Copy & Waste
A Short Story
By Stephen O'Neil
Part 4 of 9 - First Page - Previous Page - Next Page
“Don’t be modest. I mean it, you are…”
Grigori waved him quiet as he continued, “I just don’t know if I could do it.”
“Oh… I know it’s a big step, but it worked perfectly.”
“Arty, it’s a new body.”
“I know, but it would still be you. This is still me. The memory transfer, it all worked. It’s still me. And the body, it’s still my DNA. My genes. It’s still me. You grow new hair, new skin cells all the time to replace old ones. Is this so different? We already have enough of your genetic material in company storage. We could have it all ready in the time it would take you to get back to earth.”
“I just don’t know.”
“Greg, how many of your original kidneys do you have?”
“None.”
“And your lungs?”
Grigori sighed, “One.”
“Plus that right eye of yours. All good, working replacements and still your body deteriorates. They split your skull and still couldn’t fix the problems. They haven’t perfected brain transplants yet. A new body though, that’s even better. Younger, no disease…”
“It’s just a little hard to accept. This body, this broken down old thing. This is me. It’s who I am.”
“No. No it is not. Your mind is who you are, and you’ll be keeping that.”
“Will I? That new body, it will have a copy of my mind, but is that the same? I don’t want to be just a copy.”
“I am not just a copy!”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be…”
“No it’s ok.” Arty rubbed his forehead, “This will take some getting used to, for a lot of people. But I’m telling you, I feel great and it really is me.”
“Well, what will happen to this,” he placed a hand on his breast. “What will happen to this body?”
“What happens to your old skin cells when you get new ones? What happens when you get a haircut?” Grigori frowned as he looked upward toward his barren dome. Arty groaned, “You know what I mean.”
“So this will be disposed of?”
“Recycled. You may say it’s broken down but there are still some things that could be used to help others.”
“Why not me then?”
Arty sighed in exasperation, “Greg, you’re getting a new one. All new. Made from your very own DNA just like the one you were born with. All the one body. No risk of any parts being rejected.”
Arty steepled his hands and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Look Greg, I know this isn’t an easy decision and I don’t expect you to make up your mind straight away. I just felt that you deserve to have it offered to you first, before anyone else. So much of your own work has made this possible. Think about it. Talk with Elly. Talk with Vermisa, but no-one else. You know we’d need to keep this tight until the official release.”
“I understand.”
“Don’t take too long deciding. There are other people wanting this and I won’t let anyone else undergo the procedure until you’ve had a chance. We can’t keep this under wraps for too long. Greg, I really think you deserve this. You owe it to yourself. And others.”
Grigori nodded, “I appreciate that Arty. I really do. I will do as you say.”
“Thanks Greg.”