Replica

by Lexi Revellian

  LEGEZAL

  person

  country

  sport

  animal

  flower

  I clicked animal and moved to the next. I could hear the Professor’s voice through the wall. He must be making a phone call. I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I reread the second question, and answered it. There didn’t seem much point in doing this, but the Prof must have his reasons for it. In any case, it wasn’t my problem, and I’d be out of here within the hour. No way was I going to let him persuade me to stay a minute longer than I’d agreed to – assuming there wasn’t any difficulty about getting back into my body.

  That was a nasty thought – suppose I couldn’t, and I was stuck in this one? It seemed exactly the same as my own, so maybe it wouldn’t matter, as long as it didn’t pack up after a few weeks, or something. And what would happen to my old body? Maybe for some reason humans reacted differently from animals, and it would never recover from the coma, its mind having left for good. The idea frightened me. I half got up to go next door and find out. Then I sat down again; not because I was afraid of disobeying my boss, but because I was scared of what I might see. I took some deep breaths to steady myself, and got on with the IQ test, feeling uneasy.

  It was bound to be all right.

  If the day before yesterday is two days after Monday then what day is it today?

  I couldn’t think. The Prof stopped talking, and almost immediately the phone rang and he started again, his voice rising and falling as if he was trying to keep it down but kept forgetting.

  Five minutes later my increasingly distracted efforts were interrupted by the sound of a car driving up the road that led from the high-security gate to the Institute, unusual on a Friday evening. I got up and squinted out of the window, then turned off the ceiling lights to see better. A silver Jaguar crunched to a halt in front of the floodlit main entrance, its number plate PME 1, and Sir Peter Ellis got out and strode up the steps to the big door, opened it and slipped inside. He was wearing a dinner jacket and black bow tie. My anxiety increased – something must have gone wrong, something important enough for him to come here when he was clearly due at some social function.

  I left my seat and crossed the room to listen by the door. If I opened it a crack, I’d hear better. It wouldn’t open. My heart went into overdrive. Why had the Prof locked me in? I heard Sir Peter’s crisp steps go past outside in the corridor, and then subdued voices. My eyes went to the phone. I could ring Rob … or I could climb out of the window. The office was on the ground floor. I tried the catch, and the window opened, letting in a blast of icy air. I hesitated. Was I being ridiculous? Anyway, I didn’t have my handbag with my car keys. And I needed to get back into my own body. A noise made me shut the window again hastily, and as I turned a cleaner opened the door, pushing her trolley full of cleaning equipment. She looked surprised when she saw me.

  I smiled reassuringly and walked past her out of the office. I slipped off my shoes and sidled towards the lab. Only a strong sense that something was wrong made me do this; I’m not normally devious or underhand. I remembered the security camera too late, and hoped the guard hadn’t been watching my curious behaviour. The lab door was not quite shut; between the door and the jamb I could see a narrow vertical slice of empty lab, and hear voices.

  “… any idea? Surely there must have been some indication?”

  “None at all.” The Prof, sounding defensive. “I was most careful. We did a series of tests to eliminate the possibility that the latest outcome was independent duplication. The results were quite different from the earliest experiments, as you’d expect given that I totally revised my methods. All the recent evidence suggested consciousness switched from one animal to the other, with the original in overall charge. When the original was given hypnotics, the replica temporarily ceased to function. After its death, the copy remained inert until it died from dehydration. We tested this with every species we duplicated. There was no reason to believe the result would be different with humans.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I don’t know. Conceivably something I missed in the programming, or a unique function of the human brain not shared with animals. Further research will reveal the reason, no doubt. But you must admit, it’s an intriguing development. Probably as valuable to you in its own way as what we expected.”

