by Todd Young
“What are you two smiling at?” Creig said.
Riley jolted. He swallowed a mouthful awkwardly. “It’s a twin thing,” he said. But it was a stupid thing to have said, and would most likely leave Creig feeling left out. He felt contrite, and ducked his head.
Creig nodded, watching him carefully. Something dark passed over his brow. He turned back to his meal. Riley glanced at Theo again. He had his eyes lowered, and had shifted, revealing his right nipple at the edge of the bib. Riley wondered what it would feel like to suck it, and then pictured Theo sucking his nipples as he lay on his back, running his fingers through his hair. His cock began to swell. He cleared his throat, and glanced at the ceiling.
They ate ice cream for dessert, vanilla ice cream with malted milk powder. Creig said he’d get it, and disappeared into the kitchen. Riley asked Theo if he was okay, and he said sure. Riley nodded. For some reason he felt shy now, and very odd about the fact that they were duplicates of one another. It felt odd to be sitting here, across the table from one another, looking identical, with Creig in the kitchen. He was sure he liked Theo now, and that made their appearance more strange, really strange. It was almost as though they were twin brothers, and wouldn’t that make being with one another immoral?
Creig brought the ice cream in. He stood behind Theo as he served him, and again gawped down his overalls. Riley wondered how he could think it wasn’t obvious. He sat down and asked Theo about ice hockey, if he played. Theo said yes, but not very often. He said it so convincingly that it was unclear whether he was lying or not. Would he have played ice hockey at the barracks? As part of his training? It didn’t sound likely. Creig supported the Rangers. Theo said he liked them too. Then he somehow sustained a conversation with Creig about the likelihood of their being victorious this year. Creig asked if he wanted to come to a game sometime. Theo said maybe.
“Well, I’m taking a shower,” Creig said. He slapped the table with the palm of his hand, then got up and disappeared into his bedroom. He closed the door, and a moment later Riley heard water in the pipes.
He lifted his chin. “You want to help me clean up?”
Theo nodded.
They carried the plates and the bowls and the glasses into the kitchen. Riley opened the dishwasher, turned to Theo and stopped. The kitchen was small and they were suddenly close. He glanced once again at Theo’s chest, at the spotless white overalls and his taut skin beneath it. Their eyes met. Theo lifted a thumb and pressed it against Riley’s lower lip. He brushed it firmly, then put his thumb in his mouth.
“Ice cream,” he said, licking his thumb. He smiled dazzlingly, his teeth impossibly white.
Riley groaned as he reached for him. He took Theo’s face between his hands and kissed him on the lips. He’d meant to simply peck him, but as their lips folded together, he sank forward, their mouths hot. Theo gripped his wrists and drew them to his hips. His naked skin was warm, his hips as smooth as polished river stones. Then Theo’s hand was on the back of his head, his fingers entwined in his hair. He drew Riley inward and pushed forward with his tongue. The texture and taste sent a jolt through him. His body stiffened. He slid his hands onto Theo’s lower back, beneath the overalls, and let one hand slide lower, until it was sitting on the hump of his ass. He wanted to trail his fingers into his crack but didn’t dare.
Theo’s tongue rippled under his, his own sliding over it, stretching forward into his mouth. He tasted like vanilla ice cream and red wine, smelled of soap and shampoo. Riley’s cock thickened, and then hardened, trapped awkwardly downward. It jerked against Theo’s balls. Their tongues entwined. Theo drew them closer with a hand on his ass. Theo’s cock jerked against his abs, stiff beneath his overalls.
He wondered what it would feel like to touch it, to take it in his hand, to slip his hand into the front of Theo’s overalls and grip it. But then he felt darkness, and as though he was falling, as though he’d jumped from a cliff and was spinning out of control.
It was too much.
He pulled away, breathing heavily.
He stared at Theo, and again it was his face, his lowered brows, his darkened eyes. When he was younger he used to kiss his reflection. Which meant cold glass. This was better.
