The Duplicate

Chapter Twenty-two

I push rice around with my fork.

Once again, the clock ticks away the seconds.

"Well..." Dax must hate silences, because he holds the record for breaking them today. "Did you get Verbeck's fingerprint?"

"Yes," Trip says, shortly.

"That's good."

"But we can't use it."

"What?" This outburst comes from both Dax and me.

Trip sits down in the seat across from mine, looking exhausted. The purple circles under his eyes have darkened, and even his voice sounds drained of energy. "They know I went after Verbeck for a reason. And they know I want my file. They'll monitor the Database for Verbeck's fingerprint."

"So you're saying what we did last night—" I lean forward over the table "—we did it for no reason. I was beat to a pulp, for no reason."

"And I was shot, for no reason," Trip snaps. His eyes level on me. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

My gaze lowers to the table. Feeling empty, I sit back in my chair.

"Then... now what?" Dax asks.

"I don't know yet." Trip turns his attention to his food. "I need time to think."

"Alright..." Dax nods, slowly, then looks up at me. "So, anyway, uh, what kind of nurse are you, Evette?"

Trip's eyes flash towards me.

Mentally, I cringe.

"Did you work in the emergency room?" Dax asks, oblivious to the tension he is causing. "You seemed to know what you were doing last night."

Keeping my eyes downcast, I reach for my Coke. "I used to volunteer in the E.R. when I was studying in college."

"And now?"

"I'm a transplant nurse."

Dax stares. "Really?" He looks at Trip, and I follow his gaze, hesitantly.

Trip doesn't say anything, or look up.

"What made you want to be a transplant nurse?" Dax asks, finally.

"My father knew Doctor Hampton and had some connections with Withorn Hospital, so he suggested I work there, and he was able to get me the job."

"What kind of doctor is your father? A transplant doctor?"

I hesitate, continuing to shove rice around my plate. "He's a geneticist for Emulation."

Dax narrows his eyes in confusion, and I shift in my chair, glancing across the table at Trip.

"Duplicates are genetically mutated," I say.

Dax blinks. "All of them?"

I nod.

He turns to Trip again, and tentatively asks, "Are you...?"

"Yes," Trip answers, without looking at either of us.

"So, like... what does that mean? You have super-strength and stuff?"

Trip stops eating and looks at Dax like he's an idiot.

"No," I say, suppressing a smile. "More like a higher resistance to disease, viruses, cancer, that sort of thing. Nothing really major. It's meant to keep the duplicates healthy while they're in Emulation."

"Triple can't get the flu, then?" Dax gives a chuckle, but it's cut short when Trip shoots him a glare. He clears his throat. "So, you lived outside of the City, Evette?"

"Well, I didn't always." My eyes, automatically, float towards the window across the room. The sun is just beginning to reflect off the building beside the apartment complex and beam into the kitchen. "I used to live here in the City. I grew up here, went to grade school here. But I moved when I started college."

"Why didn't you go to a college in the City?"

"My father suggested I go to a college closer to Withorn Hospital. I moved into my own house. I went to college. I volunteered at the E.R. and worked in administration at the Hospital until I got my nursing degree."

"Did your father suggest all of that too?" Trip asks suddenly.

The question comes as such a surprise, for a second I'm stumped. "What?"

"The volunteer work." Trip looks up at me. "The administration work."

I stare at him. "Why should it matter?"

He shrugs his good shoulder. "It sounds like your father made a lot of suggestions."

"So what?" My chin raises slightly. "He's my father."

Trip studies me a while longer, icy eyes slipping over my face. And again I am struck with the feeling that he can see right through me.

Now, I know he probably can.

Coughing, Dax stands, quickly, chair legs screeching over the kitchen tile. "Are you finished with your plate, Eve? I'm stuffed. That's good stuff, huh?" He's changing the subject,  probably afraid Trip and I will start gnashing our teeth at each other again.

It works.

Because Trip  says nothing further. For now.