*In any way do I own The Infernal Devices or this "cloning" prompt. TID goes to Cassandra Clare and the cloning prompt goes to my Sci-Fi Literature teacher. :)*

:) Hello, guys. So, this is a short story that I wrote as a project for my Sc-Fi class, as said up in the disclaimer. The prompt was to write a short story of three and a half pages about cloning. Back on MLA format, this is actually four and a half, so this is a really, really short story. (At least compared to the size of chapters on my other stories. ;)) I, of course, changed the names and attributes to make this into a fan fiction. :) Uhm, this is sort of stalling for my BA readers... BUT NO WORRIES! I already started the chapter! Hopefully before Friday I'll update. Now, read on and I hope you enjoy. :) And, please! Review at the end! :D

Private Project

I see him. I see them. I see the changes he had on them. I see the changes they had on him. It's almost eerie to be watching these videos again.

I don't know exactly what I was thinking when I signed the contract of this private study. It was never about fame since this was completely private. Maybe it was the money I would be getting. The controversy over religion sounded fun, too.

It took an hour to scan me completely. Another for the scientist to make sure they had everything they needed. Two more hours of more scanning. Finally, they told me I could come back in the morning to see if it was successful.

In the morning, they showed me to a room with a big, rectangular white box. I thought they were going to try more tests, but they opened the box, and when I peered inside, I saw a fetus.

I thought it was some kind of sick joke before they explained that they had recreated a womb and had grown the fetus overnight. The young scientist held her notepad up to me and showed me the stages of how it would grow.

"It will take, approximately, one month for it to grow to a newborn. From then, it should take about six months for it to grow to your current age," she had explained. It didn't go unnoticed that she called the fetus an "it".

When I expressed my concern about how he could keep growing at that rapid state after he reached my age, she answered with: "The artificial womb is what makes it grow faster. Once it's out of there, it will resume normal growth range."

I was astounded by the technology.

Everyday, I went back and saw him grow. I began seeing the similarities four months in. The black wisps of hair, the gangly body . . . There were some things that weren't the same, as was expected. He skipped my whole fat phase and went from chubby, cute baby, to athletic teen. By the time the seven months had rolled in, it was like looking in the mirror.

I came in the day he was to be taken out of the artificial womb and was directed to a different room. When I got there, I saw one metal desk with two chairs across from each other. Sitting on one, was him.

I saw a black-tinted window on the side of the room and understood what was happening. I hurried and took my seat across from my . . . my clone. Upon hearing the chair scraping back, he looked up. It was petrifying seeing him. The starling blue eyes looked over me almost lazily and I had to wonder if that's how I actually went around looking at everyone. Taking a breath, he extended a hand out to me. I took it warily, wondering why they would leave us alone without instruction.

"It's a pleasure," he said without breaking eye contact with me, "to finally meet you." He cleared his throat, as if he was as uncomfortable about this as I was. The only thing giving him away was the calmness in his eyes. His voice was exactly how voice recordings of me sounded like, but it still felt awkward listening to my voice.

He explained how he was supposed to talk to me and examine my actions. I went with it and by the hour I was having a slightly decent conversation with him. By the end of the day, watching him interact with others was almost like watching myself in a video, except I didn't know what I would do next. A month later, it was like he was a person of his own, and the scientists noticed. They decided it was best to begin with the next test.

The week that came after was spent mostly with him. He needed to know everyone that I knew. He met mother and father through videos and photos. Friends and siblings through yearbooks and internet accounts. This was all needed if he was going to live with my family. He learned fast; faster than I would have thought.

My family didn't know anything about him—about my cloning. It would have defied the whole purpose of it. They were supposed to treat him like they would treat me. The scientists had installed a video camera and microphone inside of him so that they could document everything. It wasn't until then that they noticed the changes. He was a tad bit more intelligent than me. He listened more acutely, had better vision.

He was like a new and improved version of myself.

Surprisingly, when he went home, he did what I would have done; greeted everyone and went directly to his basement room. My family didn't say anything of my eight months of absence. For all they knew, their nineteen-year old son had been gone for a prolonged vacation at Los Angeles. After a few weeks, though, you could see the changes he was having in my family.

Father . . . He finally got the son he always wanted. Being a momma's boy, I was never all that close to my father. He spent his Sundays with dad watching the game like any normal son would. Not like me, who would have spent them locked up in the basement, only coming up for bathroom breaks and dinner.

As for my mom, you would think she would be sad her boy was turning to his father now instead of her. But, no. I saw her—through his eyes—with a bigger smile. She was overjoyed that her son was finally "normal". I heard a conversation between them through his supersensitive ears.

"Will is quite different lately, honey," said mother. They were in their room.

"I have noticed. Do you think it was that trip? He certainly changed." He paused, as in gathering his thoughts. "I can't say I'll lose sleep over it, though. He's finally doing what he should have been doing all this time." Father was always so, very considerate.

"I'm happy for the two of you. So happy," mother repeated. "Cecily loves the extra time with me as well."

I knew the last sentiment wasn't true. Cecily was my younger sister. At thirteen, she had started distancing herself from my mother, just like every teenager does. Mother expressed to me how devastated that made her and how she wished neither of us ever did.

Now, I knew how sincere her wish was.

No, instead, Cecily took to going to him for advice. To talk to him about boys and friends and school. The fact that he was actually good at giving advice to her didn't make the problem any better.

While the scientists rejoiced on their successful project, they didn't notice my state. I was having trouble remembering stuff. I was tripping and hitting things on accident way too often. Meanwhile, he was getting better and better. He had begun going out with my best friend, Tessa. Every weekend, he went out with friends. I stayed holed-up in my room, looking at everything he was doing and changing for the better.

He came around one year later, demanding to get the camera and microphone out of him. The scientists did so after my consent, after hearing him explain how my life was now his, and he didn't want others looking at everything he did. By then, talking was almost impossible for me. I was in a wheelchair, barely even moving. I couldn't go back to living my life, and my family deserved better.

It wasn't until years later that the scientists realized one of the brain scans they had done on me was what made me deteriorate as fast as he had grown. With that known, I looked over at the year he spent with my family, making them happier and more functioning. I could've sued them, but it would have done nothing but make me lose or gain money.

Every day, I would look at the continuous video of the year I missed out.

He became someone important in society; I died the day I gave him my life.