"Yes, we're all clones, ok? But everybody's real nervous about it, so you gotta promise to keep it on the down low, alright?"

Anura and I are hanging out behind the pool filters in the amphibinoid dorm. Things are damp as usual.

"Why should they be nervous about it?"

"Well, even though the Clone Governance Administration is like, supposedly dismantled, there are still some hardcores still out there."

"But not at Psyhigh!"

"You'd be surprised," she says.

It's true. The world is more messed up than I pretend, I guess.

"I mean, it is a whole different lifestyle from most people," she continued. "People already think we're weird because we're amiphinoids. If they knew all the details about our reproductive cycles..."

"Ok," I ask, "but, in that tank, that was... you? A new you? You're the chosen child?"

"She's Anura 636. Just like 634 before me. We always get chosen."

"Why you?"

"Well, that part is creepy. Even to me. It's secret priest stuff."

We listen to the filters pump for little bit.

"So I get to hold you as a baby?"

"I guess so. But I get the feeling it would make your cloud dry right up."

It's true. I was hardly drizzling.

"Let's go somewhere wetter," Anura says.

So I was at the spaghetti dinner fund raiser at the amphibinoid dorm.

The spaghetti was gluten free, and instead of meatballs there were insects, but I'm ok with that. Did you know shrimp were practically insects?

But then they started their weird stuff.

"We will all now bow our heads and not open our eyes as the chosen child is paraded!"

I don't know about you but I can't keep my eyes shut at stuff like that. So, after awhile, with everybody making strange small noises I didn't understand, I crack an eye.

Everybody else has their heads down and eyes shut like they said. Everybody looking so cool with their hoods pulled up. Come to think of it I'm the only non-amphibinoid here.

Then the parade passes by. It's four amphibinoid priests carrying a tank hung on two wooden poles over their shoulders. The tank sloshes by and I see a giant tadpole with a human face on it, looking at me through the glass.

It's Anura's face.

But Anura is sitting right next to me. I turn to look at her.

She's looking right back at me. Everyone else's eyes are closed.

I was hanging out with Anura on the gardens on lower campus. It was cool but the afternoon sun was bright. Anura snuggled in close to get under my cloud.

"You know it's kind of backwards," she said.

"What is?"

"You know I really like your scattered showers. They make me feel comfortable. And moist."

"Yes, well, you are an amphibinoid."

"That's true! It's really the core of who I am, even if I don't believe in all that weird stuff."

"The rituals?"

"Um hmmm. But what I mean is that the bigger your dark cloud grows, the better it is for me. But if your cloud only grows when you're anxious, then the bigger your cloud grows, the WORSE it is for you."

"Do you mean you'd be in heaven if I had a panic attack?"

"No! Of course not. But... you see what I'm getting at."

I thought about it for a moment.

There was a tiny roll of thunder from my cloud.

Boy, talk about having a dark cloud over your head. My meteorological therapist says that one of the things that makes my cloud grow is anxiety, and that I have an imaginary perspective of what other people think of me. But what about when people are saying it out loud when they're talking about themselves in third person like they're not even students? I guess it does sound crazy when you put it like that.

So, anyway, my roommate kicked me out because I was soaking her side of the room.

But I have at least one friend who will take me in. Anura. She's an amphibinoid, and actually loves my drizzle. She lives in the amphibinoid dorm, which is semi-aquatic, so they don't even notice. And I'm used to being a little damp anyway.

Oh who am I kidding. It’s all lies. I can’t do anything with storms or weather. All that happens is this little black cloud follows me around. And rains.

“Hey! My homework is wet again. You HAVE to stay on your side of the room, ok?”

“Yes. Ok. I’m sorry.”

My last school said I was a "force of nature," and that my climate and pressure changes were "too disruptive." So they sent me to off to weather camp, to be trained in military application. But even they couldn't control me. My storm was too strong.

You might say I’m a big “force” on campus, and that I generally “blow people away.”

Whenever somebody says "make it rain," I'm like, "Yeah, I'm there. Where do you want it?"