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Description
Clone 247 was doomed. Though he tried to stay calm and not give himself away, he knew there was something inexplicably wrong with him. All the other clones had been perfect and orderly, always punctual, always precisely and exactly on time without any issue. They worked in unison, never out of step. It was as if from day one all their internal clocks had been wound together and the springs and coils of personality and tissue and nature and nurture and substance had not done one iota of difference to them. That was, in fact, the entire point after all, wasn't it? Uniform order. Each clone raised in the exact same manner so as to ensure they all performed without fail. Something was wrong with Clone 247 though, and he knew it with an aching in his bones. He just couldn't sit or stand still with the same blank expression on his face, in his eyes.

For two decades he had struggled to fit in, not a one of the others seeming to notice his odd quirks. He had a bead of sweat on his brow as he had to quicken his pace to not fall behind when marching, distracted from time to time by the smallest little cracks in the walls and floors. Imperfections in the perfect world of white and gray. One day, however, he overhead one of the supervisors mention an inspection of the clone stock coming up soon. Ensuring that those who were made to serve would perform flawlessly in all their tasks. With a cavernous space opening in his gut and then imploding, he made sure he hadn't been noticed listening, quickly joining the line's pace again, eyes and face forward.

Clone 247 kept his body from shuddering, but had difficulty keeping a nervous twitch from forming in the corner of his eye as he watched the inspector arrive and start examining the clone stock. He walked among them as the supervisors gave orders. Military movements, bodyguard training exercises, cleaning... Cooking. The inspector sampled all their dishes, all of which should have been entirely alike, taking a spoonful from each of a group of fifty each day, until finally Clone 247's group was called to produce their dishes.

Clone 247 waited nervously as dish after dish produced by the other clones were sampled, without any idea whose dish was produced by whom with the exception of his own. Though most plates looked alike, despite trying to blend in, he had felt a draw to the singular plate with a small chip on the edge, turning it away from the front of the tray when putting it on the long table before the supervisors shuffled them, calling in the inspector. Now the inspector paused, eying the clone batch and motioning for a supervisor to come over. The two whispered for a while before the batch was told to return to their barracks. Clone 247 almost sighed in relief but held his jubilation in case it would be noticed. A good thing, as when he passed the inspector the man shook his head.
"Not you. Come here... 247, was it?"

Clone 247 sat on the inspector's shuttle along with one of the supervisors, trying to keep calm, wondering what had gone wrong. Had they really taken notice of the chip in the plate? Was such a thing even enough to worry about? He waited for nearly an hour as the inspector's shuttle continued away from the facility, not knowing where they were going.
"You know your batch will be sent into battle soon, yes, 247? Your entire batch and a few others were selected for our war's battlefronts." The inspector said, eyes narrowed and piercing.
"Inspector, sir? It is what we are made for." Clone 247 said, hoping he answered correctly, even more worried, not only for himself, but now for his fellow clones. War? They were always told that they were going to be used for military defense of the territories. War? What war?
"Yes, yes. But sometimes there are... Batches which get put into other duties you have been trained for. Which would you select for yourself, if you had the choice? Hmm?"
"Sir? Choice?" Clone 247 blinked, not understanding.
"Don't play coy 247... Your dish was... Unique among your batch. More pepper, more herbs, more spice. It was... Exquisitely balanced but flavorful, full of life. Your fellow clones simply followed the precise amounts of the flavoring and other ingredients and it all just blended together. Delicious, but not exquisite. You have a thirst for life." The supervisor said, pulling at his face, the inspector doing the same. Clone 247 looked confused, then terrified as they ripped off their faces. No, not their faces, but masks of faces. Two identical sets of eyes set in two identical faces looked at his own, mirroring his as they smiled at him.
"Don't worry, you're not going to be recycled. You're not going to war. None of your batch will be if you and the others we pulled out can help us. We've spent years gathering your brothers and preparing them once they showed the first signs of difference." Clone 247 blinked, slowly absorbing what the 'inspector' said and looked to the 'supervisor' who nodded.
"We're almost ready. After all, us Defects gotta stick together 247."

