I wondered what parents had brought that Horatio up, had developed that magnificent brain into what it was. Yet only one was the real Horatio, Horatio Prime. No scientific test existed that could tell us apart each one of the three of us a microcosm of Horatio perfection. That had to be the case, for we were the most perfect copies-biological, psychological, developmental-that the most advanced cloning science of the galaxy could make.
I claimed to be, of course every bit as beautiful and as smart as either of the other two. The guards and attendants had one question only: Who was the original? Gorgeous, brilliant, and indistinguishable. The three of us stood around that table, a spectacle for all Horatio to consume.
