Self Esteem

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The waiting is beyond tedious, and Baal shakes the thrice-read Wall Street Journal in an irritated flourish that nearly rips the newspaper in half.

“Keep it down, will you? I’m trying to watch this,” another clone scowls from the couch, lifting the remote control to raise the volume on the laughably inferior viewing device that the Tau’ri call a television. The nasal drone of a human speculating on the price of stocks and bonds fills the room, making two of the other clones look up from their game of chess.

Yet another clone frowns over the top of his magazine censoriously. “That’s a bit loud.”

The volume is promptly raised another notch.

Baal wonders if their creator will mind if one of them goes missing.

Propping his chin on a fist, he drags the pad of his thumb over his lips thoughtfully. They can’t leave the penthouse, and they can’t ‘invite’ anyone else inside. Of course they could do those things if they didn’t mind having their locator chips activated so that they were instantly transported just outside Earth’s atmosphere, but he’s actually seen it happen and doesn’t favor such a fate for himself.

The chess game finishes in a stalemate – just like always – and the ‘television’ loses its questionable charm. The clone with the magazine, however, seems steadfastly entertained and Baal pushes his drink aside, standing to investigate further. “What is that?”

“Mine,” the clone says, not even bothering to look up from the pages.

Extending a finger, Baal pushes the magazine up just enough to read the Tau’ri scribbling upon the cover. One of the chess players circle around behind the armchair to take a look. “Interesting.”

“Where did you get this?”

Eyes the same rich shade of brown as his own finally look at him, amused. “Does it matter?”

“No, I suppose not.”

The second clone turns off the viewing device to peer at the magazine. “Why are you even looking at such a thing? Just thinking of Tau’ri mating makes me ill.”

Four finishes repositioning the chess pieces and looks to Three. “Shall we have another game?”

Baal smiles slowly as an idea comes to him. “I have a much better idea.” Five lowers the pornography magazine expectantly and, instead of sharing his plan with words, Baal simply shows them by leaning forward to cover the other clone’s mouth with his. Five resists only for a brief moment before his lips part in acquiescence, and the magazine slides to the floor unheeded. Pulling back to survey their reaction, he’s satisfied to see the undisguised lust in each of the other clones’ eyes.

“We are the only ones worthy, after all,” Three muses.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”


fin?
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