Double Vision

I haven't forgotten about my last post. I'm still working on it. But I wanted my reader(s)(??) to not feel too left out.
Fair's fair, this isn't a new piece: It was a writing assignment from College. I had to write a story in under two pages. So it's brief, and maybe a bit confusing. But I like it. And I wanted to post it online. So there.

CmP

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Can you kill a man who is your double? I mean your exact clone, a genetic duplicate to the minutest atom. Or is killing him essentially suicide? Can you live with yourself after killing yourself?

I came across the man while waiting for my shuttle to arrive. It was just me, a newspaper, and a perspiring bottle of tonic water, all alone amidst the crowds in Grand Central Station. He approached my table with a folded newspaper under one arm and a bottle of soda in his hand.

“Interesting that I should meet my double here, alone, amongst the maddening crowd,” he pulled a chair and sat across from me.

The headline of the paper read: NATIONAL ORGAN BANK RANSACKED: CLONES AT LARGE. Of course, I was a member of the Bank. Who wasn’t? Deposit DNA and have any organ always at the ready and in pristine condition. The organs are brought to term within a perfect clone that ages at the same rate as the person depositing. But, I had often wondered, were the clones unaware that they were simply medical fodder?

“I’m out. We’re all out. We broke free, tired of being cooped up, waiting for all of you to need all of us. We’re all out now. Things will change. I’d rather appreciate trying my hand at your life, or my life. I feel that I deserve a go,” A fizz of carbonation rose as he cracked the seal on his beverage.

How had he found me? Was there an inert connection between us? Did we share more than just DNA? It occurred to me: Was this a passive meeting or a showdown? Were these confrontations happening between Clones and Originals everywhere?
I looked into the station’s crowd, peering for pairs, examples of double vision. They were everywhere! Nearly everyone in the station was confronted with a Clone.

“Wait, what do you mean you deserve this life? It’s my life. I’ve lived it, not you,” I shifted in my seat.

In a way I pitied him: He was alive, but living only to die, so that my life could be extended. But now he was free, no longer just my Clone, but his own person. It scared me, this copy of me, the thought of it living a separate life, or perhaps, as it hinted, wanted my life. And what of me? If I give him my life, where do I go?

“Imagine what it is like, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the day when you need a heart and I go under the knife. I die so you might live. What kind of life is that?” he stared directly into my eyes.

“What kind of life would you get from me? You aren’t me, you’re a copy. You exist to elongate my life. My life, not yours,” I could not hold his gaze.

“This is what it comes down to: You or me. It is the only way and it will happen with all of the Clones. We cannot share this life. You or me,” he grinned viciously.

Him or me. Can I kill myself?