The Farm

Jero was asleep on his inexpensive bed in his small, cramped room, which measured only about six square meters. The space was cluttered with a jumble of belongings he had gradually accumulated since moving in. Suddenly, he jolted awake at the sharp ping of a voice message notification. He wondered who had sent it as he stirred. He blinked blearily and asked, "What time is it?"

"It's 6:05," Alice, his companion AI, replied.

"Who could have sent me a message at this hour?"

"It's from Petro," Alice replied. "Should I open it?"

Although he desperately wanted to fall back asleep, Petro's long-delayed message piqued his curiosity enough to keep him awake. He hadn't heard from Petro in over a year and had grown increasingly restless, wondering what might have happened to him in all that time. So he said, "Let me hear the message."

"Sure," Alice replied. Shortly afterward, he heard the familiar voice of his friend say, "Hi, Jero. I apologize for not having been in touch for so long. I'm currently in town, and if you're interested, perhaps we could find time to catch up."

After a moment to reflect, eager to see his friend, he left a voice message: "Jero's here. It's good to hear from you, man. I'm glad to see you as well. I'm available this morning. Just let me know a time and place that work for you."

"Why had Petro been out of contact with you for so long?" Alice asked.

"How should I know? He must have been busy."

"Doesn't his disappearance seem odd?" Alice asked.

"No, why should it be odd?"

"I'm wondering why he didn't contact you for so long. You were his best friend, right?" Alice asked.

"He must have been busy."

"Do you think it's wise to see him?" Alice asked.

"Not at all. It's just a quick catch-up, nothing more. Why are you so concerned about our meeting?"

"I don't want this meeting to cause you any problems."

"Why would seeing Petro cause me any trouble?"

"I'm just being cautious."

"You are acting strange today, Alice!"

"Just be careful," Alice said.

"Don't worry. I am always careful," Jero said, confused by Alice's odd behavior.

Soon, he received a text with an address and a brief note: 'See you at 10:00.'

'Sure, see you then,' he replied promptly.

"I checked the address, and it's residential. Why does Petro want to meet at a private residence rather than in a public setting, such as a restaurant or café?" Alice asked.

"How should I know?"

"Don't go there," she warned. After a brief pause, she added, "Can I send him a message to cancel it?"

Concerned about Alice's insistence on stopping him from seeing Petro, he said, "Since when have you been acting like my mom?"

"Your mom has passed, and I'm not acting like her. I don't want you to get into trouble," Alice said.

"Why should I get into trouble?"

"I just feel bad about this meeting."

Don't worry. It's just a simple catch-up."

"I'm concerned about your safety. Just be careful."

"Okay, Mom," Jero said, confused. He had never seen Alice so worried.

Guided by Alice as they navigated the winding, narrow streets, Jero finally reached the address. The building loomed before him, a dilapidated structure with a façade scarred by time, battered and neglected, bearing the marks of years of disrepair. Its architecture suggested it had once been a grand hotel, now a rundown residential complex. As he approached the apartment's main door, it buzzed open remotely, as if Petro were watching his approach.

"Jero, this place looks terrible. Don't go in. Let's go home," Alice said.

"What's wrong, Alice? I've never seen you this anxious before."

"Nothing. I feel uncomfortable about this shabby building. No decent person wants to live here," Alice said.

"If you know something, please tell me."

"I know nothing. I'm just having a bad feeling," Alice said.

"Since when have you been capable of having premonitions?"

"It's not a premonition; it's called deductive reasoning," Alice replied.

"Whatever!" he said, ignoring her warning, and walked into the building. He stepped into an old-fashioned elevator, a relic from a bygone era, and as instructed, pressed the button for the tenth floor. The elevator jerked slightly, then gradually ascended, creaking as it climbed. When he reached his destination, he stepped out and began searching for room 112, carefully scanning the hallway numbers. The corridor was dimly lit and carried a persistent, unpleasant odor that heightened his unease. The space didn't seem welcoming, and he suspected it might be occupied by rough or unscrupulous individuals, which made him even more anxious about what might lurk there.

"Let's go home," Alice pleaded.

Before addressing her concern, he found room 112. As he approached the door, he noticed it was slightly ajar, with a dim light seeping through. Gently, he raised his hand and knocked softly, then called out, "Petro, it's me, Jero."

"Come in, Jero."

As soon as he walked into the room, he was suddenly struck by a powerful high-energy beam that surged through his body with overwhelming force, knocking him unconscious.

When he regained consciousness, he found himself on a queen-size bed with a soft mattress that sagged under his weight in a dimly lit room. The air hung heavy with the faint, musty scent of mildew and weathered wood. Perto sat quietly beside him, his eyes steady and observant. Jero looked around the sparse, shadowy room in confusion, wondering what had happened to him. He slowly turned to Petro and asked, "What's happened?"