  “You have to be joking.” Sir Peter’s voice rose, exasperated. “Have you any idea how much this has cost, so far? We thought we’d get it back over the first couple of operational years. A priceless PR coup – expert soldiers in the field, but zero risk to our heroes, as the tabloids call them. An end to the constant drip of casualty lists. That’s worth one hell of a lot of money to the government. This is another thing altogether. Replicas that aren’t expendable, that we’ll have to provide everything for, plus pay on top of that, are no good to us – and have you considered how the originals, and their families, will react? How would you feel if you suddenly had an identical twin, except this twin thinks he’s you and your house, your car, your wife and your bank account are his? Or suddenly you haven’t got one son, you’ve got two identical ones? Both of whom remember their past perfectly, and expect to be treated as they’ve always been? It’s a disaster.”

  Sir Peter crossed my field of view, across then back again. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance the duplicate has a limited life expectancy?”

  “I can’t prove it without doing physiological tests, but I’ve no reason to believe there’s any difference at all between the two girls.”

  “Where did you put Beth?”

  “Which one?”

  “Richard, get this straight right now, because it’s important: there is only one Beth Chandler. The copy is an error that will have to be dealt with, though we’ll run some tests on it first – you never know, that might help you understand what went wrong. You can start thinking what might be useful. Whatever you do, don’t get sentimental about it. That’s if you don’t want your contract cancelled and the Institute closed.”

  So … I wasn’t me, I was a duplicate? Not real, merely a manufactured copy, like the second boxer dog, Thomson? There was another Beth identical to me, somewhere in the building; maybe in my office, eating the last of the chocolate … Sir Peter had referred to me as it. A very disagreeable sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. But … I didn’t feel any different, that couldn’t be right. Could it? And dealt with? After tests had been run on me? That sounded bad – very bad. Terminally bad. My mind wrestled with this nasty information, disbelief well to the fore; surely even if I was a replica of myself, I was still a human being, they couldn’t just kill me, we were in a civilized country, it would be murder; but my body got the message all right and began to sweat and shake.

  The Prof stammered, “But … for God’s sake, you can’t … it wouldn’t be …”

  “What do you suggest? Give her a lump sum and a council flat and turn her loose? Ask her nicely not to tell anyone? Imagine the furore when the media got hold of it – and they would get hold of it, make no mistake. There’s no way we could ensure the replica’s discretion. Then what you’re doing here would get out. Once what you’re about to achieve gets in the public domain, every tinpot dictator in the world will want to get his hands on it. Think what that would cost in human life.”

  “Yes, but …”

  “Where is Beth?”

  “She’s in her office, doing an IQ test, like the other one. I can’t leave her there much longer. Either of them.”

  “Go and talk to her. Keep her there until we’ve got this mess sorted out. Can she see people coming in from her window?”

  “No, it faces the other way.”

  “That’s fortunate. The last thing we want is her getting wind of this. Go now, before she finishes that test and starts wandering around.”

  “But what can I say? I told her she could go in an hour, it wouldn’t affect her.”

  “With luck it’l
l only be for ten minutes, she’ll be able to go the time you agreed. If not, make something up. Some scientific gobbledegook. Take her blood pressure, temperature, weigh her. Make it plausible. Let her phone her boyfriend or whatever. She’s an amenable young lady, I’m sure she won’t be awkward about it. The spec ops will be here any minute. I’m going to the gate to brief them. As soon as they’ve got the other one off the premises, I’ll let you know it’s safe to let her go.”

  Bloody hell.

  I stood irresolute, unable to accept what I’d heard, mutely protesting that this couldn’t be happening to me. Could I have misunderstood? Perhaps if I spoke to Sir Peter and the Prof … or I could go to my office and tell the other Beth. I had to make up my mind, before they came out and saw me. They were still talking, going over the same ground; the Professor was protesting that he couldn’t pretend I needed medical tests, I – Beth – the other Beth wasn’t a fool, and would ask lots of questions he’d be hard put to answer. The cleaner emerged from the office, and paused to rearrange the cleaning materials on her trolley. At any moment she’d go inside the lab, and no doubt be shooed out again; but it might cross their minds where she’d just come from. If I didn’t want to be dealt with, maybe I should go now.

