[ WP ] Whenever a felony is committed , a clone of the perpetrator is created using DNA left at the crime scene . The original goes to jail , while the clone takes his/her place in society .

The most tedious part of the new program was the reintegration of mimics. While legal provisions were made to ensure the success of society's newest and brightest, most of the practical details had to get worked out at ground level. At first glance, it sounded feasible. After all, with the retention of most memories the mimics carried a majority of their parent's educations, qualifications, and emotions. Where it got dicey, though, was the prevention of future incarceration. 
 
 Inspector Lewis Hill, for the third time in as many years, shared an interrogation room with Robert. The system's problem child. Roberts had sprung up all over America and while the law had stipulations regarding the incarceration of convicts, it cared little of the actions of their mimics. 
 
 `` Am I being detained?'' 
 
 Hill snorted. `` Asks the man cuffed to the table. Fuck you, you know the drill by now.'' 
 
 Robert smiled, tapping his fingers on the desk. A monster like him had no right to three lives, let alone one. And yet he sat across the table from Hill, blissfully indifferent to his future. 
 
 The system had created an entirely new issue when people like him started showing up all over the map. Robert, now a third-generation mimic, had murdered two of his families. If he'd had time to start a third, he would have done it again. Instead, he murdered his fiance's parents. He likely counted on the next mimic to take care of the woman herself. 
 
 `` I'm thirsty.'' 
 
 `` Try swallowing your spit. You'll be here awhile.'' Hill shrugged, struggling to maintain his demeanor. He felt ready to burst at the seams, sharing a room with a monster like Robert. 
 
 `` I assume you'll be asking me some questions before long.'' Robert continued tapping his fingers on the stainless steel table. Hill despised everything about the man, from his balding white head to his white collar business casual attire, complete with tan loafers. Something about the man just rubbed Hill the wrong way. It was as if Robert lacked something every other human had, and not just because he was a mimic. 
 
 `` Do you know what you are?'' Hill asked. 
 
 That smile again. `` Are we playing this game once more? Very well, I'll bite. No, Hill. I do n't know what I am.'' 
 
 Inspector Hill cringed at the response. He felt like he was being played. Where was his partner? `` You're a mimic. Created as a stand-in for someone who is no longer fit for society. Except you are n't fit for society either. Never were.'' 
 
 Robert laughed. `` And this should surprise me? I've read the news. I know what I'm capable of.'' 
 
 `` Do you? So what does the cleaning crew do next time to take that away? How do we keep Robert'the Fourth' from committing the same atrocities?'' He was just burning time now. Reyes should arrive within the hour to get the testimony on paper. 
 
 `` Honestly, I have no clue. I can still tell you something you probably do n't know, though.'' 
 
 Hill rolled his eyes. He imagined gouging Robert's. `` Yeah? And what's that?'' 
 
 `` Do you think it's a little strange that I'll be getting a fourth iteration? And after that, a fifth? Possibly sixth? What of those who fail to commit felonies? They get only one chance at life, so where's the payoff?'' 
 
 Hill shrugged. He had no idea where Robert was going with this and did n't care. His time was better spent imagining how gratifying it would be to just end Robert's line entirely with a single shot. Felons get mimics. Murder victims, though.... 
 
 `` Has it never occurred to anyone how useful this technology could have been if implemented in almost any other fashion? How America might have actually changed for the better if Capitol Hill was n't overrun with lobbyists for private, for-profit mass incarceration facilities?'' 
 
 He actually had a point. So did the rounds in Hill's chamber, though. 
 
 `` These prisons are cash cows being milked for every- `` 
 
 The door behind Hill opened and two men stepped in. 
 
 `` Reyes, took you long enough. Let's get this over with. He's another waste of time.'' 
 
 
 
 
 Robert Stephenson was incarcerated within the week. They had gotten a full testimony without any trouble and the process to reinstate his new mimic was practically streamlined at that point. It would be just a few months before the next one was back on the street and the cycle would start all over again. Hill knew there was only one way to end it. The system made sure of that. 
 
 Some felons were redeemable. A lot of the less violent ones were simply victims of circumstance, and a second chance for the mimic was as good as a new lease on life. But the few that were deeply bothered could not be corrected. Whatever caused them to run against the grain of society had to be genetic. Hill did n't know the science behind it, nor did he care. 
 
 When he murdered that last Robert, all felt right with the world. Seeing the blood spill from his skull was the most beautiful thing he'd ever witnessed. Hill would never have children, and he would spend the rest of his life behind bars, but at least he'd sleep at night. 
 
 Life behind bars with at least three men he was responsible for convicting. He'd expected that. Being welcomed by hundreds of Lewis Hills, though. That was what made the entire thing worth it.
