The Mirror Man

by Jane Gilmartin

  “From what they told me this morning, that drug is a hell of a lot more precise than I ever thought it was,” he said. “Did you know it can be used to implant false memories? That’s what they did to the clone.”

  “It works differently in that scenario,” she explained. “With a physical connection everything can be recorded and manipulated as needed. The way you and I use it, it isn’t anywhere near as exact. I can control it, but not to that extent.”

  “What good is it, then?”

  “It’s extremely useful,” she said flatly. “It offers a sharing of feeling, thought processes, impulse reactions, things like that. More importantly, for our purposes, it illuminates self-perception and self-awareness. It affords me a glimpse of how you see yourself in the world.”

  Inwardly, Jeremiah began to understand how Meld could be so dangerous. It seemed like something no one ought to see.

  “How?” he asked. “I mean, how the hell does it actually do that?”

  “The science is hard to explain in laymen’s terms,” she began. “But essentially, Meld does different things to the brains of the people who take it—the Meld I take chemically stimulates mirror neurons in my brain. That’s what makes empathy possible—like when you see someone yawn and then you can’t help but yawn yourself. That’s because of mirror neurons. It gives me a picture of what’s going on in your mind and, in a way, lets me experience it.”

  “And what about the drug you give to me?” he asked. “What does that do?”

  “Among other things, it inhibits your own self-perspective. It filters out all those little lies we tell ourselves about who we are, how other people see us. It allows me to see the truth. And to some extent, it allows you to see it, too.”

  “It sounds a little invasive when you put it like that.”

  She smiled slightly. “I suppose it is,” she said. “But Meld doesn’t divulge everything. And because of the interplay between our minds, it’s never as exact as I’d like. There’s always the need for me to interpret some of what I see. If you want the more specific background, the details, sometimes simple conversation is still the best route.”

  Jeremiah had the impression that no conversation was ever simple where Natalie Young was concerned.

  “Well, there’s your specific background, then. Diana got pregnant and we got married. We were already talking about it, anyway. This sort of thing happens all the time. It’s not a big deal. Plans change.”

  “What sort of plans changed, Jeremiah?”

  “You know, just normal plans. We were going to go to London. I had an offer from a newspaper there. But it was risky with a baby on the way, you know, up and moving to another country. She got nervous. So, instead we got an apartment. I got a job on a paper here. We had to put things on hold.”

  “For a long time, it seems,” she said.

  “We have a son to raise. You make sacrifices. I don’t think that’s so hard to understand, Dr. Young. I certainly don’t think it’s a bad thing.”

  “No, of course not. On the contrary. Do you consider yourself a good father, then?”

  “Yes,” he said pointedly. “Actually, I do. I’ve been there for Parker.”

  “And is that the most important thing?” she asked. “Being there?”

  “Well, I’d say it’s a pretty damn good start. That’s what you do if you’re a father.”

  “Your own father left when you were...how old?” she asked, looking down at her notes. “Four years old?”

  The expectant look on her face gave Jeremiah the impression she was waiting for him to make some breakthrough connection about overcompensating in his role as a father. But he wasn’t going to give in to her cheap psychoanalytic tricks.

  “I guess he didn’t want to make those kinds of sacrifices,” he said. “He left my mother to do it on her own. So, I suppose, yeah, I’m one up on him.”

  “You’ve told me she was a good mother to you.”

  “She was,” he said. “She did a good job with a bad situation. But yeah, she was always a good mother. She is a good mother.”

  “And what about Diana?” she asked at last. “Has she been a good mother to Parker? Has she had to make sacrifices, too?”

  “Of course she has,” he said. “She was going to go to law school. She wanted to travel. We’ve both had to make sacrifices. That’s what you do.”

  “What else have you sacrificed?”

  “Well, for one thing, I gave up a career in journalism to work for ViMed. For God’s sake, I just had myself cloned! I’d call that a sacrifice.”

  “So, you did this for your family, then?”

  “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 k
now. 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.

  Louie knew. That dog knew in a single instant that it wasn’t his master who had just walked through the garage door. The very first real test, and it had failed utterly.

