It began with images of death. <\/p>\n
Not from the outside\u2014like the time he had nightmares for a month after he\u2019d watched a Sudanese terrorist lob off his clone\u2019s head with a machete and it bounced off a rock into the brown sludge of the Nile. Or the time in the Khartoum market when the suicide bomb sent steel and glass and mortar through five of his clones\u2026 and three of them almost survived. The nightmares hadn\u2019t lasted as long that time; instead Billy lay awake nights worrying if he was getting too used to that kind of thing and wondering what that might mean about him. <\/p>\n
No, these images were from the inside, through his clones\u2019 eyes, evoking a different kind of terror. Some hit suddenly\u2014a bright flash of light, a burst of pain shearing mercifully off into nothing. Others took time. His heart thumping out blood like a cavitating oil pump. Trembling so hard his elbows dug into the dirt. Light slowly leeching out of his vision. Trying to scratch his nose and wondering why his hand wouldn\u2019t move, or why it was two yards away. The exact moment of death felt different every time. <\/p>\n
There was supposed to be a firewall against those images. The quantum non-locality of thought should shutter closed, the group consciousness break, before you could feel them. Yet he sank into them now as if drowning in a bottomless ocean. He could barely hear his own screams under their cold weight. <\/p>\n
Jude had warned him. \u201cI wish I knew a way around it,\u201d she said. \u201cBut once I\u2019ve injected you with the virobots all the military\u2019s programming falls apart and the shunted memories hit you hard before there\u2019s been time to cut you off from the other minds. Just remember it will end.\u201d <\/p>\n
And it did. Only after he\u2019d come to an end a hundred times. He spent the night gasping. Waves of loneliness rocked his body; he floated on them, nauseous and trembling. Jude tried to soothe him in the dark, but he wouldn\u2019t allow it. This was the kind of deep, pure loneliness that couldn\u2019t be disturbed and he resented anyone\u2019s attempt to do so\u2014especially some filthy Neo-Weather Underground hippie like Jude. <\/p>\n
In the morning things were different. He rose from the cot, pulled on his fatigues and stumbled through the camp Jude used as her lab, smelling coffee in the kitchen. The front door was open. Pouring himself a cup, he considered the silence stretching out around him in an ever expanding ring. His throat caught and tears welled in his eyes. He sipped and walked out to the narrow deck overlooking the pond. It was mid-autumn and the air was a contradicting crisp and warm. The trees down the bank had exploded in gold and umber and vermillion. <\/p>\n
Billy set his cup on the wood railing and was about to call Jude\u2019s name when he saw her at the bottom of the crooked stairs, her jeans and tie dye abandoned on the half-rotten dock. Red hair fell across her narrow back and the meat of her ass twitched slightly under those cotton panties as she stepped toward the edge. Then she slid like a pale needle into the stillness of the pond. Billy hardly heard a splash, and the golden leaves scattering the water\u2019s surface barely moved in the expanding circles where she\u2019d disappeared. <\/p>\n
Then her head broke the surface and she blew spray out her nostrils. As she dragged herself back up to the dock Billy couldn\u2019t help watching how she filled out her bra, how she quivered, and what the cold water had done to her. He watched as she wrung out her hair and dried off her thin legs with the t-shirt. Asian women and redheads, Billy always said. Always stunningly beautiful or really homely; there\u2019s no continuum. As Jude pulled worn denim up her long legs he tried to decide which of the two extremes she fell into. And reminded himself he didn\u2019t like hippies. <\/p>\n
He must have moved because she looked up, all freckles and fly away ears in a ray of sun that made it through the dappling trees. <\/p>\n
\u201cSpying on me, perv boy?\u201d she said. <\/p>\n
He watched her decide not to be offended. <\/p>\n
\u201cI swim whenever I come here no matter how cold it is.\u201d She twisted water out of her shirt and pulled it over her head. \u201cThis is one of the last almost natural places in the world. I like to appreciate it.\u201d <\/p>\n
The last place Billy remembered being was some back street in the ghettoes of Manhattan, the high levee walls looming like a dark band behind the roofs of the tenement houses. That\u2019s where Jude, masked herself, had blindfolded him, \u201cfor his own good.\u201d \u201cThey\u2019ll have clones of you tuned to your thoughts, if they don\u2019t already, Billy. You\u2019ve gone AWOL. They can\u2019t let you cut yourself out without their debriefing. That might expose you to the truth.\u201d <\/p>\n
Billy had been scared. As far as he knew the army had managed to kill his whole platoon. Still, he didn\u2019t like Jude\u2019s attitude. \u201cWhat truth?\u201d he pressed the energy of his terror into a sneer. <\/p>\n
