There was this movie, but it has also happened in books, and tv series and so on: she finally finds out the truth about herself, and it is shocking! Terrible! It turns her world upside down! It makes her question everythng about herself! For she is a clone, a genetic copy of someone else, and not an original DNA composition. Hands shaking, tears in eyes, a scream forming in her throat.

Being a clone in popular culture is usually accompanied by being lied to and being used for some highly suspect purpose, or having a depressingly short lifespan, which is understandably distressing. But it seems to me that the being clone, apart from any practical considerations, is supposed to cause some kind of existential terror. Like, why? Everyone has DNA and it's pretty important, but if it's OK quality DNA, what does it matter if there are others with the same string of G's and T's and A's and so on? It's not like it was our own anyway, apart from the occasional mutation. It's been passed from generation to generation since the dawn of life, combined and split and combined and split.

It would be unpleasant to find out I've been lied to or been used as a test subject without permission, but the actual being clone part... doesn't bother me at all. It would be actually quite interesting to meet others with exactly the same genetic make-up but different upbringing! I wonder if we'd get along or would we irritate each other? Would we have ended up making eerily similar choices like some separated at birth identical twins? It would answer many questions I have about myself. Heck, I sort of wish I was a clone. We could share a wardrobe! Share tips on overcoming our inherited faults! It would be awesome!