The Life of a Clone

It's rather confusing, being a clone. There are thousands just like you, with the same face, the same voice, fighting for the same cause. But somehow…you know you're different. You have different interests. You have your own feelings, your own personality. Yet, when you glance at your fellow soldiers, your brothers-in-arms, you can't help but feel a little empty inside. Like some part of the individuality you strive so desperately to achieve will forever be out of reach—all because you share the same DNA.

One of the many advantages of using clones instead of droids lies within the fact that as a clone, you possess reason. No level of AI programming can compare to a living, breathing being. You're smarter, more clever, and all-around the better option, and you know it. Droids have strength in numbers, but you have the gift of sentient intelligence. The discrimination of the ignorant does not bother you. You know how to rise above. You are a living being, a real person.

Or…are you?

You may be living in the biological sense of the word. In your chest, you can feel the pounding of your heart. You breathe, just as everyone else does. You feel fear, hate, jealousy, love, and pain…you experience emotions and sensations in exactly the same way as those who came into the galaxy naturally. However, there is something important that is missing from your life.

It's always nagging at the back of your mind…

The freedom to make choices; to have rights as a citizen of the government you're fighting to preserve. No one ever gave you the option to lead a normal life, to choose a less dangerous path. You were bought—purchased by the Republic to power their war efforts. In the end, you're merely a product. You are…expendable. A life without freedom is no life at all, not in the true sense of the word.

But you shove these thoughts from your mind in battle—no need for distractions. They surface in the dead of night, when the battle's over and no one is awake to hear you cry. After all, these thoughts, these desires are traitorous. No one may ever know how you feel, what you truly think. And if you allow yourself to sink too deeply into self-pity, into the pit of despair, then you may not be able to find your way to the light again.

If you remove war from your life, what is left? You must face the fact that you're a soldier. That is the depth of your existence. You train, you fight, you die. Anything more that you manage to experience is merely coincidental: a stroke of luck, perhaps.

Many Jedi and non-clones try to make you feel like an individual, as if you truly matter. You're given certain privileges, such as a choice in how you wear your hair and the tattoo markings on your skin. In light of the big picture, however, it seems like a rather small consolation, a small reward for your selfless servitude.

There are quite a few who are genuine in their feelings, their words of comfort. But no one can remove the deep ache in your soul, the void that can never be filled. You know it's contrary to truth, but…you wonder if anyone really does care. Are they all lying, manipulating you so that you may continue to serve without question? Besides your brothers, whom can you trust? They're the closest thing you have to a family. They're the only reason you fight so valiantly, even against unbeatable odds. But still…

All you want is to live as you. Maybe you'd like an education, to start a new life as an intellectual. Or, perhaps, you wish to start a family, work at a traditional job, and experience the mundane. Marry, have children, grow old…

But that option isn't on the table. You were bred for war, after all. Nothing more, nothing less. Do your duty. Keep your mouth shut. And try to survive.

After this? After the ships dock, the fighting ceases, and the dust clears? Who knows? If the Separatists are victorious, you don't stand a chance. But what if the Republic wins? What happens when war is merely an agonizing memory? You can never live normally. The Republic would never allow that. Yet, you need a purpose. You need something to occupy your time. You don't want to feel useless…as if you're a waste.

In the end, you realize it's not up to you, nor will it ever be.

It's the Republic's choice. You are merely a slave, fighting for a cause you're not sure you truly support. The government and its leaders claim to be fighting for freedom – for happiness and security. But what about you? What about your freedom and happiness and security? You realize they're all hypocrites, every one. They want their freedom. But they live freely at your expense. You are used against your will. You have no rights. You have no freedom. You are a slave. And the Republic, the "good guys", is the evil force that keeps you that way, that made you that way.

So much for justice. But that is the life of a clone. And at some point, you will have to accept it…if you can just…survive

Update: I fixed a few grammatical errors that I noticed on a second read-through. If you notice any more, please let me know. :)