Six years passed before it was safe for me to visit my sister’s grave.
There was a strange irony in the meeting. As I walked away I looked into
the streets and watched the people. I saw a small child, probably five
years old. He was living in a different world.

In the eight years that had passed since I had been sent to the mines,
escaped, and gone to a refuge, there had been great strides in clone
rights. Finally, we were legally equals. We weren’t considered less than
humans, we weren’t sent to mines, we weren’t required to be servants. We
were allowed to live life. Even if in society we were still considered
unequal by most, clones were slowly becoming human.

------