‘Why are there two? Why do all the children come in twos?’
He looked down at his daughter, thankful he had only one. ‘They separate em, baby girl. One living one dead. Both technically alive, you see, but they kill one at birth, and upload AI. Sometimes they live together, sometimes they live separate. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they don't. They use one for organs, or studies, or make both work and pay all the money to one.’ He leaned down slightly to his daughter. ‘Be glad twins don't run in our family, dollface.’
The little girl clutched her doll close in her arms and walked down the street with her father, away from the pumpkin patch.