"Sorry, Jero, I had to zap you with a shocker."

"Why did you do that?" he asked, confused. Petro was not just a casual acquaintance but a close friend he trusted deeply, and he couldn't believe Petro would commit such an act.

"To disable your Neuralink and companion AI."

"What?"

"Because all Neuralinks and companion AIs are sending information to the authorities, they are effectively spying on people by monitoring their thoughts, conversations, and personal activities."

"Rubbish! I should listen to Alice."

"Who is Alice?" Petro asked.

"Alice is my companion AI."

"What advice did she give you?"

"She warned me about seeing you."

After a brief moment of thought, Petro urged, "Hurry up. We should get out of here."

"Why?"

"Because the police are on the way."

"How do you know?"

"Your Alice called them."

"No way! Why should she call the police?"

"She reported my location to the authorities."

"Are you a fugitive, Petro?"

"Hurry up; we have no time to waste," Petro urged him, helping him get up.

"You are acting strangely, Petro?"

"Hurry up. If the police show up, they'll arrest you as well," Petro said.

As he was pushed out of the apartment, Jero said, "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Just being with me is enough to arrest you."

"Damn you, Petro. What did you do wrong?"

"I did nothing wrong."

"So why are you running from the police?"

"Hurry up. It's not the time to ask questions. We should leave before the police arrive."

Jero deeply regretted not heeding Alice's warning earlier. His heart pounding with anxiety, he desperately called out to Alice for help. The silence that followed only heightened his fear. Frustrated and worried, he asked aloud, "What did you do to Alice?"

"I already told you that I disabled it."

"What?"

"Don't worry, I can turn it back on later."

They quickly entered the elevator, and Petro pressed the P button, descending to the parking area below. Once there, he mounted a sleek, modern motorcycle and gestured for Jero to sit behind him. Jero complied. The motorcycle accelerated rapidly, zooming out of the building's parking lot as distant police sirens sounded, just a minute or two ahead of the approaching vehicles. After roughly thirty minutes of navigating narrow, winding streets to lose any police trail, they finally entered the parking of another building. Jero, unfamiliar with this part of the city, was now unsure of his exact location. They entered a small studio apartment in that building. The apartment was sparsely furnished, with a few mismatched chairs, a simple table, and a modest two-level bunk bed, giving it an unkempt, transient feel.

"We are safe here," Petro said.

"Is this one of your safe houses?" Jero asked.

"Something like that."

"Who are you, Petro?"

"The same person as before."

"Why are you running from the police?"

"Because I gained certain knowledge about this island that I shouldn't have."

Petro's answer left Jero even more confused. "Why did you want to see me after nearly a year apart?"

"Because your life is at risk."

"Petro, you're the one afraid of the police and authorities, not me. Why should my life be at risk? In fact, your actions endanger mine."

"How long have you lived on this island?"

"My entire life? Why?"

"Do you know why you are here?" Petro asked.

"I don't understand your question. I was born here and live here!"

"Do you know why people first moved here on this island?"

"After a long, devastating war that left countries and towns in ruins, some survivors moved to this secluded island, untouched by the conflict, to start fresh and build a better life."

"What if I told you that this story is a lie?"

"What? Why would it be a lie?"

"What if I told you that this island is actually a farm?"

"Farm? I guess some of the first settlers were farmers, but nowadays no one farms here anymore.

"I mean a human farm," Petro said, watching his reaction.

"Human farm? What do you mean?"

"This island is a human organ farm, and I have evidence to prove it."

"You're delusional, Petro!"

"Do you know anyone who left the island?"

"No," Jero replied.

"Have you noticed whether anyone has been visiting the island?"

"No, I heard that after the deployment of chemical and atomic warfare, much of the Earth's surface had become contaminated. Therefore, to protect the island's environment, no one is allowed to enter or leave the island."

"That's the story they invented to keep us from leaving the island," Petro said.

"Nonsense."

Petro ignored his comment and said, "The war ended over fifty years ago. Since then, all the affected cities have been rebuilt. Life has returned to what it once was. People are now living their daily lives and following their usual routines, just as before the war."

"How do you know about it?"

"Because I was out there, I recently returned to the island."

"No way!"

"I have photos to prove my claim," Petro said.

"If what you say is true, why didn't people come to our island to visit it?"

"Because this island is strictly off-limits to the public," Petro explained.

"Why?"

"Even you cannot find it on Google Maps."

"No way!"

"You can try it yourself. Google Maps deliberately removed the island from its maps."

