Jeremiah shook his head in an attempt to disperse the fog in his mind and felt Pike’s hand on his shoulder easing him to a more upright position in the chair. He must have fallen completely asleep under the sedative, he realized, and that possibility touched on a vague sense of worry in the back of his mind.
“It’s time to go, Mr. Adams,” Scott said. “The clone will be waking up soon and we can’t have him wake up to your face. I will take you to your new home now.”
“I just need a minute.” Jeremiah closed his eyes again and fought a sudden wave of nausea.
Charles Scott took a slight step back, afraid, no doubt, that his four-hundred-dollar shoes were at risk.
After a moment, Jeremiah stood up slowly and followed Scott down an intricate puzzle of intersecting hallways and through doors that were opened by a wave of a key card in Scott’s hand. When they finally arrived at the living quarters, Jeremiah couldn’t have retraced their steps if he tried for the entire year. At the moment, he didn’t care. His head ached and all he wanted was a place to lie down.
They entered through a nondescript door into a generous room, furnished with two light-colored leather couches, low tables and a desk in the corner outfitted with a sleek, all-glass computer terminal. Discreet overhead lighting cast everything in a pleasing glow. But despite the size and opulence, the room felt closed in. Two walls were lined with shelves of books and a third was almost entirely filled with a six-by-eight-foot screen, which, at the moment, was turned off and blank.
“That’s quite the TV,” Jeremiah said with some surprise.
“That monitor is where you will watch your clone each day, Mr. Adams. Four hours, every day, for the next 365 days. It is controlled remotely, but when not in use for its intended purpose, you can certainly watch television as you desire.”
“Bugs Bunny will look terrifying on that thing.”
“This monitor will also serve as a window to the outside, Mr. Adams,” Scott said, ignoring Jeremiah’s attempt at levity. “It can provide you with a real-time view of just about any place on Earth equipped with a camera feed.” By way of demonstration, Scott picked up the remote and revolved through vistas of an African wildlife sanctuary, an outdoor market in Amsterdam and a convenience store that could have been somewhere in Detroit.
“You’re going to be secluded within these walls for a rather long time,” he said. “We thought this technology would at least give you the illusion of more expansive surroundings.” Scott nodded toward a treadmill in the corner with a helmet-like device hanging from its handlebar. “That’s the latest in virtual reality tech,” he said. “Put that on and you’ll swear you’re walking the streets of Paris, jogging in Central Park or whatever else you’re inclined to do.”
“An exercise wheel. You equip all your lab rats like this?”
“You are not a lab rat, Mr. Adams. But surely you can appreciate the importance of maintaining your current physical condition. We can’t have you returning home suddenly twenty pounds heavier than your clone. That might raise some eyebrows. It is imperative that you and your double remain exactly that—doubles.”
“How did you get it to grow so fast? I mean, this thing is my age. You only took the cells a week ago.”
“With a bit of tweaking,” Scott said, “it appears the neuroendocrine hypothesis was essentially sound.”
Jeremiah shook his head.
“We extracted secretions from your own pituitary gland,” Scott explained. “That compound contains human growth hormone, which we then genetically hyperstimulate, at a systemic level, during cell division. The process allows us to increase the maturation rate and create a fully grown replica in about forty-eight hours.”
“You went from a couple of cells to a forty-seven-year-old human in forty-eight hours?”
“Science, Mr. Adams, is a wonderful thing. But to ensure our efforts remain intact, you will be put on a strict regimen of exercise. Dr. Pike will monitor everything with periodic visits.”
“It looks like you’ve thought of everything.”
“We want you to be comfortable here. This is your home, not a cage.”
Jeremiah noted the total lack of windows and the fact that the front door didn’t even have a doorknob.
“I’d say that depends on your vantage point,” he said.
“Seclusion is paramount to this project, Mr. Adams. We simply cannot risk any contact with the outside world.”
“Well, at least there’s the internet, I suppose. I assume the Wi-Fi is state-of-the-art down here.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Scott said. “You’ll have full access to the web. But I’m afraid there is no outgoing signal. No email or text. And no camera. You understand. You will not be able to communicate with anyone other than our immediate team.”
“Then what’s with that thing?” Jeremiah nodded toward an old-fashioned landline telephone on the desk in the corner.
“That line will connect you with an administrative assistant on the project,” Scott told him. “You can use it to make any requests for specific foods, personal necessities and so forth. Or in the case of an emergency, of course. But we don’t foresee anything like that. You will be well looked after during your time here.”
To Jeremiah’s ears, Scott’s words sounded more like warning than solace.
“Looked after? Do you mean you’ll be watching me, Dr. Scott? Will I be monitored in here?”
“Monitored, yes, but we won’t be spying on you,” Scott said. His expression reflected bewildered affront. “Besides, we have no need for anything like that. Brent Higgins will be here with you for a good part of every day, and he reports to me. You’ll also have regular psychological sessions with Dr. Young throughout the process. We’ll be keeping track of your exercise, food intake, sleep patterns, that sort of thing—but we have no need to do anything quite so covert. We’re scientists, not secret agents. You don’t need to be suspicious.”
It wasn’t suspicion so much as it was amazement that he had been selected at all. He still had no idea why they’d chosen him for this role. There must have been better candidates than him. Someone younger, stronger, better connected. Scott’s only explanation was that he’d been “vetted” by those involved and had proven he could be trusted and was loyal to ViMed interests.
“We tested you repeatedly to see how you’d react,” he’d said, “and every single time you protected the company. Even when people started dying. You toed the line, Mr. Adams. You soldiered on.”
The explanation, like much of what Scott had to say, had sounded to Jeremiah like a veiled threat. And it didn’t answer his questions. Of course he’d protected the company. That was his job. That’s why ViMed paid him. From the very beginning, he’d had the feeling that all of this had been decided without him, a long time ago. But he was content with the fact that they’d selected him, no matter their reasons. It was an opportunity beyond anything he’d ever expected.