Nelix Auditorium was one of the biggest Auditoriums within the Antillean Federation. Well, that was the impression I got when I saw it in its full glory.

The auditorium’s overall design was that of a shattered conch shell, split into five different sections. In-between those sections, were glass panels that had a faint sparkle to them as if sprinkled with limestone.

On the roof of the shell were hundreds of small spires, protruding from the top at varying heights. At each section, there was one spire taller than the rest, but their heights all gradually descended.

As the cabbie descended from the sky lane, I estimated the height of the tallest spire was roughly 350 feet tall and the width of the entire complex roughly 640 feet wide. It was complex, but I’m sure it seemed perfect to whoever designed it.

I took a cabbie to the Auditorium because I didn’t want to risk my Xenotis. After all, I had a high-class criminal such as Akatani on my tail. So making things difficult for him was my best bet.

I still pondered on how he got a tracker on my car. In fact, it would’ve had to have been someone at the police station. The only person that I know could’ve done it, would have been Eclain and based on the information that Zade gave me, Eclain already took out two EXiCON’s messing with this Akatani’s business... but yet still, she told me don't trust him.

I had to admit to myself I didn’t know what to do. The situation with the Hannya Boys was getting out of hand. “Fine,” I finally said aloud. “I’ll deal with it accordingly.”

The cabbie brought me down and ushered me to the entrance of the auditorium. It was grand; the entrance was through two spires made similarly to that of the Auditorium. Above that was a banner that read “ETHICAL DILEMMA OF CLONING” Presented by Dr Hanstir Planson.

Flashy, I thought.

I walked through the entrance and explained to the front desk that I was here for the conference, which was a complete lie. It didn’t matter though; it was completely free so they led me directly into the auditorium itself.

Upon entering, I noticed that the front row was stacked with school children wearing school uniforms and teachers there, to usher them. Why would kids want to hear this mumbo jumbo? I chuckled to myself.

The middle row had a few people, but they were sparsely separated, making the room seem bigger than what I’d expected. I sat in the back, where no one was, which I thought was absolutely perfect. I was far from being in the right mood to entertain anyone.

Whilst I sat there, watching Dr Planston explain the Ethical Dilemma of Cloning, my mind drifted back to the research on his career I’d done.

The good doctor was with Twin Food Inc. from its Inception, a rarity in the science world. He’d even had an ‘Honorary’ President position within the company. Hell, he was even part of the Sanchian Society. The lowest populated group within the western hemisphere.

Apparently, he’d donated millions to the Society trying his best to improve their way of life and to help keep their traditions going. It smelt a bit too goody two shoes for my liking, but who was I to judge? For me though, I smelt a relation to the black market.

The good Doctor found Sanchian ‘relics’ a bit too much for my liking. “How long till this thing is over,” I muttered, not understanding a word of what the doctor was saying.

“Forget it… Nova, download the schematics and pinpoint me to the backstage area.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Nova popped a yellow GPS Line for me, and I got up, following it. I went back out the entrance, made a sharp right and went down a gentle-slope corridor. In the end, I turned left, a sharp right. Then walked up a short flight of stairs.

‘Backstage’ a sign read above me. Perfect. I pushed the door in and noted how low in security this place was, but maybe it was that this wasn’t a special occasion for such things.

They had a few people backstage. They all turned in unison upon seeing me, but like most people, they turned their noses and went back to their business.

On my right were rows of folded chairs and dusted desks. The left had looped ropes tied to the wall, probably for the curtains. In the middle around the pathway to the stairs were Planson’s sycophants, savouring his exit from the speech. It was hilarious to see.

I pulled one of the chairs free and watched as the doctor continued his speech, tapping the clicker in his hand and interacting fluidly with the audience.

“The man has presence,” I noted. Then, when he finally finished, he came off the stage, taking all the applause, gifts and sweet words he could get. I chuckled a little too loudly, which garnered my attention, and based on the snivelling gaze that he gave me, he knew who I was.

The wall of people that surrounded Dr Planson fell into an honour guard position. I almost chuckled again, but I kept it in this time. God Complex... clearly.

“Kaiden Cypher, is it?” Dr Hanstir asked.

“Yes, Sir. It’s nice to meet your acquaintance,” I said, ushering my hand to shake his. He was hesitant but eventually brought his hand to meet mine.

The handshake was firm, cold and rough.

Just like his eyes.

Doctor Hanstir Planson was old, hair slipped back with the smoothest of gels. His eyebrows still had patches of black, so I knew his hair was originally black. His eyes though, lacked emotion, if ever I saw a human Automaton, Planson would surely be that.

