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Emergence

By: DankeDonuts

https://dankedonuts.sofurry.com/

In a flash of frigid steam and blazing white light, Jillian awoke to the world. The Meerkat was standing in a confined, silvery space. Her hands were pressed against a frosted-white door or window. It opened upward, letting in a sudden rush of warm air. At the same time, she felt gentle pressure against her back. That of the upright sleep-pad behind her prodding her to move forward. She did so, staggering slowly onto a short platform while trying to shield her privates from view. Dark tail-tip twitching nervously behind her.

Standing at the end of the platform was a lady Meerkat wearing a long white lab coat. The room before her was small and brightly lit and crammed with boxy machines that didn't appear to do anything but light up in random sequences of color. She finished tapping something into a datapad, apparently unaware of the nude one's presence.

Jillian's first words stammered out of mouth unaccustomed to speaking. "H-hi. Could you please tell me why I'm cold and naked?"

"Jillian K-3-6-5!" the stranger barked sternly, before stepping forth to affixing a small gold and red double-circle to the pale fur above Jillian's left breast. "All markers green!"

Before Jillian could ask what it was, someone was wrapping a bathrobe around her. "Happy birthday! Welcome to Jillian's World!" The speaker's face was a match to the one she'd just seen. Not just a family resemblance. They were the same. A double-take to the first woman confirmed it. Absolutely the same in height and form and figure; svelte and small. In the shape, size and spacing of their pale yellow eyes. Even in the specifics of their fur coat. From the puff of nearly-white fur atop their heads, to the blotchy extension of black under the spots around their right eyes, to the little clover-shaped patch of pale pink skin atop otherwise black noses. The only difference between the two was in clothing; this one was wearing a pale gold jumpsuit and a thick belt loaded with pockets. "Hi, I'm Jillian R-2-4-7! Your orientation specialist!"

This one's voice was the same too, a crisp alto, albeit registering a happier tone. Jillian -- Jillian K-365 -- turned back again to the first Fur, to see that she had moved on to the left. Towards a tall, blue-grey cylinder the letter 'L' blazed across a black screen in green light. Below the vidscreen, a long and frosted window. Beside that, yet another interchangeable figure waited with a bathrobe. Three more cylinders, labeled 'M' through 'O,' stood silently beyond that. Three more bathrobes waited in three more sets of Meerkat hands.

"What the--" Jillian felt a tug. The female who had stayed with her was prompting her to step down a nearby set of stairs. Its twin lay before the 'O' cylinder. A sparse railway in between.

"Sorry, but we can't stay up there," Her escort was speaking pleasantly but firmly. "The cleaning Jillians are going to want to give that your pod a once-over before it closes itself up again. The fun never stops around here!"

As the pair moved towards a double-door, they passed a control panel manned by a seated lady Meerkat in a brown vest. Another Jillian? This one noticed the attention being paid to her and offered a slight smile and a wave before going back to her work. "Jillian L-3-6-5! Preliminary lifesigns normal!" was called from the platform. The vested Jillian typed a series of commands into her board.

"I know what you're thinking," R-247 grinned. "Because I was thinking it too. 'If I If I look in a mirror, am I going to see your face?' " The doors swung open automatically. Revealing a short silver-grey hallway. At its end, a fork. A brightly lit console provided two arrows, one leading to Pods P through T and one to the Clone Sciences Concourse.

'Clone'. The sign may as well have come to life and punched her in the gut. Her legs lost their strength, as a life that possibly wasn't hers flashed before her eyes in disjointed scraps. An elder's face, smiling down at her. A ball flying across a sports field. A graduation ceremony, watched from the audience. In her present-sight, she saw the corridor's ceiling getting further away.

Her companion was exactly where she needed to be to catch her. "I did that, too," she said. "The philosophical stuff's going to hit you in a few hours. We're going to get you to a room where you can be comfortable when it does."

K-365 was hurried through the corridor. Passing two more doors passed two more doors, each with its own signage. This way to Pods A through J. That way to pods U through ?. Two steps past the intersection, the retroactively obvious question made her stop short: If she was the three-hundred and sixty-fifth clone to come out of pod... and there were pods enough to extend past the Alphabet...

The Meerkat tried to do the math, a distant look in her eyes, and was soon stymied by the numbers.

