Tal James scrutinized the photos. It was eerie, looking at photos of himself, knowing that they were not him. He had never been in a medical lab in his life. Nor had he been part of a city road works crew, not even in his youth. “I’m spooked,” he said without looking up. “They really look like me. I get an awkward feeling, a real sense of displacement looking at them. You’ve done great work.”"Watch this,” Stanzi said, pointing a remote at the conference room’s flat panel.
Road work Tal was shoveling hot asphalt into a pot hole, and road work George Clooney followed behind him, packing it down with a roller. Road work Steve Buscemi was slowly driving the supply truck ahead of both of them.
“My God,” Tal remarked, “even that thing with my left foot, how it turns in when I walk. you nailed that. And wiping the sweat off the side of my nose with my thumb, like my dad used to…amazing detail”
Stanzi stopped the playback. Lacing his fingers across his belly, he grinned. His collection of chins and broad cheeks made him look like a pale, Russian jack-o-lantern.
“Thank you. Borders changed. Leaders changed. Cultures changed, and some of us former KGB saw opportunity. We translated the motor centers of your brain to a series of chips, and installed a voice module. The carbon fiber skeleton is custom fit with silicone and saline layers to emulate the warmth and feel of flesh. We can even adjust the weight. It is complex, but not difficult. We felt it a shame to waste such technology.”
Tal signed the contract with CreduSim, and chose locations for his high-tech doppelgangers. One would be kept in Europe, the other on a yacht in the Bahamas. Both ready to put in appearances as required. Stanzi suggested he grow his hair out and perhaps part it from the other side, maybe grow a beard. CreduSIm provided him with credit cards and documentation in his birth name, Ron Jankins.
Ron Jankins had lead a quiet, comfortable life, at least according to the neighbours. Wasn’t that always the way, though? It’s always the quiet ones. Sandra Manning, neighbour of 5 years, told the scrum of reporters he was a quiet fellow, machinist by trade, and he kept a simple but nice garden. Barry across the street told the daily papers Jankins was “… a nice guy, but a lousy poker player.”Sandra, Barry, and the whole community of MacArthur Hills were shocked to hear the news of the first killing, and terrified to learn of the second.
A desperate paparazzo was staking out a yacht rumored to be the home of reclusive star Tal James. A small skiff arrived and anchored near the yacht, and frame by frame the action was captured. A slightly balder version of Tal James climbed the rope ladder. The photographer was too distant to hear what was said, but the telephoto lens picked up finger pointing, arm waving, and the pushing and shoving that eventually gave way to the simple violent act of two gun shots at close range. The body went overboard.
Jankins cleared customs in Prague, and negotiated a taxi to Villa James before the pictures from the yacht hit the papers and the news feeds.
Emboldened by his first kill, he embraced his flair for the dramatic, too long hidden beneath his suburban boredom. The stone walls up the stair case were festooned with medieval swords, maces, and battle axes. He chose a battle axe based on ease of use and, well, it just felt right for beheading a replica of himself.
This Tal James didn’t even get out of bed. Simply opened it’s eyes and said “Oh. It’s you.” No fighting, pushing, or shoving. Ron lifted the axe and brought it down across the neck. The carbon fiber bones and silicon flesh seemed even more real than his own. Saline fluid pooled on the mattress and dripped onto the floor. It was red. He had expected blue.
Nor did Ron expect to to be arrested for murder. The Interpol alert came across the wire moments after his cab left the airport, and Czech authorities were quick to locate and extradite him.
“Mr Jankins, we found this among your possessions.” Detective Ramirez held up the evidence bag containing the CreduSim contract. “Care to explain?”"I wanted a quiet, normal life. At least I thought I did. I found these people, CreduSim, who could create perfect copies of me. The copies would be famous, and I would be left alone. I got bored. I wanted my fame back.”
“We haven’t been able to locate CreduSim in this country, or any other. And this Mr. Stanzi, you mentioned – no trace of him.”
“Of course not,” Jankins sneered,”he’s former KGB for chrissakes. You suppose he’s got business cards printed up? Maybe a member of the Chamber of Com-”
“-Jankins,” Ramirez interrupted,”Glasnost was more than fancy word. Both sides pretty much came clean, right down to the gauge of wire used in embassy bugs. If there was a Stanzi, we’d know.”
The interrogation room was still, silent, and uncomfortably warm. Ramirez pushed the contract across the table, right under Jankins nose. “Mr. Jankins, we traced this document back to your own printer. You made it up. The company, the cyborg lookalikes, the former KGB agent. Why?”
“We pulled the old switcheroo prank a lot as kids. It’s what triplets do. Teachers hated it. They made us wear name tags, but we just switched. I missed that game. I wanted to play again, but for keeps.”
Behind the one way mirror, an elderly Mrs. Jankins was in tears. “His brothers I worried about, you know. The parties, the red carpets, the awards – I figured they would be the ones that went crazy; did something foolish.” The District Attorney put a hand on her shoulder, thanked her for her time and had an officer taker her home.
wildly creative and oh so very clever. i’ve come to expect nothing less. nice to see a lengthier, fully flushed out piece from your devious mind. great stuff here trev.
I had no idea where this was going! I especially liked the descriptions the neighbours gave to the waiting media scrum. There were quite a few leaps in time/place that I found hard to follow, but, all in all, I thought it was a good flash piece. Thanks!
Trev, I LOVE it! You have a wonderful, twisted way about you.
This was just awesome. I’m so glad you posted for #fridayflash.
Wow, great twist at the end! Poor Mrs. Jankins. Doesn’t she know it’s almost always the one you least expect…
Enjoyed your story.
The idea behind this story is excellent (as is your writing). I do think, however, that it would deserve a longer treatment. Probably not a novel, but certainly a fair few thousand words. Great work.
What an interesting concept.
It needs a good edit, and the conversations parsed out a bit better, but overall this was a good story.
I’m intrigued but a little confused. Did he murder his brothers and just imagine that they were robot copies? Weird.
Very creepy and cool.
He was the odd man out; the third wheel, and Jealous of his brothers’ success. He was driven to paranoid psychosis, concocted a fantasy wherein they were copies of himself, then sought to do away with the copies to ‘reclaim’ the fame he never really had. Yeah…a little convoluted and dark. Welcome to my world.
Great story! Did not expect that ending. I could see this expanded into a novel-length mystery!
Wow, now that was a trip, Trev. Wicked twist. To be honest, I’d love to see this expanded into a longer piece. You have all the elements of a good crime novel. Who knew such crime lived in the happy little neighborhood of MacArthur Hills?
I caught Barry’s name too. Hee hee…he makes for a good character!
Trev, I like it! I too was wondering where it was going. I liked the whole sci-fi tease, but really liked the twist (even better).
Can’t wait to see what you post next… Friday
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That was lovely. Beautifully written and completely unexpected ending. And enough intelligence behind it to make me think, which is always a Good Thing!
A complex idea to fit within the confines of flash fiction, but I think you pulled it off. I like the premise of having one crazy triplet.