Hold my hand
When I clone a human being
It will want to hold my hand
When I clone a human being
It will be a member of my band
Scientific method girl
The theorems speak to me
Measure out the chemicals
Safety goggles on my eyes
Turn the Bunsen burner on
My creation comes alive
I have cloned a human being
It is here and holds my hand
~Freezepop
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
XIII
I am XIII, the thirteeth creation of the thirteenth breeding cycle. A specific order made for an Ubar, a product of genetic creativity, in some clique's it is phrased intelligent design. It is a concept reputed in most cases as explanation for the universe itself though upon this world it is not so grandiose an ideal. Bred slaves can be had for as little as a few coppers. Most though do not wish to know the inner workings of such experiments. 'Just see to the order and send for me when it is done.'
Grisch and Aestheta were in essence my mother and father although we are all from the seed of Racselis himself. Some have called him genious. My own thoughts are that they have no imagining of the man's true abilities. Some call him a mad man. Those would be closer to the truth but not atributed to his skills.
I remember the underground laboratories of my maker. I remenber Racselis. I remember the Isle of Acresius, the World's End. I remember the beakers of my siblings and the vats that contained those that still breathed. Perfection is often a labored result of many erroneous attempts. The eyes of One better known as Alka, had a depth to them that you could stumble into and never find your way home. The liquid effect of her anatomy keeps her limited to amniotic fluids and for all the gelatinous consistency of her skin, she is in fact all heart. She was and will always be Aestheta's favored. Two sleeps in a jar on the top shelf. The tiny body no larger than my own hand carved from our mother's womb remains in stasis not because of the engorged elongated penis matched by a barbed appendage extending from the end of his nobby spine but because he had the misfortune of being male. Five, so beautiful .. too beautiful for words was rendered mute when they cut out her tongue. Her siren's song crafting such despair that the weight of it urged half the staff to suicide before she was silenced. There were others, pallid aberrations, deviances, atrophies, vistigial creatures that the world does not wish to know of.
Myself? Nothing that is complete breathes.
I was made in the image of my creator. Not the design of my features, not the essence of my existence. Find what question Racselis answered in forming me in his likeness or rather what question he asked. Find why he stood back and proclaimed that I was exquisite and you will find my purpose.
I am said to be all that a man desires. In truth I am merely an uncalculating predator created to feast on lusts ... passions ... weaknesses, whatever they may be.
Grisch and Aestheta were in essence my mother and father although we are all from the seed of Racselis himself. Some have called him genious. My own thoughts are that they have no imagining of the man's true abilities. Some call him a mad man. Those would be closer to the truth but not atributed to his skills.
I remember the underground laboratories of my maker. I remenber Racselis. I remember the Isle of Acresius, the World's End. I remember the beakers of my siblings and the vats that contained those that still breathed. Perfection is often a labored result of many erroneous attempts. The eyes of One better known as Alka, had a depth to them that you could stumble into and never find your way home. The liquid effect of her anatomy keeps her limited to amniotic fluids and for all the gelatinous consistency of her skin, she is in fact all heart. She was and will always be Aestheta's favored. Two sleeps in a jar on the top shelf. The tiny body no larger than my own hand carved from our mother's womb remains in stasis not because of the engorged elongated penis matched by a barbed appendage extending from the end of his nobby spine but because he had the misfortune of being male. Five, so beautiful .. too beautiful for words was rendered mute when they cut out her tongue. Her siren's song crafting such despair that the weight of it urged half the staff to suicide before she was silenced. There were others, pallid aberrations, deviances, atrophies, vistigial creatures that the world does not wish to know of.
Myself? Nothing that is complete breathes.
I was made in the image of my creator. Not the design of my features, not the essence of my existence. Find what question Racselis answered in forming me in his likeness or rather what question he asked. Find why he stood back and proclaimed that I was exquisite and you will find my purpose.
I am said to be all that a man desires. In truth I am merely an uncalculating predator created to feast on lusts ... passions ... weaknesses, whatever they may be.
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