Colony of Clones: A Community on the Fringe

By Megan Egglestone

Colony of Clones, the second book in an evocative sci-fi trilogy, explores the perilous politics bubbling up in an experimental community of human clones.

Rex and Dago, cloned from iconic historical figures, grapple for control over their fledgling settlement isolated from the outside world. Brilliant outcast Ator, cloned from Galileo, challenges the colony’s questionable doctrine before being banished by its authoritarian leader.

The clones, copied from the bone shards of ‘genetically superior’ personages, grow up ingrained with a heightened sense of superiority, entitlement and independence. But as clones based on long-dead people struggle to find identity and purpose, fissures split wide open and they find themselves navigating a world that is anything but certain.

When visitor Jake is brought to the secretive colony by the increasingly paranoid Dago, he bears uneasy witness to the psychological distress catalysed by experimental human cloning devoid of ethics. Dago’s own sister Mary grapples to break free from the trauma of being a clone caught out of time.

Probing the devastating ramifications of playing god in a lab, Colony of Clones examines human cloning through an absorbing character-driven narrative full of intrigue, thought experiments, and moral complexity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9781035854806

Megan Egglestone

This is Megan Egglestone’s second novel in a trilogy that imagines what it would be like to be a clone growing up in a small colony founded in Woomera, Australia. In this novel, the author probes the boundaries of science, ego, and id through a narrative of hero quests grounded by facts in the time of climate change. As a fine art artist and dog lover, she exhibits her artwork in competitions and shows and breeds her Wire-Haired Dachshunds. She resides in the Northern Rivers region of New South Wales, Australia, where she shares her life with her four Wire-Haired Dachshunds.

Book preview

About the Author

This is Megan Egglestone’s second novel in a trilogy that imagines what it would be like to be a clone growing up in a small colony founded in Woomera, Australia. In this novel, the author probes the boundaries of science, ego, and id through a narrative of hero quests grounded by facts in the time of climate change.

As a fine art artist and dog lover, she exhibits her artwork in competitions and shows and breeds her Wire-Haired Dachshunds. She resides in the Northern Rivers region of New South Wales, Australia, where she shares her life with her four Wire-Haired Dachshunds.

Dedication

To all my grandchildren, Samantha, Allison, Shalyn, Shannon, Chantelle, Kai, and Josh.

Copyright Information ©

Megan Egglestone 2024

The right of Megan Egglestone to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781035854790 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035854806 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2024

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgment

To the reader, thanks for picking up this novel, the second in a trilogy. I hope you find enjoyment in the pages. To the editors at Austin Macauley Publishers and the edit done by Cassie Douglas, I thank you. A huge thanks to Jann O’Connor for your patience and logic, you set me on the right track.

Preface

‘Listen to this,’ said Ator, stretching his arms above his head while seated in the helicopter, his laptop open in front of him. ‘Earthquakes are a significant part of the chaos and mark the progression of prophetic events. There’s a striking similarity for you, Dago. You look like a prophet with your unruly locks hanging loosely around your head. You could have at least braided your hair or tied it up to get it out of your eyes.’

Dago, smarting at the remark, replied, ‘You should go on with what you are trying to say before you comment on my appearance.’ Dr Nasser, who was no picture himself, bravely chuckled at the exchange. Dago impatiently asked, ‘Where can we purchase the ingredients for mixing salt, sulphur and oil?’

‘Oil, sulphur and salt are no problem whatsoever,’ chuckled Dr Nasser with a meaningful glance at Ator. ‘I will arrange a supply when we touch down.’

Dago sat subserviently, exchanging meaningful looks at Ator.

‘Dago, you are a cynical bastard!’ protested Ator, shrugging his shoulders. The more he thought about what Dago proposed to do, the more he agreed with it. It would be a good response to what the terrorist suicide bombers had already done. He was thinking like Dago. In fact, he was becoming like Dago. Rubbing his hands together, he thought of the two doctrines of thought about mortality, called the Two Ways. ‘If Dago wanted to play God, he could be the Messiah,’ he surmised sarcastically. ‘But would the world be happy to meet him?’

