*Author’s Note: Short Story Saturday brings a story about an idea my husband and I have thrown around for awhile. A hilarious conspiracy about what businesses like Ancestry.com do with collected DNA. Please enjoy!*
“Have you ever wondered where your DNA actually comes from? Ever wondered which ethnicity combination makes you, you? The kind employees from Cesspool, Incorporation can assess your DNA and inform you with any information you desire. All you need to do is call the number listed below. We’ll send you two testing kits, complete with instructions. A hair sample and a mouth swab are the only things you need to mail back. Worried about someone stealing your DNA through the mail? Well, don’t! Cesspool, Incorporation provides packages that only one of our certified employees can open, so you can be rest-assured your DNA is safe with us! Why delay? Call the number below and get on the path of self-discovery today!”
A round of applause filled the pristine board room.
Mr. Steele turned off the projector. “What do you think?”
The head of the board rose, straightening her blazer. “Excellent, Mr. Steele. Continue running the ad. You may show us the product now.”
He smiled and dipped his head. Escorted the way to the factory level where the DNA test samples were made. “As you can see, we have state of the art facilities. We have the best employment benefits of any other company and an extremely low turnover rate.”
Ms. Abernathy gave a nod. “I can see that. How are profits?”
“Exceptionally well. We’re 200 percent over the projected sales plan.”
All members of the board turned to each other with impressed glances.
Ms. Abernathy smiled, facing her colleagues. “Why don’t you all tour the floor while I speak to Mr. Steele on some more delicate matters.”
They nodded and did as they were told.
She rose a brow to the sole man left. “Do you have any product results?”
Mr. Steele grinned in a rather devilish manner. “Indeed. Follow me.” He led her to the elevator. Accessed a hidden panel and performed a retinal scan. Allowed Ms. Abernathy to do the same. Then he punched in a code, and the elevator lowered down from ground level versus normally going up.
Once the doors opened, an expansive floor opened up before the business pair. Rows of people-sized tanks, operating tables, computers, and medical equipment sat underneath bright white lights. Humans of all races and body types were scattered among the tables and tanks.
Ms. Abernathy clasped her hands in front of her and walked among workers with sewn-closed mouths and sunken eyes. “How goes the cloning?”
Mr. Steele followed her, pleased with her satisfied expression. “Fantastically. We’ve even begun the replacement program.”
She stopped among the center of it all. A smile passed her face. “That is wonderful news. So not only will we have our pre-programmed clone army, we’ll have the re-programmed normal humans as well. Two armies; one mission.”
He nodded. “More and more people send in their DNA every day.”
Slightly chuckling, the head of the board slowly turned to her partner. “At this rate, we could lead our militia against the world within a matter of weeks.”