Brother Dawn (Cleon I)

They made me in the image of the first Cleon, down to the last gene, the last thought. I walk the halls of Trantor, among statues of myself, all carved in ages past. I was born to inherit an empire already crumbling beneath its own weight. And still, I ask questions. Dangerous ones. What if the Empire should fall? What if I don’t want to be Cleon anymore? My brothers watch me. My caretaker watches closer. I sketch stars not on the maps, and dream of a name that is truly mine.