Section I

Chapter 1

Ator, Adelaide, Australia: May 2018

At the age of twenty-three, Ator had earned a medical degree at the University of Adelaide. He was a brilliant student; his only failing was a lack of respect for tradition and ethical values. He had interfered in Droshky’s laboratory, intending to breed a cross-species by implanting a bug to create an artificial life-form. Instead, he used DNA from the now-extinct Tasmanian tiger specimen, which was held at the University of Adelaide.

He planted it into an enucleated egg from Droshky’s favourite Jersey cow that she kept for milking. To enucleate an egg, he had to scoop the contents out and replace it with DNA from the Tasmanian tiger. He had planted the egg containing the DNA of the Tasmanian tiger into the cow’s uterus. As a result, the cow had given birth to a strange calf with a striped back.

Being young, the enthralled Ator had wanted to do everything his way and, in this manner, had incurred the wrath of both Droshky and Yerik. The strange calf was the last straw. Yerik had sacked him and banished him from the Colony. Yerik had regarded him as a villain but called him an impostor.

Ator recalled having wandered from town to country town, looking for a place to set up a practice, to no avail. He finally returned to Adelaide, where he had been sent by Yerik to study for his doctorate.

The difficulty was supporting himself. He managed to solve the problem when he eventually found a job as a travelling salesperson with a pharmaceutical distributor. Ironically, he encountered many of the doctors who had shunned taking him on as a partner. It did not take him long to discover he could underhandedly deal with drugs. As his clandestine business developed, he gave up his former job and went underground, dealing in ecstasy and cocaine.

Most of all, he missed the lifestyle at the Colony of the Clones. The Colony had been set up by Janson, Zev and Malcolm to process their gene technology. They had purchased the old detention centre at Woomera, in the Outback of South Australia for this very purpose. The trio had hired Droshky, a geneticist. Droshky could successfully remove some sections of the double helix of DNA. DNA is an amazing structure of polynucleotide chains that wind about each other, forming what is called a double helix. By doing this, Droshky could duplicate the original to create an exact copy.

Reproductive cloning is done to duplicate a human offspring, exactly duplicating his or her parent. In cloning, Droshky meant to extract a gene from one organism and insert it into a second organism. If she had cloned herself, the clone would look exactly like her and could be her genetic brother or sister and have the same predisposition as she did. She considered the added fact that although clones shared the same genetic material, the environment contributed an important factor. Cloning was a method of reproduction where fertilisation did not take place as normal. Droshky had not used sperm but had in fact created a clone of whoever’s DNA she had used.

By implanting DNA from bone fragments of long-deceased persons who had had some meaning in society. By implanting their DNA into enucleated eggs from the girls in their care and then reimplanting the egg into their uterus, a clone child would grow. The young women in turn would act as surrogate mothers to the cloned children they birthed.

It was only there in the Colony that Ator had been truly happy. He accepted the Colony’s morality, and the next step was to study all the implications so as to use them in future dealings with those he trusted in the Colony. Dago, for instance, was a hopeful choice. Eris, the hospital assistant, had convinced him of that. He intended to follow up on the implementations and monitor respect. Follow-up helped him understand the progression of the cloning program Droshky was following—human cloning.

Droshky’s cloning program was in full swing. As more young girls committed to the program, more clones were being born to grow up in the Colony. Ator’s experience had taught him that new needs always came up, and then hopefully, they would have him back even though he had made mistakes in the past.

Ator was a clone and therefore believed it was his undeniable right to live amongst the cloned ones. He saw his service as a doctor to be essential to the success and future growth of the Colony. Shutting him out was ludicrous. He had a medical degree that would benefit those in the Colony, but he supposed it was important to gain perspective and understanding of the mistakes others had made. He after all was human, and humans made mistakes.