\u201cListen, man. I can help but you\u2019ve got to trust me.\u201d <\/p>\n
Eventually, fear won out and he\u2019d put the blindfold over his head. <\/p>\n
Jude was halfway up the stairs before she looked at him again, apparently recalling his ignorance. She turned toward the pond and pointed to the arc of hills rising out of the forest. \u201cThose are the Adirondack foothills,\u201d she said. \u201cThe casino resorts on the high peaks are that way. This is one of the safest places in the world. Solid ground. Hardly any earthquakes, floods, hurricanes or\u2014\u201d <\/p>\n
She reached the deck and regarded him. \u201cFound the coffee,\u201d she said. \u201cHow you feeling?\u201d <\/p>\n
Trying to find words to describe the silence, Billy\u2019s throat ached again. \u201cHow many times have you done this?\u201d he asked. <\/p>\n
She shrugged under coils of wet hair. \u201cA couple.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cAnyone\u2026 like me?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I\u2019ve never cut anyone from your model,\u201d she said. \u201cMostly newer conglomerates, like those genetically tuned special forces units.\u201d She let out a sigh. \u201cListen, man, I hate to rush you but you\u2019ve got some choices to make.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d He slugged down more coffee. <\/p>\n
\u201cI mean now that you\u2019re free you might want to just live and let live, you know?\u00a0 Remember that anything you thought about doing before you were cut from the group consciousness could have been\u2014I mean probably was\u2014overheard by William clones working with Homeland Security.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t have to help me,\u201d Billy said. <\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not the point. I\u2019ll still help you, no matter what you decide. I just need you to understand the dangers. If you go searching for your long lost love right now, the HSCO might have a good idea where to start looking for you.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cThinking about Angelica back home was the only thing that got me through this. Understand? There\u2019s no point to my survival if I can\u2019t find her.\u201d Billy meant every word. The slight twitch of something like guilt at his watching Jude swim in her underwear was easily ignored, like the momentary tremor of a pulse in his wrist. Angelica was his soul mate, his high school sweetheart, his prom queen. <\/p>\n
\u201cSo where do we start? I mean, how much do you remember of your civilian life?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI remember my father,\u201d he said. \u201cWe could ask him about her.\u201d <\/p>\n
Jude\u2019s chin wrinkled thoughtfully. \u201cI\u2019ll help you, Billy. But you should know that in my experience these things don\u2019t turn out the way you want. Think about it. How many of you are deployed around the world? Thousands? And you all have the same girl in your head.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter. There\u2019s only me here now. You\u2019ve made sure of that.\u201d <\/p>\n
Judge Joel Robbins smiled beside the gold-edged office bar in his Albany mansion and poured wild turkey. <\/p>\n
He had to believe there\u2019d been a time when Reverend Patterson enjoyed visiting him, but that time had ended at least ten years ago. Joel had clones back then, but hadn\u2019t yet become the massive conglomerate he was now. The Joel Robbins Group was world famous now, a superhuman being, a Supreme Court judge and philanthropist. A legend. Few conglomerates in the world could compete. And he knew it. He also knew the Reverend believed Joel scorned him and others like him, men with the means who still refused to clone themselves. Maybe he did. Clearly they couldn\u2019t compete with just one body, one mind. <\/p>\n
\u201cCheers, RP. It\u2019s great to see you.\u201d <\/p>\n
They clicked glasses and Joel wondered how long it would take them to resume the argument they\u2019d indulged for the last decade. For that had to be, more than anything, why the Reverend stopped by anymore, beyond the formality of their friendship. Joel watched the old man scratch his bald pate and extend his glass for a refill. <\/p>\n
\u201cHow many are you up to these days?\u201d The old TV evangelist smiled. <\/p>\n
Not long at all, Joel thought; maybe even a record. He gestured, rings glistening, and they took their drinks to the leather chairs.<\/p>\n
\u201cFifty\u2026 fifty three.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cGood Lord.\u201d Reverend Patterson shook his head. \u201cHow do you keep track of them all.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cBy now you don\u2019t understand on purpose, RP. Even under the law it\u2019s established that while any clone remains a part of the diffused consciousness, he is that person.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t give a rat\u2019s ass about your legal definitions. It\u2019s only human nature there\u2019d be jockeying for dominance among your selves.\u201d <\/p>\n
