“Dime, ¿el amor se clona también?” (Tell me, can love also be cloned?)

Fin. Would you like a sequel, or a version where Carmen becomes a real-life physical android?

The neon lights of Miami’s Calle Ocho flickered, but they couldn’t outshine the woman on the balcony of the Teatro Mariposa . Her name was Carmen Vega—except it wasn’t. Not really.

And Carmen La Clon, for the first time, told a story of her own. Not Lucía’s. Not OmniMedia’s. Hers.

He didn’t pull the plug. Instead, he sat down and whispered, “Cuéntame más.”