The Populace Supervisor rushed into my workdome.
“And ‘He’ in that sentence is…?”
“The Hold Out.”
“Well, he finally passed on then? The last person who insisted on no droid assistance has left us. So?”
She made that double palmed motion I hated.
“No, you don’t… There has to be one, for the Populace’s overall wellbeing, they like knowing someone is rebelling, so we clone them. But twenty-five years ago he died, briefly, so we cloned him and… You’re the clone, so you…”
“… Fuck off.”
“That’s the spirit!”
She pulled out her Zapper.