Joel shook his head. \u201cMy left hand doesn\u2019t compete with my right foot. Right now one of my clones is preparing for court in Washington. Another is at an Adirondack casino. Many of us are here in the mansion doing various things. I don\u2019t have to concentrate on any one of them to know they are doing what I would do because they are me. And just as you might lend a little conscious attention to your hand if you were, say, learning to tie a new knot, I experience through any of their eyes whenever I wish.\u201d Joel paused. A dozen of his clones were women. Identical, otherwise. It was harder to see through their minds; the differences in structural and metabolic function caused interference with quantum thought. Still, they were tuned and connected; the supporting technology had come a long way these last few years. <\/p>\n
He lingered over a clone changing in a bedroom, eyed his breasts in the mirror, squeezed nipple into palm. He wasn\u2019t about to tell the Reverend about that right now. He smiled. He probably shouldn\u2019t mention the orgy room either. <\/p>\n
\u201cSo you say,\u201d said the Reverend. \u201cIt\u2019s still a sin.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIt was research with twins experiencing telepathy that led us to the technology. Are identical twins unnatural?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cTwins aren\u2019t clones. I\u2019ve been telling you this since I married you to your second wife in \u201992.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cAnd look how that turned out.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cDenise was a wonderful woman. She\u2019d still be with you, even if you had a clone or two. But you\u2019re obsessed.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not clones I\u2019m obsessed with, RP. It\u2019s power and money, just like you.\u201d The old man\u2019s face reddened. <\/p>\n
Joel touched Reverend Patterson\u2019s wrist. \u201cSorry. I just can\u2019t stand this narrow-mindedness. You\u2019re missing an opportunity, as a minister and a moralist. Think of all the good to be done. Think of all the social ills to be avoided when people diffuse among their clones and take responsibility for their own minds. Every self-destructive impulse, every deviant desire can be played out among the struggling soul\u2019s clones instead of harming others. Everything from pedophilia and suicide to rape and homosexuality\u2014\u201d <\/p>\n
Joel had just let a young man in through the rear entrance of the mansion. It was as if every clone of the conglomerate jolted at once: downstairs, Joel was talking to his dead son Billy. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cHello Dad, It\u2019s good to see you, too.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cAre you\u2026 are you still connected?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cActually, I\u2019m AWOL.\u201d <\/p>\n
Upstairs, the Reverend was saying it again: \u201cJust what are you implying?\u201d <\/p>\n
Joel took the Reverend\u2019s glass and got them another drink, downing his immediately and refilling. When he sat down again, Reverend Patterson\u2019s expression had changed. <\/p>\n
\u201cAre you all right? You look as if you\u2019ve seen a ghost.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s the booze; I should have eaten breakfast. Where were we?\u201d <\/p>\n
The Reverend huffed. \u201cYou were telling me with a straight face that it\u2019s all right under the Lord to make a clone of yourself and kill it, or have sex with your younger self to satisfy unnatural urges.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a healing opportunity,\u201d Joel said vaguely. The edges of his thoughts had blurred. \u201cAs long as a member of the group mind survives, you haven\u2019t killed anyone. It\u2019s more like snipping a toenail. Consciousness doesn\u2019t diminish, just redistributes. It\u2019s therapy, without the outcome of sin.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cSex with your self?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cTechnically masturbation, wouldn\u2019t you say?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I wouldn\u2019t. And even then, Onan was damned.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cOnan was cursed because he disobeyed God\u2019s wish that he reproduce, not because\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
As much as he enjoyed scandalizing the Reverend, Joel knew he was losing control. The whiskey had been a bad idea. Combined with the shock of Billy downstairs, it had weakened his restraint. <\/p>\n
\u201cI need your help, Dad. I\u2019ve never asked for anything.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s the point in going AWOL? You realize now you can be killed?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not important.\u201d <\/p>\n
