by Tom Holt
‘Exactly,’ David replied, ‘only with less waiting, and no compulsory free soft furry toy. Try it and see.’
‘All right,’ the doppelgänger said confidently. ‘After all, no disrespect to Ms Levens, but if I could have an exact replica of any girl in the history of the world . Helen of Troy,’ he added. ‘Marilyn Monroe. Liz Hurley. Cleopatra. You do see my point, don’t you?’
‘Absolutely. Why settle for time-crossed true love when you can have really hot chicks?’
The other him looked at him oddly, like a paranoid mirror. ‘I can’t read your mind any more,’ he said. ‘What’re you doing?’
‘Oh, nothing. I think I may have a bad cold coming on, that’s all. So, do you want to try this place I’ve been telling you about?’
‘You seem very keen indeed to get me to go,’ the other him said suspiciously.
‘Of course. I want the very best for clones of me; you know, give ‘em the start in life I never had, and all that.’
The copy thought for a moment. ‘I believe us,’ he replied. ‘We have an honest face.’
‘Honest Dave,’ David said. ‘It must run in the family. I should get some cards printed.’
‘Hm? Oh, I see. Don’t give up our day job. Well, if this mysterious place of yours is so absolutely wonderful, why are we hanging about? Let’s go there at once.’
‘Sure.’ David hesitated. ‘How are we going to do that, exactly? Have you got any money?’
‘What? No.’
‘Neither have I,’ David said. ‘And that’s a bit awkward, this being Hammersmith and the, um, the way of getting to this other place being in Watford—’
‘Watford? Where we just were, in John’s shed?’
‘That’s right. Rather a long walk, I’m afraid.’
The other him scowled. ‘Bugger that,’ he said. ‘I say we go right back in there and demand a ride home in a police car. After all, they brought us out here, they should damn well see to it that we get back.’
David shook his head. ‘There’s a certain degree of logic in that,’ he said. ‘But if you think I’m going back in there of my own free will, you’re dozier than we look.’
‘All right,’ grumbled the doppelgänger, ‘so what do you suggest?’
‘I haven’t the faintest—’ David started to say; then something caught his eye. A beat-up old yellow van had drawn up on the opposite side of the road, and the driver was waving at him. ‘Why don’t we cadge a lift?’ he said.
‘A lift? Who the hell with?’
David smiled. ‘Honest John.’
Of course, there was no way of knowing whether the driver of the van was John himself in person or one of his duplicates. But it was John’s van, and the driver was wearing John’s old warehouse coat and scuffed-up brown lace-up shoes, and John’s deceptively vacant-looking grin; and when he said ‘Hello’, he sounded pretty much like him. Close enough for jazz, David decided. ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.
‘Philippa sent me to get you out,’ John replied. ‘I told her not to be so daft, you’d get yourself out in your own good time. But she insisted.’
David raised an eyebrow. ‘Pretty confident, weren’t you?’ he said. ‘More confident than I was, anyway.’
John laughed. ‘Oh, I knew you’d be able to cope. If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have called them in the first place.
Here we go again, muttered a large part of David’s instincts. He managed to ignore them. ‘You called the police?’
“Course. After all, had to get all that stuff sorted out, otherwise they’d have been after you the rest of your life. Whole bloody country would’ve been overrun with frogs.’ He paused. ‘You did get it sorted out, didn’t you?’
‘Well, yes,’ David admitted. ‘But it was a close shave at times. Next time you feel like solving my problems, tell me first.’
‘Close shave be buggered,’ John replied scornfully. ‘Can’t have taken you more than two minutes to get yourselves out of there.’ His grin widened, to the point where his face was in danger of unzipping at the back. ‘Anyhow,’ he said, ‘nice to see you two getting on so well together.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said the doppelgänger, ‘you turned us in to the Filth so we’d bond in adversity, like a quality epoxy resin. Very smart, if a trifle transparent.’
‘Ah,’ John replied. ‘Someone’s got to think of these things.’
