Chapter 9

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I hit on the lady at the Post Office last week. She's distinctly mature, very hot, good-natured and not wearing a ring.

It didn't work. She doesn't wear the ring at work but she does have a husband. Oh well; you can't blame a guy for trying.

Maybe I could have her cloned. Of course the clone would have to be born, so she would be zero years old. So I would have to be cloned too, so our ages would match.

Probably by the time we can order carbon copy clone companions, they'll be able to do full uploads and downloads of people's brains. So the two of our clones could get progressive age-synchronized downloads of all the experience and knowledge that the original she and I have now. Then we (they we) could grow into the 21st century schizoid culture as if it were normal, and wait for puberty to arrive.