“Sixteen years,” he said. “In two weeks actually.”

“Whoa, will clone boy remember?”

“I always do, so I assume he will.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re the same person.”

“I wish I could forget,” Jeremiah said.

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t stand to watch him. He’s weak. He’s got no backbone. No guts.”

“I think he has your backbone and your guts actually. Right down to the molecule, as I understand it.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I guess he does seem a little wimpy.”

“Could you imagine sitting back like this with him, having dinner, just talking?”

“I don’t know him the way I know you. Or rather, I suppose, he doesn’t know me.”

“You’d never be friends with him, not like we are.”

“Well, we were sort of thrown together, you know? It’s different,” Brent said. “But he is you, Jeremiah. He’s an exact replica. And you answer those questions every single day to prove that. He’s just the same as you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to make some changes when I get out of here. I can tell you that. I’m not going to be the same as him anymore. I’m not going to be such a goddamn doormat, always afraid of stirring up the pot. I’m going to say what’s on my mind.”

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You’re lucky, in a way,” Brent said.

“Lucky, how?”

“Most people don’t ever get to see themselves the way you have. You get to see yourself from the outside. It’s actually pretty cool.”

As soon as Brent said it, Jeremiah was startled by the idea that this whole thing was very much like taking Meld. In an instant, he could begin to understand how taking that drug the wrong way might entice someone to suicide. Maybe it’s better to never know how the world sees you. Maybe no one should see themselves like that. It surprises you. You don’t recognize yourself, or maybe you do, and that’s worse. The thought disturbed Jeremiah in a profound way. What was watching his clone for hours every day actually doing to him? All he knew was that, as the days went on, he liked what he saw less and less and tried to distance himself from the clone at every opportunity.

“I don’t think it’s cool at all,” Jeremiah said. “I don’t feel very lucky.”

“Maybe you’re overthinking this,” Brent told him. “Yeah, I’ll agree, the clone does seem like an asshole at times—way more of an asshole than you actually—and he’s sort of boring, one-dimensional, but that is still you up there. That is the Jeremiah Adams I first met. Maybe you’ve loosened up a bit in here, but that could just be because of me, you know? Maybe I’m the element of change in this equation. You’re still the same person. You’re just better now. Maybe I made you cooler.”

“Sometimes I look at him, and even though I know everything he’s going to do, every single word he’s going to say, if I could just switch places with him, sometimes I think I would do things differently.”