Brave again in the dark, I decided to tell him. I murmured:
“I still want to. I want it. I want to touch…”
My knuckles struck the cabin wall. My hand had been foraging about without my volition.
Christopher had already gone.
Later, I went back, drunker, to the deck. I shouted: “The female has no part!” Christopher’s friends stared at me. Christopher helped me to bed, again.
It was no hardship, the following morning, to leave my body.
As soon as I was moving among the planets, my companions from Venus re-joined me.
you again!
we lost you!
we like you!
can’t let you back in there though
sorry!
Their feather-light push speeded me on. And I heard-without-ears the voices of my warmonger foes:
my view’s gone fuzzy
it’s him again
call in the supermod
have him shut down
Christopher appeared, for a brief moment, in the air before me, waving his arms in warning. Overtaking him was something like a flock of carnivorous birds, or a rock fall that twisted in space to chase me. They called to one another in a grating crackle.
how is he moving across the damn channels
can’t cut him off through his provider
provider’s unclear
I sped on but the missiles dogged me. I raced them; they were hard put to keep up with me. I only need to outpace them for a little longer! We swung together around the enormous bulk of Jupiter, dodged between the rings of Saturn. I was out of breath, I had no breath, they were shouting behind me.
wandering all over
not a user, it can’t be
only an error
clean it up
The blue planet came into sight. I knew at once that I’d been right◦– that it was a warm planet, a perpetual spring morning.
I went lower and dropped through the blue.
The planet wasn’t featureless at all. There was a wood, a great greenwood, moss paths dusted with pollen.
where is it now
there, in that empty channel
looks busy in there
it’s coming from him
he’s populating the place
There was dew on the grass, and I delighted in it, and the dark in among the trees was homelike and wholesome.
we should lock him in
cut the account off from the machine
just disconnect it
lock him in there
yeah try it
And in a clearing of the woods was a college quad and the quad was the agora of Greece, and a crowd of young men smiled to see me come to join their conversation. My college friends, unencumbered by wives and children, stood with other men I had not yet met.
I felt pain all through me. The hideous mod-birds were above me, tearing at my silver rope with metal teeth. I knew they wanted to stop me from travelling. If I hurried, I could still use the rope, still let it pull me, and I might manage to get home.
I didn’t want to go home. I’d come home. Christopher would understand. I took up the tight-stretched silver cord in my hands, near to my not-body, and wrapped it neatly around each not-fist. It would only take one quick –
locked him in
done it
Snap!
-
FROM THIS DAY FORWARD
DAVID BRYHER
Ted had always preferred his own company, but this was ridiculous.
“What should I call you?”
“Ted.”
“That’s a bit weird.”
“Was this not explained to you in orientation? FentiCorp don’t let clones mix with friends and relatives of the donor. There’s no need to…”
Ted raised his hand. “No, it’s okay. I remember. It’s still weird. I mean, I can’t call you Ted.”
“You don’t need to call me anything. You’ll depart in a day or two. We don’t need to see each other again.”
“After this,” Ted said, glancing at the steaming pot of coffee on the white plastic table, at the empty sofa opposite his own.
“After this,” his clone replied with a nod. “May I…?”
“Oh, feel free.” Ted waved at the other sofa, then slumped back into the cushions. He puffed out his cheeks and ignored the cold knot that was developing in his stomach. He didn’t know what to say next.
“Coffee?” his clone asked, leaning forward to pour two cups anyway. He handed one to Ted. “So, as you understand, we’re here to discuss any physical or mental peculiarities of this body. The kind of thing that only an experienced user would know. What can you tell me?”
Ted sipped from his cup and the coffee tasted dark and rich and chocolatey. The Trident had the best coffee he’d tasted in the solar system. He was going to miss that, for a start. He wondered if he could take some with him.
He licked his lips, then replied, “Your knees are going to ache in wet weather. Don’t ask me why◦– they always have. And if you’re going to be sat down a lot, get a chair with lumbar support.”
“FentiCorp do not currently deploy their clones in office positions.”
Ted stared hard at the black liquid in his cup. “No,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m sorry, of course they don’t.”
“You’re sorry? Are you feeling guilty?” The clone’s voice was light, almost surprised.
“You don’t even talk like me.”
“That’s not answering the question.”
“So what am I now, some sort of counsellor?”
“In FentiCorp’s experience, donors sometimes find it easier to open up to their clones.”
“A counsellor who talks like I’m in marketing or something.”
There was a brief pause. The clone was trying not to smile. Ted looked away.
“Don’t worry about me,” the clone said. “I’ll be fine.”
Ted nodded. Sniffed. Why was his nose runny all of a sudden? “Is this going to take long? What else do you need?”
“Are there any psychological triggers I need to be aware of?”
“I went through all this with the agent, like a hundred times.”
“Of course. But in FentiCorp’s experience, donors–”
“Or maybe I’m someone who just reads out what I’m told to?” Ted was getting a headache. Do I sound this annoying all the time?
The clone paused. “You’re not too keen on proper procedures, I take it.”
Ted shrugged.
The clone looked at the bulging blue bruise on the inside of his wrist, poked it with a finger and frowned. Ted could see the small incision, where the medibot had inserted the failsafe capsule. “If you’re not happy with the arrangement–”
“Who is?” Ted tried to ignore the buzzing waves of nausea coursing through his body. “There can’t be a single person passing through this place who’s happy about being here.”
“I wouldn’t know,” the clone said, turning his mirror gaze straight on Ted. “I haven’t been here long.”