Theo’s face was flushed, his lips swollen, his breathing heavy, his eyes bewildered. He leaned forward, seeking Riley’s lips again.
Riley disentangled their arms and turned away. He finished stacking the dishwasher and wiped down the surfaces. Theo watched on, leaning against the kitchen cabinets. They didn’t speak, but when he’d finished, he turned to him.
“Can we kiss again?”
Riley shook his head. He walked into the bedroom. The curtains were open, so he reached to close them. As he did, the curtains in Melody’s bedroom twitched as though she’d been peeking through them. He wondered if she’d seen them kiss, though that would have been impossible. They’d been in the kitchen. Still, she could see most of the bedroom, the bed certainly. What if she’d seen Theo earlier, when he was wearing the suspenders with his underpants?
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said.
Theo was standing in the doorway. He nodded.
When he came out, the bedroom door was open and Theo was in the living room. He heard laughter, glanced out, and saw Creig in an armchair. Theo was by his feet, reclining on an elbow. They were watching 3TV, a movie by the sound of it. A comedy.
Riley sat on the bed. He was wearing a pair of the underpants he’d bought, a pair of boxer briefs with very green limes and very yellow bananas on a white background. They were a little tight, and he couldn’t really walk into the living room like this. Creig and he didn’t get around in their underwear, not bare-chested. No one did that. No one but Theo. When he heard Creig laugh again, he got up and pulled one of his old Tshirts out, a long one.
The ads were on. “What are you watching?”
“Not My Nuts,” Creig said.
He took a seat on the couch. “What’s it about?”
“There’s this guy, right. And he can inherit a fortune. But he’s second in line to it. It’s millions of dollars. At the moment, his cousin’s going to get it. Some old aunt of theirs just died. But the cousin has to prove he’s fertile — that he can carry on the family line — before he can get the money.
“Anyway, the main guy’s best friend says, ‘Well, why don’t you nut him?’ You know, like, castrate him. But make it look like an accident.
“So the main guy agrees, and his friend comes up with all these wacky schemes to nut the guy’s cousin in some accident, but every one of them backfires, and the guy ends up getting his nuts fucked with — caught in stuff and smashed and crushed and whatever about a hundred freaking times while the cousin has no idea they’re trying to get him. Just totally clueless.
“They’re out on this farm right now, and they had the cousin on this thresher, but of course it didn’t work, so the main guy straddles it — you know, to try and see why it didn’t work, dipping his nuts in there — and his friend says, “Oh, this is it!” and hits the button. The thresher started up and the main guy screamed. And then it went to the ads.”
“We’re waiting to see if he’s been totally balled,” Theo said, an excited grin on his face.
Riley nodded. He didn’t like this sort of thing. It sounded like an old movie, and he was surprised they were showing it.
The commercials ended. An image formed in front of the coffee table. A guy lying in a hospital bed, a young guy with blond hair, his legs in stirrups, held high and wide. Between his legs, nothing but a white ball of bandages, like a tennis ball.
Theo chuckled.
“Look at dat,” Creig said, making a childish face of consolation.
It was obvious he hadn’t been seriously hurt, but Riley thought of Akam and turned away. He got up and wandered back to the bedroom. He closed the door and lay on his bed with his hands behind his head. He thought of the kiss, and felt annoyed that Theo was in the living room with Creig. He want
ed to do it again, but it frightened him. Not so much the kiss, but what might happen afterward.
He reached for his tablet and opened a novel he was reading, a story about a guy who was in love with a girl he couldn’t have. It had been written in the 1950s, but he liked old novels. Most of the stuff from the degenerate years had been banned, basically everything after 1960. And the stuff published after the company came to power was simply stupid, stories about love and families and working together with friends. The girl in the story was married, and the main character had just killed her husband in a fight when the door opened and Theo walked into the room. He closed the door. Riley turned the tablet off and put it on the dresser.