Not important? Of course it was important when you\u2019ve already seen your boy die a real death once, before he\u2019d had a chance to become a man, get married, start a business\u2026 Seeing Billy now dredged all the memories back. The car accident, dragging the kid out of the accordioned air car, blood foaming his cheek, the hospital. Selling the rights to his DNA had been the only way to bring him back to life back then, there just weren\u2019t that many opportunities for cloning; there was still the total ban in the private sector. And sure, that sale had begun Joel\u2019s road to success, too\u2014given him the capitol to invest in the summer polar shipping companies\u2014but that was just beside the point. He would have done anything to resurrect his son. Joel took a long breath and slowly eased it out, closing his eyes. <\/p>\n
When he opened them again, he said, \u201cIt is good to see you.\u201d He watched the boy\u2019s face for even the hint of the old grin. Twice he half-convinced himself it was there. <\/p>\n
\u201cI need some civilian clothes. And cash.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cOf course.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cBut the real reason I\u2019m here, Dad, is that I want you to tell me where Angelica is.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cTell me,\u201d said the Reverend upstairs, \u201cthat you don\u2019t do that. Have sex with your clones.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cDamn it Patterson, you old son of a bitch. Of course I do.\u201d It was like watching another self in a railcar wreck in slow motion and there was nothing he could do about it: \u201cAnd as far as I\u2019m concerned that\u2019s the only reason you haven\u2019t purchased cloning rights yourself. I know about the biweekly massage and hand job, I\u2019m not one of your stupid TV fans. You\u2019re afraid of all the things you might talk yourself into doing. My mild little kinks are nothing compared to what lurks in you.\u201d <\/p>\n
It took Joel a minute to recall who Angelica was. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhy the Hell do you want to find her?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s all I have left.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWell I have no idea where she is, or even if she\u2019s alive.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWhere did she go when I went into the army?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not that simple, Billy.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWhere, Dad?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cShe was asked to leave the country.\u201d Actually, she\u2019d been paid to leave. <\/p>\n
\u201cSo where did she go?\u201d <\/p>\n
Joel scrutinized his son\u2019s face and saw the twisted mask of fear and need. Hope tangled the twitch of muscle around his eyes, too. He couldn\u2019t imagine himself shattering it, as little as there was, and he told the boy the truth. Chances are he wouldn\u2019t find her anyway. <\/p>\n
Joel let the Reverend splutter, finish his whiskey, and splutter some more before he said, \u201cWhy did you come here, RP? I\u2019m sure it wasn\u2019t for this.\u201d <\/p>\n
Reverend Patterson immediately quieted. \u201cI think you know. Maybe that\u2019s why you want to insult me so.\u201d <\/p>\n
Joel snickered. \u201cYou want to know how I\u2019ll be voting on the Trump vs. Trump Conglomerate case.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIt seems pretty clear to me. The clone who\u2019s been culled from the group should be entitled to a cut of the net worth. Isn\u2019t that fair?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI heard he\u2019d become Born Again, this clone.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cSo?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI can assure you that as a court justice I\u2019ll judge the case on its legal merits, RP. You can tell your friend that.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cHorseshit, Joel. You have an opinion.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWell I\u2019m not aware of all the variables involved. How the Hell did he come undone from the conglomerate in the first place? Something\u2019s fishy to me.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWhy is it strange to think one of Trump\u2019s clones wanted to be free?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYou still don\u2019t get it, do you? They\u2019re all the same man.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not what some people believe.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cIf you\u2019re talking about the original body myth, forget about it. I\u2019m a conglomerate. I can tell you it\u2019s not true. The original is not the mystical seat of consciousness. Where do people come up with this shit? It\u2019s like those crack pots who still want to teach the Book of Genesis in biogenetics class.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t understand Faith?\u201d <\/p>\n
