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Too Many Clones, Not Enough Discipline
Ambassador Zero leaned back on his chair in the debating chamber. He just wanted one. One. Now he was faced with many. With… about two hundred, by his reckoning.
Two hundred polite, blushing, totally identical fourteen-year-old girls.
It had been quite an experiment.
Normally, a representative of one planet met with a representative of another planet. It didn’t matter whether the other planet consisted of crab monsters or centaurs or things that looked like seafood-robot hybrids. Whatever the species, they always sent one.
The informally named “Clone Planet” presented certain problems.
For one thing, the clones had no concept of leadership. If their hive city needed repairs, everyone chipped in until repairs had been done. They didn’t have experts. They sort of picked things up on the job, and somehow it all worked out.
Well, the rest of the galaxy might look upon them with respectful awe, but Zero had served countless armies. He refused to be easily impressed.
“Now, Miss…” He made a show of reading his notes.
“Kimura,” said the nearest one, who then smiled apologetically.
“Kimura.” Zero briefly wondered if the original Kimura was still alive somewhere, perhaps in secret cryogenic freeze or hiding with her artificial sisters. “Look, we want these peace talks to go ahead, but if incidents like these break out again…”
The Kimuras exchanged panicky looks. Evidently, word got around fast in clonesville.
One said, “What did they say?”
“Hm?” said Zero, pretending to be distracted by his papers.
One said, “The poor men involved?”
One said, “We hope they are recovering, Ambassador Zero.”
One said, “We all wish to apologize for the lapse in standards.”
One said, “We’re so ashamed.”
One said, “You are right to seek redress for this crime.”
Already, Zero was getting that headache again. Ambassadors were supposed to be suave and cunning and impressive and charismatic. The clones had clearly been neglecting certain portions of their odd civilization, since any one of them looked like they’d have the political longevity of a snowflake in a flamethrower test site. Yet for all that…
Zero had done diplomatic duty for dozens of cutthroat scum across the galaxy. His nerves made steel look flimsy as paper. Yet one glance at the nearest Kimura’s watery eyes made him want to give up politics, raise a family, and be the cuddly daddy. It made him squirm.
The original Kimura had been a good student, a child prodigy, a friend to all, and therefore a prime target for some utopian nutcase who’d taken the phrase “Kimura if only there were more people like you” far, far too literally. By the time the Galactic Union had caught up with Professor “Me Too!” Motoo, she’d made a whole civilization of immortal, supergenius teenage college girls, and no one had the heart to pull the plug on any of them. So once the press had enjoyed the shocking news, the whole thing was just absorbed into modern society.
Zero hated modern society. Modern society had cured his lost leg, and he’d been looking forward to telling his grandchildren old war stories about the stump. It just wouldn’t be the same now.
Grimly, he brought a paper up for inspection.
“The incident in question,” he said loudly, in case of any more apologetic interruptions, “was this: at 2200 hours, in the Court Park adjacent to the debating chamber, it was witnessed by several in the Abecedarian Company that two of your clones—sorry, I mean two Kimuras—were involved in an altercation with Privates Lambda and Mu.”
One said, looking down at her shoes, “Yes, sir.”
Zero lowered the paper. Suddenly, he had an urge to look over his spectacles, which was worrying because he didn’t wear any.
“According to both privates and about half of the eye-witnesses, Lambda and Mu were attacked without provocation.”
Despite himself, he almost smiled at this. It was in theory possible that Lambda and Mu were attacked without provocation, just as it was in theory possible that the planets orbited their stars without physics. They had histories.
Unfortunately, all the Kimuras were busy examining their shoes. Hardly a defence.
“There were mitigating circumstances?” he tried.
Some of the clones swallowed. Some wrung their hands.
“Nothing at all?” he said. “It wasn’t a provoked attack, was it?”
One or two opened their mouths, but hastily were shushed by nearby sisters.
Zero groaned. “It wasn’t, for example, a case of two drunks not recognizing when no means no?”
Finally, one said, “We don’t want anyone to get into trouble on our account, sir.”
“Including two of your own?” snapped Zero.
Yet he could tell it was hopeless. The clones were identical. And even if, say, two of them confessed, how could he tell they were telling the truth? Numbers provided the perfect cover, and for all their impressive knowledge of trade routes and socioeconomic theory, they were still, at heart, teenage girls. They held together.
Zero made a private memo to give Lambda and Mu hell later on, and sighed. “Wasted time… Case dismissed. We can’t convict unfairly, now can we? Now perhaps we can get back to reality?”
At once, all two hundred clones beamed at him and raised papers.
He slumped in defeat.
They’d all done their homework on this negotiation. And they’d be insightfully brilliant; by comparison, he was a huckster. At least his diplomatic missions with the Kimuras were—on the whole—quickly satisfied.
Two hundred polite, blushing, totally identical fourteen-year-old girls.
