Robots of Avery Five.

Mr. Hammond of Singapore was a gentleman very much focused on the family business. His father occupied his office before him and he did that for more than a century. Just like him, Hammond almost never left it. He enjoyed turning on the anti-gravity, and floating around holograms of a synthetic DNA sequence he was developing. “Mr. Singapore, did you request my presence?” Mathew of Denmark entered through the disappearing door. “Ah, Mr. Denmark. Yes, I’ve been impatient to speak to you.” Hammond brushed his dark hair behind his head and hovered down to the ground. He clapped to make the holograms shrink to the size of his hand. “Of which matter? My job performance?” Mr. Denmark frowned. “You’ve been one of my top chemists for twenty-years. You’ll be pleased to hear your last presentation was fantastic.” Hammond walked around a legless table. “Thank you, Sir.” Mr. Denmark felt the beginnings of a cough, but held it in his throat. “I’m most interested in the remarks you’ve made about my family.” A smirk accentuated the boss’ wrinkles by the corners of his eyes. The chemist couldn’t hold his cough any longer. He brought his sweaty fist to his mouth. “Something stuck in your throat, Mr. Denmark?” said Hammond. “Sir, I understand I overstepped—” Mr. Denmark explained. “I always appreciate my employee’s input. I’m waiting,” said Hammond, sitting on a white chair. “Well, Mr. Singapore,” the employee stuttered, never looking into his boss’ eyes. “I might have brought a concern to another chemist. It was about Alexander.” “What about my son?” “He’s almost twenty-one. As you know, at that age, we all have certain duties toward the Human Federation.” Hammond brought his fingertips together in front of his face. “And?” Mr. Denmark swallowed. “With all due respect, you put Alexander in charge of marketing the new product, but he’ll be too busy trying to find a suitable wife. Here on Earth, human females are insufficient, so the Federation might send him to another planet—” “Typical of a clone. Can’t keep commentary to himself.” “Sir?” This time the appalled Mr. Denmark met Hammond’s gaze. “Oh, yes, Mr. Denmark. I happened to come across a Martian businessman who told me of crimes your family committed in the year twenty-two-hundred.” The employee quivered, scurrying around the table. “Mr. Singapore, you know I’m not that man. I’m merely a clone of him. I’ve been loyal to you, Sir. Other than my distasteful comment about your son, it’s never even crossed my mind to betray you.” “Second class creature!” Hammond banged a fist on the table, and four men in black leather suits and metallic masks barged inside the office. “Please, I have a different family now. I can’t remember that life of crime.” The employee cried; his palms pressed together on his chest. “Arrest him,” Hammond told the uniformed men. One officer shot a burning substance at the clone’s neck, paralysing him. The other three picked him up and carried him out of the room. Hammond nodded and sighed. He tapped a finger against his Adam’s apple. “Command, locate Alexander of Singapore.” “Alexander of Singapore left Earth and arrived at the drifline,” said an electronic voice. Hammond closed his eyes and the gravity turned off again.