Linkage: The Narrows of Time (24 page)

Lucas felt a gut-wrenching pain after
witnessing Bruno’s metamorphosis into sexy Mary Stinger, dressed in
a short, plaid skirt and sheer pink blouse. She was wearing a pair
of six-inch stiletto heels and no bra. The video equipment
illuminated her body from behind, allowing Lucas to see much more
of her figure than he had ever dreamed of, or wanted to, given the
circumstances.

“How do you like my figure now?” Mary asked,
using Bruno’s grizzled voice. She stepped out of Bruno’s duty belt,
which had fallen past her slender waist and landed on the
floor.

“What the hell?” Lucas gasped, regretting
that he has lusted after Mary for the past two years. How could he
ever trust his eyes and his hormones again?

“Bruno is one of our infiltrator units,”
Kleezebee said in an even tone.

Lucas shuffled two steps back and pointed the
gun at Mary. “An infiltrator unit? So he’s . . . she’s . . . what?
A robot?”

“Not exactly,” Kleezebee said. “Bruno’s a
genetically engineered bio-morph . . . a synthetic replica of the
original entity.”

Lucas’ imposter laughed. “I had this same
conversation just a little while ago. Talk about
d
éjà
vu
.”

Lucas poked Mary in the arm to see if she
felt real. “You’re a bio-morph?”

Kleezebee replied, “He has the ability to
mimic different organisms and assume their identity. He looks and
acts just like the original but can be programmed to carry out a
specific mission.”

“So which is he, a clone or a robot?”

“He is something in between. Bruno’s a
synthetic that can transform at will to any identity or shape. All
he needs is a good supply of sugar to generate the energy needed to
sustain each transformation.”

It was all starting to make sense to Lucas.
He understood why Bruno was addicted to all things chocolate. The
security officer consumed mounds of donuts and candy for the sugar
rush, then used the energy to transform and assume different
identities. Lucas was astonished when he thought about how lifelike
Bruno had acted for the past eighteen months. He never would have
guessed the man wasn’t human.

“How many infiltrator units are there?” Lucas
asked, watching Bruno change back into his regular self. He knew he
would never look at Bruno the same way, at least not without
thinking about Bruno’s alter ego, who was no longer standing there
in a short skirt and heels.

“Bruno’s not the only one. However, the exact
number is classified on a need-to-know basis.”

When Lucas thought about Bruno and Mary being
the same person, he discovered a discrepancy in Kleezebee’s story.
“Wait a minute. Something’s not right here.”

“What’s that?” Kleezebee asked.

“A few days ago, when we were escorted to
NASA’s facility, Bruno was up top and Mary was waiting for us down
on the twentieth floor. How could he be in two places at once?”

“Let me show you,” Kleezebee said, calling
forward one of his video technicians to stand next to Bruno. Lucas
hadn’t realized it earlier, but all the video techs were wearing
the same pentagon-shaped watch as Bruno. Kleezebee probably gave
the watches to his staff as gifts.

Bruno extended his left arm and the tech his
right. Their index fingers touched in the middle as if they were
plugging into each other’s body. Their fingertips fused together
into one scarlet-colored mass, which resembled the semi-liquid
substance found inside a lava lamp. The blob shimmered as it
slithered across the connection, slowly encasing the tech’s arm,
then spread to his torso. Eventually, the goop smothered his entire
body.

For the next fifteen seconds, the tech’s body
fluctuated under the gelatinous layer like a waterbed mattress
swaying in an earthquake. When the spasms subsided, random sections
of the gooey substance disappeared, revealing more and more of
Bruno’s appearance from underneath. When all of the bio-morph
material had dissipated, the tech’s appearance had been replaced by
an exact replica of Bruno, clothes and all. The only thing missing
was Bruno’s duty belt and sidearm.

Both copies spoke to Lucas in perfect unison
in Bruno’s voice. “Hopefully, now you understand.”

“So you can make copies of copies,” Lucas
answered. “Impressive, but that still doesn’t explain what happened
in the desert.”

The imposter said, “Jesus Christ, don’t you
get it? You’re a goddamn copy. So was the Drew that died.”

Lucas didn’t say anything. He needed a moment
to think.

