The Golden Breed

Summary

The website content is a piece of micro-speculative-fiction that explores the consequences of cloning and genetic manipulation in a society facing extinction after a catastrophic event, as narrated by an individual leading a resistance against DNA theft.

Abstract

The narrative, titled "The Golden Breed," is presented as a rhyming, speculative fiction piece set in a post-apocalyptic world following World War Four. The protagonist, who founded the Real People Forum, is a staunch opponent of cloning and DNA manipulation, which have been legalized due to mass infertility. The forum serves as a sanctuary for "original" humans, verified by hospital birth certificates, in a world where clones are indistinguishable from natural humans. The protagonist's growing disillusionment with society's acceptance of cloning leads to a call to arms, culminating in a meeting of the forum members, only to realize that they, too, are clones. The story concludes with the protagonist's horrifying revelation amidst a gathering of hundreds of identical individuals, all armed and ready for a confrontation.

Opinions

The protagonist believes that society has declined due to the proliferation of clones, referring to the era as one where "society is bleak."
The narrative suggests that the push for cloning was driven by fear of extinction and funded by tech giants under the guise of scientific advancement.
The protagonist is critical of the public's gullibility, implying that people are easily swayed by propaganda and do not learn from history.
There is a strong sentiment of anger and betrayal towards the legalization of cloning, which the protagonist sees as a form of DNA theft.
The protagonist views the clones with disdain, referring to them as "A.I. people" and "sheep in some desperate flock," indicating a belief that clones lack individuality and free will.
The story conveys the protagonist's deep-seated fear and paranoia about the loss of human individuality and the ethics of genetic manipulation.
The protagonist's ultimate realization that even the resistance members are clones reflects a profound sense of isolation and the futility of attempting to preserve a sense of originality in a world where human identity has been commodified.

Micro-speculative-fiction in rhyme

I’m writing this as a testament in case of an impediment or worse becomes of me. People used to be unique, but now society is bleak; I know some history. First, they said nuclear pollutants. Then, they claimed viral mutants. Propaganda paid for greed. Then there was The Golden Breed. But I know about the stolen seed; it ain’t no controversy.

Fear of extinction at the core — a consequence of World War Four; it was a true concern. Funds came from the tech giants — a story spun as advancing science. People never learn. I founded a forum in which to lead a group that’s willing to secede. People say I’ve got my grandpa’s anger or that I’m a natural haranguer. I’m a proud anti-doppelgänger, and I’ll laugh when all labs burn.

Real People Forum has some requisites: hospital birth certificates- all verified, No tales of mistaken identity, nor seeing your face on another body. Some lied. No photos have been allowed since social media died. We’ve lost some members due to this: some A.I. people in our midst. Only true originals are left. Of any trust, we are bereft. We’re soldiers against DNA theft, and you should be terrified.

Forgotten years since this began. At first, it was illegal, cloning man. But then — massive infertility and loss of sane humility legalized Next Gen. People lined up around the block like sheep in some desperate flock. Paid to have extracted genes; they even let in kids and teens. From poverty to having means, history repeats again and again.

I can’t take this anymore. The other day, while at the store, my blood began to boil. One woman in the canned food aisle, another mopping dirty tile, one unboxing garden soil, and yet another passed out near the road all shared the same genetic code. I rushed away back to my flat and logged onto Real People Chat. Disgusted, in all caps, I spat: IT’S TIME TO START THE TURMOIL.

We’ll join, finally, in real life. Perhaps I’ll meet my future wife, but I’m not the breeding kind. We’re meeting at a former mine on a road that once was a state line. I’m first, but I don’t mind. We’re all armed with bombs and guns. The cars are coming one by one. We’ve spanned hundreds; I never knew the army that my forum grew. And soon, a battle will ensue. They’ve arrived, but I wish I was blind.

Horrendously, I’m feeling sick. A parking lot is growing quick. Feels like liquid in my bones. The next man approaches and we just stare. Gasping, I am for air. As more men walk the stones. Like a king, I thought I’d be treated. Now I’m a leader of the defeated. The mirroring brings up an anguished scream as we all realize this is no dream. Hundreds the same, so it seems. It’s true that we’re all clones.