She might as well have been speaking another language.


“I’m not a clone. No woman is. All you men are. Except for you.”

I knew she wasn’t lying.

“Ricky, I know this is probably hard for you to believe,” she said as her fingertips grazed over my chest, “but you are the only un-cloned man alive. At least as far as I know.”

“But, what about the game? Our purpose?”

“It’s fiction. It was the only way to keep the male sex active. When we advanced to a point where we didn’t need the male figure any longer, at least in the way society as we knew it needed him, we had to come up with a way to keep men proactive members of society – because we needed to continue to reproduce, for the sake of the human race. After some time of continuous in vitro fertilization, women’s fertility rates started dropping sharply, and, for pregnant women, mortality rates increased dramatically. We suddenly found ourselves unable to reproduce, except, as we quickly noticed, those women who had fallen in love with one of the few remaining men who seemed to still have a sense of purpose.”

“So you created the game.”

“Exactly. The one true purpose that man could never be relieved of was the one to ensure his species survives.”

“Then why did you begin cloning?”

“By the time we realized what we had to do, it was too late. Not to mention, the men that remained couldn’t just be trained to not care about anything else but sex, so we formed a committee to come up with a solution.”

“But the point of the game isn’t to fall in love.”

“You’re right. We cloned the most virile men we could find, and raised them to play the game, not to fall in love.”

“I’m not following…”

“Ricky, I know you’re not this dense. How do you act when you’re in love?”

“What? I haven’t been in love, I don’t know what that even means. You need another drink.”

“Hang on…when you’re in love, you act pathetic.”

“What am I doing that’s so pathetic?”

“…I never said you’re in love with me,” she smirked.


I got up and strolled to the kitchen, where I started to cook some eggs for us. I needed a break. I was confused, but intrigued. This wasn’t a game – at least not what was happening between Julie and me. She snuck up behind me, wrapped her arms around my chest, her breasts against my back, along with her cheek, and I felt the same sensation I did every time I read the letters.

“Ricky, if men were conditioned to fall in love, rather than play the game, they’d likely fall for the first girl they’d meet, every time. They wouldn’t feel a sense of purpose, and they’d become depressed. We found this out very quickly, and had to implement the current rules.”

“Then tell me why there are always two of you. Why did you clone yourselves? Why reproduce at all when you can clone?”

“Haven’t you always felt a bit different, Ricky?”

“…the women choose us.”

“And the female clones are sterile. They’re distractions for the male clones.”

28 Nov ’15

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