Brent nodded and turned off the computer.

“And they’re talking about clones of key personnel,” he said. “What do you suppose that means? Who are these key personnel?”

“World leaders? Diplomats? Hell, for all we know they want to clone the president.”

“And from this, it looks like they can totally control them with the Meld,” Brent added.

“These aren’t just clones. They’re making avatars.” Jeremiah was astonished at the realization. “They’re making totally controllable fucking avatars.”

“But ten times worse,” Brent said, “because these will be real. These will be out there in the world and no one will even realize it. This is freaking huge. No wonder they’re willing to kill to protect this thing. We don’t even know how far up this goes.”

“Don’t delete these photos, Brent. And back them up somewhere. We may need them. If we’re going to stop them, this is useful. But for God’s sake, don’t let your phone out of your sight.”

“Count on that.”

“Well, I can tell you another thing you can count on. No one is ever going to see me singing Sinatra in the hallways of ViMed. I am getting the hell out of here long before day 239.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know the words to that song.”

Chapter 23

Days 113-127

A few days later, Jeremiah and Dr. Young took the Meld again. She was silent as she prepared for it, bringing in the two syringes on a metal tray and making sure to lock the door to the office to guard against someone else coming in and contaminating the connection. But no one had ever come into the office in all the times Jeremiah had been here. He sat sullenly and waited for the needle and hoped he’d be able to hide his secrets. The more he knew, the more he feared the Meld.

There was a momentary jolt immediately following the injection and Jeremiah was hit with a vivid sense of being in water. The impression was so real that it completely threw off his equilibrium, as though he were instantly not on solid ground. He kicked his feet and had to catch himself to keep from falling off the chair. His breath caught in his chest. The sensation was real enough that he could almost taste the salt from the ocean on the tip of his tongue and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun glinting off the waves.

“I’m sorry,” he heard Dr. Young say from very far away. “My mind wandered. I’m just thinking about a trip to Jamaica last year. Focus on the light.”

An hour or more seemed to pass in a few minutes. Before he knew it, he was fully aware of his surroundings again, the effects of the drug completely gone from his mind. The memory of what he’d seen was hazy, half-remembered and retreating fast.

“Well?” he asked. “What did you see?” He hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.