Chapter 36
Inspector Wanda takes another half hour to wrap up the inspection and meet him at the SAT garage lobby. By then, his mind is oscillating between Sable’s barely veiled threat, his devolving relationship with Electra, and the realization that he fucked up that’s getting harder and harder to deny.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Wanda says, breezing past him.
“I’m fine.” He follows her into the next available SAT.
When the vehicle finally zips out of the garage, he’s awash with self-doubt and feeling all too aware of a string of regrettable life choices. He braces for the inevitable. “What did you want to discuss with me?”
He hoped to be done with his role in the reincarnate case after the inspection. In an ideal world, his actions would have swayed the inspector’s favor toward him and lifted any scrutiny aimed at CHOICElover—and Electra. But he clearly isn’t living in an ideal world.
“See how that works? Imply that you know someone is guilty and the guilty people start fidgeting and give themselves away! That was the manupartner James, was it not?” she asks.
Yes, that is the man running an identity replacement company. Yes, that man knows I have a reincarnate. Yes, that man has the uncanny ability to make threats with his eyes. All he verbally says is, “Yes, I believe it was.”
“That’s what I thought. Looks like we’ve got ourselves another reincarnate and an identity theft situation going on.
I’m still not convinced they’re behind the reincarnates though, but they may be able to lead us to the people who are.
That’s why I’m going to let them think they got away for now and keep tabs on them.
I’m after the bigger fish.” She grins, seeming pleased with herself.
“I’d like your continued involvement with the case.
I just need to decide how I want to use you. How do you feel about espionage?”
Res6 swallows the lump in his throat, trying not to look too guilty. “Whatever I can do to help.”
By the time he enters his unit that evening, he’s so rattled by Sable’s and Inspector Wanda’s propositions, he’s ready to fall to his knees and beg for Electra’s forgiveness.
There’s no caring about who’s right or wrong.
Zorg, he’ll happily be wrong if she’ll forgive him.
He needs her. Somehow, after nearly a hundred years of sufficiently operating alone, it only took a few months with a chaotic woman from the past to wreck the insulating facade he built to shield himself from the world’s cruel ways.
She’s become his air. His respirator, helping him filter the outside world.
“Electra!” he calls, glancing around.
Her door is still shut.
He doesn’t even want sex, though it was comforting to lose himself in her arms after two of the last few remaining Jerme samples failed. Her touch—that is what he needs. He wants to feel her soothing hands on him, softly reassuring him that she’s there and everything is going to be okay.
He knocks on her door. When she doesn’t answer, he cracks it open just enough that she’ll be able to hear him. “Please, Electra. I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot.”
When she doesn’t answer, he realizes his weak apology isn’t enough. Nothing he ever does is enough.
No, he can’t think that way. She said the word love and that must mean she’s thinking it regarding him. He can fix this. Be what she needs. While he still has her, he has to.
“Electra, please. I know that trying to bring back Jerme is wrong. I’ve been stubborn and unwilling to let go of my grief for entirely selfish reasons.
It felt easier to cling to it, and I see now that I used the loss of Jerme as a shield to keep others out.
It was cruel of me to say I’d trade anything for him.
It isn’t even true. I didn’t mean it. I’d never trade you.
I never thought I’d laugh again the way I did with Jerme, but you make me laugh all the time.
And you’re such a talented writer. It’s no wonder everyone loves your column.
Your advice is brilliant. And you’re so incredibly sexy.
There isn’t a manupartner in existence that can outshine you. ”
Saying all of that aloud, it sounds a lot like . . . “Oh, Zorg. Electra, I think I—”
He stops just short of saying the words. Saying something so potent through a cracked door would not make him a very good romantic hero. “Electra?”
Silence is the only thing that greets him. For a long moment, he stares at the handle. She wouldn’t have—would she? No, Electra isn’t Jerme. Finally, he works up the nerve to push the door open. The neatly made bed causes his stomach to drop.
He glances around the room, his throat tightening as the room’s vacancy becomes apparent. This can’t be happening to him. He’s jumping to conclusions. She’s probably out somewhere—
The thought abruptly dies as he pushes the closet open. All her things are gone.
Reality strikes him with the weight of a SAT. She left. Even he isn’t delusional enough to think the authorities came for her. She left him.