“Trust me, you two are replicas and were sent
there to die,” the imposter said.

“Okay, let’s assume for a moment I believe
you, which I don’t. How did you know Alvarez was going to kidnap
us?” Lucas asked Kleezebee.

“We have a spy inside the general’s unit. He
informed us that Alvarez was coming after you. Remember my note to
Trevor outside the conference room?” Kleezebee asked. “That night
in the hospital, I had Trevor replicate both of you while you were
asleep. We knew Alvarez was gunning for you, but we didn’t know
when or where he would strike. It was the only way to protect your
Authentics. Alvarez had to think Lucas and Drew were dead;
otherwise, he would never stop looking for them. That meant we had
to let him kill you. Since we needed you and D to act like your
Authentics, we could let you know you were copies.”

Lucas’ remembered the sticky stuff on his
hand when he woke up in the chair in Drew’s hospital room. His mind
flashed a vision of the gooey material that he stepped in when he
was washing his hands in the bathroom sink. Then he remembered
Trevor’s big orange suitcase and wondered what was inside of it. It
was starting to make sense. Yet, still, he didn’t believe he was
the copy. He felt real. Kleezebee must have the two of them
confused. “No, I don’t believe any of this.”

“Maybe you need to show him the Med-Lab,
boss,” Bruno said.

Kleezebee did not respond immediately.
Instead, he walked to the front left corner of the room, and stood
near an eight-foot-wide section of empty wall space. In front of
him was a red, wall-mounted fire extinguisher. Kleezebee opened a
sliding compartment hidden underneath the extinguisher’s nameplate.
Inside was a digital security keypad and biometric scanner. He
entered a numerical security code and pressed his left thumbprint
against the scanner.

An empty wall segment slid up and disappeared
into the ceiling. The hidden section was actually a thick,
reinforced metallic door that had been covered in matching wall
fabric, concealing its existence. Beyond the door was a room
roughly the size of Drew and Lucas’ lab.

“Welcome to our med-lab,” Kleezebee said.

Two stainless-steel surgical tables were
standing in the center of the med-lab with depressed sections
spaced evenly across their surface. They were seven feet long with
raised edges like a coroner’s table. Above each table was medical
equipment and directional lighting that hung down from the ceiling.
A well-stocked mobile surgical cart was sitting between the two
tables, adorned with instruments and supplies.

Wall-mounted shelving surrounded the room and
was packed with clear glass containers about the size of a
janitorial mop bucket. Each container was filled two-thirds full
with a scarlet-colored liquid. The ceiling carried a supply of
two-inch diameter tubes, which connected each container to a
furnace-sized machine along the back wall. An enormous,
blond-haired technician was standing in a lab coat in front of the
machine, with his back was to the entrance.

Lucas walked into the lab and pointed the gun
at the male technician. “Turn around and let me see your
hands.”

The tech turned around and smiled. It was
Trevor, their Swedish lab assistant.

“Jesus Christ, does everyone know about this
except me?” Lucas asked.

“Let us show you,” Kleezebee said.

Trevor fetched a glass container from the
shelf closest to him and poured its red substance into one of the
surgical table’s depressed areas. It oozed out of the container
like semi-frozen red pudding.

Kleezebee called in one of his operation
techs from the video room and had the man roll up his sleeve.
Kleezebee submerged the tech’s hand into the scarlet material and
held it there for a good twenty seconds.

“We call this stuff BioTex, which is
synthetically engineered living latex,” Kleezebee explained. “Once
his hand is submerged, the BioTex will process his DNA and begin
the replication process. It requires at least fifteen seconds of
contact in order to create a genetic map of the donor’s body, and
then download the subject’s memory engrams.”

“Living latex?” Lucas asked.

Kleezebee withdrew the tech’s hand from the
BioTex. “We prefer to call it BioTex, which is short for
Bio-mimetic Latex.”

Lucas stood there, watching the BioTex
coagulate and thicken as it spread itself across the length of the
table. It rose up from the table like bread dough, eventually
assuming the shape of a featureless human body. Soon after, its
facial structure began to materialize and show through the scarlet
substance. Its mouth, eyes, and nose formed first, then its hair
sprouted and grew to full length. Eventually, its entire body,
including genitalia, took shape. The final step was the appearance
of its lab coat and clothes. When the metamorphosis was complete,
an exact copy of the male technician lay before him on the
table.

