"I just love food prepared by machine," Clark mutters. "You'd think the government would provide us with live chefs."
"That's our president's policy. He'd rather feed 'ordinary' citizens the good stuff."
"Ten years and he's still on the throne. It's disgusting." He moodily spears up a piece of Jell-O.
Conversation adjurned. I look around at the dozens of others bravely spooning down oatmeal that's too thick.
A girl smiles at me, and I nod back. She launches a paper airplane.
It sails across two rows to rest next to my bowl of oat stew. There's a note scrawled on it.
Dear Clones,
meet me after classes today. I'll be waiting in North Wing
outside the x-ray room.
Marian
I quickly crumple the plane and tuck it under the bowl. "Hey, Clark."
"Wha-"
"Shh, listen! I just got a note-"
"Oh, that's nice."
"Will you be quiet! There's a girl two rows down, says she wants to meet us."
Clark grins. "Are you sure it didn't say 'Clone number one'?"
I give him a hurt look.
"Ok, don't take it to heart. So, what's the occasion?"
"I dunno. Guess we better be there."
He shrugs and unsuccessfully tries to wrestle the Jell-O to his mouth.
"Try a spoon."
"Yeah, yeah..."
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