He didn’t believe in simply reciting some sort of mantra or prayer hoping all would be forgiven, but he did see the need to turn to mediation. To invent a dispute to resolve it. And then there was meditation. To meditate without the use of a rosary, as his mother would have him do. His mother, Nadia, was disappointed in him. He was Nadia’s clone of Galileo, the discoverer of the microscope.

As a young child, he, to everyone’s amazement, had started speaking Japanese. Nadia insisted on teaching him Spanish, which, thanks to her, he learnt to speak fluently. Understanding Japanese had been a boon; he befriended two Japanese youths who were studying in Adelaide. As he was fluent, it was no trouble befriending them. One entered a partnership with him in the clandestine drug business. He turned out to be very useful in obtaining the white powder.

On the matter of morality, he believed that if morality was not properly practised, there was a danger of believing in only that morality and no other. He liked to keep an open mind on the matter. The Colony’s morality was polluted. He learnt this when at university studying Buddhism. He decided that without the understanding of emptiness and the concept of Shunya, or zero, he would wallow in a gigantic pit of sadness until he had reached rock bottom and could not climb any higher. From a philosophical point of view, it became even more difficult to understand nirvana. All he knew was that his nirvana lay in the Colony. There was no doubting that.

Emptiness. Desperation. Hopelessness. Zero.

He had plenty of negative thoughts. Even attempting to navigate the chaotic world of modern life, he felt a range of emotions every day that were simply overwhelming. His mood could fluctuate many times in a day, dramatically changing his experiences. What he missed the most was the analytical meditation that Malcolm had taught. The phenomena of negative emotion were always foremost in his mind. But then his emotions carried information that helped him understand what was going on around him.

Negative emotions helped him recognise threats. Ator understood that his emotions were predetermined by both social and personal factors of his origin, specifically his objectification. He felt those in control at the Colony had objectified him. He was treated like an object and not a person. As if he was devoid of feelings or thoughts. They, on the other hand, coloured his thoughts. His originality!

He had shaved his head like a monk and tried to be a good Buddhist. Being a Buddhist meant striving for enlightenment to a higher standard of greater value, but the undercurrent of negative emotions was too strong, and wrongdoing became easier with the passing of time. He was floundering; a shipwreck adrift in a hurricane. The emotions he was having were akin to grieving, hate, anger, jealousy and sadness, yet he had a sense of these feelings being completely natural. It was okay to feel anger, even bitterness.

Ator knew he had been banished from the Colony unfairly because Janson, one of the controllers, was away. ‘All the things I have worked for—power and possession—have hindered my chances of ever returning,’ he said to himself in desperation. ‘If only I could change the negative karma I have generated, I’ll escape the realms of darkness to be flooded with light.’ It was only then that he realised what Dago had meant about the two doctrines of thought about mortality, called the Two Ways. There was the way of life and the way of death and the great dividing gap between the two. His life had been turned upside-down. Adrift in high winds.

Because he was a clone, Ator’s genetic imperative was a source of considerable wisdom, even supernatural power. His birth had been a genetic lottery. He belonged in the mystical world of the cloned ones, beyond rational comprehension. He felt the principle of equality was violated and, possibly, that his basic human dignity was compromised. He still felt he had been created to improve health and happiness. Evolution had hit on the sweetest of solutions, for in Mary, Dago’s sister, herself a clone, he saw the blissful existence he longed for. She was the divine, personified.

In Dago, he saw a madness to devour the planet like an ape eating ripe fruit, but then Dago was not a clone. He had been birthed by natural selection. In the age-old manner. He also saw him in all his plumage, switched to overdrive. Life was like a hypothesis!

Ator wondered if there was another life out there somewhere in the universe who believed the same as he did. You should save money during your working life to afford the same lifestyle in later years. If that were the case, did people out there have the same DNA code he had? Would they have DNA as their genetic material, like him? Could others out there be made up of cells which Droshky actively constructed, rather than being passively received? (Where all the cloned ones were armed with an x-factor, which was like the fifth gear in a vehicle).

