The Tomorrow Clone (The Tomorrow Gene Book 3)

by Sean Platt

  “I’m saving my brain for finals.”

  “What would it hurt to check it out? To talk to some people?”

  “Even if it’s real, you said it’s illegal.”

  “I said it’s not authorized. Not officially sanctioned by UCLA.”

  “And what if it’s never authorized? What if it is illegal?”

  “Why are you so opposed to checking it out?”

  “We only get so much time. Why are you willing to waste it?”

  Wallace considered not saying the thing that came to mind. For one, it was laughably Pollyanna. For two, it was founded on several shaky assumptions. And for three, if he wanted to convince Timothy to at least sit in on a few phone calls, making grand proclamations wasn’t the way to do it.

  But he said it anyway.

  “Not if Precipitous Rise turns out to be worth something. If it does, you could live forever.”

  Predictably, Timothy laughed. But he wasn’t the visionary, and Wallace was. What Timothy couldn’t see, Wallace was increasingly convinced was true.

  “Think about it, Tim. If this works, it could be the one thing that changes everything.”

  Chapter 14

  Hide and Seek

  Kilik looked at himself in the mirror.

  He straightened his tie.

  He bared his teeth and, in the absence of a toothbrush, ran his fingertip briskly across his white incisors in an attempt to polish them.

  He splashed some water on his hands, looking down for a moment before raising them to slap the moisture against his face.

  He had the most curious sensation — a feeling of being outside of himself, the way he’d felt one day when he’d realized he heard words aloud in his mind while reading a book. Sometimes a person was himself, and sometimes he was an observer of himself.

  Like now.

  Like how, as he held his hands open above the sink with the tap running, he felt like they belonged to someone else.

  He’d had those hands his entire life, and yet in this strange moment, they seemed foreign. Two meat sacks, oddly shaped into lumps and digits, coming from the edges of his vision on arms that didn’t seem any more familiar.

  Then the moment was gone, and the hands were his. He slapped his face with water, blinking a bit more firmly than usual, shaking the sensation of something clinging to his back.

  “You okay, Kilik?”

  He looked up. Eubanks had just entered the bathroom. He’d asked the question absently, not appearing to care about the answer. So Kilik left without saying anything — something that, struck him as odd once he was in the hallway.

  Stay close to Hershel Wood.

  But the thought was as curious as his recent impression of his foreign hands, as curious as his leaving the restroom without so much as giving Eubanks a nod. He must have slept poorly last night. His brain was foggy.

  Again, the thought: Stay close to him.

  I just saw him. I am close to him.

  Then stop playing with his keys.

  Kilik’s fingers stopped playing in his pocket. Stopped dragging across the pair of brass keys toward the bottom. He’d waited for Hershel in the hallway before entering the bathroom, then ducked back into his boss’s office. He’d opened the top desk drawer on impulse, finding the small keyring where he’d known it would be. He’d never seen the keys before, but somehow, he was sure what both of them were.

  The smaller key opened Hershel’s ancient paper filing cabinet. That key, he didn’t care about. But the larger one was a spare that opened Hershel’s door.

  Which Kilik shouldn’t care about; he’d been in Hershel’s office just minutes ago and hadn’t needed a key to get there.

  He leaves a gun in his office at night.

  That was ridiculous. But true. The gun was in the closet. A retired personal weapon from before GEM stepped up its game and gave its agents government-issue firearms. Hershel was the only one who knew it was there. And Kilik.

  But Hershel hadn’t stolen the keys to get the gun. He had his own weapon. And he couldn’t kill Hershel with a gun anyway.

  Ahem. He wouldn’t kill Hershel at all.

  Why was he thinking about Hershel?

  About killing him?

  Because that was crazy.

  … thinking about the best ways to kill GEM’s director.

  Because for one, Kilik would never kill anyone.

  And second, if he did kill Hershel with that old weapon, he’d get blood all over the office. And that would never do.