Downstairs, Joel tried to shake his son\u2019s hand and was surprised when Billy grasped him tightly around the shoulders. <\/p>\n
\u201cThanks, Dad. Maybe when things settle down I\u2019ll see you again.\u201d <\/p>\n
Not if you\u2019re sneaking across the border, Joel thought. It\u2019s easier to get out than it is to get in; there\u2019s a reason for that. But he didn\u2019t say anything, just accepted the hug, arms pinned to his sides. <\/p>\n
Deep in the heart of the mansion, Joel\u2019s ancient, desiccated limbs twitched beneath the feel of that hug. His eyes rolled down the length of his useless body and then retreated back downstairs to watch Billy slip out the door. <\/p>\n
Ever since the clone lost contact with his AWOL counterpart, Field Agent Oppenheimer had been fantasizing about pressing the barrel of his ancient Luger against the private\u2019s temple and squeezing off a couple shots. After all, protocol aside, Billy was pretty useless to him now that he couldn\u2019t see through the other clone\u2019s eyes. It wasn\u2019t as if he\u2019d be killing the man and it would feel pretty satisfying. But Oppenheimer was already having enough trouble with his HSCO branch. Three months of Probationary Performance Counseling to go, all because he stood up to the branch head, that lousy three clone conglomerate, that bastard Nelson. <\/p>\n
Oppenheimer would turn sixty before his probation was over. And still an entry level Field Agent. He lived in a studio apartment along the edge of the Arbor Hill slums in Albany he could barely afford. Most of his salary went to child support his ex-wife used to shower gifts on her new boy friend, some handicapped black kid with a disability pension. He couldn\u2019t even start a new family if he wanted to because his salary fell below the legal cut-off to have more than the two boys he\u2019d already lost. And forget about retiring; he\u2019d already borrowed against his retirement fund just to get through Christmas six years ago. <\/p>\n
He\u2019d always been poor. His dad had passed the condition on. He didn\u2019t have the money for even the most basic cloning license. Employers wanted conglomerates now for higher positions; they were more efficient and salaries could be pro-rated among clones. Like Nelson, the bastard. A single man couldn\u2019t compete. Oppenheimer looked across the air car cab at the private and thought about his Luger. And evening the playing field, just a little. <\/p>\n
Clouds like dirty sponges slowly passing in the window beyond him, Billy caught Oppenheimer\u2019s look. \u201cYes sir?\u201d said the soldier. <\/p>\n
All right. It was unfair to put this Billy kid into the same category as the other conglomerates. He wasn\u2019t rich. Just some dumb schmuck the government had cloned into an army. How did the campaign ads go? While one clone survives, the individual never dies. America will never send its sons and daughters to die again. Support our cloned troops and vote four more years for the President Rufus Conglomerate. <\/p>\n
The poor kid would probably never see civilian life again. The army was obligated only to send one \u201cBilly\u201d back from the war, after all. Oppenheimer shook his head and flipped the car into manual as they entered Albany air space. <\/p>\n
Still, he thought, I haven\u2019t shot a clone in months. And he wasted my time with this damn trip to New York. I should have known the Weather Underground would disconnect the deserter before they could get to him; they were getting too damn good at it these days. They flew the rest of the way to the HSCO branch building in silence. Oppenheimer landed them on the roof and they rode the elevator down a throat of glass and steel to the lobby. Security hardly glanced at them as they left the building to cross the street to Starbucks. <\/p>\n
Reverend Patterson waved to them from a table in the back, and Oppenheimer noticed Billy\u2019s eyes widen. The power of celebrity. <\/p>\n
\u201cBilly. Go get us a couple double lattes.\u201d <\/p>\n
The kid hesitated. \u201cYes\u2026 sir.\u201d <\/p>\n
The Reverend\u2019s eyes followed the private to the shuffling line. \u201cWhat have you gotten me involved in, Leo?\u201d he said, as Oppenheimer took a chair across from him. \u201cYou know how much I hate seeing the judge.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cHSCO can\u2019t just waltz into Judge Robbins\u2019 estate without just cause, Reverend. I appreciate your help.\u201d Oppenheimer tried to ignore how the Reverend\u2019s gaze focused disapprovingly on the frayed edges of his cheap brown suit. Did you learn anything?\u201d <\/p>\n
Reverend Patterson sipped his coffee then cleared his throat. \u201cWell, something was bothering Joel, you can be certain of that.\u201d He nodded toward the private, jostling wattles of old skin. \u201cThat\u2019s his son, isn\u2019t it?\u201d <\/p>\n
