On the wall, Jeremiah watched as the image of an unfamiliar car pulling into his garage snapped into focus. It must have been a rental, he thought, and he wondered about the condition of his own car. He was watching from an angle near the back wall of his garage as the car pulled in and the taillights flicked off. A moment later, the clone stepped out, dressed in exactly the same suit Jeremiah had on that very moment, the only difference being that Jeremiah didn’t have his shoes on. Seeing his replica in his own home like that was jarring, and he felt a sudden stab of finality. This is really happening, he thought. He’s there. He’s up and walking and he’s going into my house.

As the clone opened the door into the kitchen, the scene changed suddenly so they were viewing the clone head-on, from a camera located somewhere just above the refrigerator, Jeremiah guessed. When, he wondered with some concern, had they put all of this monitoring equipment up in his house? And how could they have done it without his knowledge?

It was just before two o’clock in the afternoon. Jeremiah wasn’t usually home at that time of day. Parker would be at school for another two hours, and Diana was evidently still at work, though he half expected her to be home after she’d heard about his car accident. Maybe the clone had downplayed it, he thought. He would have.

He heard the familiar jangle of Louie’s tags as the dog came rambling down the stairs and into the kitchen, eager to greet him and, no doubt, excited by the unusual timing. Typically, when Jeremiah came home at the end of the day, Louie was already waiting by the door, anticipating his arrival by way of some canine radar. Diana found it uncanny the way he sat there even before Jeremiah’s car pulled into the garage. “It’s like he’s got you on GPS or something,” she’d said. Jeremiah watched and felt his own muscles tighten as he waited for his dog’s usual greeting, which involved jumping up and putting both paws hard on Jeremiah’s chest and licking his cheek. But today Louie stopped as soon as he turned the corner into the kitchen, his claws scraping against the floor as he slid to a halt and eyed the clone with a slight twist of the head, as though he had a question. This was more than just the odd timing throwing the dog off, Jeremiah thought. It was a look he’d seen in Louie before. The dog was hovering, torn between aggression and friendly greeting, the way he acted when Jeremiah would allow the pizza guy—an unwelcome stranger in Louie’s mind—right into the kitchen. To Jeremiah’s astonishment, at the first sight of the clone, Louie stood still, lowered his head and growled, just a little, while his eyes and his other canine senses fought for some sense of resolution. His tail wagged tentatively while his ears twitched in alert. The clone took a step forward, leaning down, hand out in invitation, but the dog wouldn’t even come in for a quick sniff. Finally, after a moment, Louie retreated backward and went back up the stairs. He was definitely frightened.