The Misadventures of Sam Lloyd (2/?)



Spender stared numbly at the pile of data in front of him. He 
couldn't believe the depth of the information laid out on the 
coffee table. Names, dates, photos, faxes from his office, copies 
of his personal case files, birth certificates, death 
certificates, DNA analysis, it was almost more than he could 
grasp at once. 

He leaned back on the couch, and took a long, deep breath, 
rubbing his hands on his face as if everything would fall into 
place or simply vanish once he opened his eyes. It didn't. The 
pile remained resolute and unmoved by his uncertainty or his 
discomfort.
 
His double, his clone, Sam Lloyd, sat across from him, leaning 
forward, sipping coffee and appearing a little anxious. He was 
looking at Spender speculatively as if trying to determine what 
effect this torrent information was having. Spender studied the 
familiar face again; he still couldn't quite believe what he was 
seeing. The man was an absolute duplicate, identical in every way 
that mattered, though his hair a bit longer, his taste in clothes 
a bit louder. Spender ran his fingers through his own shorter 
hair and sighed, he had to admit he didn't know if he could tell 
the two of them apart himself.
 
"Lloyd," Spender began to say and then grinned and shook his 
head. Formality and distance with a man who was his genetic 
double suddenly seemed trivial and a little silly. "Sam," he said 
then hesitated. 

Lloyd took another sip of coffee and grinned at Spender over the 
top of his cup. Spender blinked. That was what he looked like 
when he smiled all angles and straight lines? He'd have to 
practice that. 

"Sam is good." The other man said.  "Sam is progress, hell of a 
lot better than Mr. Lloyd anyway." Spender laughed at that. He'd 
fallen directly into bureau mode when first confronted by his 
double. Cool, efficient and emotionless. It had taken a good 
number of dark revelations to snap him out of his safe, well-
ordered mind set.

Spender picked up the DNA transparencies again and held them up 
to the light, laying one over the other. They matched up 
perfectly, identical, as close as twins, maybe even closer.
 
"How is this possible?" he said, more wondering aloud than 
asking. He flipped the transparencies around, realigning them, 
looking closely for any variation, any deviation, any difference 
at all. "Are you my clone? Am I yours?"

Sam slid a coaster under his coffee cup and leaned back in his 
chair, hands knitted behind his head, reaching a contemplative 
position that Spender was well familiar with. "I don't know. I 
don't have any specific memories that suggest anything like 
cloning. I had a pretty normal life. Dad, mom, suburbs, college, 
all that."

Spender nodded and set the transparencies down, slid them back 
into their envelope and tossed them back onto the pile of 
documents. He pulled his feet up, and stretched out on the couch, 
lying on his side so he could watch Sam as he talked. He felt 
tired, more so than he had in a long time.

There was something in this, something deep, outside the obvious, 
something even more important than finding out he had a double of 
himself, if he could only pull the pieces together. He rolled 
over, stretched, stifled a yawn and stared up at the ceiling.

"It doesn't have to be clones." Sam said.  "Maybe we're twins 
separated at birth." Spender turned and watched Sam down his 
coffee in two gulps, exactly the way he did himself.

Spender rolled to a sit, as something suddenly 'clicked' in his 
thoughts, and stood. 

"Stand up." 

Sam looked at him cautiously for a moment then shrugged and 
stood. Spender stepped around the coffee table and brought 
himself face-to-face with the other man.

"What do you see?" Spender asked. 

"You, another version of me," Sam replied looking confused.

"Look close," Spender said. "We aren't different versions. Hell 
we aren't different version at all."

"I still don't . . . " Sam started to say.

Spender abruptly stepped past, grabbed Sam by the elbow and 
dragged him to the bathroom where they stood facing the mirror.

"This line here," Spender said tracing a slight crease at the 
outer corner of his right eye. "You've got it too."

Sam leaned forward and looked closely at his own face and then 
over at Spender's. "Yeah, I can see that, so?"

"So, it's impossible," Spender replied. He put his hand up near 
the mirror, palm out. "Put your hand next to mine and look 
close."

Sam did as instructed and turned back to Spender after a few 
moments, clearly startled.

"The fingerprints are absolutely identical aren't they?" Spender 
asked, dropping his hand to rest on the sink.

"Completely, down to the last whorl," Sam said, his voice edged 
in disbelief. "But that's . . ."

"Impossible, " Spender concluded.

Lloyd sat down on the tub edge, head down, elbows on his knees, 
looking suddenly smaller, vulnerable.

Spender began to fiddle and organize small items on the sink, 
aligning things precisely, orderly. "Fingerprints are unique, 
twins, or even clones, would have different prints," he said.

Sam looked up from his perch on the tub. "So we're neither twins, 
nor clones?"

Spender shook his head. "We're some kind of duplicates. Genetic, 
mental, physical copies, everything except memory."

Sam seemed to ponder that for a moment "So what do we do next?" 
he asked.

Spender looked into the mirror again. "We find help, and I think 
I know who."

END part (2/?)