The Gemini Experiment

by Brian Pinkerton

  “Dear Lord.”

  “Watch his eyes now.”

  “He’s really very handsome,” Tom said.

  The Tom replica began to move its shoulders slightly. It wavered a little bit in the chair, but caught itself from toppling.

  “It has amazing balance control,” Steven said.

  “I’m looking forward to that,” said Tom lightly under his breath.

  The replica’s eyes widened, then looked around the room. The head rotated a bit one way, then another.

  The hands curled into fists.

  The spine straightened.

  The eyes stopped roaming and locked on Tom, then Steven, then back to Tom.

  Tom heard his own voice speaking to him: “Who are you?”

  Tom began to offer his hand, then withdrew it, nervous. “My name is Tom. Who…are you?”

  The replica’s lips rippled into a smile. “Call me Charlie.”

  “Charlie?”

  “It’s a joke.”

  “Oh,” said Tom.

  “Can you stand up?” Steven requested.

  “Sure,” said the replica. For a moment, he twisted awkwardly, unsure of his coordination, and then his motion became simple and fluid. He stood up.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Tom said, cringing at the weirdness of the encounter.

  The replica’s eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled. “You,” he said. “You…sound like me.”

  Steven quickly interjected. “Tom here provided the archetype for your new, healthier body. He’s part of our team.”

  “I liked my voice better,” said the replica. “Nothing personal. This new voice sounds kind of wimpy.”

  Tom chuckled. “Doesn’t bother me. I guess I’m used to it. My wife likes it.”

  “Your wife?”

  “Emily,” Tom said. Steven shot him a quick glance as if to convey: Let’s lay off the personal details.

  Tom’s replica studied Tom.

  “It’s not just the voice,” he said.

  “Excuse me?” said Tom.

  “I look just like you.”

  Steven cocked his head, unsure of the remark. There were no mirrors in the room, a deliberate choice. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve seen my reflection,” said the replica. “In Santa’s glasses.”

  Steven tightened his grip on the remote. Louis was referring to Giamatti, who wore mirrored sunglasses with large lenses.

  “As I said,” Steven said carefully, “Tom provided his dimensions for our prototype. He has the ideal physique.”

  “Yeah,” the replica said. “Maybe.”

  “You look great,” said Tom, trying to cut past some of the awkwardness and tension.

  “Check out the texture,” Steven said, attempting to change the subject. “We mastered the body temperature. We adjusted the surface of the skin some more. Feel his hands.”

  Tom asked his replica, “May I?”

  The replica said, “I don’t care.”

  Tom stepped forward. As he did, he stumbled slightly. He grimaced and clutched his leg. “Sorry.” He took a deep breath, shook it off, and made another step forward.

  Tom reached out to his replica. As he brought his hand closer, it began to tremble, then shake more vigorously. His aim missed its mark and his hand swerved into vacant air. Tom struggled to regain control of his muscle movement. He grabbed his wrist, stuck in a bad moment, a temporary loss of control. It was the gradually increasing symptoms of his condition. His face turned red and he muttered under his breath, “Damn it.”

  “Hey,” said the replica in a low voice. “Are you sick?”

  Tom shook his head and retracted his hand. He took a step backward, stiffly, and nearly stumbled again. “No. I’m fine.…”

  At that moment, Steven lifted his arm and pointed the remote at Tom’s replica. The replica immediately picked up on the movement, head turning sharply.

  And then all hell broke loose.

  Tom’s replica lunged at Steven and swatted the remote out of his hand with lightning speed. The remote flew across the room, hit the floor and skidded beneath a large bank of computers. As Steven turned to run for the remote, the replica punched him hard in the face, sending him crashing into Tom before falling to the ground.

  Tom tried to stay on his feet and run for the door, but his legs staggered. His replica pounced on him. Tom experienced the surreal sensation of being attacked by himself, witnessing an unnatural viciousness in his own face.

  Tom’s replica threw Tom hard across the room. As Tom fell, his head struck the side of a metal cabinet. Tom sunk unconscious to the floor, blood leaking from a wound on his scalp.

  Steven hurried back to his feet and opened his mouth to cry out for help. His outburst was immediately reduced to a gasp as Tom’s replica grabbed him around the throat and squeezed.

  Louis put every ounce of his strength into strangling Steven, pinching off his oxygen with powerful, steel hands. Steven slumped unconscious.

  As Steven dropped, Louis turned to Tom, who remained motionless on the floor.

  “You’re my ticket outta here.”

  He kneeled down and quickly undressed Tom. He pulled Tom’s limp form out of his shirt and pants. Then he peeled away his own hospital garb. He got dressed in Tom’s clothes. They fit perfectly.

  Of course they would, he thought.

  Louis tossed aside Tom’s cell phone but confiscated his car keys and wallet.

  He moved over to Steven and raided his pockets. He dug out another wallet and set of car keys.

  Louis straightened up and forced himself to settle down. He dimmed the lights. It was time to leave the party.

  He exited the room and entered the main lab area, quickly closing the door behind him.

  Several members of the lab team approached him.

