Rank 5 Thenius felt his heart flutter as his mentor, Rank 8 Jennis, led him into the inner cloister.
“Do you know why our monastery exists?” Rank 8 asked.
Rank 5 answered automatically. “To seek perfection and become perfect, like our Lord.”
Rank 8 seemed unsatisfied. “That is true,” He started. “But your answer is incomplete. We’re not just here for our sake, but we want humanity itself to become perfect.”
“Yes, I understand, Abbot.” Rank 5 responded as the pair passed beneath an arch and began down a flight of stairs.
“I think you think you understand, but… Well…” Rank 8 carefully considered his words. “When I first came here, I was ready to fully dedicate myself to the Word of God. I wanted to cleanse my soul and purify myself so I could better understand Christ…” He trailed off.
“I want that too, Abbot.” Rank 5 said, barely above a whisper.
“I know you do.” Rank 8 responded. “But let me ask you, if you were given a choice between saving your own soul, and forever ensuring mankind is saved, which would you choose?”
“I’d cast myself into hell if it meant blocking the gates from a single wayward soul.”
Rank 8 remained silent. The pair reached the bottom of the stairs and stood before a large oak doorway covered in wrought-iron rivets.
“Yes.” He said at last. “That’s why you came to this monastery. You sought it out specifically, because you really do care about humanity’s soul.” He took a deep breath, steadying his resolve, then before he could consider the situation any further, he withdrew a single key from the depths of his robe, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. Light spilled into the darkened hall as the pair stepped inside.
Rank 5 looked around the room in confusion. He’d expected to be ushered into a stony sanctuary with forbidden texts or hidden philosophies, but instead it looked like a modern laboratory. There were computer consoles that lined the walls and tables covered with test-tubes and piles of documents, but strangest of all were ten giant glass vats concentrated in the room’s center in a loose circular form. The fluid bubbling within each was nearly opaque, but the silhouettes within were unmistakable.
Rank 5 looked to Rank 8 for validation.
Rank 8 gave a solemn, confirming nod. “Yes.” He said. “There are people inside. Clones.”
“But why?” Rank 5 asked, pleading. “I thought the church was against the act of cloning.”
“It is.” Rank 8 sighed. “Well, kinda.”
“Kinda?”
“Cloning has largely been used to create expendable people.” Rank 8 said. “Organ harvesting, cannon-fodder for wars… Even people cloning dead loved ones or seeking a sort of pseudo-immortality are undermining God’s decision as to when a person’s life should end. Those clones have been created with sin in mind, and are themselves victims of sin born without regard for human dignity.” He rubbed the nearest vat in contemplation. “But this is different. We’re trying to create… Well, we’re trying to create perfection.”
“Perfection?” Rank 5 asked.
“Not true perfection… Not perfection as we saw in Christ, but something approaching it… Better than we humans are capable of achieving, anyway. You see, the clones we’re creating are devout and empathetic and faithful. We hope that they’ll go into the world and lead people to Christ, or failing that, breed with trad-birth humans and allow their Godly genes to propagate through humanity.”
“But can we really force God’s Word in such a way?”
Rank 8 shrugged. “Is it really forcing?”
“I don’t know… It just seems wrong.”
“Cloning as an act is not evil unto itself so long as the sanctity of life is preserved. At the end of the day, all we’re doing is creating people who exemplify the traits humans should possess anyway.”
“How long have they been here?” Rank 5 asked after a long silence.
“This batch? About 5 months.”
“This batch? You mean there were others?”
Rank 8 felt his heart quicken. He knew this was coming. “Yes.” He said after a long silence. “But they were perhaps a bit too devout. Instead of going out into the world to spread the Word, they turned inward, opting to revere God in more personal ways. Some of them became hermits, but many sought out monasteries…” He turned to Rank 5 with a sympathetic look in his eye.
Rank 5 felt his stomach drop as realization hit. “No.” He said. “No!”
“You are still one of God’s creatures, regardless of your birth.”
“No!”
“It matters very little where you came from.” Rank 8 consoled. “What matters is what you do with the gift of life bestowed upon you.”
“But I didn’t choose! You’re telling me I was created to want to become a monk!”
“And many millions before you, born through trad-birth, were called to do the same. There really is no difference.”
Rank 5 slunk to the floor. “This is just too much. I just… I mean… I don’t know what to think!”
Rank 8 nodded. “I know how you feel.”
“No you don’t.” Rank 5 moaned.
“Yes. I do.” Rank 8 replied. “I really, really do.”
It took a moment before Rank 5 realized what Rank 8 meant, and when the thought finally filtered through his mind he looked up at his mentor with new realization.
“You mean… You were… You’re…”
“An earlier batch? Yes.”
For some reason this made Rank 5 feel better. He wasn’t alone. He slowly got to his feet and wiped his eyes.
“God uses many methods to call us to the faith.” Rank 8 said. “Personal revelation, miracles, genetics… At the end of the day we’re not much different than those who were born into the lifestyle through sheer genetic chance.”
“So why show me this?” Rank 5 asked. “Are you testing my resolve?”
“No. I’m telling you because we need another worker… Another person who is willing to walk through the valley of moral ambiguity and risk their own immortal soul for the overall betterment of mankind. You said you’d throw yourself in front of the gates of hell to help others, didn’t you?”
Rank 5 nodded. “I did.”
“So you’d be willing to work down here in total secrecy?”
“I am.” Rank 5 said, voice a bit more stable.
Rank 8 patted him on the back. “We’ll begin your training tomorrow. Welcome to the Inner Sanctum, Rank 6.”