  Getting going was hard. Part of me thought if I did nothing I’d be safe. Back in the office, I opened the window and hesitated. Was jumping out into the night the best course of action? It seemed such an extreme thing to do. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this. Footsteps sounded then receded in the corridor; Sir Peter. As I stood motionless, gripped by indecision, the door opened and the Professor came in, looking furtive and agitated.

  “Beth, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  “That I’m a copy? I know, I was listening to you and Sir Peter.”

  I hoped he’d deny it, but he nodded. “Then you also know you need to leave. Fast.” He rummaged in his pocket, and came up with a handful of bank notes and change, which he thrust at me. He grabbed a pen from the desk and a post-it note and wrote. “This is my home number. Go and stay with a friend, not anyone obvious like Rob, and when you’re safe give me a ring. I’ll do what I can to help you. I’m really sorry about this.”

  “But – do I have to? Sir Peter wouldn’t really … get rid of me, would he?”

  The Prof gave me a sharp look, his grey eyebrows drawn together. “He said he would. And he won’t be running it past an ethics committee first, either. Go on, run for it. Quick as you can. Don’t go through the gate, Peter’s there, you’ll have to climb over the wall.”

  Awkwardly, I swung one leg then the other over the window sill, and jumped out. The cold air made me gasp, and the freezing earth under my feet made me realize I’d left my shoes in the corridor. I turned to ask the Prof to get them, but he’d shut the window and was leaving the room. For a second I stood, dismayed; and a sudden spurt of anger at Rob surprised me. It was his fault, if he hadn’t cancelled our date this wouldn’t be happening …

  I darted round the building and across the dark grass in my stockinged feet towards the perimeter fence. To my left was the car park, where my Micra waited for me. I looked at it longingly. No good, no car keys, and anyway I’d be stopped at the barrier. I’d have to get over the wall like the Prof said. Unfortunately, he hadn’t told me how. The Institute was surrounded by high-tech mesh equipped with movement sensors, except for one segment which was old brick wall built at the same time as the original part of the Institute. That would be my best bet. The lowest bit of the wall was about eight feet – dauntingly high. How could I possibly get over it?

  Trees grew by the old wall; their dark branches swayed and creaked above me in the gusting wind. None was near enough the wall, even if their lowest branches weren’t too high to reach. Come on, don’t just stand there. The shrubbery gave me cover as I hunted for anything I could climb on, while I kept a wary eye on the building and the gate. I had an improbable vision of finding a ladder lying around. I could go back to the office and fetch a chair … no I couldn’t, the Prof had shut the window. Nothing.

  I felt completely futile, defeated before I’d even begun. They were going to find me here, shaking in the darkness, and take me away.

  I looked around in despair, and my gaze fell on the fallen tree blown over in last week’s gales – the wail of a chainsaw as they’d cut it up into manageable lengths had been bugging me only that afternoon. Now it seemed the answer to a prayer. I put the money down, encircled a log with my arms and heaved. It didn’t move at all.

  Oh God. There was nothing else. I’d have to get back into the building somehow. Running towards the window I’d come from, I passed the rubbish area. Yes! A row of recycling bins complete with handles and two wheels. I chose the lightest and trundled it across the grass to the wall, the rumbling noise it made worryingly loud. I had nowhere to keep the money, and needed both hands to climb. I couldn’t tuck it in my bra, which had come loose, its underwiring and fastenings having disintegrated, so I put the coins in my mouth, and held the notes between my lips. Then I found I couldn’t climb on to the bin’s high slippery lid.

  I’m no good at this sort of thing; I shouldn’t be having to do it; they’re bound to catch me. I took a deep breath. Come on, pull yourself together, stop being feeble.

  I went back for another bin which I put on its side and this time climbed precariously to the other one, expecting men to emerge from the shadows at any moment. I managed to haul myself on to the top of the wall.