  “What did you think, Tom?” asked a man with narrow glasses.

  “Amazing,” Louis said. “Really amazing. I’m blown away.”

  “Two more weeks of tests, and then we should be good to get you in your shell,” said a stocky man in a white lab coat, nerd-faced with curly hair.

  “Oh, I can’t wait.” Louis walked toward the exit, trying to quicken his pace without losing his casual demeanor.

  “You can’t stay?” asked someone.

  “I want to…” Louis said. “But I have to get back.…” And then he offered the only piece of information he knew about his new persona. “I have to get back to Emily.”

  “Ah, yes,” said someone. “Don’t let her catch on.… You have to keep her in the dark a little while longer.”

  Louis absorbed the insight with interest. “Yes,” he said. “It’s been hard…keeping it a secret.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  Louis finally extracted himself from the scientists and made it to the front security desk, where he was greeted warmly.

  “I hear the experiment has been a big success,” said the guard.

  “Yes, a big success,” Louis said. “I’ll be back soon. I need to go see…Emily.”

  “I hope you can tell her soon,” the guard said. “She’s going to be so excited.”

  Louis walked into the parking lot and promptly pulled out the sets of car keys he had lifted from the two men. He pressed their buttons until a car beeped and flashed nearby.

  My ride is here.

  Louis quickly drove off in Steven’s Camry, a free man. In the car, he smirked, then broke out into guffaws. These weasel scientists thought they could use him as a lab rat and then discard him to save some pretty boy. Well, that was just dumb thinking.

  As he drove, he placed Tom Nolan’s wallet in his lap and picked through the various credit cards and forms of ID.

  Louis’s first instinct was to drive as fast and far away as possible, but as he stared at
Tom’s driver’s license, a more compelling option opened up.

  To truly disappear, Louis knew he needed money. And that meant more money than the cash in the two stolen wallets and whatever he could quickly pull from the credit cards.

  Tom Nolan’s driver’s license revealed his home address in a wealthy suburb, just twenty minutes away, where the citizens enjoyed big bank accounts and fat investment portfolios.

  For Louis’s entire life, money was a major motivator. He grew up with none and specialized in acquiring funds that belonged to others, a healthy hobby that blossomed into a winning streak of bank robberies – until that fateful day Groucho ruined everything.

  The intoxicating lure of money held a spell over Louis. Time was of the essence. The Camry’s GPS would guide him. He gunned the accelerator.…

  This new Tom Nolan had an urgent bit of business to conduct. He was going to withdraw all of his funds. Then he was going to Florida or Mexico or anywhere else that was far from here to start a new life under a new name.

  Louis had to chuckle. The turn of events was just too beautiful. From serving a life sentence in prison with stomach cancer…to becoming a healthy, highly evolved free man who might just live forever.

  Saved by a miracle. What does it mean? he wondered. There is a God? There is no God?

  Traffic was clear and Louis was making good time.

  He felt flush with a computerized ecstasy and laughed in a voice that was not his own, a funny sound that only compounded his laughter into something delirious and deranged.

  Chapter Six

  “You’re home early.”

  Emily stepped out of the kitchen to greet her husband at the front door.

  Louis stood still for a moment, checking her out, impressed. She was a slinky brunette in snug jeans and a casual button-down, collared shirt that clung to her curves quite nicely. He forced himself to stop staring and addressed the immediate matter at hand.

  “I have something I need to take care of,” he said in Tom’s voice, careful to enunciate with an upper middle-class elegance, and not his usual sloppy growl. “Where do we keep the bank statements?”

  She gave him an odd look. “In the den, where you’ve always kept them. I didn’t move anything.”

  Louis nodded. “That’s right.” He glanced around. Now where is the den?

  He headed in a direction that took him to a living room with a piano and couch, then turned to backtrack and choose another path. He knew she was staring at him.

  She asked, “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Sure, sort of, I’m fine.” Louis considered telling her he had a couple of drinks on the way home – but what if this guy was a teetotaler? He had to act fast and arouse minimal suspicion.

  “Why do you need the bank statements?”

  “Investment opportunity,” he said, and he entered a corridor that led to more rooms. He quickly found what appeared to be the family den with a big desk, bookcase and large-screen television. Children’s toys littered the floor. He immediately approached the desk, pulling open the biggest drawer.

  “Investment opportunity?” She followed him in.

  “Can you—” he started, intending to finish with go away. But that might be out of character or invite time-wasting bickering. So he concluded, “—get me a glass of water?”

  She hesitated. “Sure.” She left the room.

  He began rummaging through a series of files in the desk’s bottom drawer. Legal-looking documents. Where was the money?

  Then Louis sensed he was being watched. He turned to see a little girl standing near him with blond pigtails and big blue eyes. A small white poodle joined her.

  The little girl watched him for a moment and then said, “You’re not Daddy.”

  Louis froze and stared back.

  The poodle tensed up and started to growl.

  “Go play,” said Louis in a low, unfriendly voice, “or I’ll kick your teeth in.”

  The girl’s eyes widened and she dashed off. The dog followed her out of the room.