“You know, you’re supposed to wear a shirt with that,” he said, gesturing at Theo’s overalls.
Theo plucked the bib and glanced at his chest. “Yeah?”
Riley nodded. “And you’re supposed to wear shoes with socks —and underpants.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“No.”
Theo grinned. He took a few paces toward the bed and then stopped. He picked one of the model cars up, a fire engine. Then he glanced at Riley sideways, his eyes on the groin of the boxer briefs. Riley tugged his T-shirt down.
“So what happened with Erran today?”
Theo shrugged. He twisted his mouth, and then said, “He’s a fuck,” staring at the fire engine and extending a ladder. “He knows I wasn’t supposed to be with the others.”
“The others?”
“That I wasn’t getting terminated.”
“How does he know that?”
“I don’t know. But he was a prick about it. He has some big secret about me.” He lifted his eyes and gazed at Riley. “What do you think that is?”
“What sort of secret?”
“Hell, I don’t know. He thinks some man wants me.”
“Some man?”
“Mmm. I don’t get it. He was treating me like I’m an idiot, but from what he said, it sounds like your father has something to do with it.”
“My father?”
Theo nodded, his expression grave. He lifted his eyebrows questioningly.
“How could my father have anything to do with it?”
“Don’t ask me. I never met him.”
“No. But if you did, you wouldn’t be worried. It couldn’t have anything to do with Marlow.”
“Well, if that’s not it, then I don’t know what it is. I’ve been turning it over, and I think Erran must be some sort of traitor. I think I should tell Akam that. I put everything he said back together again, and … well, he’s supposed to be working with Akam, right?”
“Hell, I don’t know. I guess. Didn’t he rescue you?”
“Yeah. But there’s some other story. Something else is going on. He’s making a joke of … well, I can’t explain it, but I don’t trust him. I don’t trust him at all. I think you and I should go away somewhere. Just you and me.”
Riley got up. “Theo, what are you talking about?” He took the fire engine out of his hand, looked at it for a moment, and then lifted his eyes. “You’re not making any sense. Do you know that?”
“I’ll tell you about it some other time.” He paused, glanced over Riley’s head, and then continued. “Where does your father live?”
“Lenox Hill.”
“Where’s that?”
“About ten minutes by car.”
“Can we go see him?”
“No, Theo. There’s no way we can do that.”
“Do you think there’s any reason why he might have wanted to have me made?”
“Made?”
“Created. In the first place.”
Riley shook his head, utterly bewildered. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive, Theo. He’s a nice guy. My best friend. He’d never do anything like that — create a human being, designed to go to war.”
Theo peered at him, his eyes blazing. “Yeah, but that’s just it. I wasn’t going to war. There’s some other plan. Two people have said that. I’m special, apparently. Which means you’re special.”
“Me?”
Theo nodded solemnly, and in his expression there was concern for him.
Now Riley felt afraid. “Why me?” But no sooner had he said it, than he understood. Theo was his clone. If someone had some other plan in mind for Theo, some plan different to going to war, then it most likely had something to do with him.
Theo nodded. “I’m your clone. If they made me for a reason, then that reason has to be related to why they chose your genes.”
Riley sunk to the bed. He stared down at the fire engine, and idly span its wheels. A shiver passed through him and his back spasmed. He was no one special but his father was. He worked for the CPF. Officers came to the house, reporting to his father, though exactly what he did, Riley didn’t know. Marlow had never been able to speak about it.
He pictured his father’s face. He was a big man, a gentle man with dark hair and an intelligent expression. From everything he’d ever said, he had as much disdain for the company and what it’d done to the country as Riley did. There was no possible reason why he might want to make a clone of his son. Was there? Surely not. But someone might have done it to get at him. And if they had done it, and it looked as though they had, then that had to have something to do with Riley. But what? And how would it affect him? Why would they want to clone him?