It had been quite an experiment.
Normally, a representative of one planet met with a representative of another planet. It didn’t matter whether the other planet consisted of crab monsters or centaurs or things that looked like seafood-robot hybrids. Whatever the species, they always sent one.
The informally named “Clone Planet” presented certain problems.
For one thing, the clones had no concept of leadership. If their hive city needed repairs, everyone chipped in until repairs had been done. They didn’t have experts. They sort of picked things up on the job, and somehow it all worked out.
Well, the rest of the galaxy might look upon them with respectful awe, but Zero had served countless armies. He refused to be easily impressed.
“Now, Miss…” He made a show of reading his notes.
“Kimura,” said the nearest one, who then smiled apologetically.
“Kimura.” Zero briefly wondered if the original Kimura was still alive somewhere, perhaps in secret cryogenic freeze or hiding with her artificial sisters. “Look, we want these peace talks to go ahead, but if incidents like these break out again…”
The Kimuras exchanged panicky looks. Evidently, word got around fast in clonesville.
One said, “What did they say?”
“Hm?” said Zero, pretending to be distracted by his papers.
One said, “The poor men involved?”
One said, “We hope they are recovering, Ambassador Zero.”
One said, “We all wish to apologize for the lapse in standards.”
One said, “We’re so ashamed.”
One said, “You are right to seek redress for this crime.”
Already, Zero was getting that headache again. Ambassadors were supposed to be suave and cunning and impressive and charismatic. The clones had clearly been neglecting certain portions of their odd civilization, since any one of them looked like they’d have the political longevity of a snowflake in a flamethrower test site. Yet for all that…
Zero had done diplomatic duty for dozens of cutthroat scum across the galaxy. His nerves made steel look flimsy as paper. Yet one glance at the nearest Kimura’s watery eyes made him want to give up politics, raise a family, and be the cuddly daddy. It made him squirm.
The original Kimura had been a good student, a child prodigy, a friend to all, and therefore a prime target for some utopian nutcase who’d taken the phrase “Kimura if only there were more people like you” far, far too literally. By the time the Galactic Union had caught up with Professor “Me Too!” Motoo, she’d made a whole civilization of immortal, supergenius teenage college girls, and no one had the heart to pull the plug on any of them. So once the press had enjoyed the shocking news, the whole thing was just absorbed into modern society.
Zero hated modern society. Modern society had cured his lost leg, and he’d been looking forward to telling his grandchildren old war stories about the stump. It just wouldn’t be the same now.
Grimly, he brought a paper up for inspection.
“The incident in question,” he said loudly, in case of any more apologetic interruptions, “was this: at 2200 hours, in the Court Park adjacent to the debating chamber, it was witnessed by several in the Abecedarian Company that two of your clones—sorry, I mean two Kimuras—were involved in an altercation with Privates Lambda and Mu.”
One said, looking down at her shoes, “Yes, sir.”
Zero lowered the paper. Suddenly, he had an urge to look over his spectacles, which was worrying because he didn’t wear any.
“According to both privates and about half of the eye-witnesses, Lambda and Mu were attacked without provocation.”
Despite himself, he almost smiled at this. It was in theory possible that Lambda and Mu were attacked without provocation, just as it was in theory possible that the planets orbited their stars without physics. They had histories.
Unfortunately, all the Kimuras were busy examining their shoes. Hardly a defence.
“There were mitigating circumstances?” he tried.
Some of the clones swallowed. Some wrung their hands.
“Nothing at all?” he said. “It wasn’t a provoked attack, was it?”
One or two opened their mouths, but hastily were shushed by nearby sisters.
Zero groaned. “It wasn’t, for example, a case of two drunks not recognizing when no means no?”
Finally, one said, “We don’t want anyone to get into trouble on our account, sir.”
“Including two of your own?” snapped Zero.
Yet he could tell it was hopeless. The clones were identical. And even if, say, two of them confessed, how could he tell they were telling the truth? Numbers provided the perfect cover, and for all their impressive knowledge of trade routes and socioeconomic theory, they were still, at heart, teenage girls. They held together.
Zero made a private memo to give Lambda and Mu hell later on, and sighed. “Wasted time… Case dismissed. We can’t convict unfairly, now can we? Now perhaps we can get back to reality?”
At once, all two hundred clones beamed at him and raised papers.
He slumped in defeat.
They’d all done their homework on this negotiation. And they’d be insightfully brilliant; by comparison, he was a huckster. At least his diplomatic missions with the Kimuras were—on the whole—quickly satisfied.
This one didn't:
Quite track for me, author. Do the clones never age? Why can't Zero just pick two Kimuras at random if the rest refuse to name which of them were involved in the fracas? We should see him at least trying to be tough even if he then caves to their overwhelming cuteness. Also, calling the non-clone characters in the story Zero, Lambda, and Mu seemed odd. If they aren't clones, why do they have alphanumeric names? And if Lambda and Mu are known troublemakers, why are they serving at a diplomatic post? Though you could get more humor out of describing this fracas a little, or at least telling us how badly the soldiers involved were injured...
