Brent looked at him and shook his head. “Maybe things just get busy, Jeremiah. It happens.”

“Never used to,” he said. “Especially not on a Friday.”

On the monitor, he watched the clone wander into the empty kitchen, Louie cautiously following from a safe distance.

“Have you eaten yet, pal?” The clone loosened his tie, picked up the dog bowl and filled it with two scoops of food from the bin on the kitchen counter. He put the bowl on the floor and took a few steps back so the dog would feel comfortable coming in to eat. Jeremiah sighed as he remembered the way Louie used to react to being fed, wagging his tail wildly and balancing on his hind legs in an exuberant dog tango. Now he took to it sluggishly and ate it in nibbles. It was probably the damn pills they had him on, Jeremiah thought. But he had to admit, his distrust toward the clone seemed less obvious now and that was one less thing to worry about.

The cameras followed as the clone went up the stairs into his bedroom. He changed out of his work clothes, carefully hanging his jacket and tie in the closet, and put on sweatpants and a T-shirt. He sat down on the edge of the bed and remained there for several minutes, resting one elbow on his knee with his fist curled underneath his chin. Jeremiah realized that he was sitting in the exact same position on the couch in the lab. He quickly raised his head and leaned back against the cushions and put his arms down at his sides.

For the next half hour or so, they watched the clone wander around the house and then finally settle in the living room and flip through the pamphlets they had given him. Eventually, Diana and Parker came noisily through the front door, greeted by the jangle of Louie’s collar and tags. Both the clone and Jeremiah perked up at the sudden commotion.

“Where have you two been?” the clone asked.

“We waited for you,” Diana said with a look that hinted at irritation, “but we were starved. We went out to eat. I brought you home my leftovers.”

“Thanks,” the clone said. “I was visiting my mother.”

“You might have bothered to call and let us know. Why were you there on a Friday?”

“Yeah, sorry. They called me at the office just as I was leaving. She’s having some problems.”

Diana took off her sweater and walked into the kitchen with the little Styrofoam container of food. Parker put Louie on the leash and took him out to the front yard.

“What sort of problems?” Diana called from the kitchen. The clone got up and followed her, the cameras catching his movements seamlessly from room to room.

“I’ve got to move her,” he said. “Her dementia is bad. She thought it was Christmas Eve.”

“You’re kidding.” Diana shot a startled glance at the clone and then continued scraping the food onto a dish. “Move her where?”