Carbon Copy

I awoke. It was dark, but somewhere a dull green light throbbed gently. I was submerged, floating, in some sort of tank. I could breathe, there was a mask attached to my face, forcing oxygen into my lungs, and other attachments doing who knows what else.

My heart thumped in my chest. I couldn’t remember how I got here. I couldn’t remember anything. Panic overwhelmed me. I almost passed out.

Slowly I forced myself to calm down. Pressing my face up against the glass, I strained to see. There were other tanks, with other men. They looked familiar. Trying to focus, I looked from tank to tank. Every one was the same. The tanks were identical, and so were the men inside them. I turned as much as the breathing apparatus would allow. They were arranged in a ring, and in the centre was a steel table. On the table was a man, unconscious or dead. He was wearing my clothes. I knew they were my clothes, somehow. So what were they doing on him, and why did he look so much like the others? Why did he look so much like me?

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