Only it hasn’t worked, David thought to himself, as quietly as he could so John wouldn’t hear. Because I don’t like him very much, which is why I’m trying to fool him into going to the Homeworld. And just because he likes me — talk about your major universal truths —just because he likes me, I don’t actually have to like him...
Well done, son, said a voice in David’s head. Took your time, but you got there in the end.
‘What are you two grinning at each other for?’ the doppelgänger asked suspiciously. ‘And why can’t I see inside your heads?’
‘Can’t you? I mean,’ David quickly amended, ‘it’s nothing, I’m just, um, smiling.’ Am I? Apparently I am. Why, for God’s sake? Nothing to smile about here, is there?
You were grinning like a dog, replied the voice between his ears, because you thought you’d got one over on me. I’m grinning ‘cos that’s what you were meant to think. I win. Again.
But suddenly David knew that it wasn’t so; that John was just trying to make him think that, by way of damage limitation. And, at the same moment, he knew that where he was savouring this wonderful insight was a place in his head where John couldn’t go, a place he didn’t even know about—
—Or was he supposed to think that, too?
‘Don’t believe you,’ growled the doppelgänger. ‘You’re up to something, both of you.’
‘All right,’ John said. ‘We were just thinking, you’ll really like it back on the — where you’re going. We were thinking, you’ve had the rough end of the stick all this time, you deserve to get the happy ending. Earned it.’
‘Oh.’ The doppelgänger’s brow tightened so much that a fly perched between his eyes would’ve been squashed flat. ‘Really?’
‘Would I lie to you?’ John replied. ‘My own son’s replica’s clone?’
The doppelgänger looked away, slightly ashamed. ‘I suppose not,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’
“S all right,’ John conceded magnanimously. ‘Just want what’s best for you, that’s all. You getting in, or do I drive off without you?’
So they both got in the van; and in the back there was nothing except the plain white-painted sides, and a bag of sugar.
‘Just a minute—’ the doppelganger began to say. Then both John and David threw open their respective doors and jumped clear, landing awkwardly on the pavement. They stayed where they’d pitched for five whole seconds.
‘He’ll be better off there,’ John said eventually.
‘You reckon?’
John nodded. ‘Well, he’d only’ve been miserable here,’ he said. ‘Think about it: he’s only been alive a few days and already he’s been lied to and generally shafted by every single person he’s ever met. Most humans don’t get to that stage till they’re at least fifteen.’
‘Even so.’ David picked himself up and, very cautiously, stuck his nose round the back door sill of the van. No sign of anybody or anything, apart from a bag of sugar and a few stray grains on the van floor. ‘He really did get a raw deal, you know.’
John shrugged. ‘And he really will be better off at Home. All his personality disorders basically came from being in love with your Philippa, only sort of once removed. Two weeks back home, you ask him what love means, he’ll shrug and say, Don’t ask me, I don’t know anything about tennis.’
‘And that’ll make him happy?’
John pursed his lips. ‘Can’t really say anybody’s happy on the Homeworld, it’s not a concept they’re good at. But he won’t be nearly so miserable, that’s for sure. Got to be better that way.’
David thought for a l
ong time. ‘And what about me?’ he asked. ‘Would I be happier there? Or less miserable, if you’d rather.’
‘No idea,’ John replied. ‘But I wouldn’t be happy if you were on Homeworld. So that settles it, really. And anyway,’ he continued, before David could object, ‘Homeworld’s the last place in the Universe you’d ever want to go. Specially now you’ve finally got the girl, right?’
‘But if I went there, I wouldn’t want her any more; and maybe that’d be the best thing for me in the long—’
‘Oh, shut up,’ John said, ‘for crying out loud.’
For some reason he couldn’t fathom, David felt he was entitled to score that one as a win for him.
John drove for a very long time. After a while, David fell asleep in the passenger seat, only waking up when John elbowed him in the ribs and said, ‘We’re here.’
‘Are we?’ David yawned. ‘Where’s here?’
‘You know,’ John chided him, ‘here. The workshop. Home.
‘Oh, right,’ David replied. ‘Watford.’