  Jeremiah said nothing. He was gripped by a sudden alarm. If that dog cost him this $10 million, he could kiss those expensive organic dog treats goodbye.

  He turned to Brent with what he hoped was an expression of casual exasperation and tried to explain it away.

  “I’m sure he was expecting Parker at the door,” he said. “That dog’s whole world revolves around Parker. He barely tolerates anyone else.”

  Brent said nothing but offered a half grin, which Jeremiah took as a good sign. He turned back to the image with some relief.

  The clone closed the door behind him, put his keys down on the counter and called to Louie without success. He then went to the refrigerator and took a bottle of water. Jeremiah noted that a different camera seemed to pick up his movements almost seamlessly as he walked through the house. There was never a time when he was out of view. Only the angles changed, blending together almost like a professionally edited film. He couldn’t understand how they did it. He watched from behind as the clone climbed the stairs and, when he reached the top, had a front view as the clone walked across the hallway into his bedroom.

  “Is there someone operating these cameras?” he asked Brent.

  “No, it’s all automatic—sensors pick up the clone’s movements and the next camera is cued from that. It’s pretty neat, huh? This is the first time I’ve seen it in action. It’s flawless.”

  He was slightly shocked when he realized that he had a clear view as the clone took off his jacket and tie in the bedroom.

  “How many cameras, exactly, are in my house?”

  “A lot,” Brent told him. “We can see him anywhere in the house and all around the property. There’s even a camera in your car and, of course, there’s a whole separate system so we can watch him at ViMed.”

  “And in the bedroom, I see.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. There’s a fail-safe installed so we won’t be able to see anything private. It will fade out if anything, you know, physical happens. And there are no cameras in the bathrooms.”

  Jeremiah was glad to know they wouldn’t be watching the bedroom, but more because of what they wouldn’t see rather than anything else. What Brent didn’t know was that Jeremiah had insisted, right at the start of this whole thing, that the clone be prohibited somehow from any physical relations with Diana. Scott had assured him it was possible with a little tweaking of the clone’s physiology, and reinforced by suggestion during the initial Meld. Sexual desire for her had simply been wiped out of the thing. As for Diana, Jeremiah doubted it would even be an issue. Those cameras would never have the need to fade out.

  “What about my family, though? I don’t really like the idea of them being watched like this. I had no idea it would be so...intrusive.”

  “The cameras are only activated by the clone, Jeremiah. It’s all done by facial recognition. State-of-the-art. No one’s going to be watching your family, except for when they’re interacting with the clon
e. That’s all we care about here.”

  Jeremiah turned his attention back to the wall where the clone was just picking up the remote control and switching on the TV. For the next few hours, they just watched as he sat there, propped up against the pillows on the bed, and channel surfed the unfamiliar landscape of afternoon television. The image on the wall was close up and six feet tall and, in the lull of any activity, Jeremiah found himself scrutinizing his own familiar face in all its uncomfortable detail. It was both fascinating and a bit unnerving. He could see every pore in his own cheeks, every unruly gray hair at the temples, every crease around his eyes, every pockmark. He noted with some dismay that his shoulders looked small and slightly hunched over. Do I look like that? He put a hand under his own chin and made a mental note to look up a suitable exercise for a saggy neck. He never realized he’d gotten so soft. At one point the clone fell asleep and Jeremiah was shocked to see his own slack-mouthed expression and hear the sound of his own snoring, which nearly drowned out the TV. How the hell did Diana ever get any sleep? Jesus!

  After a while the kitchen door opened, and the clone got up when he heard Louie’s tags jangling again in a jubilant ruckus down the stairs.

  “Parker?” he called. “Is that you?”

  “Dad? What are you doing home?”

  The clone walked down the stairs to meet the boy in the kitchen, cameras following so that Brent and Jeremiah could track his progress without interruption. Jeremiah braced himself. Would his son react the same way that Louie had? Would he know the clone wasn’t really him? This entire thing, he thought, could be all over before it even began. He might be home for dinner, after all.

  “I had a little car accident this morning. I’m fine,” the clone told Parker. “But the doctors at the hospital told me to take the day off, so I did. I’ll be back to work tomorrow, though.”

  “Whoa! You were in the hospital?”