Part One:
Part Two:
Part Three:
Part Four:
Single-use bodies. Almost as soon as mankind mastered cloning, we applied the same ethos of disposable mass-production as we did to everything else. People could buy a flash-cloned vessel, swap their brain patterms into it for a few days of fun, then chuck it out on the Monday. Who doesn’t enjoy a weekend of anonymous, utterly consequence-free sex?
Just like the rest of our trash, they’re starting to build up. The half-animal, half-human models are the pressing issue, hardwired as they are for pleasure with enhanced sensations and libidos. They fuck like animals, and there's already free-breeding populations of discarded catgirls and catboys in Amsterdam, Tokyo and Bangkok, tossed out of brothels and left to fend for themselves.
As a photographer, I desperately wanted to document it. Not the sex part, the human suffering. Wait, that sounds worse. Well, anyway, I grabbed my camera and headed to Thailand.
It didn't take long to find them huddled together down by the river in a shanty town of corrugated iron. Hated by the locals, they’re naturally skittish, but a handful of food soon lured out several of the braver or desperate ones. It wasn't long before they were eating out of my hand, and most were willing to sit for their photo taken on the promise of more food at the end of it.
One of them tugged at my sleeve, obviously desperate to share her story. She said her name was Brian, that she was not a clone, she was a British tourist. Like many others, Brian went there wanting a ‘walk on the wild side’ and swapped into disposable catgirl clone-whore on arrival, and spent a week drugged out of his tiny kitten mind, having his rental pussy ravished by locals and other tourists alike.
Then it came time to go home. Limping bowlegged back to his hotel, he discovered his human self gone. She'd taken his passport and fled, and was now happily living his life back in Slough.
Well, living it at least. It's still Slough. Hm. I should photograph it some time.
Anyway, obviously this revelation left me aghast. Were the authorities not aware? When I suggested he contact his embassy, he stated they refused to acknowledge clones. 'But if you could speak to them for me...' he coaxed.
Another catgirl clawed my arm for my attention. She was also called Brian. She was also a British tourist. And if I could contact the authorities on her behalf, she was sure they'd find a human body for her. Soon they were all clamoring, scrapping among themselves, each insisting on their own humanity with their practiced patter until I had to toss down a handful of food just to slip away.
I returned to the hotel a little shaken, unsure what to believe. I'd been so eager to help them, I'd very nearly fallen for their routine.
But I couldn't help but wonder if any among them had been telling the truth.