Cubed Root of
The Average Man,
to the Third Power.

I am sitting here: recording my thoughts and waiting for the inevitable. I'm quite sure my data sendout was intercepted by the Beyonders. In fact, I'm positive. But you understand I had to try. For people like me; for all the average men: I had to try.

It happened by accident, really, a week after the Beyonders had me recloned. I was working as an assistant in the cloning lab when I mixed the blue formula with the red one, instead of the green one. It's no use to go into the technicals here: you won't understand them. What's even more amazing is that I don't know what was in them, either. Like I said, I'm just an ordinary man: proficient enough to follow lab instructions to the letter, but not quite good enough to learn the mechanics which drive them.

To make a long story short, it could have stopped there. I was supposed to wind up with a green-blue mix, but the blue-red mix turned purple. I don't know why I made that mistake; I don't think I'll ever know. I prefer to believe that the hand of Dolly guided me.

I should have dumped the formula then and started over. I was going to. I was on my way to the waste-disposal unit when I tripped and fell. This wasn't unusual - people seem to trip a lot, nowadays. It's a common occurence, since human depth discrimination isn't all too good anymore. Who knows why? Who cares? But fall I did, and the formula, encased in a glass cubed container with no top, fell to the floor and splashed all over me.

The glass had cut me; I lay there bleeding rather superficially. I lay in a stupor for a few moments before I noticed that my wounds were in contact with the spilled formula. Not only that, but the stuff stung.

Of course, I was worried. I did the natural thing: I took a sample of my blood and analyzed it as a precaution.

The results took to days to show themselves. I checked and rechecked them three times before I could accept the truth. My cells had been damaged. Not their function, but their ability to survive for any period outside their incubator - namely, me.

Which meant that any cell-sample taken from me for the express purpose of cloning, would die instantly.

I could no longer be re-cloned!

Perhaps I'm not quite as average as everyone pegged me out to be. For what I did next was, I managed to draw on my rather ordinary hobby as an amateur mack (mainframe hacker), to access the files of people like me.

People who died, and were brought back to life against their wishes. There are quite a few of us: many more than I would have thought.

I sent them all the instructions on how to mix this formula.

Quite simply, I told them how to die.
Forever.
I gave them back their freedom of choice.

But I don't know if it worked. I'm just an ordinary man.
I don't know how to safeguard transmissions.

If the Beyonders do in fact, monitor all outgoing sendouts,
then I'm in trouble.
Big trouble.

But what can they do to me? Kill me? For all intents and purposes, I'm already dead. I never asked to be brought back. I never asked............*^$&^%&#^^_@#*%(>.................SUBJECT APPREHENDED:

Case Closed: See Case File Beyonder Elimination #45985 for details of damage control

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Last Modified: 5/2/98
Wendy Elizabeth Kemp