The nightmare seems to be named Dolly, after Dolly Parton-cloned from a cell removed from the udder of an adult sheep. Next come the monkeys, cloned from monkey embryo cells. Then come cries of concern, outrage, and even horror from the moral trend-setters and other pundits around the world, some professional doom-meisters, others just eager to hop on to this new bandwagon and get their names on media Rolodexes as “experts” or “opinion makers.” Books will soon follow.
My first reaction, I’m afraid, was a big yawn, and no real opinion whatsoever. I’ve been writing science fiction since I was eight years old and reading about clones for at least that long, and to my mind, riddled with imaginative scenarios, the cloning of a sheep is pretty ho-hum. Not to say it isn’t important-but it just confirms what I’ve known since my youth, that things are changing and nothing will ever be the same.
I’ve long since been immunized against future shock. I do not fear legions of marching Hitler clones, I don’t even anticipate clones of Robert Heinlein or Philip K. Dick growing up to push me out of the science fiction market. (I’ve already dealt with competition from a clone SF writer-Gregory Benford, my good friend, is twin brother to physicist James Benford.)