  In that moment, Louis realized this could end badly. For them. He might have to kill some people today. There was precious little time to conduct this job, and any interference would not be tolerated.

  The desk was not providing what he needed. “Damn it,” he growled, flipping through a sea of useless materials.

  “Why are you looking in there?” Emily asked. She entered the den with a glass of water. “The bank papers are in the cabinet in the closet.”

  He turned, looked at her, ignored the outstretched hand with the glass of water, and said, “That’s right. Of course. Memory lapse.”

  He jumped to his feet and hurried to a broad set of closet doors. Opening them, he discovered a big gray filing cabinet. He immediately tugged open the first drawer.

  “You’re walking better,” she said.

  “What?”

  “You’re moving better, without the stiffness.”

  “Oh,” he responded as he shuffled through papers. “Yes. I feel good.” Then he realized it probably wasn’t the right thing to say and augmented it with a sudden, phony twitch of pain. “Ow. Now it’s coming back. Yes. Stiff.”

  In the middle drawer, he found a lineup of financial folders.

  BANK. SAVINGS. INVESTMENTS. RETIREMENT.

  Bingo.

  He pulled one of the files and immediately scanned the numbers.

  Six figures. This family had dough. Now he had account numbers. He found a hastily scribbled password.

  “Why do you need to go through our savings? What’s this investment opportunity? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s for…medical treatment,” he said, and he found a checkbook for the savings account. Then he discovered the address for their local broker’s office and a contact name.

  Gold.

  “We need to talk about this,” Emily said, standing behind him. “This feels very rushed. We need those savings for when you can’t work any longer.”

  “Trust me,” said Louis in his best Tom Nolan voice.

  Suddenly the phone rang. Tom’s wife let out an exhale of exasperation. “I’m going to get this…but then we’re going to talk.”

  Louis nodded, tossing off his best ‘yes, dear’ response while not missing a beat seizing useful papers from the filing cabinet. Emily left the room, and Louis grumbled, “Thank God.”

  * * *

  Emily entered the kitchen. She picked up her ringing cell phone from the counter. Her head was swimming from Tom’s strange behavior and sudden preoccupation with their savings. While Tom’s body was beginning to break down, his mind had remained sharp – until now. He seemed disoriented, lost in his own home. Was it the meds? Was it part of his overall decline? Had he experienced a minor stroke?

  She answered the call with a jab of her thumb. “Hello?”

  The voice on the other end was strained and out of breath, yet instantly familiar.

  “Hi honey, it’s me. Listen, I’m going to be home a little late. I fell and hit my head. It’s going to require stitches. Don’t worry, it’s just a bump. I’ll be home in a while. I just don’t want you to worry.”

  “Tom?” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “Is this a joke?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Tom.”

  “How.… Where are you calling from?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Who are you?” she shouted in a panic.

  Abruptly a hand shot out and grabbed the phone away. It was her husband, returned from the den, standing in front of her with a crazed look on his face. “I’ll talk to him,” he said in the same voice that was on the other end of the phone.

  Emily staggered back against the sink, terrified and confused.

 
“Hello,” said the man in her kitchen, speaking into the phone. “How may I help you?”

  “Who is this?” the caller demanded.

  “Who’s on first, what’s on second, I don’t know is on third.…”

  Emily could hear the immediate shock and outburst from the caller: “Oh my God. Stay away from my family!”

  The man in her kitchen disconnected the call. Then he smashed the phone hard against the kitchen counter, where it flew apart into pieces.

  Sofi entered the kitchen, drawn by the noise, wide eyed.

  “Sofi, honey,” said Emily, trying to sound calm for the sake of her daughter. “Please leave the room. Go watch TV.”

  Sofi looked back and forth between her mom and the man standing next to her.

  “Please, Sofi.”

  “Okay, Mommy.” She left the kitchen.

  Emily stared hard at the man who appeared to be her husband. His face was now pinched and wicked in a way that did not look like Tom anymore. Who was this strange, uncanny imposter?

  “I don’t know who you are,” she said. “But please leave my house.”

  The man grinned with narrowed eyes. “That’s not a very nice way to talk to your husband.”

  “You can’t be my husband.”

  “You’re hot when you’re agitated.” He stepped forward. He pinned her against the counter. “How about some marital bliss? Daddy’s a bit worked up, if you know what I mean.”

  He moved in to cup her breast and began kissing her neck.

  Emily reached for the frying pan she had placed on the stove to start dinner. She grasped the handle and swung hard with all her might.

  She struck the man on the forehead with a loud clang and sent him reeling backward. His movements lost their coordination and he fell to the ground.

  Emily fled the room. She screamed for Sofi.

  Sofi stood in the hallway, scared and confused. Emily scooped her up and ran for the nearest room with a lock – the bathroom.

  She quickly secured them inside, just in time. The man arrived at the door and started pounding.

  The entire door shook, and Emily feared he would break through at any minute. Sofi began to cry. Emily heard their dog barking.

  “Please!” Emily screamed. “Take whatever you want! Just leave us alone!”