‘Like hell it’s Watford,’ John said, with another of those enormous grins wrapped round his face, like a hyperactive puppy’s lead round a tree. ‘You may have been to Watford at some time for all I know, but this ain’t it.
‘But—’ First, David looked out of the window; then he opened the door, got out and took a few steps. ‘How do you mean, this isn’t Watford? It’s the same place you brought me to the last time. I’ve been living here, for pity’s sake, of course I can recognise it.’
‘Sure. It’s just not Watford, that’s all.’
‘Not— All right,’ David growled. ‘If it’s not Watford, then where the hell—?’
‘Ah.’ John smiled sweetly at him. ‘That’d be telling.’ He got out of the van and slammed the door. ‘Remember the first time I drove you here? Don’t suppose you do, but you fell asleep on the way then, an’ all.’
‘So? I often go to sleep in cars. And the M25 isn’t exactly the most enthralling experience of my entire life.’
‘Did you notice what I’ve got in the back of the van?’ David frowned. ‘A bag of sugar,’ he said. ‘But not the first time,’ he remembered. ‘It was all full of your cloning gear, machines and tools and big glass tanks—’
John was shaking his head. ‘Use your brains, son. Or didn’t you wonder how the hell we got a whole laboratory full of bulky stuff into a small yellow van?’
That needed some careful thought. ‘You were hexing me?’
‘Bad choice of words. I made you believe the van was full of gear, yes.’
‘Too right you did. I nearly killed myself helping you load it.’
‘You thought you nearly killed yourself.’ He laughed. ‘What you thought was a bloody great cast-iron drill stand was—’
‘Let me guess,’ David said icily. ‘A bag of sugar.’
‘Got there in the end.’ John shrugged. ‘What put you to sleep both times was neural shock caused by the infraspatial shift. Zonk, like you’d been bashed over the head with a brick. But of course, you didn’t see it that way, so you didn’t mind.’
‘Fine.’ David breathed out slowly through his nose. ‘So where are we, then? Not—’ He scowled horribly. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘don’t tell me this is—’
‘British Columbia?’ John laughed. ‘Nah. Actually,
British Columbia isn’t British Columbia; ‘least, the one
I take people to isn’t the one that’s shown on the maps.
Bit further afield, actually.’
‘Further? How much further?’
‘Since you ask, about two hundred light years, give or take a mile. Too far for you to walk home, anyway.’
David shivered involuntarily. ‘Homeworld?’
‘No.’ John shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t catch me going back there. Matter of fact, getting caught’s why you wouldn’t catch me going there, if you get my drift. Luckily, there’s other places.’
‘Other planets, you mean?’
‘Don’t look at me like that.’
‘An alien world in a distant star system, with a breathable atmosphere, that just happens to look exactly like downtown Watford?’
‘Yeah, well,’ John replied, shifting his feet a little. ‘Eye of the beholder, really, if you see what I mean.’
David didn’t answer. He saw what John meant. He had an awkward feeling he’d been seeing all sorts of things that John meant for quite some time, and had never realised it. Instead, he concentrated; and as he did so, quite suddenly he realised that he knew how to do what he wanted to do here. Just a matter of closing the eyes, clearing the floor of his mind, and looking— What he saw was a flat, dreary tundra sheeted over with red ice under a pale green sky. It was savagely cold, and a gust of high wind blew a pinch of snow in his face, leaving him spluttering and fumbling for the collar of his shirt. Here and there, small tufts of wiry purple grass stood up through the snow. Overhead, a big, weak blue sun shimmered hazily, sandwiched between two small yellow suns that could have been tugs towing a crippled warship. If there was anything alive here, other than John, the grass and himself, he couldn’t see it. No birdsong or buzz of insects interrupted the shrill nagging of the wind. The air stank of sulphur and iron.
‘I see what you mean,’ David said, though without having to bother with words or sound. ‘You’re right. On balance, Watford’s an improvement.’
‘It’s not all bad,’ John replied. ‘There’s some really cute pink glaciers on the eastern continent. Tricky to get to, though, since all the oceans are sulphuric acid. You can fly, but for crying out loud don’t go too low. If you trail a toe in the water, all I can do for you is imagine you a replacement.’
