The Duplicate

Chapter Twenty-two

"I think it's kind of funny," I say, still smiling. "It cheered me up, a little."

"Did it?" His eyes light up with triumph. "Great."

There is a lull in conversation. And for a few seconds, which the clock on the wall ticks away, we eat quietly. I gaze about the room, deep in thought. Bit by bit, my smile falls a few degrees.

"He can be really scary sometimes," Dax says, somehow catching the drift of my thoughts, without even looking up from his plate.

"He's a jerk."

"He is." Dax nods, then after a beat adds, "Sometimes I wonder who his Original is. I wonder if he's a jerk too."

I pause to ponder that. "I don't know. It's weird to think about another him. It's awful. One of him is enough."

Dax snorts. "Yeah, I agree. But it's got to creep him out too." He rips his egg-roll in half and inspects the inside. "To think you're just a copy of someone."

To think you're not even human.

My eyes fall to my plate.

"I think," Dax goes on, "whoever he was cloned from must have been pretty damn smart. You know, I heard his IQ tested in the 150 range."

My eyes are back up again, widening.

"That just makes him even scarier, doesn't it? I mean, a stupid jerk is one thing. But a highly intelligent jerk is another." Dax chews for a moment, slowly, meditatively, staring at his plate. "I bet Government is scared out of their minds."

Yeah. I bet they are.

"So." Dax snaps out of it. "We've talked about me. We've talked about the jerk. What about you? What's your story?"

I take a sip of my Coke, trying to clear my thoughts. "My story isn't as interesting as yours or Trip's. I'm a nurse. That's it."

Dax squints his eyes at me.

"Really. That's it."

"How did you become a nurse?"

"I went to school for it."

"Well, duh." Dax rolls his eyes. "I mean, what made you want to be a nurse?"

I shrug, not sure how to answer. "Medicine runs in the family. My father is a doctor. My mother was a nurse when she was alive."

"Ah." Dax glances down. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. She died when I was only a few months old. So, it's always been just me and my—"

The front door opens. Both Dax and I look up, though knowing exactly who it is: the jerk we were just talking about a few seconds ago. Closing the door behind him, Trip walks into the living room, and with just his presence, the air now thickens. And I don't feel like eating anymore. I keep my eyes firmly fixed on my plate as he slowly draws into the kitchen.

Dax points towards the end of the table. "I, uh... There's a plate for you right there."

In the corner of my eyes, I watch Trip approach the table, hook a finger on the edge of a Chinese food box, and look inside.

"What am I looking at?" he asks.

"That's, um, sweet and sour chicken," Dax says, sitting a little straighter. "It's just breaded chicken. It's good if you dip it in the sweet and sour sauce. That's, you know, pretty much why they call it that. And those are the egg-rolls. They have cabbage in them, but they're—"

"Never mind." Trip waves him off in irritation. "It doesn't matter." He grabs the plate and starts to pile on food haphazardly.

Shrinking, Dax watches him.