I am the first. I am a pioneer. I am putting my life at risk, for the greater good of humanity. I am an experiment. They said that they needed me because I have perfect genes. They told me I was going to change the world, and all I had to do was sit still and follow directions. They think that I’m in it for the money. I am not, though the money is nice. I am doing this to prove it to myself. Ever since the accident, I have felt like a blob. World class olympic runner, reduced to a wheelchair in a car accident. I felt like a drain. I had accomplished so much, gone so far, and then that? I thought for years that I would never do anything great again. Then this. The opportunity to make a jump for science not reached since Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. I am to be the first human ever cloned. I have no fear. All I have to do is sit still.

One of the scientists comes over to me holding a white device which he places on my head. It looks like something out of a science fiction movie, like a spiderweb of little dots and bits of plastic holding them together, all brushed white and perfectly fitting over my head. It felt strange, like it was coldly observing my sanity, trying to find the one wiggly Jenga block to pull out and bring my trembling tower of consciousness toppling to the ground, just to study the wreckage that was left. I was scared for the first time since they had asked me about this.
The scientist came over to me and began to press buttons on my un-nerving head piece. With my voice noticeably shaking, I asked what this ominous device he had strapped to my head without more than a word about actually did.
“Ahh, this? this is one of the greatest scientific marvels known to man. You want the clone to be perfect, no?” He asked me through a thick german accent.
“Uuuuh, yeah, of course…” I stammer out, hoping that he will continue with an explanation.
“Well, we need a way to give the clone the very memories locked inside your skull. And this machine fills that niche perfectly. You see, this machine can see and record what you are thinking at any given moment. All you have to do is think of a particular memory, and the machine will extract it from your mind. This brings me to my next point. We need you to go back through your deepest and darkest memories, and conjure up the ones closest to your heart, so that this machine can record them and transfer them to the clone. That way, it will not only look like you and think like you, but it will have the very memories that you hold dear. The 2 of you would be utterly indistinguishable, apart from a small star that we will tatoo over the clone’s right eyebrow.” He becomes more and more expressive as he goes on, as if this is the very culmination of his whole life’s work. However, one of the passing details that he mentioned had caught my attention.
“Ummm, you know about my memory problems, right? I suffered a mild concussion in the accident, which unfortunately makes it very hard for me to clearly remember particular--”
“Do not worry, I know all about this. Once the machine is activated, it puts you into an almost meditative state, in which you are able to relive your clearer memories with ease.” He cut me off, fiddling with switches before promptly turning and walking, clearly wanting to get the procedure moving along.
He turns it on, and a static buzz permeates the room. I practically black out almost instantly.

I am 16. It’s raining. I’m running hard, but almost totally exhausted. It’s the regional varsity championships, and I am in second. The last quarter mile is here, and the person in front of me is petering out. I seize my chance. I push harder than I ever have in my life. I pass him by in a burst of power, and make it across the finish line just in time to beat the course record. I feel like nothing I have ever felt before, but mostly I feel like passing out.

I am 20. I’m nationally ranked in cross country, and just won the world championships. I’m driving home from a party for our win. I haven’t had that much to drink, but I am at least a little buzzed. The racoon jumps out into the road from nowhere, and I swerve out of the way just in time to miss it, but to late to get out of the way of the oncoming pickup-truck whose lane I had just swerved into. Time seems to slow down, and I realized I had neglected to put on my seat belt. I was flung through the windshield, doing a full roll before landing hard on my back. I could almost hear my spine snap before I blacked out.

I wake up in a blank white hospital bed, and see my toes poking out from the edge of the blanket. I wiggle them without thinking, then feel the most joy I have ever experienced, realizing that I have full feeling in my legs again. This joy is replaced with utter fear and confusion when I saw my forehead in the large, one way mirrors covering the walls of the room.