Oppenheimer tensed in excitement. \u201cHe was there? You recognize him?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cOf course recognize him, you idiot. One of his platoons was wiped out in Ethiopia three days ago. It\u2019s all over the news. There\u2019s going to be a congressional hearing, for crying out loud.\u201d <\/p>\n
Oppenheimer sighed. <\/p>\n
\u201cI get it,\u201d said the Reverend suddenly. \u201cA deserter?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYeah. Do you think Robbins has seen him?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cAs I said, he was very upset about something. I wouldn\u2019t be surprised if he had. Or at least knew what was going on.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI can quote you on that, for my report? So when I go to question him your testimony will back me up?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re such a little bureaucrat.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWithout the compulsion of your assertions, the force I may need to bring to bear on one of the most powerful conglomerates in the country might be questioned.\u201d <\/p>\n
Rubbing his bald head, Patterson looked up. Oppenheimer turned and took one of the cardboard cups from Billy, who stood staring at the evangelist. <\/p>\n
\u201cReverend Patterson,\u201d said the kid, putting his own cup down and leaning across the table to shake the Reverend\u2019s hand. \u201cI\u2019m a huge fan.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cThank you, son,\u201d Patterson said, glancing at Oppenheimer. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou blessed us last year, at the Yemen base. And I saw you on TV that time you cured that gay priest in front of that whole crowd.\u201d <\/p>\n
Oppenheimer grasped Billy\u2019s arm to silence him. \u201cI can count on your testimony?\u201d he said to the Reverend. <\/p>\n
Patterson nodded. \u201cOf course you can. I don\u2019t want any of this foolishness to get in the way of our larger goals. Go do what you do best.\u201d <\/p>\n
Oppenheimer rose, his hand still on Billy\u2019s arm. Something about Patterson\u2019s tone bothered him. The Reverend pretended to be in charge, as if Oppenheimer did his bidding. Didn\u2019t the old man know that it was Oppenheimer who\u2019d used him? <\/p>\n
On the way out he tossed his full cup into the trash. <\/p>\n
He hated double lattes. <\/p>\n
She said it a moment before the hail storm hit: \u201cYou kind of like me, huh? I mean in spite of your self.\u201d <\/p>\n
Billy couldn\u2019t read her expression. And then the ice fell, hammering the air car\u2019s roof. <\/p>\n
\u201cI hate everything you stand for,\u201d he said softly. \u201cI hate how you dress up like a mythic historical figure and sneak around sabotaging the greatest country in the world. <\/p>\n
Jude glanced at him, still steering in manual. \u201cWhat?\u201d she hollered. \u201cI couldn\u2019t hear you over the\u2026\u201d She rolled her eyes upward at the storm. It was chilly in the cab. Her nipples stuck up under her tie dyed tee shirt like a couple thumbs. Billy told himself he hated those, too, even though he\u2019d been looking at them the whole time she\u2019d worked on locating Angelica\u2019s address from the information his father had supplied. He shook his head; he\u2019d been in the army too long. <\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe now\u2019s not a good time to talk,\u201d she yelled, \u201cbut a lot of the clones we liberate choose to work with us. That\u2019s an open invitation. We take care of our own, and there aren\u2019t many places for you to go, you know.\u201d <\/p>\n
This time he raised his voice enough for her to hear as the wind shook them. \u201cI\u2019d turn myself in before I worked with you,\u201d he said. <\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s funny, since we saved your hide.\u201d <\/p>\n
Billy sniffed sullenly. \u201cI didn\u2019t have many choices.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d she said, then watched the hail, frowning. She flipped back her red hair. \u201cI don\u2019t understand. The military sacrificed your entire platoon. What do you think you owe them?\u201d<\/p>\n
A few miles from Niagara Falls, the sniper towers and an occasional edge of high voltage fence were visible through the storm. They were already in the no fly zone, so Jude kept the car on the road cracked with frost heaves, lifting only to pass trees fallen in the storm. Eventually, she pulled over and left the car idling. <\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s a space behind the back seat,\u201d she said. They spent the next ten minutes positioning Billy into it. When they were finished, he couldn\u2019t move. There was a crack in the upholstery along the edge of the seat back. As long as he kept one eye there, peaking up at the rear window where ice balls pelted the glass, he could keep the claustrophobic panic away. <\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t move until I tell you,\u201d said Jude. As if he could. <\/p>\n
