sinks, preventing Demetri from washing her hands.

Leave me alone, a girl said.

Petite as Demetri, she had lost her schoolbag in a game of tug-of-war with Vega. The disruptive girl emptied the contents onto the floor and tossed the bag into a stall while Jade and Mauve splashed water on the girl.

Naveena! Demetri caught the girl’s arm. You can get another bag. Come with me, she said. Vega, move out of the way. We’re leaving.

Pick up the trash, rodent.

The girl knelt on the floor and collected her belongings. Someone kicked aside Naveena’s com-pad, smashing it against the wall. Demetri again found Vega and the two blonde girls blocking her path. One of the girls pushed her. Demetri reacted on impulse, threw a punch, and connected with a jaw. The girl flew backward and hit a sink. Vega grabbed at Demetri, who threw out an elbow and collided with a breast. Her sister cried out in pain. Another punch landed in Vega’s stomach as Demetri cleared a path to the door. The blonde girls moved aside. Naveena rushed past with her bag and belongings, sobbing.

Small does not mean helpless, Demetri said, then left.

Nim was nowhere to be found. Darwin, Milton, and Baron entered the hallway, noticed Demetri, and walked to her.

Where is Vega? We’re cleared to leave. Meyers will meet with you later, Darwin said. He had brought her gear as well, handed it to her, and turned when the bathroom door opened. Good. It’s Vega. Get your things. We’re leaving with Orion, Galahad, and Scarlet’s pods.

I’m first going to break the rodent’s arm, Vega snarled.

Strange behavior, Milton said. I suggest you control your temper, Vega. Your test results were not impressive. Replicons are not designed to be emotional human beings. The display of emotions is precisely what Doctor Meyers warned us about, though it seems some of you were not listening. He told us ‘some siblings will bond, others will not, and many develop at a slower rate.’

You’re not the boss of me. Watch it, Milton, Vega said. She bolted into the hall to fetch her gear while Milton stared after her with disapproval.

The counselor’s speech flooded into Demetri’s mind—an impassioned warning to obey the teachers as he relayed how replicons were different, what he expected of them, and emphasized they were sterile. Demetri slid the duffle bag and schoolbag's straps over her shoulders and followed Baron as the boys walked along the corridor. Vega caught up with them. A security guard waited at an exit and escorted them to a shuttle waiting outside.

Smell the air. It’s lavender, Demetri said.

Overwhelmed by the sights and smells, Demetri entered the shuttle. She sat by a window with Baron on her left, growing excited as the lift fans roared and wings unfolded from the top of the aircar with a soft purr. The four pods were seated and strapped in, the ramp retracted, and the door closed as they lifted into the air. Baron took her hand, squeezing, and leaned toward the window.

We’re in District 15, Baron said. Trinity is in District 8. Acropolis is three hundred miles long and wide, with every type of terrain imaginable, all types of industry, housing, small towns, and dozens of colleges and academies. We won’t be able to see Acropolis City, the main metropolis . . . maybe one day.

I’m not sure I like flying.

I think it’s amazing, Dee. Everything is far more wonderful than in my dreams, he said. Tomorrow, we start classes. However, tonight Ajax is throwing a party in his dorm room. When you get situated, I’ll come for you. You need to meet everyone and make friends. Milton intends to stay in his room and read.

He had a different book than we do, Demetri said.

Milton is different. He is a square.

Demetri watched the scenery change. A vast expanse of grass replaced a network of medical buildings, and then hills formed, dotted with pine trees. An opening appeared in the woodlands, Trinity Academy visible, as the shuttle descended over a circular wall. The academy was immense, arranged in a clock formation with buildings positioned at each hour. An enormous circular building, painted white with a crystal dome, occupied the campus center on top of gold tiles that formed a triangle. At each point stood a tall white tower. As the shuttle lowered, she noticed each building shared a unique design reminiscent of ancient Greece, with massive pillars at each entrance, arched doorways, and intricate carvings. She glanced at Baron, filled with excitement, and squeezed his hand.

Our adventure now begins, Demetri, her brother said.

I’m scared, Baron. Everything is happening so fast.

There is nothing to fear, little sister. As for me, the world is my oyster, and I am hungry, he said, then laughed.

Bombs away. Ashes to ashes. Crust to dust.

― Urban Graffiti, 3000 CE

Trinity Academy

Chapter 2

Under a manufactured pink sky, three lines of freshmen cadets marched into the Dome, the name of the circular exhibition hall located in the center of campus. Demetri and her classmates wore navy-blue uniforms, with single red stripes on their shoulders to signify they were freshmen, tall boots, and schoolbags slung over their shoulders. She walked behind Baron and eyed the building, built of stone and steel with a glass roof of hexagonal prismatic cells, which reminded her of a honeycomb.

