“Making money for my clones, now that’s what I call self-enrichment. Having all my clones working for me, working for free, and enriching me, now that’s what I call social progress. Ah, but that’s life, no?”

“If I own a business, I work for myself. And if I have no revenue, I work for free. That’s not slavery. That’ll be the case when I employ 1,000,000,000 clones of myself. I won’t pay them, but they are me, so it’s not slavery.”

“My arms hurt from how tightly Patch held me. “Now that’s what I call a scream,” he said, grinning at me.”

“I won’t have you calling me Miss Tuttle. That’s what the doc calls me. And the lady at the bank. One takes my temperature and the other my money. Friends don’t take anything—they give.”

“When I need to be in two places at once, make two decisions at once, that’s what clones are for.”

“Progress? You call this progress?” I was almost shouting now, anger spilled out of me as if I could no longer contain it. “If that’s what it is, then I don’t know if I want it.” The tears were flooding now, uncontrollable. “I don’t want it!” I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to my grief. It felt better, somehow, to be helpless.”