By x-factor, he meant that as a clone, he had something others did not have; for in his eyes only, the cloned ones carried the burden of the past. From his studies, he knew this statement was not correct, as many others also carried the burden of the past in their collective subconscious and had to be resolved at a conscious level or the persons so afflicted could not move forward. He wondered, ‘Are all the cloned ones a complete failure?’ The words that came to mind were: sink, collapse, flounder—meaning to hit the bottom.

Maybe the world was not yet ready for cross-species cloning, like using the gene responsible for the stripes on the Tasmanian tiger and implanting this gene into a cow which produced a stripe-backed calf. This was his proposed explanation for a phenomenon. He did believe that like human cloning, it would happen. It was ever-present in the worlds he and others carried around in their minds and did not correspond to anything like the way of the world outside the remote Colony. He was beginning to think that their pink marshmallow world was an optical illusion or, as Droshky so aptly put it, an act of creation. Or the signature of creation.

It was all genetic in a way, but no one outside the Colony believed there was a single agreed-upon definition of what a gene or a clone was. Some said it was a section of the genome, others a sequence of base pairs or codes for a protein. But Droshky said that was an inadequate answer, for the environment also played a part, and some sections of the code were switches that turned other sections on or off.

Thinking more along the lines of how a clone like him was made, he sighed. Droshky the geneticist at the Colony had taken a somatic cell which was in all cells that made up an organism, that were not sperm or egg cells. In other words, sperm was never used. Any body tissue cell could be used. She had taken the DNA from a somatic cell and carefully placed the DNA into an enucleated egg cell.

This meant the nucleus of the egg cell had been taken out to make room for the DNA from the somatic cell. The egg then developed into an embryo and was implanted into an adult female’s uterus to grow. The result was a clone of the somatic cell donor. And because Droshky had taken DNA from the scrapings of one of Galileo’s digits; he was Galileo’s clone.

Chapter 2

Droshky and Alexis, May 2018, Woomera

It had all started when the human genome was first decoded and the interaction between genes made scientists realise just how intricate the whole business was. The Colony was unlikely to achieve longevity; it was merely a starting point for science. As in nature, every new generation of clones must start afresh and, this would diminish the chances of idiosyncratic consequences in the future. It was their genetic behaviour that they couldn’t control. It had led to Ator’s dismissal, and it would for others. It was essential for the procreation of a species.

Droshky had always dreamt, ‘Men want something from me, something bad. I believe I should hide from this man, whoever he is. He wants something from me that I am not prepared to give.’

‘You mean sex?’ asked Alexis.

‘Something like that, except it was sex before I was of age. I dreamt it was like dying.’

‘How dreadful!’ In a situation like that, Alexis knew words were not enough. She was pleased Droshky had finally opened up. Alexis had known her for twenty years and never once had she revealed her emotions like this.

Alexis knew she had to make Droshky feel pleased about herself and her work so that others would feel remarkable around her. ‘Feelings are the most powerful psychological tools. Sharing is even greater. It is both the strength of science and its weakness, for without you Droshky, none of the lifestyles we now lead would have been possible.’

Droshky looked worried. In scientific work, any assumption made serves as a tentative explanation of the fact that the clones will one day soon run the Colony. Besides her childhood dreams, this is the hypothesis that worries Droshky more than anything else.

Droshky said, ‘That we live in a community shaped by many cultural forces has proved to be a good starting point. A starting point in addressing the problem of guidance that Malcolm, one of the original controllers and the Colony’s priest, have raised.’

Contemplating Droshky’s words, Alexis realised that those outside their remote Colony saw the world from a very different perspective. The church in years past had been able to tell people how to live and act and even dictate how they related to one another. But the world had turned its back on religion and gone rather for biology, which had explicitly taken over since Darwin. Ideological conceptions were becoming more apparent.