She left him like their mother did. Just as 3Zeez left Jerme and Jerme left him. Everyone leaves. Because you’re not worth staying for.
Before he realizes what’s happening, his back hits the wall, and he’s sliding down it. No tears fall, but a pulsing numbness radiates from his chest, eclipsing everything else.
He lies down on the floor, curling into a ball. If he lies here for just a little while, the feelings will pass. It’s funny, isn’t it? He almost said he loves her. But that’s ridiculous. The only person he’s ever loved is Jerme, and Jerme, like Electra, is gone.
December 25, 2390.
Someone is shaking his shoulder. The room is too dark to make out the figure, but their touch is firm enough to tell him it isn’t her. Still, he stupidly says, “Electra?”
“No, it’s me, Jerme,” the body double says.
“You’re not Jerme,” he mutters. He must have fallen asleep. Res6 slumps back onto the floor, the cool concrete beneath him a stark reminder of how alone he is. A feeling he should be grateful for, considering he momentarily forgot the precise reason he invented manupartners.
“Here, let me help you up.” It fumbles around before latching onto his arm and tugging.
He allows the unit to ease him to his feet. He thinks the command: Time Check. 03:56. Then he thinks the command to start the slow morning light sequence. A dim glow from the ceiling illuminates the room.
“The woman left,” it says.
He groans. “It’s better this way.”
“Where did she go?” it asks.
He stares at it for a long time before coming to a determination. “I need to recycle you and start going to my FRIENDS appointments on my own.” He needs to recycle it before it starts individuating like Chryl did.
The manupartner gives him a pitying look. “I just want you to be happy.”
He quickly readies himself for the day then grabs a pick-me-UP nourishment packet, and a VitaShot for good measure. When he’s ready to walk out the door, he forces himself to glance over at the manupartner who’s docilely sitting on the couch with a blank stare.
A handful of overnight employees stare as he and his identical replica pass, but he pays them no heed.
He’s too tired and wrecked from the last few days to care.
He takes ten minutes to lead the unit to the recycling station in his main lab.
There is a single lab tech on duty who’s in the process of decommissioning a few test units.
“Hello, sir!” the man, whose sleep schedule must be better than his, greets brightly.
“I need to decommission this unit.” He gestures to the manupartner beside him, who he’s been talking to as if he’s his twin brother. He should never have started calling him Jerme. That was a mistake, regardless of which of their DNA it was made from.
The tech’s hazel eyes widen behind his protective lenses. “Of course, sir. I will take care of that for you.”
Res6 shakes his head. He needs to do this himself this time. And what’s a little more suffering? He can’t even feel the thumping organ in his chest anymore. “I’ll do it. Please prepare an extra dose of the deactivation serum.”
He slips on gloves and the rest of a PPE kit.
When he finishes, the tech has two syringes set out on a tray resting on the stainless steel counter. He guides the unit over to a metal table. “Please lie flat on your back.” The manupartner does as the tech says.
Res6 steps up to the side of the table and the tech holds out the tray for him.
He takes the first syringe to put the unit to sleep.
It’s been a while since he’s done an injection.
Fortunately, the drug doesn’t need to be given intravenously.
You deserve this, so do it, he mentally chides.
He doesn’t hesitate as he leans over the manupartner and sticks the needle into the meaty flesh of his left forearm.
As he’s about to depress the plunger, Jerme speaks—not Jerme, the manupartner. “I could help you if you wanted.”
His heartbeat ratchets up, and he has to clench his teeth to keep the tears at bay.
Instantly, his jaw aches. He cannot allow himself a single tear in front of the employee standing so close.
It’s just a body double. Not Jerme. Besides, the only person who can help me doesn’t want anything to do with me.
He presses down. A second later, the manupartner’s eyes close.
He takes the second needle—the one that stops the heart—and repeats the act, this time without pausing. The manupartner’s chest rises one last time before it stills.
He sets the used syringe on the tray, noting his trembling hand.
“I’ll have it recycled with this morning’s first batch,” the tech says.
Res6 nods, removes his PPE, and flees to his office. Once safely behind the closed door, he lets the tears fall. That manupartner was the closest thing to a friend he’s had in almost a hundred years—because of Electra, he can see how sad that is now. You had her until you fucked that up.