Monday, 29 June 2015

100 short fiction tales in 100 days. 077

The window mirrored his sour expression with glints of the outside world filling in his cheeks and forehead.
The sun cleared the clouds and his reflection disappeared completely. A dog sniffed at his trash cans out front. A girl no more than ten crushed ants with her finger. A woman yelled at a boy faking his crying.
He was unsure why he had picked this day. He had not been outside for three months. The world did not need him.
He took off his clothes, then lit the paper and kindling in his fireplace. The scraps of clothing he had warn did not need any coaxing to burn to nothing.
He started up the program on his laptop and activated the small wormhole. The hairs stood up on his arms. 
He scanned his naked body and marked the results as test subject-32. It would work better this time.
He turned on the external diesel generator. The wormhole grew to the size of a man.
He hit, Enter.
Within the wormhole, elements are more readily accessible and pliable. It would work.
Crying came from hole. Then a voice. "Hello? Did it... am I me?"
An exact replica of himself walked from the wormhole.
"It worked," the created human said. 
"It did." The original smiled.
At the same time the two of them said, "Let's make more."

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