The aged spots around his temples made him seem withered, but that grip was far from anything that was withering away. His nose was pointed, just like his chin, a sharply cut diamond.

“How may I assist the police?” He asked voice cool as ever. “Not a police officer, Sir, I’m an EXiCON,” I corrected.

“You are? Wasn’t it the commissioner that scheduled this meeting?”

“She did.”

“I see, then that means you report to her, no?”

“I do, for this case.”

“Then good then, that makes you police... right?” He said, turning towards his entourage and initiating a chuckle from all eight of them.

Asshole.

“What suits your fancy, Dr Planson?” I said, rolling my eyes. “…let’s just get to it... I understand that you have deep knowledge regarding clone manufacturing.”

“Yes, I do have some knowledge. How may I help?”

“I have two dead bodies, Adrianna Smith and a John Doe sitting in the morgue. Flash Clones as the ME would call them. The challenge though is what we’ve discovered whilst verifying their DNA. Adrianna Smith’s DNA is registered as Lev Ryan, yes The Antillean Financial Control President. Now, with the John Doe, his DNA indicates that he’s Adrianna Smith, whilst his Digital ID Frag doesn’t show up in the system.”

“That’s quite an interesting case you have there, couldn’t it be a case that the Datamind Core was hacked and false information was planted. You do know that the Datamind Core is also linked to the DNA Repository for everyone born into the Federation? It sounds like an inside job. But clones? Tha—“

“Philandric Ichor. Both of the Vics had purple blood” I said, interrupting the doctor.

The shock on the doctor’s face was something I didn’t expect. It was as if I told him that his research was fake and he couldn’t go to the moon to hide.

“Philandric ichor, you say?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

The doctor turned towards his entourage and ushered them out of the backstage. They too had puzzled eyes, but I guess what I was about to hear he didn’t need them to hear as well. Or... he was simply putting on a show.

“That’s not possible,” Doctor Planson said. “Cloning Humans is illegal and downright disrespectful to the natural evolution of this planet,” He snapped.

“Right... but that’s the thing why on earth would clone have ‘someone else's DNA?”

“That’s unimaginable, to get something like that done, you’d have to cross-splice two separate genetic codes. Once you’ve successfully done that. You then have to manipulate the coding to match the donor’s code on a physical aspect, whilst tweaking the DNA markers to register as someone else.”

“Like what a sperm and an egg do to create a baby?”

“Vulgar answer, but, yes... that, but on a much more complex level, scientifically of course. That’s literally the work of GOD.”

“A scientific man who believes?”

“Believe?” The doctor asked, scorn written across his face. “I’m quite agnostic, but what I’m saying is whoever could attain THAT, would be considered GOD.”

“Let’s say, hypothetically, it could be done, why would someone do such a thing, kill these clones and display them for the world to see?”

“Narcissism, why else? Show the world their work. Look at this perspective, Detective. If I were a genius in my field but my passion is taboo. What would I do to get someone’s attention?”

“Do the work, then show up unannounced, grabbing everyone’s attention.”

“Bingo.

“That’s messed up, Doc.”

“Quite. That’s why we've been campaigning regarding the Ethical Dilemma of Cloning.”

“But you’re a geneticist that literally works for the biggest supplier of meat within the Federation. Doesn’t your work encompass cloning chickens, pigs and whatever God knows you’ve done?”

The doctor gave a light chuckle, making his wrinkles wiggle as he did. He squinted at me, and I watched as the gears in his mind churned whilst he accessed me. “Your ex-military, aren’t you?” He finally asked.

“Yea, I did some time in the AFA”

“I can tell.”

“That’s what I’ve been hearing the past two days.”

“Well, forgive me. I find this situation quite interesting. For one. Why would the commissioner allow some EXiCON to investigate a clone case.”

“... you’ve seen the riots within Weitson Industrial District, right? All manpower is dealing with that.”

“Are you telling me BLED, one of the finest and most advanced tactical forces within the Antillean Federation…is short of manpower? THE Police Department, with an ENTIRE district that houses them?”

“When you put it that way, I see your point,” I grunted.

“As you should... Look, Cypher. You came about clones, I need to see them understand them properly. You see, there are literally over thirty variant ways to make philandric ichor, and all thirty of them are patented. Send over the DNA of both of them. I’ll see what I can do. Plus it’ll help narrow down your search. The only problem you'd have is finding the lab to make such a thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Twin Food Inc doesn’t make cloned food. The Federation does.”

“What... what in Imbibe do you mean?”