  But do you know what the keys are good for?

  Hide and seek.

  You could hide in the dark office all you wanted after hours, and then when someone came back to retrieve something that seemed forgotten, you could …

  … hide, he finished the thought.

  Kilik shook his head to reset. Lately, it had felt like his brain wasn’t quite his own. Prone to tangents. Prone to odd, dark fantasies.

  “Hey, K,” said a voice.

  Kilik turned to see Layla Cieri, one of the less reluctant agents on the Eden matter.

  “Hey,” he answered.

  “Felix told me you were supposed to try to contact Jonathan Todd on Eden.”

  “That’s Felix’s job.”

  “He said you had a better idea and that you could fucking have it.”

  “The job of trying to reach Eden?”

  “‘Fuck that job,’” Layla said, apparently quoting Felix.

  “What about it?”

  “Well, have you tried?”

  Kilik shook his head. Something seemed to whisper, Jonathan isn’t the problem. Jonathan can believe what he wants to believe, and it won’t make a difference to you. Or to GEM’s real mission.

  “Not yet.”

  “You going to?”

  “Eventually.”

  “Hershel seems to think it’s important.”

  What Hershel thinks doesn’t make a difference, either. After hide-and-seek, GEM should listen to the Director closely and do exactly what he says. But until then …

  “It’s more important to try and find Ephraim Todd.”

  “That’s not our job,” Layla said.

  “I have ideas.”

  “You always have ideas, Kilik.”

  Kilik forced a smile. It came out unnatural, all teeth.

  Layla seemed to notice. “If you find a way to reach Eden, let me know. Someone just sent me an email Eden might want a chance to respond to.”

  “Respond to what? And who sent it?”

  “I don’t know who. I think it was sent through a remailer. It appears to be an Eden client report with the complete sequence attached.”

  “Complete …? You mean the client’s entire DNA sequence?”

  Layla nodded. “Digitally attached to the Eden report. But here’s the thing: there are two sequences. One is the client’s original and the other’s filename is ‘Lot A.’ It’s not identical, but very, very close.”

  “Is it an ‘after’? Like, the client went in for rejuvenation treatment, and they tweaked their genes and ran a final report when it was done?”

  Layla shook her head. “Nope. Honestly, I’m not saying there are clones there, but this has all the markers. And both attachments are signature-linked to the report. It looks real.”

  “Who’s the client?”

  “Supposedly Titus Washington.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  No, she’s not kidding, said the voice. Express belief. You knew all along that Eden was making clones.

  Layla shook her head.

  “Precipitous Rise is a cloning technology. Maybe this is GEM’s business after all.”

  And you thought this was a conspiracy all along.

  “This is why we need to find Ephraim Todd,” Kilik said. “He’s been talking to his brother all along. Chasing Eden won’t get us anywhere. Have you tried to contact Titus Washington?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “Fucking celebrities. He won�
��t submit to testing to confirm this is his DNA sequence.”

  “What about the database?”

  “Hershel would need to okay that. Quietly.”

  “So, ask him.”

  Layla shook her head. Hershel was stubborn, but he wouldn’t break the law. Not now. Not with the whole world’s eyes watching everything he did.

  She shrugged and seemed ready to walk away. Departing, she said, “Let me know if you get in touch with Eden.”

  Kilik nodded, but he already felt sure he knew all about Eden that he needed to know. He didn’t understand why it wasn’t apparent to the other agents, or to Hershel.

  Eden was fucked. It was only a matter of time before Mauritius and the US got tired of dicking around and being polite. Soon they’d push, and then they’d find the labs. Kilik could almost imagine them. The tram that moved from the Denizen to Islet 09, the way it emerged on the islet from a tunnel that ducked under the water. He could picture the cells lined with celebrity clones as well as if he’d been there himself.

  It was all so obvious. Why did anyone at GEM doubt it was true?

  All hell was about to break loose, as famous people the world over realized they were no longer one in a million. As they realized they’d been sold without ever even realizing it.