In other words, this is fun, but it needs to cover more of its bases.
Mike
Quite track for me, author. Do the clones never age? Why can't Zero just pick two Kimuras at random if the rest refuse to name which of them were involved in the fracas? We should see him at least trying to be tough even if he then caves to their overwhelming cuteness. Also, calling the non-clone characters in the story Zero, Lambda, and Mu seemed odd. If they aren't clones, why do they have alphanumeric names? And if Lambda and Mu are known troublemakers, why are they serving at a diplomatic post? Though you could get more humor out of describing this fracas a little, or at least telling us how badly the soldiers involved were injured...
In other words, this is fun, but it needs to cover more of its bases.
Mike
Good Stuff: Absurd humor is what I love, and this has it. Hundreds of clones of a moe schoolgirl acting as a full society? A tough-as-nails army guy ending up like a principal? And that last bit with all the clones cheerfully waving diplomatic papers like homework left me ROTFL. I love this sort of Douglas-Adams humor (the clones bit reminded me of the radio series, which is IMO the best). It's even kind of clever how the clones' origin story is explained and makes a kind of bizarre sense, and of course Kimura is just toooooo cute! I don't know if I can be objective on this one...
Bad Stuff: In hindsight, I kind of agree with >>Baal Bunny, but I think his suggestions are stuff that would take a good story and make it great. It didn't really bother me in the moment. That said, Zero could have been funnier. He's too much of a straight man, but you're trying to make him crazy too and he needed more stuff like that "leg stump" bit to make it work. I also think the names for the non-clones could have been more creative, and the bit about the two Kimuras hiding among the clones could have been more developed as a sort of Star Trek thought experiment kind of narrative. This is sci-fi. Go nuts!
Verdict: Top Contender. It's not a strong top contender like Ode or Werewolf, and my ranking is mostly because I thought it was hilarious. But I do see Baal Bunny's point that this could have been greater than it was. Don't be discouraged, though. I think this is a solid effort as it is that just needs a little more work to make it funnier, and the absurdist comedy means I push it higher than a "Solid Entry" tier because of personal taste.
Bad Stuff: In hindsight, I kind of agree with >>Baal Bunny, but I think his suggestions are stuff that would take a good story and make it great. It didn't really bother me in the moment. That said, Zero could have been funnier. He's too much of a straight man, but you're trying to make him crazy too and he needed more stuff like that "leg stump" bit to make it work. I also think the names for the non-clones could have been more creative, and the bit about the two Kimuras hiding among the clones could have been more developed as a sort of Star Trek thought experiment kind of narrative. This is sci-fi. Go nuts!
Verdict: Top Contender. It's not a strong top contender like Ode or Werewolf, and my ranking is mostly because I thought it was hilarious. But I do see Baal Bunny's point that this could have been greater than it was. Don't be discouraged, though. I think this is a solid effort as it is that just needs a little more work to make it funnier, and the absurdist comedy means I push it higher than a "Solid Entry" tier because of personal taste.
This concept is a great idea, and I love thinking about all the different things you could do with something like this. Maybe more about how they all came to be, and what happened to the original and her professor. Or more about how they differ from one another (C'mon, surely when they were created they would have split off into a million different paths? Where's Astrophysicist Kimura? President Kimura and Supreme Leader Kimura? That Bartender Kimura down the lane with the overbite who's planning on writing a novel some day?) There's just so many avenues, so many genres, so much fun that could be had with a clone planet, that I want more.
But unfortunately that's what's left me feeling disappointed. I'm not saying I wish you had included more ideas—that wouldn't be fair for a minific round—but I'm more of the feeling that the idea you chose was disappointing. Part of it is because half of your comedy wasn't my style (I liked Zero's curmudgeonly bits; the cute and bashful girls, not so much), but I think it could be boiled down further to Zero himself. He's built up as a straight edge guy, but he does cave pretty easily in the circumstances, so he feels less like he made the transition and more like the narration isn't being honest. We would need more of his iron fist in the scene itself, as has been pointed out.
And he was also an opportunity to have a character who learns about these clones along with us, but instead this story is about him doing his job like any other day.
...Oh my god that's it.
This story didn't need to be about clones. That's what's really bothering me. It could very easily be a story about a policeman interviewing some girls on our planet after an altercation with his subordinates. True, the privates not knowing exactly who the clones are is part of the conflict, but that could happen in our world too. Maybe it was just a group of girls that they didn't get a good look at. Maybe it was nighttime. Hell, they are lying, so maybe their stories are changing and this interview is necessary for Zero to figure out what's really going on. And suddenly clones are no longer necessary in the story.
