The Genius of Cloning in the Academy City

Chapter 45: Polaris – Violet’s Time Passes Like This Again (2)

Central district, an empty warehouse near the Brotherhood. Commonly referred to as the “Violet Barracks.”

Numerous Violets were seated in their respective positions.

Some Violets had placed laptops and notebooks on desks and were jotting something down.

Others had set up large whiteboards and were sketching maps.

We were currently monitoring the information being relayed in real-time by our counterparts far away in the underground Polaris facility.

The facility was vast and complex, so we established a temporary command post for efficient exploration.

It might look shabby, but everyone was fulfilling their roles well.

At the center of the headquarters, No. 1, sitting cross-legged on a worn-out armchair, was issuing various instructions.

“Alright, everyone, move calmly. For now, we’re just surveying briefly, so don’t do anything too conspicuous.”

No. 67, who was scribbling movement routes on the chalkboard, glanced at No. 1 waving their hands theatrically like an orchestra conductor and grumbled.

“Tch… Anyone would think you’re the leader. Sure, you’re Number 1, but we’re all equals here!”

No. 1, who had been busy directing, paused for a moment, then stuck out their tongue teasingly at No. 67.

“Yeah, I’m not a leader. I’m like a monarch in a constitutional monarchy. Just like the British royal family! I’m the first, after all!”

“Ugh!”

As No. 1 basked in smugness, No. 2, who had been placing paper cups and drinks on the table, interjected sharply.

“British royal family? Don’t forget, you don’t even have the authority or prestige of the Japanese Emperor.”

Startled, No. 1 shouted back.

“I’m not that powerless! I also have my rights as a ‘Citizen Violet’—”

“Alright, alright! Focus. We’re working right now. That’s enough fighting.”

Those of us watching the brief squabble shrugged.

Under the collective pressure, the quarrelsome clones shut their mouths and returned to their tasks.

“Democracy doesn’t need a king,” muttered No. 67.

Hearing that, No. 28 reproached them.

“Quiet. Even if we don’t need a king, we still need a traffic cop.”

To be fair, everyone’s words made sense. While it was true that No. 1 was the first, they didn’t possess any extraordinary authority.

After the entrance ceremony, we held the first Violet Assembly and became aware of our existence. We were controlled by a parallel-connected consciousness.

There was no concept of an “original body” with absolute control.

However, I, as the “First Violet,” existed as a symbol.

I had lived since the possession and was the entity who had died and resurrected during the entrance ceremony, marked with the number 1 on my left arm.

This “No. 1 clone” was the first Violet.

While no one could be certain, the consensus was that the numbering on our arms, assigned in the order of creation, indicated that Number 1 was the original.

Everyone accepted this reasoning.

The symbolism and impression carried by the number 1 were significant. However, symbolism was just that—a symbol.

The No. 1 clone held no special authority.

Thus, the authority I, No. 1, possessed was nothing more than an intangible emblem.

Anyway, since everyone thought of themselves as Violet, even this symbol had long since faded.

Let’s consider memory, consciousness and self, and control over clones as three elements akin to political power or sovereignty.

The earlier Violet was an absolute monarch monopolizing political power.

The other clones merely obeyed orders and, even if they had consciousness and a sense of self, they were ultimately subordinate to the original.

However, everything changed when the absolute monarch was crushed under an outdoor unit and revived as the first-numbered clone.

Each of us gained our own sense of self and began to share memories with one another.

Additionally, we could independently control our physical bodies and wield equal ether manipulation abilities for generating or regenerating clones.

The original Violet, who had once been the “first,” became just another No. 1 Violet. To draw a parallel, it was like a monarch stepping down and becoming a citizen of a democratic republic.

They might have voting rights, but that was it.

Every Violet became a direct democrat who could freely elect or restrict one another.

The Violets had advanced quite deeply into the facility.

The corridors twisted like a labyrinth.

So far, we hadn’t encountered a single person—or even a bug.

“Has anyone found anything?”

“A lot. Let’s review the action cam footage later.”

Each of our heads bore a small action camera as we scouted the underground facility.

Though the Violet network allowed us to receive real-time visuals and information from deployed clones, we attached these cameras to ensure we didn’t miss anything during post-mission reviews.

Of course, buying electronic equipment for exploration had cost us a lot of money.

“I know it’s necessary, but it feels like such a waste of money.”

“There’s no other way. Replicating electronics makes them malfunction.”

Unfortunately, our unique ability was ineffective on certain complex objects.

Either the replicated item wouldn’t work at all, displayed a blank white screen, or endlessly vibrated without function.

No. 12, who was on guard near the barracks entrance, fiddled with a second-hand ten-shot crossbow we had purchased.

Their fingers slid over the black fiberglass frame.

“This replicates fine, though. Maybe the issue lies with semiconductors or batteries.”

“Right, since ether has properties that disrupt or block electromagnetic waves.”

While the exact cause was speculative, it wasn’t an urgent issue as long as money could address it.

It was something time would resolve.

As we navigated the corridors, the surroundings grew increasingly intricate.

The number of pipes attached to the walls and ceiling increased, as did the lighting.

There were more metal structures supporting the ceiling.

Judging by signs like “No Smoking” and “Fire Hazard,” it appeared to be a passage frequently used by people.

Occasionally, as we moved through the corridors, we found storerooms or unused rooms.

“Someone’s here! Hide!”

As No. 27, the clone who had advanced the furthest, turned a corner, they immediately withdrew in alarm.

Beyond the corridor, they saw people bustling back and forth.

Despite only being separated by a few meters, the atmosphere of the space was completely different.

No. 27 bent the tip of an endoscope camera and carefully peeked it over the wall. We all held our breath as we observed the scene displayed on our smartphone screens.

The first thing that came into view was a wide space with a high ceiling.

It was at least four or five meters tall, covered with metal panels forming an arched roof.

Below it, aluminum platforms were scattered, with steel staircases extending down.

It seemed to be a makeshift workspace.

Several individuals in white lab coats moved about up and down.

White lab coats?

Our heads throbbed momentarily. No. 1 quickly calmed everyone down.

“Alright, everyone, take deep breaths. This isn’t the Laplaxia Re

“I’ll be more careful.”

“…I understand your intentions. But from now on, don’t let personal emotions influence your work. I trust you…”

Their voices were drowned out by noise as the conversation continued.

A short while later, the two ascended the stairs and disappeared.

Perhaps there was another exit.

Even after the Chairman and Student Council President left, the Violet clones patrolled the research lab for hours but couldn’t gather any definitive information.

They reabsorbed their clones and retrieved the recorded data.

Before dawn, they held a brief discussion.

-Listening and watching isn’t enough.-

-Then what should we do? Steal some documents?-

No. 1, who had been resting her chin on her hand, suddenly raised her head.

-I’ve got a good idea.-

-What is it?-

Before No. 1 could speak, an idea shot through the network, piercing the minds of all the Violets.

Everyone’s eyes widened simultaneously, like lit lanterns.

Sometimes, this was inconvenient.

Whether spoken aloud or thought silently, any opinion would instantly be grasped by the others.

It lacked dramatic flair.

Still, the reaction this time wasn’t bad.

Everyone was so shocked their thoughts froze.

Watching their reactions, I, No. 1, smirked in satisfaction.

I prided myself on having a truly wicked grin.

Standing before the speechless group, I, No. 1, declared.

-Let’s kidnap a researcher.-