Echoes of the Past

Harry sat in his dimly lit office, surrounded by the remnants of his past. Yellowed newspapers and dusty file folders littered his desk, a silent testament to the countless cases he had cracked in his long career as a detective. The neon lights of the city outside cast a sickly glow through the blinds, illuminating the lines etched deep into his weathered face.

He was a man out of time, a relic of a bygone era. He had seen too much. Done too much. He had fought in Zure's corporate wars, and though he had been highly decorated for his service, all he felt was disgust for what he had been a part of.

Now, as he stared at the latest case file in front of him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Another day, another murder. The victim this time was an old woman. Harry let out a weary sigh as he stood up and grabbed his coat, heading out into the night to begin his investigation.

The towering skyscrapers loomed like monoliths, their neon lights casting flickering shadows on the pavement. The air was thick with the stench of pollution and the constant hum of technology. The flashing lights of the police cars illuminated the dark alleyway. The stench of death hung heavy in the air.

"Hey Danny, what've we got here?" Harry asked, gesturing to the body on the ground.

"Victim is a female, mid-thirties," the officer replied. "Looks like she was killed by a single gunshot wound to the head."

Harry knelt down beside the body, taking in the details of the crime scene. "You know, I've seen a lot of plastic surgery and cyberware in my time, but this is some next-level shit,” he said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

The officer gave him a confused look. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean, her DNA match from our database says she's 87 years old" Harry replied, a hint of confusion in his voice.

With a sense of unease, Harry decided to visit the residence of the woman whose DNA matched that of the victim, Dr. Samantha Mitchell, an accomplished microbiologist.

He arrived at Dr. Mitchell's home, a small, rundown apartment in a seedy part of the city. As he knocked on the door, he couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. Here was a woman, once a respected scientist, now reduced to living in poverty in her old age.

The door opened, and Harry was greeted by an elderly woman. She was frail, and her eyes were filled with a mix of fear and confusion.

"Dr. Samantha Mitchell?" Harry asked, showing his badge.

The woman nodded. "Yes, that's me. What can I do for you, officer?"

"I'm detective Harry Banes, and I'm here to ask you a few questions about a murder case I'm working on," Harry said, trying to keep his tone as gentle as possible.

Dr. Mitchell's face fell. "A murder? I-I don't know anything about that," she stammered.

"I understand, ma'am, but I believe you may have some information that can help us with our investigation," Harry said, trying to reassure her.

Dr. Mitchell hesitated for a moment before inviting Harry inside. They sat in the small living room, and Harry explained that the victim's DNA matched hers.

"I-I don't understand. That can't be right," Dr. Mitchell said, her voice trembling.

"I understand this must be difficult for you, but I need to know if you have any information that can help us with our investigation," Harry said, his tone firm but compassionate.

Dr. Mitchell sat in silence for a moment, deep in thought. Harry watched her closely, noticing the wrinkles on her forehead as she pondered his question.

"I-I don't know for sure," she finally said, "but it's possible that my work with Zure Corporation may have something to do with it. I worked on a project involving rapid cloning, but we never got it to work. I was relieved when they let me go five years ago."

Harry nodded, understanding the weight of her words. He knew all too well the dangers of working for a powerful corporation like Zure.

"Can you tell me more about this rapid cloning project?" Harry asked.

"Rapid cloning is a process of cloning a person and rapidly accelerating their growth during the cloning process," Dr. Mitchell explained. "The goal was to create a clone that was fully grown and functional within a matter of weeks, rather than years. But we never were able to achieve that goal. The project was abandoned at the same time I was fired."

Harry listened intently, taking note of the details that Dr. Mitchell provided. 

"Thank you, Dr. Mitchell," Harry said, standing up.

Dr. Mitchell nodded, her face etched with worry. "Please, detective Banes, find the truth. Whatever it may be."

Harry’s mind was racing with the new information Dr. Mitchell had provided him. He was on his way back to the station when he received a holo call from the station.

"Detective Banes, we've got some new information on the victim," the officer said, the holographic image of his face flickering in front of Harry.

"She escaped from a transportation truck headed to Zure Medical Lab," the officer said.

"I know how you feel about this, detective, but we need to follow up on this lead," the officer said.

