Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace (Dexter) novel Chapter 436

Cloning embryos, after being born, turn out to be quite diverse due to differences in environment, lifestyle, and even prenatal development. Thus, Phoebe and Foebe, although similar in appearance, are not exactly identical, not even in personality.

Cloning.

Now, there's a word that sends shivers down the spine.

"What about Colin?" I croaked out the question.

What was he, if I was an experiment?

"He's not exactly an experiment..." Melody winced in pain, leaning against the wall. "He was genetically screened, yes. He's the result of genetic optimization, unlike you... He's still a normal person. But you, Foebe, you can hardly be called 'human.' In their eyes, you're just a lamb to the slaughter, livestock let loose in human society... an experimental subject, a species to be erased by 'accidents' if the data turns sour."

Melody spoke again, "Just like Dolly the sheep, your fate is to become a specimen, trapped in the basement of some lab. I bet... the Gene-Forge Collective's underground labs are filled with 'your' corpses."

"Ha..." I laughed weakly, getting up, not saying anything, and started to make my way downstairs, leaning on the wall for support.

A clone.

What a joke.

Sci-fi movies have always played it safe when it comes to expressing human desires and evil.

All the darkness hidden beneath the sun, for the sake of 'progress,' 'evolution,' immortality, anti-aging, the sheer will to live...

The kind of darkness ordinary people never touch in their lifetimes, unimaginable to them.

So, isn't living a simple life a form of happiness?

"Phoebe..." Dexter's voice was hoarse as he called my name.

"The Godfather opens with a quote that behind every great fortune lies a great crime. Marx said it too, that capital comes dripping from head to foot, from every pore, with blood and dirt..."

My voice was raspy as I continued to walk down.

I wasn't just speaking for Dexter to hear, but also for myself.

What we see in this world, the splendor, is only what the puppeteers want us to see.

The darkness behind it, unimaginable.

"Phoebe..." Dexter sounded worried. "This isn't your fault."

I turned to look at Dexter, scoffing. "I never thought it was my fault..."