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Previously: "Blood on the Mound"  Except for thumbs up acknowledgement, you don't hear any more from Sydney until the next morning. And when you do hear from her, it's from "Sydney." * * * * * "Thanks for coming to pick me up," she says as she climbs into the truck. It's supposed to be a warm day, but rainy, and it has been drizzling intermittently, so she is dressed warmly in jeans and a windbreaker. Her brilliant golden hair hangs free over her shoulders, and she favors you with a dazzling smile. The smile you return her is much tighter. "So," says the magical robot that looks and talks (and smells) exactly like your girlfriend. "I guess the boss wants us to talk." "I can't stop you from talking," you reply. Yes, that's the reason Sydney gave, when you asked why you needed to pick her replacement up. "So, the boss says you're going under a mask, today or tomorrow. Then, you know, there's going to be another, um, 'Will Prescott' out there." You shrug, mostly to cover the hard shiver that runs through you. I'm going to turn the corner at school one day, you think, and I'm going to almost run into ... me. That's going to be very weird. "Is he going to act like this when he's with me?" You dart a quick glance at the thing sitting next to you. "That'll be up to him," you reply. "No it isn't," she says. "He's going to act like you, because he's going to have your personality. And so if you're going to act like this with me—" You shift in your seat. "Will, I wasn't lying to you on Saturday. I'm not the boss, but I know what she feels like, and I feel the same way too. And I— It hurts me to have you mad at me, or whatever this is just because I— Well, because I was doing what I wanted to do, what the boss would have wanted to do, with you. "Also," it continues when you keep silent, "I wanted to tell you what was going on. But the boss told me not to, not unless you guessed. Because she didn't want to prejudice you against—" "Yeah, I've talked all this over with her," you interrupt. "I understand. I'm not mad at you. I'm just— Well, I'm freaked out. It's weird, you know, when I know it's ... you and not her." You sense the thing deflating. "So is the other Will, the one you're going to leave behind, is he going to find it weird, being with me?" "I don't know. I guess, maybe." In the still, small silence that follows, the thing says, "That's going to be disappointing." Doesn't matter to me, you think. "Because it's going to be hard for us to be boyfriend and girlfriend—him and me—if he doesn't like being with me." I don't care if you and him are or aren't, you think as you bite the tip of your tongue between your teeth, as long as me and the real Sydney are! "And the boss doesn't always want to be some other girl, Will, and you some other boy. She wants you and her to be yourselves sometimes. Most of the time, maybe." You do whip around to stare. Your glance is returned by big blue eyes filled with melancholy. "So if the other you and me aren't— Well—" You turn away, and drive in silence for a moment before grunting, "Okay, I get it." "I don't mean to put any pressure on you, Will." "You're not." "I feel like I am." "You're not," you repeat. Because it's "the boss" that's putting pressure on you by sending this thing to have this talk with you. * * * * * But there are other things to talk about on the drive to school, and because those things are business, they are easier to handle. Basically, Sydney's pedisequos has to explain the next part of the plan to you. "The boss really can't pull off any switches at Autumn's place," it explains. "So she's going to try to do it at, er, mine. But she probably can't guarantee who she'll be able to get out there, so you're going to have to trust her. And me. Okay?" "Yeah, that's fine. It's going to be someone on the softball team, though, right?" "Right, one of the ones you guys have already talked about." "Except for Jenna." Robot-Sydney looks surprised. "What's wrong with Jenna?" "Nothing's wrong with her. Only— Well, um, Sydney is making it sound like her and her boyfriend are going to be, like, two of our main aliases. And I want to have a look at them before I agree. So I'm going in as one of their friends to have a look first." "Oh!" says the thing. "What?" "Nothing. Just ... Oh!" You can't feeling that there's a snigger behind the exclamation. After parking, robot-Sydney asks (with no evidence mischief beyond the obvious, loaded meaning), "Are we going to hold hands when we go inside?" "We haven't been so far," you reply after a hesitation. "Are you going to look for me at my locker, should I look for you?" "Look, let me just talk to Sydney first." "That's what he is going to say, you know." "Who? What?" "Will Prescott. The one I'm saddled with after you're on the softball team with the boss. 