Lush gardens offered a variety of flowers, and new aromas tickled her nostrils. The campus was beautiful, with neatly trimmed grass, sparkling clean windows, and sidewalks threading across the grounds to each building. There was a large sports arena, an indoor swimming pool, gymnasium, three training fields, and an obstacle course. Trinity taught a wide variety of college courses. Her day started with History 101, followed by chemistry, physics, environmental sciences, calculus, computer studies, political science, defense and strategic studies, and physical education. When tempted to step out of line to smell the orchids, someone shoved Demetri from behind.

Move out of the way, Mouse!

Scarlet laughed when Demetri turned. The red-haired girl and her entire pod moved ahead in line, laughing as they ran toward the doors.

Unless you want to be trampled, keep moving, Baron said with a laugh.

I’m so excited, Baron. It’s our first day of school, and everything is new and strange, Demetri said. I want to take my boots off and run through the grass. I never felt grass under my feet before, and the air has so many fragrant odors. Did you see the garden? It has marble statues and a fountain in the shape of a dragon.

Vega looked over her shoulder. Can you possibly talk less? It’s embarrassing to listen to you gush, she said and pushed Milton ahead of her. Pick up your feet, dullard! I want to get inside before the snobs.

The derogatory term was directed at a thin red line of C-1 cadets entering the building on Demetri’s left. Officer cadets came from wealthy families and started attending school at the age of five until they graduated at eighteen. No C-1s looked identical, yet all would serve as officers in the Acropolis Army-AirCorps. Demetri sensed a hierarchy existed between the classes of humans. C-3s were clones, ranked lowest as they were considered disposable, and those selected to attend the academy were slated to become sergeants. Hundreds of identical C-3 cadets in yellow uniforms stood to her right. All the soldier-clones were massive, 6’4" blond boys with blue eyes.

Demetri suddenly noticed one of the C-3s was running on a direct collision course with her. She used her bag as a shield when he collided with her, knocking her out of line onto her backside.

I’m lost, the boy said. Demetri noticed the clone’s bottom lip quivered.

You’re not lost, Demetri said. We’re all going inside this building to meet the Dean of Trinity Academy, followed by History 101. Come with me. It’s all right.

She took the boy’s arm, but he refused to budge.

What’s the problem? Baron asked. He took one look at the clone and grinned. Are you confused, big fella?

Uh-huh.

Figures, Baron said. You’re wearing yellow, which means you’re a slug. Go rejoin the other three thousand slugs who look exactly like you. They’re your brothers, which means you’re from the same generation of clones. You sit with them, not us. We’re guide cadets. Got it?

Yellow, the clone said. He stared at the sleeve of his jacket.

And guide cadets wear blue, and officer cadets are dressed in red. If you know the difference, you can’t possibly get lost.

The boy, who clearly did not understand, stared at Baron. Demetri felt sympathy for the clone, for she knew how he felt. She tapped his nametag.

Your name is Garson-26.

It is?

Names are printed on the front of your jacket, Demetri said. The boys who look like you are your brothers. Get in line with them, Garson. They’ll look after you.

The boy looked at his nametag. G-a-r-s-o-n. That’s me, he said and brushed slobber off his chin. I’m the 26th boy with the same name and same face. Got it.

Baron winked at Demetri. Can they make them any dumber? With a toss of his hair, he thrust his index finger into the boy’s chest. Garson-26! About face!

The clone turned to stare at the boys in yellow flowing into the building.

Forward march, Baron shouted and shoved the boy toward his own line. Come on, sis. It will take forever for those big toads to find a seat.

Demetri and Baron were the last C-2s to enter the Dome. They ran into a lobby with eighty feet between the tiled floor and the glass ceiling. The sunlight streamed through the hexagonal cells and created a rainbow effect on the white walls, and the dark blue floor tiles shined. The doors in the Dome were manually operated. The entries to her right remained closed, and she assumed they led to the classrooms. Five larger doors to her left, temporarily blocked by boys in yellow, were open, and she could see noisy students gathered inside an auditorium. Promptly in front of her stretched a broad flight of stairs carpeted in gold that led to a balcony. The freshmen officer cadets carried beverages and snacks and took the stairs instead of entering the hall, making it clear they were the privileged upper class. At the sound of a chime, a rush of clones forced Demetri and Baron to the far side of the lobby, unable to enter the auditorium.

When there’s a break in the mob, let’s make a run for it, Demetri said.

No sense of order whatsoever among these assembly-line morons, Baron said, disgusted. Doctor Meyers should have sent us to Hastings Conservatory. It’s exclusively for replicons. When we were pulled out of those stinky fish tanks and tossed into the pond, no one gave any consideration to our feelings. I have been on campus for twelve hours and already don’t like the place.