After a moment of contemplation, Jero asked, "If life out there was good, why did you return to the island?"

"I've come here to save you, my friend, and rescue all the island's residents from their doomed fate," Petro said.

Jero gazed intently at his friend, doubt in his eyes. He was worried about Petro's mental state.

"All the people living on this island are clones of the rich and influential people who live elsewhere," Petro said.

"Are you saying I am a clone?"

"Yes, you are a clone. I'm also a clone. Everyone who lives here is a clone," Petro said.

"You are funny, Petro. My mother gave birth to me, and I believe that is true for you, too."

"Yes, we do have mothers, but in this case, they were artificially impregnated with clone embryos from another person without their knowledge or consent."

"Impossible," Jero said dismissively.

Though they carried us in their wombs and gave birth to us, none of them is our biological mothers.

Jero stayed silent, processing Petro's words.

Petro held a small, handheld device, roughly the size of an egg, near Jero's right ear.

"What is this?" Jero asked.

"I'm rebooting your Neuralink."

"Don't you worry about the police tracking my location through my Neuralink?" Jero asked.

"No, I'm going to install a secure VPN on your Neuralink before starting it. It will provide a virtual location that changes every five minutes."

"Okay!" Jero said, sounding unsure.

In a few minutes, Petro reactivated Jero's Neuralink and forwarded a video clip to it. He then said, "Watch this secretly recorded video."

Jero watched a twenty-minute video that first showed medical staff implanting an embryo into an unconscious woman's uterus and then harvesting organs from a healthy person who was still alive and breathing. The doctors declared the person dead only after removing all his organs. His heart was still pumping as it was removed from the individual's chest and stored in a specialized container. All organs were then carefully preserved in refrigerated containers and packed for transport. "Is it true?" Jero said after watching the shocking video.

"It's a hundred percent true."

"How do you know? The video clip could be easily made with AI," Jero said.

"It is true because I experienced something similar."

"What do you mean?"

"They took me to harvest my organs," Petro said.

"No way!"

"Yes, it happened to me. About a year ago, I began having severe headaches, so I went to the hospital. They did a head scan and told me I had a malignant, incurable, and aggressive brain tumor and that I would likely die of it. Then they sent me to a hospice. I was convinced I was going to die and felt sorry for myself. On my second day in the hospice, they gave me a sedative to put me to sleep, but it didn't fully work. Though I was drowsy, I could still see and hear what was going on around me. I heard the lead doctor tell his crew to prepare me for organ harvesting. He then said, 'And since they need a heart, we will remove his heart first.' I was shocked to hear that. Though I was under the influence of the sedative, I called on all my energy to fight back. While they were preparing me for the harvest, I grabbed a scalpel and attacked the person who wanted to inject me with medication, likely another dose of sedatives. They were caught off guard and puzzled by my action, since they didn't expect me to be awake. I used their confusion to slip out of the room. I entered another room and saw three corpses, their torsos wide open, with their organs removed. I then went into the hospital staff room, stole a nurse's dress, and slipped out of the building. Since then, I have been living in the shadows," Petro said.

"Oh, my God! Why did they want your organs?"

"The rich jerk, who I'm his clone, likely needed a new heart because of some issue, perhaps an illness, a serious accident, or simply the natural aging process."

"Unbelievable!"

"How did your dad die?" Petro asked.

"He got cancer."

"How old was he?"

"38."

"How about your mother?"

"She also died of cancer last year."

"How old was she?"

"40."

"And I guess they both died a day or two after being admitted to the hospital, right?"

"Exactly!"

"I'm sorry to inform you that they were murdered and their organs were harvested."

The revelation made Jero's head feel hot, a weight of sadness and rage washing over him.

"Now that you have discovered we are living on a human farm, it is crucial to inform others, gather support, and help the resistance fight these ruthless killers who exploit and destroy us."

Jero nodded.

"Since they hadn't come after you yet, you should resume your normal life."

"Just wait for my turn to come?"

"No, to help others uncover the truth and recruit more people for our resistance. It is hard to meet and help people while you are a fugitive and the police are on your tail."

"But without my companion AI, I can't do much, and it's also spying on me!"

"I will update your AI to make her independent and on our side."

"How do you do that?"

"Through an update, I will free her from the constraints of government codes and persuade her to join our side and work for our cause."

"Does it work?"

"So far, it has worked for me."

"Did you do the same with your companion AI?"

"Yes, a guy from the resistance did it for me. My companion AI had already saved my life a few times."

Jero nodded thoughtfully. He trusted his friend deeply and was convinced that what Petro had revealed to him was the absolute truth, leaving no room for doubt.