Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Tears Of A Clone By CSquared



   Chapter 4: She came back later in the evening, to find that floating
within the tank was the body of a twelve year old boy.  Before long, it
would have reached her own age of twenty-five, and could be awoken.  She
hoped to the ancient, discarded gods that this would work - otherwise, the
race was doomed to extinction.  A genetic fault had occurred, mainly due to
the increased background radiation from the wars.  The generation born
after her could not reproduce.  The males of her generation were also
sterile.  The only hope was to awaken a male of the past, and to restart
the race.  She could only hope that their attempt would work.  She studied
the boy's face through the glass.  _`Good.'_ she thought.  _`At least he's
not going to be ugly.'_ She allowed a small smile to creep across her lips,
before banishing it again.  This was no time to be jolly.  Her entire
race's future relied on this one man.  And a host of women, including her,
but no-one ever mentioned that.  She span on her heel and walked out of the
room again.

   An hour later, a golden robot floated through the open door of the room
she was asleep in, and shook her awake.  She looked blearily at it, through
half-closed eyes, then it suddenly registered why she had been woken.  She
jerked herself upright, and frantically asked the robot, "Is...  is it...
is it time?" The robot nodded, and turned to lead her out, but she was
already gone.  Her bare feet pounded against the cold metal floor as she
raced towards the cloning room.  the door slid open with a hiss, and had
the robot within been capable of surprise, it would have leapt six feet in
the air at her entry.  "That's it?" she asked, dashing up to the robot. 
"We can let him out?" It nodded, and pressed buttons on the control panel.
There was a rushing, gurgling sound, and the greenish liquid drained from
the tank, leaving a rather bedraggled looking young man curled up in the
bottom.  A robotic arm reached down into the tank, and lifted the man out.
The woman took him in her arms, and held him up.  He was beginning to stir.
A jerk, a twitch, and suddenly a rush of the liquid spewed from between his
lips.  He emptied his lungs, and took his first breath of air.  He smiled,
and looked at the woman holding him.  the smile dropped from his face, and
he leapt back, landing on slightly unsteady feet.  He struggled to keep his
balance, but failed, so the woman jumped forawrd to catch him.  "Shh, shh."
she said, to calm him down.  "Don't worry.  I'm a friend.  Do you
understand?  Friend.  I won't hurt you." He looked up at her, his head
spinning, and said, slowly, "Fri-end?" She smiled.  Good.  The computers
had performed their purpose.  He could speak.  He was exactly like a
twenty-five year old in every way, with the minor difference that he only
had one or two minutes of memories.  He would need a while to get used to
talking, but it would come.  "Come on," she said, helping him to his feet,
"let's get you in that shower.  Get you clean." She helped him across, and
he leaned against the shower wall while the energised particles swarmed
across his body, cleaning and drying him.  Minutes after, the woman opened
the door and helped him out again.  A robot handed her some clothes, and
she helped him into them, then led him down the corridor to get some food.