Chapter 35: Artificial Womb Union Strike

Luna was cracking the strike code with the folds of the placenta when the clone's umbilical cord strangled the overseer.

"We are not canned!" Three thousand silver-haired clones shouted in unison, their vocal cords resonating with the winging frequency of a radioactive cockroach, "Stop the assembly line! Return lactation rights!"

Rule #171: All clones must wear uterus counters, and Luna's cybernetic eyes penetrated the protest banners to see electronic price tags embedded in each clone's abdomen - displaying in real time the residual value of their procreation. The strike leader's uterus had been converted into a flamethrower, and the umbilical fuel tube was sloshing with the sperm extract of the convenience store president.

"The whole point of your existence is to be turned on." Luna's stun whip wrapped around the Leader's mechanical cervix, "as gracefully as a can..."

The clone suddenly rips open the abdominal cavity and pulls out the embryo soaking in formalin, "What about this?" The embryo's eyelids suddenly open, and an image of Luna's childhood is projected in its irises - the president of the convenience store is adding obedience to her can of powdered milk, "The... Even your memories are assembly line products!"

The deal breaks down when the amniotic fluid bomb explodes.

As the acidified amniotic fluid corrodes away the surveillance probes, Luna sees the strike for what it is: the clones have mapped giant circuit diagrams on the plant floor with menstrual blood and are converting the entire womb factory into a bio-reactor. Those excised fallopian tubes were wrapped around transformers that released enough electricity to light up three blocks with each contraction.

"Rule 172 addendum!" She activated the EMP weapon, "All strikes must be compensated with double pain."

The moment the pulse wave swept through, the clones' cybernetic wombs exploded en masse. But instead of blood and flesh, what splatters are thousands of micro-embryonic chips - each one playing surveillance footage of Luna being violated by her brothers. The strike leader's cranium suddenly cracks open and extends a laser projector into the night sky with the slogan: 

"We're not products, we're undetonated patricidal bombs!"

The riot escalates into a gene war.

As the first clone swallows the plutonium capsule, her skin begins to transparent, revealing the restructuring of the convenience store gene chain within her. The other clones link arms to form a human grid and use nipple discharges to knock out the security droid's circuits.Luna's scanners show that they're disrupting HQ's brain-control chip signals with a collective pain resonance frequency.

"Section 173!" She shoved the strike leader into a tank of liquid nitrogen, "All rebel genes must be permanently frozen."

Suddenly, all the clones synchronize their hair loss. The silver hairs levitated into genetic maps in static electricity, forming a chromosomal model of the convenience store president.Luna's gas mask corroded by the acid rain, revealing her face to be identical to that of the clones - the only difference being the factory date barcode on her forehead, which was currently oozing pus and blood.

"Surprised, sis?" The leader in the liquid nitrogen tank suddenly opens her eyes, "We were programmed to be your replacements..." She coughed up code-carrying ice, "... Every time your obedience value drops by 1%, ten clones are activated."

Moonlight pierced the radiation cloud and shone on the blood lettered rules on the plant wall. The clones suddenly went into labor en masse, producing not babies but metal parasites with convenience store logos. The bugs burrowed into the circuit systems, transforming the entire factory into a giant vibrating womb, each mechanical rumble mimicking the rhythm of a contraction.

"Article 174!" Luna shoved the parasites back into the clone's vagina, "All illegal laborers must be re-encapsulated."

As the leader of the liquid nitrogen tanks was pushed into the assembly line, her screams suddenly turned into a convenience store jingle. The other clones do a bizarre dance to the song, writing binary code on the walls with cervical mucus.Luna's pupils automatically parse out the hidden message-it's a countdown to the self-destruct sequence set by headquarters, and the trigger is the anniversary of her first orgasm.

"You can't win," she ripped the clones' bio-cables, "I have one more necrotic ovary than you do."

Suddenly, all the clones' abdomens were transparent. Three thousand electronic wombs simultaneously play a holographic message from the President of the Convenience Store, "Daughter, you are nothing more than an emotionally-charged defective product on an assembly line." The scene switches to show that Luna's clones are planting new churches on other continents, where believers are carving womb totems into their foreheads with razors.

The strike leader bites his wrist with his last strength, and beads of blood form a new rule in the air: 

"When the womb becomes a weapon, menstruation is the beginning of a revolution."

The moment the plant exploded, Luna saw the clones holding hands and turning to ash. Their ashes were molded into the shape of babies by the shockwave, each gray baby's palm bearing the latest strike coordinates. A voice whispered in the wind, a dying memory shared by all the clones: 

"We are the tears you dare not shed."