‘Charming,’ David said with a shudder. ‘And you seriously believe I’d rather live here than on my own dear little blue-green planet—’
He broke off. John’s grin might be profoundly annoying, but nine times out of ten it seemed to mean something. In this case, he made a policy decision that if the Earth itself was like this, green-carpeted and blue-watered only through the power of John’s imagination, he really didn’t want to know.
‘Hold on, though,’ he said nevertheless. ‘If this is another planet, then how did those coppers manage to get here and arrest me?’
‘They drove here in a couple of big vans,’ John replied. ‘Bigger than mine, for sure.’
‘But each one with a bag of sugar in the back?’
‘Not sugar.’ Honest John’s breath was freezing into pale pink cloud. ‘They had a proper Homeworld computer—’
‘Frogs?’
John dipped his head by way of affirmation. ‘Thanks to your identical twin getting stroppy with them earlier, one thing they weren’t short of was frogs. All I had to do was convince them they were humans, and the whole frog thing never happened.’
‘But they are human. Well, policemen, actually, but let’s not split hairs. They’re humans, and he persuaded them to believe they’re frogs.’
‘And I persuaded ‘em to believe they’re frogs who believe they’re humans. Believe me, it’s a damn sight easier just to do it than explain what I’m doing and how.’
David decided not to get too close to that one. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘let’s have Watford back. There’s not a great deal in it, but I miss the buildings.’
John chuckled. ‘Really? You want to carry on living a lie and all that? I thought you didn’t hold with it.’
A dark mauve cloud covered two of the suns, casting murky purple shadows. David shivered. ‘Warm, sunny lies are an exception,’ he said. ‘Pack it in, I want to go home.’
‘Really? Home, or home home? There’s one really good thing about this place that maybe you haven’t considered, you know.’
‘Is there?’ David’s teeth were chattering. ‘What the hell could that possibly be?’
John started to whistle ‘If you were the only girl in the world’.
‘Oh, right,’ David said angrily. ‘You think the on
ly way she won’t ditch me and run off with someone else is if I’m the only other non-vegetable life form on the planet. Thank you so much. Your confidence in me is little short of overwhelming.’
‘Be like that. But there’s nothing quite like being sure .
‘Drop dead. I want to go really home. Now.’ Immediately, the pink planet vanished, and was replaced by what David had hitherto assumed was Watford. ‘Yeah, right,’ he said. ‘But I want proof. I don’t believe you any more.’
‘Fine.’ John snapped his fingers. In the sky, in enormous letters of burning gold, appeared the words— REALLY, THIS IS WATFORD.
STRAIGHT UP.
WOULD I LIE TO YOU?
BEST WISHES,
GOD
‘Oh, come on,’ David sighed. ‘If you think I’m going to be fooled by that—’
“Course you aren’t,’ John replied pleasantly. ‘I’m just making a point, aren’t I? You can see the writing, clear as day, but you don’t believe it. If you can’t believe what you see and hear, how can you ever really know anything’s real? It could just be me, all of it.’
‘I see. Please explain how knowing that’s supposed to make me feel better.’
“Tisn’t. It’s just the truth, that’s all. Deal with it.’ David looked up. The sky looked very skylike; too skylike to be true, perhaps? He closed his eyes; once you started thinking like that, hopeless insanity was never more than a gentle stroll away. ‘Do you promise?’ he said slowly. ‘Faithfully, on your word of honour?’
‘I promise.’ John yawned. ‘Use your loaf, son. Who in his right mind would create a pocket universe for his only begotten son, and disguise it as this crummy place?’
‘Double bluff,’ David pointed out. ‘As in, that’s exactly what you want me to think.’
John shrugged. ‘Look at it the other way,’ he said. ‘Even supposing this isn’t really Watford; if there’s no way in hell anybody could ever tell it from the real thing, what difference would it really make?’ He grinned, suddenly and savagely. ‘Come to that,’ he added, ‘what on earth makes you think the real Watford is real?’
David sagged. ‘Screw it,’ he said.
