There are times I wish I had a clone of myself. (Forget the inconvenient fact that it would have to be grown from a baby to an adult and would not be able to act for me for 20 years or so – let’s pretend I could have one that would instantly be a duplicate of me.) It would be so nice to have the clone do the things that I don’t have time to do or don’t want to do.
Of course, if I don’t want to do something, my clone, being a duplicate of me, wouldn’t want to do it either. So we would have two of us not doing the thing that needs to be done.
And since we would both like the same things, we might wind up competing against one another for stuff. Or for people – what if my best friend hung out with my clone more than with me? Or mom liked my clone best?
Worst of all, what if we started arguing about which of us was the real me? I mean, I would know that I was, but my clone would probably really believe that she was the original. And then there’s the whole issue of using a clone for spare parts. What if it was the clone that needed an organ from me?
*sigh* I guess it would just be too complicated after all. And – oh dear – I just had another thought. What if I didn’t like my clone? Now that’s a scary thought.