“In a way, I suppose so. The money they’re paying me for this will solve a lot of problems.”
“I wasn’t aware you had financial troubles.”
“We don’t. That’s not what I mean.” He tried not to raise his voice, but it was getting more difficult. It seemed like she took everything he said and turned it around to imply something else. He hated talking to her.
“What sort of problems will the money solve?”
“A lot of things. We can travel now. If Diana wants to go to Europe we can just go. We can take Parker with us as soon as he graduates. If that can make her happy, we can do it now.”
“So, she’s unhappy?”
He could feel his face getting hot. How much had Natalie Young learned from him when they took the Meld? She seemed to be dancing around the edges of Diana’s affair, trying to move him toward the topic. That was off-limits. He didn’t have the strength to discuss it with his own wife. He certainly wouldn’t drag it into this experiment. It had nothing to do with anything, as far as he was concerned. So, whether she knew about it or not, he wouldn’t discuss it with Natalie Young.
“I never said my wife is unhappy,” he told her with what he hoped was some level of finality.
“Are you happy, Jeremiah?”
“Yes,” he said flatly. “Perfectly happy.”
“Okay, then,” she said after a pensive moment. “Why don’t we leave off for now. I’ll see you in a couple of days in my office.”
“I’m counting the minutes,” he told her.
Chapter 4
Just before one o’clock that afternoon, Brent Higgins let himself into Jeremiah’s living room with an almost simultaneous knock. Jeremiah began to wonder why they’d equipped him with a door at all. Everyone seemed to waltz in exactly as they pleased.
Brent was nothing like what Jeremiah had expected. He looked to be about twenty-five years old, half the age of anyone else on the team, and was dressed casually, in jeans and sneakers. His red hair was in need of cutting and he sported a close-cropped beard, a shade darker, that was an oddly complicated thing: a sizable bare spot smack on the ball of his chin gave the impression of a pair of sideburns that had migrated down his face in an attempt to sneak away. Brent flashed an easy smile at Jeremiah and held his hand out by way of introduction.
“It’s great to finally meet you in person, Jeremiah,” he said. “I’m Brent Higgins. You and I are going to be spending a lot of time together over the next twelve months. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Likewise, Mr. Higgins,” he said.
“Might as well call me Brent.”
“Might as well. And you’ve already decided, apparently, to call me Jeremiah. So, Brent, do we begin today, you and I? Now?”
“We’re scheduled for our first viewing shortly,” he said. “They’ve discharged the clone from the hospital, and we’ll pick him up when he gets home. The monitor will go on when it’s time. I thought I’d come a little early so we could get acquainted, go over the basics and all.”
“Great. Can I get you anything? Coffee? They got the beer you asked for. It’s in the fridge.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I hope you don’t mind. It’s not for when I’m on duty, you know. But as I understand it, we’ll have a bit of downtime. I’m here for six hours every day. Dr. Scott is fine with it, but if you have a problem, that’s okay.”
“It’s no problem. So, the basics? Don’t we just watch the clone together? Is there more to it?”
Brent went to a closet near the kitchen and took out a white lab coat, which he donned over his T-shirt.
“A little,” Brent said. “As you know, we will be watching the monitor for a different four-hour period each day. I’m basically here to observe your reactions to the viewing and note any relevant changes in your reactions. Pretty straightforward, really.”
“That’s nice work if you can get it.”
“Actually, it’s a fairly critical aspect of this whole experiment,” he said, a hint of injury in his expression. “After all, Jeremiah, the point of the whole thing is to watch you as you’re watching your clone. You know, to gauge whether it’s an exact duplicate in thought and action. You’re the expert on that. It’s key. I mean, it’s one thing if it can convince the people on the outside. It’s another thing if it can convince you.”
“Of course. Sorry. I didn’t mean any offense.”
“None taken,” he said. “Anyway, the point is, part of my job is getting to know you on a more personal level. I need to do that if I’m going to be able to accurately assess your responses to the clone.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“So, essentially, we’ll be watching together, and I’ll follow up each viewing with a series of questions for you. Once those answers are put into the system, we’ll get the schedule for the next day’s viewing. The exact times are selected randomly.” Brent took a seat on one of the couches and opened up his laptop. The monitor on the wall went on almost at the same instant, so that anyone watching might have been forgiven for thinking Brent Higgins had turned it on with his own computer.
“Time to get to work,” he said to Jeremiah, and motioned for him to have a seat.
On the wall, Jeremiah watched as the image of an unfamiliar car pulling into his garage snapped into focus. It must have been a rental, he thought, and he wondered about the condition of his own car. He was watching from an angle near the back wall of his garage as the car pulled in and the taillights flicked off. A moment later, the clone stepped out, dressed in exactly the same suit Jeremiah had on that very moment, the only difference being that Jeremiah didn’t have his shoes on. Seeing his replica in his own home like that was jarring, and he felt a sudden stab of finality. This is really happening, he thought. He’s there. He’s up and walking and he’s going into my house.
As the clone opened the door into the kitchen, the scene changed suddenly so they were viewing the clone head-on, from a camera located somewhere just above the refrigerator, Jeremiah guessed. When, he wondered with some concern, had they put all of this monitoring equipment up in his house? And how could they have done it without his knowledge?
It was just before two o’clock in the afternoon. Jeremiah wasn’t usually home at that time of day. Parker would be at school for another two hours, and Diana was evidently still at work, though he half expected her to be home after she’d heard about his car accident. Maybe the clone had downplayed it, he thought. He would have.
He heard the familiar jangle of Louie’s tags as the dog came rambling down the stairs and into the kitchen, eager to greet him and, no doubt, excited by the unusual timing. Typically, when Jeremiah came home at the end of the day, Louie was already waiting by the door, anticipating his arrival by way of some canine radar. Diana found it uncanny the way he sat there even before Jeremiah’s car pulled into the garage. “It’s like he’s got you on GPS or something,” she’d said. Jeremiah watched and felt his own muscles tighten as he waited for his dog’s usual greeting, which involved jumping up and putting both paws hard on Jeremiah’s chest and licking his cheek. But today Louie stopped as soon as he turned the corner into the kitchen, his claws scraping against the floor as he slid to a halt and eyed the clone with a slight twist of the head, as though he had a question. This was more than just the odd timing throwing the dog off, Jeremiah thought. It was a look he’d seen in Louie before. The dog was hovering, torn between aggression and friendly greeting, the way he acted when Jeremiah would allow the pizza guy—an unwelcome stranger in Louie’s mind—right into the kitchen. To Jeremiah’s astonishment, at the first sight of the clone, Louie stood still, lowered his head and growled, just a little, while his eyes and his other canine senses fought for some sense of resolution. His tail wagged tentatively while his ears twitched in alert. The clone took a step forward, leaning down, hand out in invitation, but the dog wouldn’t even come in for a quick sniff. Finally, after a moment, Louie retreated backward and went back up the stairs. He was definitely frightened.