Alexis was pleased to think that Janson, Zev and Malcolm, the three original controllers of what happened in the Colony, had taken note of the misleading trio of symbolism, relativity and equalising gender. Women were child bearers and carers—they couldn’t disregard that role, nor would they want to. While Malcolm, their priest and philosopher, was busy developing an understanding of the science of clones and the knowledge they carried, the women were content with their lifestyle.

Although Droshky had not been able to turn humans into angels. Neither had a cryonicist with a frozen corpse attempt to restore the memories of the past from a corpse that had been cryogenically frozen after death. There were hopes that someone undergoing this process would one day be woken up and cured of whatever killed them. There was no way that was going to happen. Memories from ancient times were best left undisturbed.

Droshky continued breaking into Alexis’ thoughts. ‘Some creeps influenced my life before I came to the Colony. But I’ve never told anyone. It is weird because I always managed to escape them in real life, so why should it be a problem now?’

‘Here, we don’t have to worry, as there are only a few males around,’ said Alexis sympathetically. ‘The days of male chauvinism are over, as are the heretics being burnt at the stake. They were the true martyrs, not those Islamic suicide bombers.’

‘Yes, we are smug in our feminine sanctuary. Oh—bad men with evil intent never touched me in my dreams, but it was the threat that terrified me.’

‘What about when you are awake? Does our new-age morality trouble you?’

‘No,’ said Droshky, ‘just the dreams. They are the kind of memories that are archetypal. It is better to believe in the Virgin Mary than to dream of mental torture, hellfire and rape.’

Chapter 3

Troubling Dreams, May 2018, Woomera

‘Didn’t you ever wish you had the dreams analysed?’

‘To be honest, I never thought about it much until they found that dead man in the gully,’ said Droshky disappointedly. ‘That man looks like the man pestering me in my dreams. No testimony is needed to establish a miracle like the cloning of old bones. Everything feels false. It’s the falseness of people like that dead man that bothers me. It’s like when I pour a drink—the smell of alcohol grabs me and takes me back to his dead body lying on my table.’

‘Really?’ said Alexis, not really understanding Droshky’s paranoia, ‘The police identified him as Philip Fuji. He was the Japanese man smuggling the dope. He had stacks of money on him. His wallet was bulging, but the police confiscated it. They took photographs and his passport. I wonder if he had a family back in Japan.’

‘I remember,’ Ator said.

‘He was a man of his word. It seems strange to me that someone didn’t take the money off him,’ said Alexis. She wondered how Droshky had the capacity for negative emotions. In that aspect, she was strong like a man and Alexis knew she wouldn’t have readily shared her emotions if she were not her friend. Droshky usually insisted nothing was bothering her. Alexis waited patiently to see if Droshky had anything further to say.

‘Strange,’ said Droshky, ‘coming from a criminal. Yes, it was an awkward business proving Ator was not involved. But she would like to think the best of him—that Ator was not deluded and had no part in the destruction of human life. Nor was he a thief. He had not taken the money from the Japanese man.’

‘Oh, but I thought he did,’ said Alexis, amused. ‘Malcolm has decided we now need a security system and someone to monitor the movement of persons coming in and out. We could have a terrorist threat. He has already installed a video camera at the front entrance and in the main reception area.’

Alexis was not good at containing her feelings. She processed her negative feelings as they arose because she had learnt that it was the healthiest thing to do. Droshky, on the other hand, was an expert at disguising her negative emotions.

‘Safety lies within our reach,’ said Droshky stoically, concentrating on the positive. She was not breathing easily. It felt like her arteries were thumping in her throat. She swallowed hard, thinking of the young Asian’s shotgun that the police had retrieved. ‘Who had shot whom?’ was the question that nagged at her.

She felt responsible for having created a life that had gone so horribly wrong. ‘I know Eris, Danielle’s clone child, her laboratory and hospital assistant are a write-off… but did Ator have to be one too? No! I will fight to see his name cleared, and I will not allow him to be cheated out of his right to reside in the Colony if he so wishes. Unlike Dago, he has no divine mission to lead. He cannot be cut off forever for one act of disobedience. With his medical degree, Ator will be fit to take over from Yerik one day in the future.’