The point is, dear brother, she said, the scientists bred us not to feel emotions, yet we do. Not only am I claustrophobic, but the littlest things also upset me, and I feel like a bunch of live wires. Is it the same with the older guide cadets? Do they feel emotions as strongly as we do? If not, then we are defective.

"All I know is I feel strongly about disliking Doctor Meyers. It took an hour of meditation to feel normal after Darwin rearranged our bedroom furniture. In a word, I can describe our eldest brother—persnickety. I regret now not bunking with Milton. As the odd one out, he gets his own room."

Bunk with Vega. She’s a nightmare, Demetri said with a grin.

While the orientation class had helped Demetri understand that ‘will power’ was what accessed the Info-Pacs, and any subject would be made available, for some reason, it was challenging to do so. Easily distracted, data came to her randomly, and as for social norms, she was a fish out of water among the C-1s and C-3s. An education at Hastings Conservatory might prove less stressful among other replicons, who would understand it took time to master the art of accessing information from Info-Pacs.

Doctor Meyers had chosen them for Trinity Academy, not Hastings Conservatory. C-2s had only the two schools to attend, and while West Point and East Gate were exclusively for C-1s serious about careers in the Army or AirCorps, other schools and careers were available to the elite class. Underhill Institute was a school for clones, as not all were destined to be soldiers—medical assistants and the security officers were all created from different donors. Trundle Gardens invoked an image of a zoo, for at that private facility, C-4 humanoids trained as scouts for the military. Called splicers, a derogatory term for scouts, she imagined the half-human, half-animal students literally jumped through hoops to graduate. In fact, among the portraits of former Trinity deans on the walls, all upper class, she noticed a man-tiger standing beside a man with a long beard, with the year 2,901 written beneath their names.

We’re getting to the tail end of the dog, Baron said. He leaned over a water dispenser to take a quick drink.

"Get out of the way, tuber!"

A boy in a red uniform pushed Baron aside. The C-1 filled a metal container with water, not once glancing at Baron, then moved on.

I should have boxed his ears, Baron said.

Their first encounter with an officer cadet left Demetri disappointed, for it confirmed prejudice ran rampant at the academy. It probably never crossed the officer cadet’s mind a replicon might take offense to his rude behavior and retaliate. With a blink of her eyes, Demetri successfully accessed her chemically imbued information. She found no recorded instances of retaliation by a C-2 guide cadet against a C-1 officer cadet in Trinity Academy. Nor were any complaints registered by either classification against the other in the school’s history. A moment later, she knew the entire contents of the Complete History of Professional Tour Guides, written by Tamburlaine, the original First Guide, at the branch’s inception in the year 2,801 CE. She learned no guide cadet at Trinity nor Hastings was recorded as causing any trouble during their enrollment. For some reason, she doubted the validity of the information. She took a quick sip of water from the dispenser, then joined Baron as he pushed his way through the clones to an entryway.

Go ahead of me. I want to come in last on purpose, Baron said, puffing out his chest. I intend to make a good impression. With this face, who can resist me?

You’re such a peacock.

"That’s Baron von Peacock to you, sis. Keep your head high, and don’t trip."

Already nervous before his comment, Demetri felt doubly anxious as she entered a vast domed chamber, painted white, with large, rectangular windows shadowed by trees planted outside to offer shade. Guide cadets, seventy-seven in all, sat on the front row, boisterous as the all the other clones which occupied a hundred long rows. She spotted Darwin at the far end of the first section. Two vacant seats near Darwin were between Milton and Vega. As soon as Darwin spotted Demetri and Baron, he waved them over.

Demetri cringed inwardly to find they were last to enter. A professor stood behind a podium on a large stage and glared at them; likewise, guide cadets and thousands of clones watched the two stragglers enter. She looked up at the balcony and saw the officer cadets in comfortable chairs. The Dean of Trinity, a tall, gray-haired man, easily recognized since posters with his picture and the slogan Welcome to Trinity Academy, the finest military academy in Acropolis were plastered all over campus, stood at the railing with several staff members. She heard Baron laugh. Her brother dropped into the seat next to Milton, forcing Demetri to sit next to Vega, who offered a hostile reception.

Figured you’d come in last, with your little feet and little hands, Vega said. "It’s embarrassing we share the same DNA. Why couldn’t you be beautiful like Scarlet or strong like Nova? Why do you have to be . . . you?"

It’s not my fault I’m small, Vega. You could be nicer. We’re sisters.

"And that’s not my fault. Now stop talking to me, rodent."

Demetri remained quiet as she opened her schoolbag and removed her com-pad. It provided access to the material contained in the library as well as her textbooks. The information appeared either on a small screen or viewed as a 4x8 hologram projected at the device's end. She shoved her bag beneath her chair, lifted the right armrest, and opened an extending table that folded across her lap when lowered. Turning on the com-pad, she