"Eighteen thousand, two hundred and sixty-one," K-365 offered. "I've only met one who could get it right off the top of their head."

"Stop reading my mind!" K-365 snapped, pushing herself away.

"Sorry, can't help it," R-247 shrugged. "Same mind. Same conversation I've had a hundred times since I took this job. Please, let me take you to the Concourse? Everything you need will be there." There was growing tension inside yellow eyes.

"Why are you so eager to move me along?" Jillian sneered.

The other Jillian sighed, and spared a look back the way they came. "Because Jillian Epsilon-One-Nine-Nine will be having this same conversation with Jillian L-Three-Six-Five right here in a few minutes." She lowered her eyes, and defeat entered her words. Which came fast and frustrated. "Everyone here is a clone. We don't know what happened to the original or how she came to this planet. We can't access half her logs because no one's Emerged who remembers her passwords yet. No one knows why the pods keep pumping out new Jillians, or where all the biomatter is coming from. We can't make the pods stop working without this whole base shutting down. We can't supply the outer colonies without the base. And there's too many Jillians now to not supply the colonies." Her hands pantomimed the act of juggling these problems. "All we can do is adapt. There's a system for helping you through the Emergence."

"Wouldn't want to upset the system, now would I?" she grimaced. Resetting the front of her robe, she marched towards the Concourse door.

. . .

Ten minutes later, having passed a dozen or more Jillians, this particular Jillian was sitting in her assigned quarters, a small and spartan cube of space just large enough for a bed, two chairs, and a small table between those, and a larger desk for a workspace. She was dressed in a yellow jumpsuit. Looking at herself in the mirror. Tracing out the shape of her eye spots. The reality that she was identical to her 'orientation specialist' was evident. But that didn't make it any easier to accept.

"Why is everybody out there named Jillian?" she asked, setting the mirror aside on a small table. "Thousands of women, all going by numbers. Sounds rather dystopian."

"That was the name in your head when you woke up, wasn't it?" R-247 was seated next to her, nursing a weak herbal tea. "Me too. Everyone too. Do you want to give it up? I'm sure no one would mind if you swapped out."

That required a moment's through. "Not particularly."

"There you go."

"Go is a funny word, under the circumstances. How long has this been going on?"

"Fifty pods. They each go off once a month, every month. Ten month year. That's five-hundred new usses a year. So, around thirty-six years. Not counting however long the base was inactive. Or rebuilding itself. The Jillians upstairs used to think that sooner or later we were going to get a Jillian who remembers how to repair overactive cloning vats."

"Maybe she never knew."

"That's how I got it figured. But something's off with the pods, other than they won't turn off. Neural doohickeys. I don't understand it all. We each get a little something different out of the original's memories. The early stuff comes to most. Things she learned as a pup. Like how we're all speaking the same language." K-247 took another sip. "How about you? Any skills coming to mind?"

A moment's concentration, and... "Nothing."

"Close your eyes," R-247 smiled softly. "Cast away all distractions. Just feel."

Jillian K-365 did so. And saw a flash of sweeping lines and shaded curves, dark on light. Her fingers itched to feel a tool they could put to use. A pen or brush, or even a computer mouse. "Drawing... I guess."

R-247's joyful squee forced K-365's eyes open. "Oooh, neat! They're going to love you at the Creatives' Annex! Or is technical drawing more your thing?" The elder Jillian looked at the younger with genuine curiosity.

K-365 swallowed. "I... don't know."

"Oh, that's alright." R-247 waved her own question away. "It took me a couple days to 'remember' an aptitude for cooking. So, you came out swinging!"

K-365 was quiet for a long, contemplative moment."

Jillian R-247 studied her with sly insight. "Let me guess. You're thinking that you came out swinging, but where are you going? Am I right?" She knew she was right. It was spelled out on her perky ears.

It was the new model's turn to sigh in frustration. "Yeah. I am."

"I don't know. Isn't that novel? I can't guess, because it's all up to you. Somebody somewhere is looking for another pair of hands to help out. And somebody is waiting to teach someone a new set of skills. The colonies could always use more bodies. Jillian's world belongs to you too, go find your place in it." R-247 moved to put a hand atop K-365's. She allowed it. "My advice is to look on the bright side: Wherever you go, you're always going to find a friendly face."