As Harry approached the Zure Medical Lab, he couldn't help but be struck by the imposing nature of the building. It was a towering monolith of steel and glass, stretching up into the smog-choked sky. The building was surrounded by a high-security fence, lined with pulse wire and patrolled by heavily armed guards. The entrance was guarded by a pair of heavily armed security personnel, their faces hidden behind intimidating helmets.

Harry showed his badge and was allowed to pass through the first set of security checkpoints. As he entered the building, he was greeted by a vast, sterile lobby with a high ceiling, polished marble floors, and sleek, modern furnishings. There were several heavily armed security personnel stationed throughout the lobby.

He was escorted to the head of Zure Medical Lab's office, where he had to go through a second security checkpoint, this time a biometric scanner, before he was allowed to enter the office. The office was just as imposing as the building, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The head of Zure Medical Lab, Dr. Kline, sat behind a large, imposing desk. He was a tall man, with a bald head and piercing blue eyes. He wore a lab coat and had a sterile look.

"Detective Banes, what can I do for you?" Dr. Kline asked, his voice cold and emotionless.

"I'm here to ask you about the escaped clone," Harry replied, his voice steady despite the feeling of unease that was creeping up his spine.

"Detective, yes, one of our clones escaped from our transportation," Dr. Kline replied, his tone measured and controlled. "But I assure you, it is not a conscious being. It has no cognitive abilities, no emotions, no sense of self. It is nothing more than a biological vessel. Therefore no crime has been committed by killing it.”

Harry's eyes narrowed in disgust, “Nothing but meat and bones, huh?”

Dr. Kline leaned forward, and with a few swift keystrokes, he pulled up a live feed from the cloning facility. As the screen flickered to life. Harry saw rows of tanks filled with what looked like human fetuses, floating in a blueish liquid. They were connected to wires and tubes, monitoring their vital signs.

"This is the next step in evolution," Dr. Kline replied. "We can create perfect clones, but with, shall we say more controlled upbringing.” Dr. Kline continued, his expression unchanging. "You can't deny the potential of rapid cloning. The possibilities for productivity are endless."

Harry watched in horror as the clones twitched and convulsed, their limbs contorting in ways that no human body should be able to move. "This is inhumane,” Harry said, his voice shaking with anger.

"This is science,” Dr. Kline replied, with a calm voice.

Dr. Kline leaned back in his chair, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You are a man of the past, detective. You cannot possibly understand the potential of rapid cloning. It is the future, whether you like it or not."

"You call yourself a scientist, but you're nothing more than a monster," Harry snarled, his anger boiling over. "These clones are human beings, whether they are conscious or not. And you have no right to clone people without their permission. You're playing god!”

Dr. Kline's expression remained cool and unruffled, "Permission is a concept from the past. In the future, there will be no need for such primitive notions."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "These clones are nothing more than brainwashed slaves for you. You're no better than the war criminals I hunted down in the corporate wars."

Dr. Kline's smirk faded and his face twisted into a scowl. "I suggest you watch your words, detective."

Harry took a deep breath and tried to steady his breathing, reminding himself that losing his cool would only make the situation worse.

Dr. Kline sat in silence for a moment, his eyes fixed on Harry's. Finally, he spoke, “Detective Harry Banes,” he said, his voice low and measured. "I have to admit, I've had a keen interest in your life for quite some time now. Your exemplary obedience in the corporate wars. All those medals. You were a remarkable individual.”

Harry felt a chill run down his spine. He didn't like the way Dr. Kline was talking. Like he knew something about him that he didn't. "What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, his voice tight.

Dr. Kline leaned forward, his eyes still fixed on Harry's. "I think you know what I mean, detective," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think you know exactly what I mean."

Dr. Kline leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You see, detective, we at Zure are always two steps ahead of the rest of the world. And in your case, I'm afraid it's more like 2000 steps."

Dr. Kline nodded to the two security guards standing at attention by the door. They stepped forward, and with a fluid motion, removed their helmets. Harry's blood ran cold as he looked upon their faces, identical to his own, but younger. From the time of the war.

Harry felt his world spin. His legs gave out from under him and he collapsed on the floor, barely able to process the revelation.

Dr. Kline watched him with a cold, detached expression as if Harry's reaction was nothing more than an inconvenience.

"I think it's time for you to leave, detective," Dr. Kline said, gesturing to the guards. "We'll provide transportation back to the station for you."