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Six pods home the cloned bodies of my friends. All have little windows, much like the one I used to travel from Charles’ spaceship to the moon. But they’re steamed up, so I don’t know who is in the first pod I approach.
There’s only one button on the pod. I hope it opens the door, and doesn’t send the pod into space, or start a self-destruct sequence, or—
Get a grip and stop stalling, Jersey, you need your friends to help shepherd the hundreds of clones who are descending upon you.
‘Okay, deep breaths.’
I press the button and the door slides open. I don’t wait to see who comes out. I move on to the next pod, and then the next, and the next, until all six doors are fully open.
A tiny girl, looking older than her years, steps out first. It must be Namita. In my 42nd iteration we’d o