They had clones at the borders. Maybe even Williams. In spite of himself, he searched his mind for any surviving shard of the diffused mind. How could it be gone so simply? They\u2019d taught him it was part of him, that the telepathy was a natural extension of the self. The flow and shift of neurotransmitters, the firing of neurons, all those physical manifestations in the macrocosmic mind, were only one aspect of thought. But there was a quantum level as well. If identical people were properly tuned with a combination of psychological conditioning and virobots to limit as many variables as possible\u2014even down to inhibiting the transposons, the jumping genes, that could alter brain function among the clones\u2014they became responsive to thought on that quantum level. In the microcosmic world, thought could split off like particles of light and exist anywhere in the universe simultaneously. There had been times when Billy had heard the thoughts of his other clones less clearly, as if from a distance. But the sense of distance was an illusion; what he was really experiencing was the effect of physical variables clouding the clones\u2019 tuning. <\/p>\n
Billy heard gunfire popping through the clatter of the storm. They were probably executing some border jumpers coming down from Canada. Border patrol clones were lucky; they had license to get their job done by whatever means necessary. You couldn\u2019t screw around with border security when the population had surpassed the fifteen billion mark and every starving sand nigger, beaner, canuck and hajji were\u2026 <\/p>\n
Billy remembered suddenly that he was a border jumper himself, and caught his breath. The car had slowed to a crawl. Aside from the occasional pop of rifle fire, he couldn\u2019t hear anything through the storm. That didn\u2019t mean anything; the clones performed their job just fine without talking. <\/p>\n
He wasn\u2019t sure, but he thought he heard Jude murmur, \u201cshit,\u201d and then the car came to a halt. A familiar voice hollered something outside and Jude\u2019s door clicked open. Helplessly, he watched the hail plummet straight down at him. <\/p>\n
\u201cNo, of course not,\u201d he heard Jude say, and then, \u201cMy ID.\u201d <\/p>\n
A moment later the car jolted, as if she\u2019d been thrown against it. And distinctly through the roar of the storm he heard an automatic rifle cock back. Then a face appeared in the window over him. <\/p>\n
His face. <\/p>\n
Lying in his bed in the center of the mansion, Joel imagined he was a spider, connected by the strands of his web to all the other minds that contained him. A very old spider with an oxygen feed up his nose, with useless tired limbs and wrinkled flesh and blossoming bed sores. It didn\u2019t matter. The others laughed and stroked each other in the orgy suite. Joel smiled, contemplating multiple orgasms. <\/p>\n
How could he explain it to anyone who\u2019d never had a clone\u2014to old Reverend Patterson? The overwhelming sensation of being filled, moistened, dilated, thrust, and swollen stretched out across the sea of the glistened flesh of twenty bodies. It was almost unbearable, an unending epileptic fit of stimulation bordering on divine presence. <\/p>\n
When Joel had been a kid he used to lie in bed pretending that his consciousness was a separate body from the flesh flung out across his mattress, a body that spanned downward through the bed itself, in another dimension; he was in a cockpit that controlled those legs and arms and torso. What he felt now, with his male and female bodies in the orgy suite, was something like that, but fuller, myriad and more real than he could have imagined. <\/p>\n
And he attained it here, in complete safety, tucked away from the rot and contamination of the world. He could trust himself; no need to worry about betrayal or disease. <\/p>\n
Joel had no illusions; he knew he was a coward. <\/p>\n
All that bluster and hyperbole about experimentation and freedom he liked to toss at RP was foolishness. Joel was just a dirty old man hiding in his room, afraid to die. He knew his consciousness was diffused across the clones; he knew that he would live on among them with not even the slightest blip in the continuity of his self-awareness. Still, he just couldn\u2019t bring himself to accept the thought of his original body\u2019s death. <\/p>\n
What made it even worse was the fact that his doctors had been telling him for years now that it was getting harder and harder to re-tune him to the group. The more his body fell apart, the more different he became from the others, the more difficult it was to maintain a connection to the diffused mind. The more he changed the more he risked becoming a separate, mortal entity, an insignificant eddy in the stream of consciousness, cut off from the rest. He needed to kill this old body before that happened. <\/p>\n
