Henry Gant, Man About Town. This epidode: "Electricdreams writing contest. Write a short story, The first child born in natural childbirth in a society that for the last 300 years consisted of sterile clones.

It’s My Birthday All Over the World.

They got me as foretold. My life drains from my body, sacrificed on the tree of life for the non-believer.
I have been their Orion for so long that even I started to believe it. Now I understand. Another Orion will take my place and fulfill the prophecy. The One. The one, born of a clone, who will bring back the spirit of humanity. Sparking hope and love. Transforming our sterile, bland world into one of reignited higher purpose, by way of a miracle birth.
And because of this, I let them call me The Orion.

When I was younger, and just beginning to realize my destiny, I rebelled. I was fourteen years old when I said, “No, I’m not putting on the robe, I’m not going out there.”
My “Sisters” left me immediately. I figured I had won my freedom with the wave of my hand. For the first time, I felt powerful, I am Orion. I’m a person with free will.

Mother came to me early the next morning. She moved quickly to the windows and drew open the wall length curtains. She gracefully opened the balcony doors. Turning toward my bed saying, “The people expect to see you this month . . . every day this month. Your birthday means a great deal to them . . . and to me.”

This place can rightfully be called a palace, and my mother a queen. There is no earthly king. I have no human father to speak of, and as I’m sure no divine father as well. At fourteen, I had figured it all out.
I am born of a clone mother - she was grown to accept artificial activation within her womb and carry a life to term.

We humans stopped reproducing. Suddenly the timer when off, and our race was finished. Pollution, radiation, a virus? All these things were given as factors in the death spiral. Poets and philosophers had written that the human spirit had just given up. “There is nothing to believe in anymore.” Theologians and religious leaders ironically contemn Man to extinction. Calling it punishment for our sins.

Three hundred years ago, scientists scrambled to create a viable pool of diverse genetic material should fertility ever return. Until then, clones cultivated in Petri dishes, kept the world populated. They are sterile, vanquished of sexual desire, pure; they kept the machines running. Science and religion would get along for the next three hundred years.
And then . . . happened my mother, a pregnant clone. No earthly father. Spontaneous generation? Divine intervention?
The Prophecy?

On the day of my rebellion, Mary-256-23-cln. Came to sit on my bed. She said, “When your "Sisters" return . . . put on the robe, Go out on the balcony and wave.” She got up and turned to leave. She looked at the expansive chamber called my room. “This is for you, everything has been for you.” She walked to the door and stopped. Turning she added, “The rest of them who are activated in a glass jar and grown on a shelf need to know what it is like to carry life . . . To be part of a race who can survive beyond a laboratory, to be able to love. Nothing will stop that, Orion, not even you.” She turned and left.

At fourteen years old I thought, that's not my problem. I’m not going to be paraded up and down the world's streets like a circus freak - the month leading up to my birthday a celebration . . . and then, the incessant travel, pretending to be something/someone I’m not. Clones pawing at me - worshiping me as if my existence were for them.
I am Orion . . . and I choose free-will.

I didn’t notice him standing in the doorway until he moved to enter. He was dressed in the black clothing of my teachers. He was older than my teachers and moved with a purpose that didn’t seem to be based on my benefit. He came into the room pulled a chair up to my bed and sat. He leaned forward and placed his upper body weight on a cane. He said, “We have put a lot of time into your development. It’s been anticipated that you might have thoughts of a future other than the Prophecy.”

With a sudden movement, he hit the end of his cane on the floor. My two protectors came into the room and between them was a boy of my age. My double.

“It’s important that the Prophecy be . . . more genuine.” He said, “but if we must replace you with this clone we will. If your mother comes to object, then we have another Mary to replace her. These clones are not as desirable nor as authentic as you and your mother. Replacing you and your mother reduces our chance of success."

"I plan to re-establish humanity as it should be - independent of scientific interference.”

“To regain the human spirit, people need a reason to reproduce beyond just pushing buttons and oiling the machines. They must have belief in a higher power. I have made your existence The Miracle - a child born of clone and the Divine Mystery. To be believed . . . then the Prophecy must be fulfilled.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s true . . . what matters is that the people believe The Miracle.”

“All your training has been for this moment. You must decide.” He said, “This is your free-will.”
“I created you . . . and before I leave here, there will be a Savior standing on that balcony wearing a white robe . . . waving at his flock.”

“All I need is something/someone with just enough brain power to lift its hand and smile, I’ll either point you,” He pointed at my twin, “or him at the people, and the people will create their faith as outlined in my little story.”

“Mother Mary waits.”

_________________________________________________End of line.

This is my entry to the #electricdreams writing contest:
https://steemit.com/electricdreams/@tygertyger/tyger-s-electric-dreams-short-story-contest-2-a-new-face

I hope you enjoy the story.
"Prayer" painting by Randolph Rope

H. G.