Description
Clone 247 was doomed. Though he tried to stay calm and not give himself away, he knew there was something inexplicably wrong with him. All the other clones had been perfect and orderly, always punctual, always precisely and exactly on time without any issue. They worked in unison, never out of step. It was as if from day one all their internal clocks had been wound together and the springs and coils of personality and tissue and nature and nurture and substance had not done one iota of difference to them. That was, in fact, the entire point after all, wasn't it? Uniform order. Each clone raised in the exact same manner so as to ensure they all performed without fail. Something was wrong with Clone 247 though, and he knew it with an aching in his bones. He just couldn't sit or stand still with the same blank expression on his face, in his eyes.

For two decades he had struggled to fit in, not a one of the others seeming to notice his odd quirks. He had a bead of sweat on his brow as he had to quicken his pace to not fall behind when marching, distracted from time to time by the smallest little cracks in the walls and floors. Imperfections in the perfect world of white and gray. One day, however, he overhead one of the supervisors mention an inspection of the clone stock coming up soon. Ensuring that those who were made to serve would perform flawlessly in all their tasks. With a cavernous space opening in his gut and then imploding, he made sure he hadn't been noticed listening, quickly joining the line's pace again, eyes and face forward.

Clone 247 kept his body from shuddering, but had difficulty keeping a nervous twitch from forming in the corner of his eye as he watched the inspector arrive and start examining the clone stock. He walked among them as the supervisors gave orders. Military movements, bodyguard training exercises, cleaning... Cooking. The inspector sampled all their dishes, all of which should have been entirely alike, taking a spoonful from each of a group of fifty each day, until finally Clone 247's group was called to produce their dishes.

Clone 247 waited nervously as dish after dish produced by the other clones were sampled, without any idea whose dish was produced by whom with the exception of his own. Though most plates looked alike, despite trying to blend in, he had felt a draw to the singular plate with a small chip on the edge, turning it away from the front of the tray when putting it on the long table before the supervisors shuffled them, calling in the inspector. Now the inspector paused, eying the clone batch and motioning for a supervisor to come over. The two whispered for a while before the batch was told to return to their barracks. Clone 247 almost sighed in relief but held his jubilation in case it would be noticed. A good thing, as when he passed the inspector the man shook his head.
"Not you. Come here... 247, was it?"

Clone 247 sat on the inspector's shuttle along with one of the supervisors, trying to keep calm, wondering what had gone wrong. Had they really taken notice of the chip in the plate? Was such a thing even enough to worry about? He waited for nearly an hour as the inspector's shuttle continued away from the facility, not knowing where they were going.
"You know your batch will be sent into battle soon, yes, 247? Your entire batch and a few others were selected for our war's battlefronts." The inspector said, eyes narrowed and piercing.
"Inspector, sir? It is what we are made for." Clone 247 said, hoping he answered correctly, even more worried, not only for himself, but now for his fellow clones. War? They were always told that they were going to be used for military defense of the territories. War? What war?
"Yes, yes. But sometimes there are... Batches which get put into other duties you have been trained for. Which would you select for yourself, if you had the choice? Hmm?"
"Sir? Choice?" Clone 247 blinked, not understanding.
"Don't play coy 247... Your dish was... Unique among your batch. More pepper, more herbs, more spice. It was... Exquisitely balanced but flavorful, full of life. Your fellow clones simply followed the precise amounts of the flavoring and other ingredients and it all just blended together. Delicious, but not exquisite. You have a thirst for life." The supervisor said, pulling at his face, the inspector doing the same. Clone 247 looked confused, then terrified as they ripped off their faces. No, not their faces, but masks of faces. Two identical sets of eyes set in two identical faces looked at his own, mirroring his as they smiled at him.
"Don't worry, you're not going to be recycled. You're not going to war. None of your batch will be if you and the others we pulled out can help us. We've spent years gathering your brothers and preparing them once they showed the first signs of difference." Clone 247 blinked, slowly absorbing what the 'inspector' said and looked to the 'supervisor' who nodded.
"We're almost ready. After all, us Defects gotta stick together 247."