The house is way too quiet.
I know it the moment I open the door.
There’s a type of silence which belongs to empty space. It’s thin, hollow, and untouched. However, this isn’t the same. This silence feels used, as though something had just passed through and took everything important with it.
I step inside slowly, easing the door shut behind me.
“Mom?” I call out.
Yet, there’s nothing. No movement. No answer.
“Dad?”
Still, nothing. Just the faint hum of the climate system.
My chest tightens.
Where could they be? They’re supposed to be here. They’re always here. So, why are they missing? Am I too late? Did the patrols already come here and take them?
The living room looks normal. The furniture is in place and there’s no signs of struggle. No overturned chairs or shattered glass. However, the longer I stand here, the more I can see how wrong everything looks.
The wall display is off. The kitchen counter is clear. The family photos, which usually rotate through the digital frames, are frozen on a blank screen.
Gone.
It’s not messy… just gone, and it’s obvious that it’s intentional.
“They left,” I whisper, as though if I speak any louder the world would end. Yet, it doesn’t matter, the words feel unreal in my mouth.
As I move deeper into the house, I can feel my heart start to beat faster.
“Mom?” I try again, softer now, knowing full well that lowering my voice won’t bring them back.
I see that my bedroom door is open, so I go in. My closet is half-empty. Clothes are missing and shoes are gone. It’s not everything, but it’s just enough to tell that this isn’t a mistake.
I gasp, realizing that they weren’t taken… they prepared for their disappearance.
A flicker of light catches my eye and I look towards my desk. A small device sits there, no larger than my palm. It’s smooth, metallic, and unfamiliar.
It pulses once… waiting.
I go up to it slowly and allow my fingers to hover over it.
Then, it activates.
Light unfolds into the air, forming two figures. Mom! Dad!
It’s only a hologram. The image is soft-edged, but clear enough that my chest aches at the sight of them. My mom stands slightly forward, hands clasped tightly together. My dad is beside her, one hand resting protectively on her back.
They look tired and afraid, but I don’t blame them. They did stay up all night worrying about today’s test.
“Felicity,” my mom begins, her voice steady but thinner than usual. “If you’re seeing this, then the scan didn’t go the way we hoped.”
I feel like all the air has left my body. What does she mean that they expected this?”
“We don’t have much time,” my dad added. “So you need to listen carefully. And you need to trust what we’re telling you… even if it doesn’t make sense yet.”
My heart now seems like it will burst out of my body.
“This is important,” my mom said. “You cannot tell anyone what we’re about to say. Not your friends. Not your teachers. Not anyone!”
My dad’s gaze sharpened.
“No One.”
This isn’t the first time they’ve told me to keep that secret. Though in the past, I never understood. Now, the word landed heavily on me.
“A promise is a promise,” she whispered. “And this one… this one keeps you alive.”
My throat is closing now.
“We’ve kept something from you,” dad continues. “Not because we wanted to, but because we had to.” They pause. Why won’t they just say it already!
Mom takes a deep breath, then says, “Sweet heart, you’re not a clone.”
Everything seems to be spinning. The ground tilts slightly and I'm having a hard time keeping my balance. The words just keep echoing in my head and it's louder than the beating of my heart.
Not a clone. Then what am I?
My knees finally give out on me, and I sink slowly onto the edge of my bed, staring at my Holo parents flickering forms.
“What does that even mean?” I whisper, even though I know they can't hear me.
Mom's expression softens, as though she somehow can feel the question anyway.
“You were born,” she says, a small sad smile forming on her mouth.
I sharply shake my head. I know this can't be; yet, I find no lie in her words as a sense of relief fills me. It's as though my body knows the truth and is finally relieved that it's not alone with holding on to this secret.
Still, my mind doesn't want to accept it. “No,” I whisper. “That's not… people don't…”
“We can't explain everything right now,” dad says quickly, cutting through the moment. “And it's safer if you don't know all of it yet.”
Now that's frustrating! I now have so many questions and he's cutting me off. “Then how am I supposed to…”
“You just need to understand this,” mom says, her voice urgent now. “The system, the one that runs everything, isn't built for you. It doesn't know what to do with you.”
I think back to the error reading and the words the Gentech worker said… anomaly detected.
“The moment that scan failed,” dad adds, “you became visible to people who should never know you exist.”
My stomach twists. Does that mean that I'm really not supposed to be alive?
“People who will come after you,” mom says.
My dad nods grimly. “They'll call you an anomaly. A deviation. But to them, you're something far more valuable than that.”
I ball my hands so tightly that I’m shaking. I really want to scream right now, but I don’t want to take the risk in case the Authority officers are around.
“Why?” I demand softly. It’s all I can say or do for now, but they don’t answer.
Why would they, I remind myself, as I shut my eyes, they’re just a recording.
Dad’s voice cuts through my thoughts, “There is a man you need to be aware of. Director Kane Vale.”
My eyes fling open upon hearing that man’s name. Vale. I have yet to see or meet him, but I’m still afraid just from hearing his name.
Rian.
I gasp. For the life of me, I have no idea why I’m thinking of him now.
“He oversees the Cloning Authority,” Dad continues. “If anyone is leading the search for you, it will be him.”
Mom’s expression darkens. “He doesn’t see people the way we do, Felicity. He sees outcomes. Systems. Control.”
“If he finds you,” Dad’s voice lowers, “you won’t disappear.”
What does he mean by that? Not disappearing is a good thing; yet, the way my dad says it, causes a chill to run down my spine.
“You’ll be used.”
“They will take your genetic material,” Mom says carefully.
She doesn’t explain why or give me any more details. She just gives me a pointed look, then says, “You cannot let that happen.”
She steps closer to the projection field, reaching out her hand as though she could touch me. “And you cannot tell anyone the truth. Not even someone you trust.”
Rian’s face flashes in my mind. The way he looked at me and said that he didn’t think I was an error. My chest hurts again. It doesn’t make sense why I would think about him. I already don’t trust him, in fact, I never have. He’s my rival after all and more importantly… he’s the director’s son.
“If the wrong person finds out,” Dad warns, “they will use that against you. Against us and anyone you care about.”
Mom just nods, as she says, “Secrets keep people safe. Remember that.”
A promise is a promise. A secret is a secret.
Those phrases from my childhood suddenly pop up in my thoughts. I haven’t thought about them in so long that I almost forgot them. I never understood why my mom made me remember them back then, but now I’m beginning to understand.
“What do I do?” I whisper. “And why aren’t you here to tell me this in person?”
This time, they answer.
“We have a plan,” Dad says. “For this exact situation.”
What?
“I know you’re probably wondering why we’re not there,” Mom answers. “It’s too dangerous. If one of us is caught, the others need to remain hidden.”
“We have to travel on our own. You… you have to do this without us.”