The Mirror Man, стр. 67
“I thought it might help if you didn’t have to worry about that,” the clone said. “And besides, I didn’t call the school. They called me. Someone there must have heard about the accident. It’s been on the news.”
“Who called from the school?”
“Your counselor. He seems to think you might need some help dealing with all of this. With your mother, I mean.”
Parker stared at the clone without expression. Jeremiah couldn’t tell if he was about to hit him or start crying.
“I don’t need any help,” he said finally. “Especially not from that idiot counselor. He’s always on my back about my ‘emotional landscape.’ Every time someone gets a paper cut, he thinks it’s a ‘plea for help.’ I’m not talking to that whack head about Mom. I hate him.”
“Actually,” the clone said, “he thinks it might be a good idea for you to see someone outside of school. You know Meld, right? That’s the medicine my company makes. He thinks it could help for you to take that with a doctor, just to make sure you’re handling everything. I think it might be a good idea. I told him I’d talk to you about it.”
“What?” Jeremiah jumped up from his seat.
“Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea,” Parker said sarcastically. “That’s the stuff everybody takes and then kills themselves. I don’t think so. You might have fooled everyone else about that stuff when you took it on TV, but I don’t want anyone giving it to me.”
Jeremiah could have jumped through the wall and high-fived Parker. At least someone was thinking clearly. The clone didn’t see it in exactly the same way.
“Well, those people weren’t using it properly,” he said. “It’s perfectly safe when you take it with a doctor. And it really can help. Let’s see how you feel in a few days. You have your suit all set for the wake?”
“You already asked me that. I already told you, I do.”
“And your shoes? What shape are they in?”
“It’s not a problem, Dad. My shoes are fine.”
“We don’t want any last-minute surprises. We’ve got to be on time, and we’ve got to look good.”
“I don’t see why it matters what I’m wearing.”
“It’s out of respect, Parker. It’s customary. Wouldn’t you want to make your mother proud?”
“It’s not like she’s going to care. She’s dead. Remember?”
“Parker...” The clone looked at the boy with a mix of pity and shock. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Well, she is dead, Dad. She’s gone. She’s not going to give a single fuck what I’m wearing. She’s not going to be proud of me. Ever again.”
Jeremiah cringed and looked away from the screen. The kid was reaching out for some sort of comfort in the only way he knew how. If his clone saw that, too, he didn’t act on it.
“Parker, watch your mouth,” he said angrily. “There’s no reason for that. How do you think your mother would react to that kind of language? Pull yourself together.”
Parker pushed his food away and got up from his seat noisily.
“I’m gonna take Louie for his walk,” he said. “Someone around here needs to keep things going.”
The clone said nothing. Jeremiah wanted to reach right into the wall and pull Parker out of there, give him a hug, swear right along with him, tell him he understood exactly what he was feeling. Let him know it was okay to be angry, and it wouldn’t always hurt like this.
Instead, he could only watch helplessly as his son leashed the dog and stormed out into the evening alone. His double sat motionless for a few minutes at the table and finally got up, leaving the cartons where they were, and poured himself a hefty measure of Jeremiah’s good bourbon. He sat down, turned on the TV and stared into thin air until Parker came back an hour later. He stood and started to say something, but Parker didn’t even stop to look at him. He just went upstairs and both Jeremiah and his clone heard his bedroom door slam closed. Soon afterward, the clone went upstairs himself. He hesitated outside Parker’s door for a moment, and then went to his own bed, where Brent and Jeremiah watched him toss until the wall monitor switched off two hours later.
“There is no way my son is taking Meld,” Jeremiah said when the wall went blank. “Absolutely no way in hell. I can’t believe the clone is even thinking about it! He’s not giving it to Parker.”
“He probably doesn’t know what else to do, Jeremiah. I mean, what would you have done?”
“Not that!” he said. “Maybe he could, oh, I don’t know, actually talk to him or something? And you can put that down in your goddamn notes for tonight. I would absolutely not have acted the same way as that moron of a clone just did. I actually have a brain in my head.”
Brent looked at Jeremiah with a warning in his eyes. Jeremiah didn’t care. But what he had to say next, what he finally had to tell Brent, couldn’t be said out loud. “Let’s play the game, Brent,” he said. “I feel like blowing shit up.”
As soon as the battlefield flickered into view, Jeremiah began typing in the in-game chat.
I need to get out. I need to get to Parker.
How? You can’t go back. There can’t be two of you.
There won’t be.
??
I’m going to take his place.
What?
I’m going to kill him. I will take his place.
!!
No other option. I have to get out.
How?
You can help.
Too risky.
You just get me out. I’ll do the rest myself.
No.
You said you would help me. Parker is alone!
This is murder.
Diana was murdered. My mother. This is something else.
I can’t help.
Why?
The project is still important.
The project is a lie.
??
You’ve been lied to. All of you.
??
Charles Scott is sick. He wants to clone himself. This? Practice run. I’m a guinea pig.
Sick?
ALS. Something. He’s dying.
Brent took his headgear off and