213th Entry

June 4^th, 2037

1835

Dear Space Diary

She was one of the bravest people I knew. Unblinking in the face of danger, a constant ally that –

“What are you doing?”

I’m trying to work what I’d say at 3.0’s funeral.

“She’s unlikely to have one.”

Which is why it’s all the more important that I know what I’d say if she had one.

“If it makes you feel any better, she never had a birthday either.”

It does not.

“Sorry. Continue.”

3.0 was unique. She –

“Not she wasn’t. There were hundreds of her.”

Even so, she was unique.

“She was me. I’m me.”

You’re really not helping me deal with this.

“I’m helping me deal with this. Sarcasm as defence mechanism.”

When did you get so jaded?

“About 10 years in to my 20 years of being stuck in space. Give or take”

…OK fair enough.

“Sorry though. I know this can’t be fun.”

There’s nothing fun about it.

“No. But it’s necessary.”

I know. I know.

“…Go on.”

Go on what?

“Finish your eulogy.”

…3.0 was unique. Even amongst a crowd of completely identical clones, her enthusiasm and personality shone through. I consider her a friend, and she was the closest to the original Mary I ever found. Who incidentally is standing here right now and nodding so that’s something.

Even though she was never born, she definitely lived. And now she’s going to die. Which, well, which sucks. A lot.

She will be missed.

“She will.”

This is a serious thing we do, and we don’t do it lightly.

“Agreed.”

You ready?

“Ready.”

Get the door.

BEEP. WHIIRRRRRRRR.

Hey 3.0.

“Finally worked out you need to kill me, hey?”

1845

“Drowning?”

You’re floating in liquid, and you have no lungs.

“Tip me over?”

Too slow.

“Ooh, ooh, electrocution.”

Too dangerous. And would smell terrible.

“Not my problem.”

You are way too okay with this.

“I’m a brain in a jar. Only thing I’m good for is making clones. If you were going to shut this down, it was always going to end this way. I worked that out ages ago. Don’t know why you didn’t.”

“He’s remarkably naive isn’t he?”

“Oh don’t get me started.”

Will you both stop it? Mary do you have any ideas?

“We lower the oxygen count in her… brain juice? She still needs air to function properly. If we lower that, it’ll starve her.”

And she won’t feel pain?

“She wouldn’t even know that she’s dying.”

“Except that you just told me.”

“I promise you, you won’t.”

Why’s that?

“Because I already did it ten minutes ago.”

“You did? I didn’t notice.”

1850

“Although now that you mention it…”

1903

“Everything’s getting really…

1913

“Fuzzy.”

Is she ok?

“She’s dying. But she isn’t in pain.”

“I’m going… to sleep… for a little… is that ok?”

Sure thing 3.0. You go ahead.

1920

“Life signs are fading.”

1934

“…And that’s it.”

Oh.

“Yeah.”

…

1935

She was one of the bravest -

“Shut up.”