“If the replica is a perfect copy right down
to its DNA, how do you tell the copy from the original?” Lucas
asked, thinking about his own status.

Kleezebee picked up a handheld electronic
device the size of a paperback book. “We use this scanner to check
the validity of any subject. When it encounters the bimolecular
resonance of BioTex, it lights up red. When it senses an authentic
human, it lights up green.” Kleezebee aimed the device at Bruno's
chest. After three seconds, the unit lit up red. "Red means he's a
replica." He pointed the unit at the imposter. "Green means he's an
Authentic. If I pointed it at you right now, it would light up
red."

Lucas didn’t buy it.
He
was the
authentic, not the imposter.

Kleezebee held up the scanner. “L, can I scan
you to demonstrate?”

“Why are you calling me ‘L’?”

“That’s the naming convention we use for
replicas. We call them by the first letter of their donor’s name.
Is it okay if I approach you? It’ll only take a second.”

Lucas finally agreed and Kleezebee held the
scanner only inches from Lucas’ chest. Kleezebee activated the
device and it lit up red, just as the professor said it would.

Lucas lowered his weapon.

Bruno tackled Lucas from the side, pinning
him spread-eagle to the floor. Trevor inserted a four-pronged
electronic device into Lucas’ neck, sending an electric discharge
coursing through his body. His hands, legs, and arms went limp.

“Get off me,” Lucas yelled while being
crushed by Bruno’s weight. He watched his fingers slowly melt away,
turning into the runny scarlet substance. It was true—
he was a
replica
.

More of his body began to dissolve into
BioTex and moments later, his vision went dark and so did his
existence.

Chapter
19

Wednesday, December 26

12:30 AM

The authentic Lucas looked at the puddle of
BioTex lying underneath Bruno on the floor. “Glad that’s over with.
I sure can be one stubborn son of a bitch, can’t I?”

“For a moment there, I thought he was going
to shoot us all,” Drew said.

Lucas laughed. “He sure was one mixed-up
dude.”

“Wouldn’t you have been, given the
circumstances?”

“I suppose. But I’m sure I could tell which
one was the real you.”

“I doubt that, considering replicas are
perfect copies right down to their synthetic DNA.”

“Trust me, I could tell. No problem.”

“Guys, can we get back to business?”
Kleezebee asked.

“Sure, Professor, sorry,” Lucas said.

“Before we were interrupted by L, you said
you still had questions?”

Lucas had to think for a minute. With
everything that just happened, his memory needed a wake up call.
"Oh yeah, now I remember . . . Does it always take ten minutes to
replicate someone?"

"Yes, but only the first time it duplicates
someone new. After that, as long as the replica maintains its sugar
supply, its bio-mimetic programming remains intact. It only takes a
few seconds to resume any of its previously copied identities."

"Even clothes? How?"

"From the Authentic's memory. The BioTex
scans the subject’s mind and determines what the donor was wearing
at the time of replication. It then synthesizes the clothes just
like the rest of the body."

"What about memories and emotions? Are they
replicated, too?"

Kleezebee nodded. "It’s a perfect replica of
the original, right down to the cellular level. Blood, bodily
fluids, voice, brain patterns, and memory are mimicked perfectly.
Even a human DNA analysis wouldn't be able to detect the
difference. Only a bimolecular resonance scan can distinguish the
replica from the original."

Lucas thought about his brother's disability
and wondered about a cure. "What about genetic defects, and things
like injuries and diseases?"

"We could program the BioTex to repair any
physical defects during the replication process. However, we
usually leave the imperfections in place to help sell the
impersonation. Diseases are irrelevant and don't affect the
replica, since it's not a real human being."

"Can you impersonate anyone? Like the
President?"

"Well, we could, but there are issues when
replicating a high-profile individual. First, we need prolonged
contact with the donor to process its genetic makeup and download
its mind. With someone as well protected as the President, that
wouldn't be possible. Then you have the issue of what to do with
the original. We wouldn't want to have two of them running around
the White House.