At a booth in Milliways sits a woman in her thirties, stirring a cup of tea, watching the stars explode. There is a fat boring-looking lawbook under her elbow, and a barcode across the back of her right hand.
"I'm pretty sure that's earlier than normal for cloning technology to be developed, so kudos, you do have science fiction in real life. I'm from 2123."
"I'm mostly joking. Milliways tends to attract Earths more often than anything else, and twenty-first century Earths more than most, and there's a sort of cultural and technological standard that you'll probably come to understand if you come in to Milliways often enough. I'm characterizing sci-fi as anything significantly more advanced than standard."
"...Bad guys wanted a kid they could brainwash who would hopefully have powers as strong as my brother's and fiddled with my DNA a bit to get it, so I'm arguably not a straight-up clone of my mom but whatever, but got caught before it was time to pop the lid."
"I told someone asking about the tattoo to go ahead and get one," snorts lawbook lady. "Get one, go gloveless, loiter in public places, and get arrested without telling the cops they were an original. Make trouble on clones' behalf."
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"Nice friendly wanted-a-kid cloning?"
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