I have a confession to make: I’m a clone. My decision to announce this wasn’t an easy one to make, but in light of recent headlines it would seem appropriate to come clean on this issue. Ever since that sheep was cloned, times have been difficult for me. I’ve had a heavy conscience. I’ve decided it’s time for the truth.

The truth of the matter is, cloning has been technologically feasible since the ’70s. It is the result of a highly-classified, well-funded military project known as Operation Carbon Copy, the purpose of which was to resolve the gas crisis by banning traditional forms of reproduction and creating clones of the people who preferred to ride bicycles.

Unfortunately, the project was scrapped when market research conducted in small offices in industrial parks found that people who answered the right questions on the phone and stopped by for the 20 bucks they were promised reacted rather negatively to the idea. The Carbon Copy project was then erased from existence, its only legacy the cross-fertilizationally challenged it produced.

I’ve known for years that I lack a unique genetic identity, but it never bothered me much. I was under the impression that I was like an identical twin, genetically matched to another human being but otherwise independent. That my name before birth was really B13-666, Vat 7 never really chapped my hide, since most kids don’t have names until birth anyway. In all honesty, I used to believe I was no worse than a test tube baby.

Thankfully, top-notch news sources such as the Iowa State Daily have shown me the real truth.

Sure, I may think like a human being, I may have feelings just like any other person, but what does that matter? I possess a unique personality (as evidenced by the fact that I own a car and left my bicycle back home, clearly indicating that one cannot be genetically predisposed toward biking), my own dreams, goals and desires, and I have my own memories and my own beliefs, but I’m not really a human being like the rest of you. I am genetically inferior, a bastard child of science, a pseudo-person.

How I managed to go through life forv so many years thinking that what was in my genetic code was merely different from the norm and not pure abomination is beyond me. Truly I have been sent by Satan, and there’s no doubt in my mind that I am the product of the most heinous, unthinking, immoral activity ever carried out by the United States Department of Defense. It’s a shame that research in the public sector has advanced as much as it has.

There is truly no greater crime to God than to create a new life. The military has since realized this, abandoned the project, kept me from associating with them and discouraged others from embarking on similar areas of research, and has reverted to ruthlessly slaughtering persons with interests in conflict with our government’s. This is news I’m certain we’re all glad to hear.

Though God obviously finds my existence highly distasteful, and I’m bound to go to hell (if I even have an afterlife, which is questionable due to my “fake” status), I don’t think you should let that deter you from pointing out that I’m a freak. Due to my genetic perversion, because I am different, you ought to take the time to make me miserable. Ostracize me, ridicule me.

Only your rational intelligent clonophobia can teach the world how genuinely wrong a person I am. Truly, I should be living in fear, and I applaud those who take stances against my abnormality.

That at one point I entertained the idea of designated “clone zones” where I could be treated equally is now horrific even to myself. What was I thinking? That I’m a worthwhile person? That factors outside of my control should be overlooked, and who I am as a person placed first? I am embarrassed at my own na‹vet‚.

Cloning is extremely expensive, success rates are extremely low, people with identical genes do not behave the same, and it takes years for clones to come of age. Regardless, all cloning research, especially the perverted scientist working on cloning “human sheep,” must be halted immediately. You never know when an army of brainwashed, indistinguishable dimwits who share a common memory will raid Iowa’s farmland in search of food, causing everyone who is not cross-fertilizationally challenged to starve to death. There certainly aren’t other, more pressing issues to be dealing with at the moment anyway.

I beg of you, please don’t treat me like a regular person. Due to a characteristic of my DNA sequence I am anything but that. Your God looks down upon me, and so too should you.

Thank you, everyone, who has set the record straight on what it is to be a clone. Thank you for helping me to realize what an embarrassment to humanity I am.

Ben Byrne is a junior in graphic design from Minneapolis, Minnesota.