But not yet, he told himself. Yes, he was a coward. Caught between dying for immortality\u2014or living to risk a final death. A foolish, paralyzed coward, lost in waves of pleasure. <\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t even notice the HSCO field agent in his ridiculous suit at first, sweeping past the hot tub and the forest of trembling limbs. Not until the man\u2019s luger pressed the back of his female, seventeen year old head. Joel opened his eyes\u2014her eyes\u2014hand rising to the powder blue negligee as he slid off the clone below. <\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t move another muscle,\u201d the agent grated. \u201cNone of you.\u201d He said that last as he leered around the room. <\/p>\n
Joel was filled with amusement and outrage, mingling through the consciousness of all his selves watching the man. What did the little peon think he was going to do? He was completely surrounded. <\/p>\n
He said as much as he\u2014as she\u2014squatted by the hot tub, turning to look up the stretch of the agent\u2019s arm. <\/p>\n
\u201cI know I\u2019m outnumbered,\u201d the man said. \u201cBut I also know you don\u2019t want me to shoot any of your precious clones; you don\u2019t want to feel those deaths.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re not going to shoot anyone\u2014\u201d <\/p>\n
The gun went off and the clone fell, her negligee floating up from her breasts. <\/p>\n
It was a blinding burst and then a haunting emptiness spilling like freezing water through them all. <\/p>\n
The luger pressed against the nearest clone\u2019s jawline before Joel could react. <\/p>\n
\u201cNow I have your attention.\u201d The agent laughed. \u201cYou have no idea how long I\u2019ve wanted to do that.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re dead,\u201d said Joel. \u201cDo you have any idea who you\u2019re fucking with?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s a little assault and property damage? An extra page of paperwork.\u201d <\/p>\n
But for an instant Joel saw the flicker of fear. He twisted his head against the gun barrel to glare directly up at him. \u201cWhat do you want?\u201d he grated. In the central bedroom, his lungs heaved. <\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve got it on good intelligence you\u2019re aiding and abetting a deserter.\u201d <\/p>\n
Joel felt a sinking sensation all through his bodies. <\/p>\n
The agent grinned again. \u201cYou know exactly who I\u2019m talking about. It\u2019s a federal offence, judge. Why don\u2019t you tell me where your son is, hmm?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re so finished, you stupid little man\u2014\u201d <\/p>\n
The gun went off again and Joel froze in dread; every one of him did. <\/p>\n
The agent had already raised the luger to Joel\u2019s nearest forehead and shrugged. \u201cIt\u2019s worth it,\u201d he spat. <\/p>\n
Read on to Part 2 for the conclusion to Andrew Tisbert’s novella Diffusion<\/em><\/a>, only available here on The Colored Lens<\/a><\/p>\n
Andrew Tisbert’s work has been nominated for a Sidewise Award and short listed for a BFA. He has also received A Mary Shelley award from Rosebud Magazine. Andrew’s work has appeared in various anthologies and magazines such as Panverse One, Paradox, Talebones, Subtle Edens, Barren Worlds, GUD, Son and Foe, L. Ron Hubbard\u2019s Writers of the Future Vol. XX, Read by Dawn, and other markets. His work has been honorably mentioned in Ellen Datlow\u2019s Year\u2019s Best Fantasy and Horror, as well as Gardner Dozois\u2019s Year\u2019s Best Science Fiction. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Chapter 1 It began with images of death. Not from the outside\u2014like the time he had nightmares for a month after he\u2019d watched a Sudanese terrorist lob off his clone\u2019s head with a machete and it bounced off a rock into the brown sludge of the Nile. Or the time in the Khartoum market when …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":230,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[21,135,108],"tags":[1342,136],"class_list":["post-2463","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-slipstream","category-tcl-4-summer-2012","category-urban-fantasy","tag-slipstream","tag-the-colored-lens-4-summer-2012","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2463","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/230"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2463"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2463\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139698,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2463\/revisions\/139698"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2463"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2463"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2463"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}