When a scientist running a $2 billion energy project is diagnosed with cancer, his company proposes cloning him as a way to maintain his life. Then, to ensure the produced clone is a perfect replica, the scientist will have to befriend and evaluate it. His verdict will determine which one will stay alive and which one will die.
Remaking Martin is an existential thriller as well as a story of enlightenment and awakening.
Targeted Age Group:: 30+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I am an author in quest to explore the true nature of our being. This sci-fi novel is an existentialist questioning as well as a thrilling adventure.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
My characters are extraordinary people. A genius scientist, a Hollywood star, an FBI agent, etc. I like colorful characters since they have a stronger power of exposition.
It was the early hours of a gloomy morning. Flashes of lightning and thunder dominated the dark sky as a strong wind whipped the panes with rain, causing the window frames to whistle. The workers outside struggled to clean the street while some determined early birds in raincoats tried taking walks in the garden, wrestling with the storm.
Martin sat on his bed, clasping his knees while his mind vagabonded in other realms. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly at night. He almost thought he had never dozed off, but remembering his complicated dreams, he knew he had fallen asleep for at least a bit.
Today, he would undergo a process that no human being had experienced for millions of years up until recently. Rather, he would participate in its first steps. What awaited him was a scary operation for which the results seemed simple but were hard to imagine. It would be like the marching of an astronaut out into the unknown of space—he had not expected to feel this way.
Today, he was going to be copied into another body.
There was a knock on the door.
A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts as his eyes darted toward it. “Come in.”
The ginger-haired, blue-eyed attendant Judith entered with a big smile on her face. Just behind her stood two male attendants.
“Good morning, professor. How are we today?” she asked. “Are we ready to go?”
Martin briefly checked his clothes. He was still in his tracksuit, which he had worn to bed the previous night.
“I’ll get dressed,” he could barely say. He felt the urge to resist this process since once his mind was copied, he, himself, would no longer be of any significance. It was like giving away his fortune to somebody else by his own will, starting at that very moment.
When the attendants kindly stepped out, Martin dressed in the comfy gray cotton trousers and pale-blue sweatshirt that he had brought as a holiday outfit, and he put on a pair of sneakers like he always did.
When ready, he left the room, and they strode along the corridor with the smiling female attendant in the lead and the two men, like guards, on either side of Martin. Everyone roaming the hallway seemed to be looking at him.
He felt like a pitiful loser being dragged on the ground between the two attendants, unable to hold his head up. But looking at his reflection as they passed a large window, he was surprised to see himself walking steadily with a decisive attitude—and just a bit of anxiety.
Conversely, the Institute attendants on both sides of him kept in step, their smiles clinging to their faces.
After what felt like an endless walk, they came to a metallic door with the sign “Neuro-Transfer” on it. The ginger-haired woman pressed a button on the wall, and the door opened, sliding sideways. Martin went inside while the others remained outside. Dr. Spence was waiting for him with an extended hand. A couple of technicians behind him saluted Martin with smiling faces while the rest busied themselves with finalizing the preparations.
“Welcome to the transfer room, Martin,” said Dr. Spence.
Why ‘transfer’ but not ‘copying,’ Martin worried. Is it because the original will be eliminated soon? He finally noticed Dr. Spence’s hand suspended in the air, and reluctantly shook it before letting his eyes skim over the environment. He felt like a restless cat discovering a house he had entered for the first time.
This place seemed to have at least as much advanced technology as his own laboratory, though it was smaller in size. Actually, it was only as big as his control room. With a stylish and simple design approach reminiscent of Apple products, it was probably geared toward displaying advanced technology in a more humane light. In addition to the technical equipment, there was a sofa, a coffee table, flowers in a large vase, a few classical paintings on the walls, and an old-style nude sculpture that was tastefully illuminated in the corner, all of which filled the room with the intentionality of softening the air.
Martin was surprised he was paying attention to such details. His mind wanted to get away, he supposed, but since he was not brought here to be tortured, he could not understand why he was so tense. In all, the information in his mind would be copied to another body, and one more of him would be made.
ONE MORE OF HIM!
Dr. Spence explained, “You’re going to fall asleep during the procedure, Martin. You will even have dreams. You can relive your most dominant memories, and like they say, your life will flash before your eyes while your entire mind is being copied.”
Martin didn’t hear the rest. He was frozen by what he saw before him. He was deafened to Dr. Spence’s speech and the other sounds in the room. Silence became dominant, and in that surreal atmosphere, he was alone with “the thing” in front of him. Everything else blurred. The only clear thing he could see was the man-like object sitting on one of two adjacent, technologically equipped chairs. There was a gadget that looked like Jesus’ crown of thorns on its head, which, in fact, was an elegant optical piece of equipment with a transparent structure and colorful beams of light flowing through it.
“Martin, meet Martin2,” Dr. Spence said.
Still lost in disturbed astonishment, Martin could not move his wide-opened eyes from his carbon copy. Despite the sports outfit, it had been carefully clothed in to look more human; it looked more like his dead state after a sudden heart attack than his double. For a moment, Martin expected it to turn its eyes toward him suddenly, but that didn’t happen. Instead, his replica sat bizarrely like a mannequin fitted for a tech setting, positioned with a similarly meaningless posture and eyes looking toward nowhere.
“You feel okay, right, Martin?” Dr. Spence asked as he steered Martin’s head back toward him with his palm and looked at him in the eyes.
Martin regained his senses and nodded a short while after. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Seeing Martin’s looks returning to normal, Dr. Spence smiled again. “Great,” he said, turning toward his team. “We can prepare Professor Finch for the operation.”
Two technicians seated Martin in the empty chair next to his replica. One placed a piece of equipment to his head like that on Martin2, while the other connected optical cables with various sensors to his arms, chest, and ankles.
When the operation began, Martin was still unable to detach his eyes from his replica. Even though he looked a lot like him, Martin could not wrap his head around the fact that this wax-sculpture-looking thing could be a real Martin Finch that would replace him.
It didn’t take long for his eyelids to get heavier. His mind started to relax as some alluring music emerged from the deep. It wasn’t a familiar kind, but rather like the call of angelic voices flying all around. Peacefulness started growing within Martin. He smiled and leaned his head back on the headrest.
He passed out, and his eyes started moving under his lids.
Martin was now surrounded by colorful, transparent waters where time flowed slower than usual. Within these warm currents of immiscible colors, he, too, was floating adrift. His body was as if it were composed of the fluids, he was in. He was both existent and non-existent. He was a part of everything yet possessed no physical body. The universe was like a living painting in constant flux. Places, sunk into oblivion at various breaks of time, popped out and faded away, one after the other, and the music blended with the rustle of leaves blown in by a pleasant breeze and the sounds of dreamy wind chimes.
The flowing colors started taking on a shape—the face of a woman formed around a pair of eyes and smiling lips.
“Martin,” she called out to him.
She had a warm, soft body. Feeling eternally secure, Martin was sucking on her nipple with an appetite. He started crawling cheerfully on the floor but wanted to stand up, to be like adults, like those who were happily watching what he was doing. At times, they picked him up and held him on their chests. He loved sleeping there now and then… Other kids, playtime, school…
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