So yes, that's the crux of this. The potential feels unexplored with the chosen idea.
Anyway, sorry for the stream of consciousness critique but it's pretty much the thought process I just went through. I hope that's helpful anyways. Either way, best of luck, and well done on a great core concept!
But unfortunately that's what's left me feeling disappointed. I'm not saying I wish you had included more ideas—that wouldn't be fair for a minific round—but I'm more of the feeling that the idea you chose was disappointing. Part of it is because half of your comedy wasn't my style (I liked Zero's curmudgeonly bits; the cute and bashful girls, not so much), but I think it could be boiled down further to Zero himself. He's built up as a straight edge guy, but he does cave pretty easily in the circumstances, so he feels less like he made the transition and more like the narration isn't being honest. We would need more of his iron fist in the scene itself, as has been pointed out.
And he was also an opportunity to have a character who learns about these clones along with us, but instead this story is about him doing his job like any other day.
...Oh my god that's it.
This story didn't need to be about clones. That's what's really bothering me. It could very easily be a story about a policeman interviewing some girls on our planet after an altercation with his subordinates. True, the privates not knowing exactly who the clones are is part of the conflict, but that could happen in our world too. Maybe it was just a group of girls that they didn't get a good look at. Maybe it was nighttime. Hell, they are lying, so maybe their stories are changing and this interview is necessary for Zero to figure out what's really going on. And suddenly clones are no longer necessary in the story.
So yes, that's the crux of this. The potential feels unexplored with the chosen idea.
Anyway, sorry for the stream of consciousness critique but it's pretty much the thought process I just went through. I hope that's helpful anyways. Either way, best of luck, and well done on a great core concept!
My review:
Plot and Pacing: Another story that starts off with a strong hook. The idea is very original, I think that goes without saying, and the lore behind it gives the impression of a bigger, more well-thought-out universe than you had the space to describe. The downside, however, is that this reads a lot like the first chapter to a multi-character novel, or maybe the script to a filler plot in an episodic series, and not a flash fiction in its own right. Instead of a self-contained combustive reaction of characters and plot, we just get a small glimpse of interstellar politics, Zero's character, and what a world of clones is really like (and in a rather mundane situation, compared to what could be imagined).
Pacing verges on sluggish, but I'm usually pretty impatient. The bigger problem, I think, concerns paragraphs like the one starting with "The original Kimura..." As I see it, that paragraph could effectively be deleted, and replaced by some one-liner about the clones being the result of a utopian nut's fascination with a young prodigy. Everything counts so much when you have so few words to work with.
Character and Dialogue: The dialogue is done excellently. The character of Zero is kind of a lighthearted tough guy, and tangents about e.g. his leg are a decent way of conveying that, but I think it could be delivered in a more relevant way, if you found a way to express it through the dialogue with the clones.
Style, Form, and Grammar: Great form overall, with a particular talent for comedic flourish, like "Suddenly, he had an urge to look over his spectacles, which was worrying because he didn’t wear any." It certainly adds to the readability. If I were make a couple random nitpicks, I might question whether it is more a matter of "regenerating" than "curing" a lost leg, or whether "flimsy as paper" is really an accurate metaphor.
Final: Overall, this fic will rank in the upper mid-tier of my ballot.
Plot and Pacing: Another story that starts off with a strong hook. The idea is very original, I think that goes without saying, and the lore behind it gives the impression of a bigger, more well-thought-out universe than you had the space to describe. The downside, however, is that this reads a lot like the first chapter to a multi-character novel, or maybe the script to a filler plot in an episodic series, and not a flash fiction in its own right. Instead of a self-contained combustive reaction of characters and plot, we just get a small glimpse of interstellar politics, Zero's character, and what a world of clones is really like (and in a rather mundane situation, compared to what could be imagined).
Pacing verges on sluggish, but I'm usually pretty impatient. The bigger problem, I think, concerns paragraphs like the one starting with "The original Kimura..." As I see it, that paragraph could effectively be deleted, and replaced by some one-liner about the clones being the result of a utopian nut's fascination with a young prodigy. Everything counts so much when you have so few words to work with.
Character and Dialogue: The dialogue is done excellently. The character of Zero is kind of a lighthearted tough guy, and tangents about e.g. his leg are a decent way of conveying that, but I think it could be delivered in a more relevant way, if you found a way to express it through the dialogue with the clones.
Style, Form, and Grammar: Great form overall, with a particular talent for comedic flourish, like "Suddenly, he had an urge to look over his spectacles, which was worrying because he didn’t wear any." It certainly adds to the readability. If I were make a couple random nitpicks, I might question whether it is more a matter of "regenerating" than "curing" a lost leg, or whether "flimsy as paper" is really an accurate metaphor.
Final: Overall, this fic will rank in the upper mid-tier of my ballot.