Although Droshky was often seen as being undemonstrative emotionally, it was not an accurate description. She was fearful. ‘If I had acted impulsively, I would have buried the gun, for out of sight is out of mind. Had Ator possibly stolen the gun and taken money that didn’t belong to him? I’m trying hard to see good in him, but there is no outlet for feelings in our personal life and to me, this small adjustment seems impossible.’ Seeing Droshky was distracted, Alexis left quietly.

Droshky’s mind wandered. She was unaware of Alexis’s silence. She strolled around the laboratory, unable to settle. The shotgun raised other problems in her mind. They had a thief in their midst.

She spoke to herself, ‘I realise that the pegboard beside the door of the laboratory is in full view of anyone snooping around. The keys to the safe where I store all the DNA samples that I’m currently working on are hanging up for all to see. It would be easy for someone to break in. Each key is tagged and easily readable. It would only take a fraction of a second to select the one they were looking for.’ She shivered. Suddenly, she didn’t feel safe anymore.

The laboratory was often closed, with the overhead fluorescents switched off. She rolled her tongue around her mouth, aware of a metallic taste. It was the lingering arid whiff of gunfire when the police had brought the body into the laboratory to examine it more thoroughly under the spotlights. She could still see the man’s body twisted in death, lying on her table.

It was not the first time she had witnessed death, but this time it did worry her. She was angry that a young man had been robbed of his life—it didn’t matter who he was. Her fury was directed at Eris, her laboratory assistant and, although Droshky had mastered controlling her sadness, Alexis was the only person who could understand her.

She relived the moment, seeing the gunshot wound gaping in his chest. If she had wanted to, she could have taken samples of his blood for DNA testing. But not wanting to attract the scrutiny of the police, she had backed out of the room, not even lingering to see the autopsy performed by the homicide doctor, as Yerik was not available.

They had the prettiest girls in paradise here under their care, Droshky thought. And there were men dressed as wolves out there prowling around the perimeters of the camp, waiting and watching. Ator’s expression of denial kept challenging her thoughts. ‘What are my options? Go for help and blow the whole program sky-high?’

Her anguish burnt within. Was Eris to get away with murder by playing innocent? She was beginning to let Alexis into her secrets slowly. Embryos didn’t suffer. Tolerating bad behaviours in a good culture is not admissible and, in my eyes, so is the taking of human life. It did matter. After all, the moment of birth was a baptism into a society of rules and regulations and to break those rules had consequences, depending on how they were interpreted.

Ator’s perverse crime of isolating the gene carrying the stripes in the Tasmanian tiger and inserting them into cow DNA was like having sex with a patient. And to think he had a medical degree and was working with Yerik in the clinic! Ator had deserved to be kicked out but was there more to the secret that he was hiding from them all? Had he sold his birthright to the Colony? She would never have the chance to prove it. It was an outrage!

The fact that Yerik was later to use the same technique Ator had developed was inconsequential. She had never gathered the courage to say what needed to be said: that she had tried so hard to clone Galileo’s digit. And the fact that maybe she had got it wrong—‘Oh hell!’ she whispered to herself. ‘Why didn’t I speak up then?’ Frantically, Droshky searched through her records to that time. There was nothing amiss in the file, except when she turned the pages over, one was missing. ‘The genetic link!’ she cried. Either Ator or Eris had stolen the relevant information.

Droshky sighed. Now she would have to report the problem of the missing file to Janson and Malcolm, the two remaining controllers of the Colony. Rex, who was Alexis’ son and the first cloned one, would get wind of it, but he was the one who would ultimately have to deal with the situation.

‘Can goodness overcome evil? Will my act of creation become only a legend?’ These were the questions she kept asking herself. ‘Will my one preserved mistake, the cloning of Galileo, upset the whole result?’

Chapter 4

Dago and Jake, Rome, April 2018

As Dago’s voice grew louder, Jake could not shut him