  That’s inevitable. Don’t worry about it. Don’t try to convince them. Persuasion is in the works.

  But how?

  And why was Kilik so certain, without any clue why?

  I need some sleep, he told himself. I’ve been working too hard. I can’t think straight, and I’m getting confused.

  But he wasn’t confused at all.

  His fingers went to the keys in his pocket.

  He thought of Hershel’s dark office, at night, when he’d be alone.

  Hide and seek.

  The idea, innocent as it was, made Kilik smile.

  Chapter 15

  The Dromes

  “Miss Norris?” Ephraim repeated, looking at Papa’s kind face. Or at least, it seemed kind. Papa Friesh had charmed millions of people worldwide. You couldn’t form a cult without charisma, and Ephraim had already been sucked into the tune of one unslit throat.

  Papa nodded. His expression bore no malice, no blame or indication that all between them wasn’t (or hadn’t always been) hunky-dory. It was impossible not to like the man.

  Ephraim said, “You mean Sophie Norris?”

  And Papa kept smiling.

  He knows all your triggers. He knows how Neven programmed you.

  But that was just curiosity, wasn’t it? Was it reason enough to believe he was safer here rather than in captivity? Was it reason enough to make himself comfortable at The Vineyard, suddenly convinced he was a guest who wanted to be here?

  Papa is not your enemy.

  But Ephraim didn’t know that.

  Eden is the enemy. GEM is the enemy. Fiona Roberson, as far as you know, is the enemy.

  But he could have four enemies, couldn’t he? One more boogeyman to run from. Another place to flee. The past six months had been filled with paranoia, persecution, and flight. What did it matter if The Change was after him too?

  But something had gone wrong with Papa’s predictions. He didn’t know everything about Ephraim, after all. He wasn’t entirely an automaton in Papa’s eyes anymore.

  Unless it’s just another layer of lies. If Papa thought you’d ask for revenge, if he was surprised that you asked for Sophie, then why did he have her at the ready?

  A woman walked through the office’s double doors right now, accompanied by a stunning, familiar brunette. She, like Papa, was wearing normal clothes instead of a robe.

  It was Sophie.

  Or a duplicate of her.

  “Thank you, Hannah,” Papa said.

  Hannah was holding Sophie’s wrist. It wasn’t unkind; the women were practically holding hands. From where Ephraim was standing with the letter holder, Hannah’s restraint looked more like protection than bondage. Like the assistant was afraid for her, and was gently holding her back, to protect Sophie from herself.

  And from Ephraim.

  “Sophie?”

  “Ephraim?”

  The exchange struck Ephraim as almost funny. But then the mirth was gone. And Ephraim’s tightly held control began to crumble.

  With boiling emotions, Ephraim approached her.

  Sophie flinched as if to meet him halfway, but this time Hannah’s movements were more overt. She pulled at Sophie, shifting their positions just enough so that she was mostly between them.

  Ephraim stopped. Sophie seemed conflicted. The last time she’d seen him, he’d beaten a man to death with a tablet. The last time they’d been together, police had dragged them apart. He turned to Papa.

  “How …?”

  “The Change has believers everywhere,” Papa said. “A friend told me the border patrol at Agaléga was ordered to move in and seize you both as intruders. I intervened. I asked that Sophie be taken aside, as an innocent, and sent to The Vineyard.”

  “The border patrol ordered by who?”

  “If I had to guess, by Neven.”

  Ephraim’s brow wrinkled. “Neven would have sent his own security, not outsiders.”

  Papa shrugged.

  “Why would Neven call outsiders to deal with Eden intruders?”

  “That,” Papa said, “is a question with a very complicated answer.”

  Ephraim’s eyes were drawn back to Sophie. Her silent presence compelled him. Nothing else mattered. Like in the past, she was watching him with yearning eyes. But unlike before, something new lit her expression. Some aspect of personality acquired — something she’d become since he’d seen her last.

