The days went by, in what felt like four-hour stretches to him, and Jeremiah was repeatedly astonished by how exact this replica was. In those first days, they watched it in a variety of activities: leading editorial meetings at ViMed, walking the trash to the curb on a Monday morning, stammering and fidgeting through casual office conversations in the hallways of his office. Each time, Jeremiah had the feeling he was watching a television show he somehow had forgotten he’d written. It got to the point where he could mouth the words of every other thing the clone said, both at home and at work. No, I don’t want any pie... Let’s put some polish on this write-up... Have you finished your homework yet?... Yes, dear... No, sir... I suppose you might be right, dear... No wonder Diana and Parker had been so totally and utterly fooled by the thing. He was almost fooled himself. It was a marvel, to be sure, but increasingly unsettling to him.

“This is stupendous, Mr. Adams,” Charles Scott exclaimed during a random check-in.

This is pathetic, Jeremiah thought.

“And what’s truly remarkable,” Scott added, “is that the clone seems to be perfectly convinced himself. He actually believes he is you.” Scott shook his head in a show of unexpected amazement. “He doesn’t know the difference at all. Everything is working exactly as we hoped. He has no idea he’s a copy.”

“Yes, well, except he is a copy. He’s not really me.”

Scott waved a hand in annoyed dismissal and sat down on the edge of the couch. “Yes, yes, of course. But don’t you find it fascinating that he has no awareness of that? Isn’t it intriguing that he could, essentially, continue living your life for, well, for the rest of your life? And no one would know. Not even the clone.”

“I don’t know if intriguing is the right word,” Jeremiah said. “Disturbing, maybe. Scary as hell. ‘Breach of contract’ springs to mind.”

“I’m not suggesting anything quite so nefarious,” Scott scoffed. “I’m not talking about you. But consider the possibilities, Mr. Adams. Think about what this could mean.”

“Why don’t you illuminate me? What could it mean exactly?”

“It means an end to needless suffering,” Scott told him. “It means we are no longer chained to the random failings of our imperfect bodies. This can change everything, don’t you see that, Mr. Adams? This is a second chance.” Something in the man’s tone, the way his eyes seemed to focus on something far away as he spoke, made Jeremiah pause.

“What do you mean, a second chance?” he asked carefully.

“Exactly what it sounds like. Imagine the implications if every man, woman and child could have a perfect, healthy spare. For God’s sake, man. Use your imagination! Blood transfusions, organ transplants, even stem cell therapy—all of it would be as simple as going to the dentist.”

“So, what?” Jeremiah asked uneasily, “This is spare parts? That’s the way you see this? And to hell with the moral implications?”