A few more moments passed and he sat on in silence, turning it over in his mind. Then he felt Theo’s hand, gently caressing his hair.
“You okay?”
Riley nodded. He lifted his face. Theo’s hand slid to his shoulder, his palm warm against his neck.
“A lot to take in?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess you don’t want to talk about the Big Bang, then? Or Days of Our Lives?”
15
Xavier Dumont was born in Canada. His parents immigrated to America when he was three years old. He had no memories of Canada, but he had relatives there. He was fifty-eight, and had been an adult throughout America’s transformation from the world’s greatest democracy to the world’s richest dictatorship.
When Anthwars Stock Holdings merged with the Berstheim Corporation in 2036 he had just turned twenty-one. It was the day after his birthday, and he was sitting at home, watching the news. It had given him a chill, and he had said to himself, “That sounds dangerous.” After following events closely for a few months, he told his friends to “expect a takeover.” They laughed at him, but nevertheless, it happened.
He had been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, was schooled at Westbrook, and afterward studied politics at Harvard. During Hendley’s term in office, he made as many contacts as he could, both at home and overseas, looking for people who might be able to help if America went the way he feared it was going. When Celia Grainger took office in 2048, he had already discovered her links to Anthwars-Berstheim, and possibly had more insight into what the plotters were doing than they did themselves.
Through careful maneuvering, and almost singlehandedly, he put together an organization dedicated to the restoration of American democracy. By the time he was in his early forties, he had a trusted coterie of agents within the United States, agents working within the State Department, in Justice, in the Interior and Defense, agents working within the CPF and the FBI, agents within the Anthwars-Berstheim corporate structure, and, perhaps more importantly, a network of contacts overseas, in the UK, Germany, France, Canada, Australia and elsewhere.
To date, his activities had gone unsuspected. The company was utterly unaware of him, and of ORAD — the Organization for the Restoration of American Democracy — which was the name he had given his outfit. In the beginning, it had been a one-man show, but ORAD had long since secured funding from overseas, and the backing of intelligence agencies in Britain, France, Germany, Australia, and Japan. He had more than seven hundred agents within the United States, and believed he
could bring down the company within the next two to three decades. It sometimes looked hopeless, but he reminded himself time and again that communism had fallen, even North Korea eventually collapsed.
The problem with Anthwars-Berstheim was that it had taken control of the legitimate democratic power structures within the country. It had not only taken the White House, the Congress and the Senate, but the courts. In addition, it had infiltrated the two major political parties to the point where they were no longer functioning as meaningful entities. It would be a long road back, but by assassinating some key figures, and mounting a carefully orchestrated campaign of public reawakening, it would happen. It was simply a matter of putting everything in place and waiting for the right time to begin.
Xavier lived with his sister in a three-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side. It had once belonged to their parents. They’d lived in it as children, but when their parents died in a boating accident, the property fell to them. Marte and he got along very well. Neither needed to work, as they had inherited a fortune, but Marte preferred to keep active at something and so had purchased a flower store in Times Square. She kept her eyes and ears open, was on the books as an ORAD agent, though in truth she put most of her energies into her store. In their youth, they had spent many nights together with their friends, at gay bars and clubs in Chelsea and the Village. But that had all stopped years ago. Which was simply one more reason to get rid of the company: its twisted moral policies.
It was Friday morning, a little after eight o’clock, and Xavier had just got off the phone to Tom, an agent of his working within the resistance. He wasn’t exactly a spy, but helped keep tabs on things from that angle. ORAD wasn’t opposed to the resistance, or to its activities, but it was difficult to take it seriously. The people involved were committed and sincere, but there was no central power structure, and no clearly thought out plan. There was no logic, as far as Xavier could see, to most of what they did. They worked in isolated units, with little interaction, and seemed to think it was enough to be simply anti-company, to rescue clones, for instance, one of their more foolhardy endeavors, and one that was now likely to cause serious problems not only for them, but for Xavier.
