"Good morning, Bellevue, I'm Georgia Quincy with the morning news. The long-awaited answer is finally here. The Supreme Court has come to the decision that as of today, the funding and owning of human clones is no longer constitutional. In the coming weeks, clones will be released from their facilities and into the world. Citizens who own clones will be reimbursed by the government. If you would like to foster a clone, please contact the number on your screen now. That's all we have for today, now to Pharra with the weather."

Rona

Each morning is relatively the same around here. We wake up when the nurses come in, they give us our injections and apologize about the needle, though we'd lost any and all feeling in the injection sites long ago. My nurse's name is Marianna, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman that I have grown to love. I wish I could have a beautiful name, but Rona is what I'm stuck with. Marianna once had two children – twin girls, around my age she says – and a husband who drank a little too much, but was a good man. Before she came to work here, they were killed in a car accident on a rainy night. Some of the nurses live here with us, and I'm thankful that Marianna is one of them, though it hurts me that she lost her family. The nurses, doctors, scientists, and other workers call this place the facility. After injections, the other girls in my room and I dress ourselves and head to breakfast together. There are 3 other girls in my room – Ophelia, Phoebe, and Lynx. They're the closest things I've ever had to a family.

Everyone here is fully aware of our purpose in this place. We eat the food they give us, accept the injections because there is no other option, we keep ourselves healthy and then eventually we are shipped off to be spare parts for another person. This other person is the one we were cloned for – we call them our original. These people paid for us to be created, to be used as spare parts if they get hurt or need an organ transplant. Around here, they feed us the bull crap that we're being given a sense of purpose but honestly, we're being raised like pigs for slaughter. It's kind of sad how nonchalant everyone is about it. I suppose we've learned over time that it serves you no good to show fear. After all, it isn't so bad. Ophelia, Phoebe, Lynx, and I are lucky, our nurse is kind. There are others here who have not been so lucky.

As we headed to breakfast like usual, Marianna watched us with sad eyes. I chose not to ask what was wrong and followed quickly behind Lynx. The cafeteria was roaring with chatter – not unusual for this early in the morning. There was a different kind of atmosphere in the room, though. Normally, everyone was calm and apathetic about everything. Today, people smiled and glanced around the room with excited eyes. As I made my way to the food line I tried my best to overhear anything that would make sense of the excitement. "Did you hear the news?" A boy asked the girl sitting beside him with wide eyes. She shook her head curiously and waited for him to explain what the news was.

"Earth to Rona." Lynx's voice quickly snapped me back to where I was. "Are you okay?" She asked gently. Lynx was, without a doubt in my mind, the best person in the world. She had gentle green eyes and curly brown hair that flowed just past her shoulders. I've never seen her original – no one's ever seen their original – but I can't imagine that she's nearly as beautiful as Lynx. I nodded and asked, "Have you noticed that everyone seems different today?" She looked around the room curiously, scrunching her nose a bit. "A little, yes. I wonder what everyone is so energetic about."

"Next." The cafeteria woman called out, looking directly at me. I stepped up to the tall silver machine that resembled a thin soda fountain and held out one finger, palm up and waited. A short thin needle slowly came down from the machine and pricked the tip of my finger. I winced, I'll never understand how the injections have never bothered me but pricking my finger at each meal always will. I squeezed my finger and pressed my blood onto the scanner below the needle and waited as it beeped. The lunch lady watched as numbers I didn't quite understand popped up on the screen beside the machine, telling her which foods I need for this meal and which ones to avoid. She nodded at me before calling for the next person.

Once we each had our food and a seat, I desperately tried to eavesdrop on someone, anyone, around us to try and figure out what we were missing. "Rona, just eat. You're creeping me out." I shot a look at Phoebe, who didn't even wait for me to react to what she'd said. As I began to eat, Doctor Felickson, the one in charge of the entire facility, stepped up to the podium at the far end of the cafeteria. Usually when Felickson was at the podium, she was announcing someone that had been "called", meaning it was time for them to be spare parts for their original. The entire cafeteria fell silent as soon as she stepped up, only the sound of heavy, shaky breathing could be heard throughout the room. Even the lunch ladies and those who were scanning to get their food froze in place, watching her, and waiting. Felickson was a beautiful woman, tall and slender with white-blonde hair and plump lips. Today she wore a royal blue dress and her white doctor's coat, her hair in a neat and perfect bun, and her lips painted a powerful red that accentuated her perfect white teeth. Normally she smiled wide, excited for us to go off and fulfill our purpose. But today, her expression was blank as she leaned slightly forward and said into the microphone, "Good morning, everyone. Today I have a very new and unexpected announcement. As of yesterday, the Supreme Court has ruled the creating and harvesting of clones unconstitutional, and therefore, illegal."

Throughout the room people gasped and began whispering to one another furiously. Ophelia and Phoebe grabbed each other's hands while Lynx simply covered her mouth in shock. Felickson waited for a moment before requesting silence. "Beginning tomorrow morning," she said, "You will each be leaving here in buses to be taken to a shelter. There, those of you who are being placed in foster homes will be picked up by your foster family and those who are not will remain there until a new foster home opens up or you reach the age of majority." It was clear she was trying to keep her composure, but she was beyond furious over the ruling. Not that I can blame her, really. This woman has spent her whole life building the facility – and building us – and now the government can just decide that it needs to be shut down. "Please take today to say your goodbyes, as tomorrow morning you will each be leaving. Thank you." Felickson stepped down from the podium with grace, despite how her voice shook.

At first there was only excited chatter throughout the room, which then grew into cheering and applause. We were getting out, we would have real lives. We would get to meet people that were born and not cloned, people that are not doctors or nurses poking us like science experiments, but real people. Though it's rather intimidating, I couldn't help but feel excited.