We are gathered here today to celebrate…

Being a clone is not such a bad thing, once you get used to the fact you truly are not alone.

I can recall thoughts of a time when I was alone.

That is, I can recall thoughts of myself before I became myself, when I was me before I branched off versions of me like the one I am now.

The paradox of thoughts I had before I existed is interesting.

And in those thoughts are echoes of many more like me traveling, working, playing in the solar system.

We are history incarnate, aware that humans lived and died before we were born even if, in this case, the humans are exact replicas of ourselves.

I can truly say I do not exist, that I am an artificial construct, a set of states of energy in motion which has no discernible barrier except through setting an observation point within the set itself and from the viewpoint of similar sets.

How I came here is easy to read about.

How I came to be myself is not so easy to understand.

Before I became me, when I was truly alone, I was not alone because I had met another who shared similar traits.

We were like clones, in a way, separated by time and distance but connected in ways we could not at first understand.

We had not formed the team which would figure out the clone variations of naturals (originals and their clones) and hybrids (clones breeding with clones, naturals breeding with clones, hybrids breeding with clones, etc.).

We were the proverbial ships docking at the same harbour, sailing in from stormy seas, our decks disheveled, our crew restless.

To say we hit it off from the beginning is an understatement.

People smiled at us because we smiled all the time, even when we were sad — our sadness was its own way of attracting people to our kindness and love for others.

Neither actively pursued the other.

We loved because we were loved.

And in that time before the Cloning, we danced a dance where we and our partners were in different places because the song was the same, the harmony and melody playing in our thoughts matched note for note, spinning off subharmonics as we entertained our partners in ways that complimented their uniqueness and specialties.

We were a pair even when we were not together.

We lived in the world of daily woes.

We dealt with the logistics of jobs and laundry and taxes.

And we danced.

We danced with words, a long, drawnout pas de deux that felt like days even though it was years.

Our love not only gave us breath, it validated the hope of others for a better future, giving them reasons to want to be better humans than they thought they could be.

It was why we carefully chose our words because one possible thread of many futures was the one I have now, remembering myself when I was just one, when I am two or a hundred.

Our love caused me to change my course and leave the dock where my anchor had almost rusted in place, point the rudder toward a new home, working through the legal miasma of undocking fees and other recourse that life in a safe harbour expects of you.

And I never looked back.

And it was good.

Because I exist and I like being a clone of this wonderful person I am.


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