'Let's talk to the bosses first', anytime I want to do something with him." "Well, that's what you guys are supposed to do," you retort. "Do what we say." You end up walking near each other, not exactly with each other, as you go in. * * * * * You've got lots of time during the day to think about what the pedisequos had to say. It puts you in two minds, because pretty soon there are going to be two of you. The first of you still can't bring himself to look straight at the thing, and to be more than polite to it, not out of anger or disgust, but out of a deeper dread of it. It's not real, but it looks and acts just like the person I love. The exactness of the copy, its completion, the lack of even a hint that "something is missing," makes it exponentially more spooky. If you have to bring yourself to caress it, fondle it, kiss it, coo at it, maybe even fuck it (if the thing lets you go that far) so that your replacement will do the same— Well, you're not sure you can. And even if you can, it would be done without enthusiasm, with a sense of being revolted, and that would also be how your duplicate would act, right? There seems no solution. But then you think of the replacement you will be leaving behind, and try to think of it from his point of view. How would I feel if Sydney and I broke up, or just drifted apart, because I couldn't ... keep it up ... around her? For his sake, you feel like, you should force yourself to be enthusiastic with the pedisequos, so that your replacements will be enthusiastic with each other. On the third hand (you find yourself thinking in a panic when you duck into a classroom as a clutch of football players barreling your way between fourth period and lunch), maybe it would be easier on everybody if you and Sydney broke up. Then the psychos like Kirkham, and the meatheads like O'Brien and his friends, and your own asshole friends, wouldn't be mad at you for going out with a girl above your station. You could even arrange for new, more plausible mates for them. A girl on the softball team for "Will Prescott," and maybe one of O'Brien's friends for "Sydney McGlynn." With yourselves secretly pulling the strings of each. * * * * * "Looks like it's going to be Ella Jaynes," pseudo-Sydney tells you after school. (Having picked her up, you are driving her home.) "We'll get there before she and the boss— Did you bring the mask stuff with you?" "No, but we can pick it up," you reply. "Got a picture of Ella I can look at?" It's some minutes before you can, and it's a better picture than you saw before. She's got small breasts, and between her uniform, her boyish pose, and her long, thick, brunette hair, she reminds you a lot of Jenny Ashton. It won't be bad being her, you reflect, but it won't be for long even if it is. "She got a boyfriend, or someone she's hot for?" you ask. "I dunno. Um—" "Yeah." "I don't like keeping things from you, Will, so I'm telling you, I sent the boss a big long text today, telling her all about what we talked about. She ordered me to, you know, and I'm telling you that I did." "Alright," you say, feeling the hairs on your head rising. "She's not going to be mad at you," the thing says. "I'm just telling you that she knows. She's going to want to talk to you about it." With a stab of spitefulness, you retort, "Since you know how she thinks, can you tell me what she's going to say?" The pedisequos sucks in a sharp breath. "Wow," it says. "You've been saving that up, haven't you?" "No. But if you like me, like you say you do, you'll help me, won't you?" It shifts uncomfortably in its seat. "Yes," it says. "Still, it feels like a low blow." "Just tell me." The thing thinks for a long moment. Then it says, "Well, I can't say for sure, because I don't know if I made it all clear in my texts. But I were ... the boss." It breaks off. "I'd ask if you wanted to break up— If you wanted 'Will' and 'Sydney' to break up." This reply astonishes you, because you'd had the thought already. That it has also occurred to this copy of Sydney suggests that you should talk about it with your girlfriend, whether she raises the topic or not. * "Stage a break-up." * "Keep your replacements together." How the Poll Works To vote in this poll (the Free Poll) click on one of the choices below. To give even more weight to your choice, click on one of the links above (the link you'd like to see continued) and use the "Tip the author!" form at the bottom of the chapter to send the author GPs. In the final vote tally, each vote in the Free Poll will be worth 1/5 the average of the GPs contributed during the round. GPs voted for losing choices will be refunded in full to those who voted. GPs voted for the winning choice will be divided among those who voted for losing choices, in proportion to their share of GPs voted for losing choices. In other words, if you vote GPs for a losing choice, you will get your GPs back and will likely collect a dividend proportional to the size of your GP vote. If you vote for the winning choice, your GPs will count as a kind of commission payment for seeing that storyline continued. This poll will close on Saturday, April 25, at 12:00 PM Eastern Time. |
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