I was one of the combatants at Write Club on November 1 here in Denver. If you haven’t been, oh you must! Check out this awesome artistic and charitable organization at their website: https://www.writeclubdenver.com/.

My topic was “ethical” facing off against my opponent who wrote something on “corrupt”. Here’s the short story I read, a whimsical blend of sci-fi, satire, and politics:

Like most nine-year-olds, Timmy Snedecker obsessed over Congress. He tuned into every debate, every live stream, every broadcast. He tracked every vote and could tell you deep stats on every legislator from Barbara Boxer to George Aiken to Steny Hoyer. Timmy even emailed corporations with tie-in ideas, like a special Patrick McHenry “Give me McLiberty or give me McDeath” rubberstamping set to include in Happy Meals. The only thing that interested Timmy as much as his political heroes was genetic science. The twisting double helix captured his imagination with its balanced perfection, and he filled his notebook margins with doodles replicating it.

After high school, Timmy–now Tim–went on to Johns Hopkins University where received a degree in Genetics with a focus on Complex Molecular Cloning. At the top of his class, they invited him to stay on as a researcher.

Years passed as Tim huddled over microscopes to harness and replicate human genetic code. One night, over cartons of delivery, he watched the boorish new President, who had been blustrously attacking every institution that disagreed with him with puerile bellyaching, say, “The media is telling lies about me, doing evil to me with their stories that say I’m awful! It’s wrong, and someone should do something to stop these enemies!” Then the Press Secretary said plainly “The Founders intended for the President to be protected from scrutiny. How else could he do all his important projects? There will be no questions.”

Members of the Minority grumbled, and the Majority did nothing. Tim’s heart was broken. He threw out all his notebooks and stat sheets and CSPAN VHS tapes.

Then as countless ethical questions about his leadership arose, the President did it again, blaming media, crying absurd conspiracy, and Congress didn’t do anything about it. Instead, over the next weeks, pundits and politicos alike argued over what the Founders wanted for the office of President, with some misappropriating an early, and discarded, attempt to call the U.S. leader “King”. For Tim, that was the final straw. The people entrusted to shepherd the Nation into the future–to act as stewards of the Common Good–only grinned more and more menacingly as they trampled the very flag in which they wrapped themselves.

The next day, Tim Snedecker drove from his Baltimore apartment into D.C. to visit the National Archives. With a little help from his somewhat perplexed friend Andrea, the head archivist, he took some sample swabs of the Constitution and Declaration of Independence before returning to his lab.

The incubation took six weeks, thanks in part to Tim’s experimental growth method, and when complete, he had in his possession sixteen genetic replicas of the Founding Fathers, each one only 18” tall, but fully matured, and very, very much alive. Tiny George Washington and Tiny Thomas Jefferson liked to sit in the conservatory of a doll house comparing their slaves, while Tiny Benjamin Franklin preferred to bathe in the sink, and Tiny Alexander Hamilton listened to a certain popular musical nonstop. A Tiny John Jay twirled a gavel while a Tiny James Madison quietly recorded his thoughts on a sticky-note pad. After waiting ten days to ensure the little clones were stable, Tim posted a video on YouTube and issued a press release:

FOUNDING FATHERS CLONED. GENETICIST BRINGS HISTORY TO LIFE.

In hours the President, Congress, and every major player in D.C. was clamoring to see the puny patriarchs of American Government. A special joint session of Congress was assembled to welcome and interview the clones and their creator. There was pomp and circumstance, miniature American flags, and military regalia.

“Thank you all for coming together today,” Tim said nervously from the House Chamber’s front podium. “Today is the beginning of an entirely new chapter in this country, and in the world. I grew up enamored with the civil servants in our government, and I’ve taken the greatest care in bringing these genetic replicas of our earliest legislators to life.” He gestured to his left and to his right as a line of tiny be-wigged men filed out into view of the assembly. Chatter, camera flashes, and applause swirled among the crowd. “There’s been a lot of talk about what the Founders intended,” Tim said, “So I thought, why don’t we just ask them.”

Reporters, lawmakers, lobbyists, cabinet members, the President… they all crowded up to the dais to yell questions to the clones.

“Does the second amendment covers rocket launchers?” queried one.

“How separate do church and state really have to be?” another asked.

“Can’t we change habeas corpus to something that sounds less… ethnic?” asked a third.

Before the cloned colonialists could answer, the President shoved his way onto stage, live tweeting as he did.

“Hey, science loser,” he said. “Lots of people think it’s unethical to make clones. And why haven’t you made a clone of me yet? This is fake news! Sad! Enemy of the People!”

At that, the wee founders bounded acrobatically across the stage, forming a pyramid atop which, on the shoulders of little giants, stood Tiny Thomas Jefferson his index finger extended.

“You, sir, are an abomination of the office which you hold! There was a clear reason why we put the First Amendment first, sir, and it was to prevent precisely this kind of tyrannical ballyhoo! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Then Tiny James Madison and Tiny Thomas Jefferson switched places atop the pyramid, and Madison said, “We fought hard to create a government that balanced Federalism with Statehood in the hopes that there would never be another sycophancy-hungry despot in our society. That you crave the fealty of kings, and that so many of this varied lot supports your dismantling of all we built… is disgusting.”

Then Benjamin Franklin chimed in, “We’ve been reading a lot about what’s going on right now on your inter-net, and, honestly, fuck this noise. This isn’t leadership, it’s opportunism exploiting fear. I’m going to France. Get it together, dipshits.”

Then Tiny George Washington stood tall and said, “I cannot tell a lie. This is the most abominable bastardization of our wishes imaginable. Sure… we were all white men of means, but we wrote down some really egalitarian ideas because we wanted to create something better! I implore you all to reconsider the path of vice and megalomania on which you walk. You are, first and foremost, servants of the people of this nation… and nothing more.”

The crowd clamored and gasped. The President tweeted furiously. The Founders climbed down from their pyramid, looked out at the chamber and shook their heads. All could hear Tiny Benjamin Franklin exclaim, “Barf!” as the mini Founders filed out of the assembly into the city they dreamt, the country they tried to establish. Tim Snedecker uttered a hopeful “The Founders have spoken. Thank you” into the podium mic and then followed his clones out.