  Ephraim went to Sophie. Hannah released her hand and allowed their embrace.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” she whispered into his ear.

  “I thought the same,” he whispered back.

  “I missed you, Ephraim.”

  He broke the hug, then took Sophie’s face between his hands, studying her, feeling her skin, trying to believe she was here. He spoke quickly, his voice low, trying to get in all of his questions before she was inevitably yanked away.

  “Are they holding you here, not letting you out? Are they treating you well? Are you … are you … okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I’m good.”

  Sophie’s hand in his. Feeling. Grasping. Something was different. There was no abandon or blind devotion. This was new. Maybe real.

  To Papa he said, “What did you do to her?”

  “Returned her to herself. Taught her who she is.”

  Ephraim raised Sophie’s hands, one after the other. He searched the web between each thumb and forefinger, looking for a tattoo. But The Change hadn’t marked her. If she’d been brainwashed, they hadn’t left any scars.

  “I know, Ephraim,” she said.

  “What? What do you know?”

  “I’m not the Sophie Norris the world knows. I’m my own person.”

  “You’re …”

  “A clone, Ephraim. I know. It’s okay. I didn’t have a mother, and I didn’t have a childhood except in here.” She tapped her forehead. “But does it change anything? Of course not. The Change has helped me to see.”

  Ephraim threw a glance at Papa Friesh, but he merely stood, hands clasped in front of his waist.

  “You fucked with her mind,” Ephraim said.

  “Quite the contrary.”

  “You broke her. Neven told me that when a …” But he wouldn’t say “clone,” even though she had. “When someone learns who they are, it’s a catastrophic event that—”

  “If Neven told you something,” Papa said, smirking, “then it must be true.”

  “You don’t know it’s not.”

  “I do.” Papa spoke to Sophie. “Say it again, Miss Norris. Tell him what you are.”

  She gave Ephraim a frank, not-at-all-subservient smile. “I’m a clone. I’m not ashamed, nor bothered by it. It’s an attribute someo
ne could use to describe me, like Papa having blue eyes.”

  “But …”

  “And you’re a clone. Hannah is a clone. Papa is the only naturally born person in the room. In this company, why should who I am bother me?”

  “Hannah is …”

  Papa shook his head, anticipating Ephraim’s question. “Her genes weren’t taken from a celebrity. She’s from a group that Eden referred to as ‘dromes.’ If she looks familiar, it’s because I’m sure there are Hannahs on Eden — non-liberated twins, with their minds enslaved.”

  “‘Dromes’?”

  “Wallace thought it was funny, calling them that. Last I heard, there were maybe a dozen different types of dromes on Eden. The two you know best, I’m sure, are Elle and Nolon. They were always his favorites, modeled after two stars from long ago, tweaked just enough to make them wholly new.”

  “Why?” Ephraim asked.

  “From the start — way before Eden, way before even his first seasteads — Wallace was planning to find a way to make them. He was very good at that — at seeing into the future. The issue, as he saw it, was straightforward. His plans were massive, and to do something so big, he’d need more help than he could ever afford. Wallace prioritized the creation of high-churn, repetitive clone lines as one of Eden’s first orders of business. And they became his willing slaves. So willing, in fact, that the question of whether they were slaves became philosophical.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Ephraim asked.

  “Because I was once Wallace’s best friend,” Papa said. “And because, although I didn’t realize it at the time, I gave Wallace one of the most dangerous ideas the world has ever known — or will soon know if I’m unable to stop it.”

  Ephraim looked from Sophie to Hannah. To Papa. To Sophie. He was the only one in the room who seemed surprised.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Instead of answering, Papa Friesh walked past Ephraim and the women. He stopped at the door and turned. “Come with me, Mr. Todd. I’d like to show you something.”

  Chapter 16

  A Birth Certificate

  It was a piece of paper — old, yellowed, folded into fourths so many times that it was now weak along the folds.