  I paused, the sour taste of metal heavy in my mouth, nerving myself for the irrevocable drop to the other side of the wall, shuddering with cold and fear and wondering if I was crazy. What was I doing sitting on a wall in the icy darkness, intending to go on the run, when I should be at the cinema with Rob? It was insane. But the Prof hadn’t thought it insane. He’d told me to run for it.

  Movement at the gate caught my eye. The barrier swung up with a clunk; a black jeep drove through and stopped a few metres inside. Its headlights went off. Branches swayed in the wind and fleetingly obstructed my view. I craned to see. Two shadowy figures got out of the jeep, closing the doors gently behind them. They wore dark casual clothing and didn’t look particularly sinister or threatening. Again, a feeling of incredulity overwhelmed me. A tall figure I recognized as Sir Peter joined them and they stood talking for a minute. Sir Peter pointed towards the building, apparently giving directions. One of the men opened the back of the jeep and got something out, something about the shape and size of a handgun. He passed it to his colleague, got out another and attached it to his belt. After a moment, they moved purposefully, not towards the Institute, but alongside the wall towards me.

  Panic paralysed me; I literally couldn’t move. Then they turned to their left, heading for the building across the grass. I realized Sir Peter had told them I was in the Prof’s office, and they were approaching in such a way that they could not be seen from its window.

  So they were spec ops. Secret, anonymous, answerable to no one except the top government personnel who gave them their orders. Unbelievable as it seemed, they’d come for me. Shit. I lowered myself till I hung by my hands, dropped into dry scratchy brambles bordering the edge of the road, and began to run.

  Replica ~ Lexi Revellian

  CHAPTER 3

  Minor hiccups

  Yes! Beth had worked out the next number in the sequence. Each one was higher than its predecessor by the addition of three times the number that had been added to the one before. 81 plus 44 equals 125, there it was in the multiple choices, she was right. She rewarded herself with the last square of chocolate. Beth was quite enjoying the test, finding most of the questions challenging but within her scope; she didn’t regard herself as particularly bright, yet somehow always managed to do well in IQ tests. She checked her watch: ten past seven. The door opened and the Professor came in, followed by the patrician figure of Sir Peter Ellis.

  “Beth.” Sir Peter’s keen blue eyes looked straight into hers and he smile
d. “It’s very good of you to stay late like this. On a Friday, too. Richard’s a terrible slave-driver. I’m glad I don’t work for him.”

  Beth smiled back. She always found Sir Peter a little intimidating. What was he doing here on a Friday evening, wearing a dinner jacket? Something must have gone wrong, something important enough for him to come here when he was clearly due at some social function. “That’s all right. I don’t mind. I’ve nearly finished now anyway.”

  “I’m afraid we’ve hit a bit of a snag.”

  “To do with the experiment?”

  “Good Lord, no. I’m not concerned about that. I’m confident Richard will get it back on track in no time. Just a minor hiccup.” His face became sombre. “No, I’m afraid something rather serious has come up. That’s why I’m here. You’re going to have to be a brave girl about it. We’ve received information that you’re being targeted by a terrorist organization.”

  “Me?” Beth gazed at him in astonishment. She almost laughed. “Why me? I’m just a secretary.”

  “Yes, but a secretary who works closely with Richard on the OMD project. I can’t give you the details, our sources are all rather hush-hush, but I want you to go to a safe house for the time being. Just in case. While we sort things out.”

  “But … there’s my cat – I have to feed him.”

  “I can get that taken care of. You give me instructions and I’ll see they are carried out to the letter.”

  Beth gave him a dubious look. “How long would I have to be away? I’m meeting Rob – my boyfriend – tomorrow evening.”

  “I’m sure it’ll all be over by then. Everything back to normal. I don’t want you worrying about this. You can ring Rob and tell him what’s going on.”

  “What about my car?”

  “If you like, one of my chaps will drive it to your home, so it’ll be waiting for you when the panic’s over.”