my army

Time for asparagus, peas, red currants, rhubarb, spinach and strawberries.

StoryKettle » Clone » my army

Copyright © 2016, Michael M Wayman

I was back in my home country, nothing much had changed, politicians and church leaders were still saying bad things about cloning and it had been made illegal – not much of a home-coming for me, Jim McClane, the Clone Master.

What to do? I'm heavily into cloning, but nobody there wanted my skills. I decided to create my own army of me-clones, twenty at first, all looking like me. We needed clothing, food, somewhere to sleep, we needed money.

It was springtime, time for asparagus, peas, red currants, rhubarb, spinach and strawberries. They needed picking and I had twenty men. We picked all day, celebrated the evenings in a pub and slept in tents. Soon we were one hundred strong.

We moved on, time for black currants, broad beans, broccoli, cauliflowers, cherries, peas, potatoes, raspberries, red currants, tomatoes and litter. No, we did not get paid for the litter, but the locals loved it. We cleaned up where ever we went – one thousand strong.

The media reported that an army of clones was moving about the country – something had to be done. Arrest the clones? No, the clones themselves were not illegal. Kill the clones? No, that would be murder. Deport the clones? No, the clones were not immigrants. Find the Clone Master? No, try finding one in fifty thousand.

Beetroot, cucumbers, kale, marrows, onions, plums, runner beans and sweetcorn – it was summer, we were two hundred thousand strong – I had long lost count.

The money we earned paid for our food and clothing and tents and stuff. We made no profit and paid no taxes – probably illegal, but morally OK.

Apples, apricots, carrots, courgettes, pears, pumpkins, raspberries, and tomatoes.

It was the silly season – the politicians and the church leaders filled the media with bad stuff about clones and the clone army. The police were ordered to arrest and deport the clones, and especially arrest me.

They failed. We decided to have a late summer fest, free for everyone. All we needed was a bowl about two kilometres wide, a big open space, we found it in the middle of the country. The land owners had no objections – just clean the place up afterwards – no problem for us.

The politicians and the church leaders did not like that one bit, but what can you do against a concentrated army of over two hundred thousand men?

The festival was a great success – free music, free food and free drink for everybody. The clearing up took more days than the preparation before the fest.

Cabbages, leeks, Brussels sprouts, greens, kohlrabi, parsnips – the harvesting was coming to an end, the days got shorter, many of the clones had disappeared, my army shrunk quickly, most gone by Xmas. There were just enough left to perform a carol concert that was shown on TV.

The public's attitude to clones had changed – the clones had picked food for the nation, cleaned up the nation, held a great and free festival, and had sung joyous Xmas carols for the nation. The politicians caved and repealed all the clone laws – I was back in my home country at last.