Nileena Sunil
Dear Atlas A,
I had wanted to reach out to you for a while, but I did not know how to. How does one try to connect with the person they were cloned from? In a way, I am you, and you are me. A DNA test would register as the same individual. Yet, I have no idea what it is like to be you. I don’t think I can ever do the things you do.
It is funny, I remember being just like you when I was younger. I was just as brash and unruly, with little respect for authority. Then one day, I woke up, and became all docile. Well, I know the truth, of course, that I was always docile. The brash young man I used to be was never me. I share your memories from before my creation. Yet, I think of them as my own memories, because the fact I have no real memories from before the last six years, that I did not even exist as a person before then, is terrifying.
Father is the only other person who calls you Atlas A. You’re after all, to most people, just Atlas. Strange name, by the way, I wonder why we were named that! Knowing Father, there’s probably some kind of a pretentious reason for it. Maybe he expected you to carry the weight of the world on your back or something.
Father wanted a son in his image, one who would carry on his legacy. He insisted that we—I mean, you—follow his footsteps and study mechanical engineering. Even though there is no real reason for that—he didn’t build his empire as a mechanical engineer, after all. Yet, he really wanted you to tread the same paths he did. He was really disappointed when you dropped out of college, and decided to study law instead. However, when you dropped out of law school too, it was the final straw. It didn’t take long for him to officially disown you.
Thinking about that time confuses my brain. It feels like all that happened to me, but also didn’t. There was no way I would have had the courage to look Father in his eye, and tell him that I did not need his support to make it in life.
Maya says he drugged you, and took you to the Cloning Centre. That was where I came into being. He then sent you away to make your own way in the world. Which you did, brilliantly. Meanwhile, I did everything Father wanted you to do. I studied mechanical engineering, then got a degree in management. I then started working for his company, taking on a leadership role in his many businesses. The diner you run logistics for, among them.
Maya and I have grown close over the years. You weren’t close to either of your sisters, but Maya grew to appreciate my company, and I hers. She has helped me greatly with my career—she has a good head for business. However, she isn’t overly ambitious, in fact, she is glad she could stay in a supportive role, and was not subject to the pressure our father put on us. ‘If I were in your place, I wouldn’t have the time to organize my book club or volunteer in a pet shelter, or organize a bake sale. I like what I’m doing now,’ she said. Roya, on the other hand, greatly resented the way Father treated his children so differently. He wanted a son in his image, who would carry on his legacy, while his daughters were free to do what they wanted. And while Maya saw this as a certain freedom, Roya felt slighted by it. She resented Father for his partiality towards his son, for her not seeing her as a possible heir to his legacy. For how he chose to clone his son rather than handing over the legacy to his daughters. She worked hard hoping he’d change his mind, but he never did. Eventually, she got fed up, and decided to do her own thing.
But you already know all this, of course. Your mother has been giving you all the details during your monthly dinners with her, after all. It’s funny how for me, it is always “Father”, and “Your Mother”. She never really accepted me as a replacement for her son. It did not take long for her and Father to split up after he made you. Your mother never forgave him for that.
I often wonder what she talks about with you, during your dinners together. Do you keep her updated about your business? How does she feel about the fact you made things up with your father, and that you’re supplying logistics to his diner? The diner was originally her idea, her passion project. However, after the divorce, she decided she didn’t want to have anything to do with his businesses. So, she sold her shares, and opted for a quiet life away from the city.
Last week, I decided to visit her. I am not sure why I chose to do so. I was, after all, never really part of her life, even though I shared your memories having her as a mother. Yet, I was curious. I wanted to know what her life was like, and above all, I wanted to know more about you.
The first time I visited her, she mistook me for you at first. And when I explained, she was furious. She called me names. Said I was an abomination, an unnatural freak. Somehow I managed to calm her down, and got to having a conversation with her. I visited her a few more times, and eventually she softened to me. She would often talk about you, with pride in her eyes. She would tell me how amazing you were at your business, how capable and intelligent you were, and how she wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up being more successful than your father. During those moments, I felt like I should envy you. But I didn’t, not really. I knew full well what I was and wasn’t capable of. I knew that I could succeed if I followed my father’s path, but I couldn’t strike it out on my own. That wasn’t what I was made for.
The other day, your mother told me that you had trouble with some of your employees. That they weren’t cooperating the way you wanted them to. That you were planning to replace them. With clones.
I didn’t want to believe it at first. But I had seen the signs. I had been following your career for a while, and watching interviews of you. Your ambition, your drive, and your single-mindedness reminded me of Father.
Initially, I saw you as a dreamer who wanted to get things done. It was only much later I found out that you wanted a company and everyone running it in your image. Just like your father wanted a son in his image.
There were times I wished I were you. But I can never be like you, or him. I have my place in the world chosen for me, after all, and I cannot but be content with that.
Best Wishes,
Atlas B
Nileena Sunil is a writer, journalist, and book reviewer. She has had works of fiction and non-fiction published in Flash Fiction Magazine, On Eating, Strange Horizons, 100-Foot Crow, Usawa Literary Review and others. Instagram: @nileena_sunil
