“Thanks,” Con replied, hoping that would be the end of it.
“Do you still sing?”
Con nodded, reluctant to get on this subject. She’d tried to quit music after the accident, but it was a part of her that she found impossible to leave behind. It would have been easier to live without her leg. Still, she avoided the kind of music that had landed Awaken the Ghosts its recording contract, instead gigging with local bands that didn’t have a prayer of making it. That kept her safe, or so she told herself.
“Will you tell me the next time you’ve got a show? I’d love to come.”
“I will,” Con said, neglecting to mention the shows she’d just agreed to do with Weathervane.
Laleh smiled, sensing she’d crossed a line. “Okay, well, anyway, I really loved it. I’ll be back in a few. Why don’t you get started?”
Before every refresh, there were always the same forms to fill out, the same waivers to be signed. Initial here to indemnify Palingenesis in the event that the refresh accidentally turns your brain into a three-cheese omelet. It went on for pages and pages like that in mind-numbing legalese. Laleh threw the forms to Con’s LFD and excused herself. Con took off her slippers, tucked her feet under her, and opened the first page, the medical questionnaire.
Name?
Constance Ada D’Arcy
Age / Date of Birth?
22 / January 10, 2016
It informed her that her last refresh was forty-four days ago. An exhaustive, boilerplate disclaimer popped up, stating that Palingenesis strongly recommended gaps of no more than thirty days between refreshes to avoid neurological and psychological complications with the clone. In the event of the client’s untimely death, Palingenesis would not revive their clone if it had been more than ninety days since their last refresh. In legal terms, you’d be shit out of luck. Con skipped to the bottom and checked the box affirming that she had read and understood the risks.
She did understand and lately had begun to wonder why she kept taking them. That was the reason she was two weeks late for her monthly refresh. She’d been debating whether to quit outright and move on with her life. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. She knew it had something to do with the crash. Having a backup at the ready felt reassuring even if the ethics of human cloning troubled her. And she couldn’t be the only client who felt this way. There was a reason why Palingenesis worked so hard to make you forget why you were there. She couldn’t remember a single time she’d heard or read the word clone. Everything was dressed up in euphemistic language: backups and stewards and refreshes. All designed to dance clients away from the disconcerting fact that, close by, their inanimate doppelg?nger waited in the event that disaster struck.
Laleh returned and set down a silver tray. Five pills were arranged tastefully on a cloth napkin—the Alice in Wonderland meds that would put Con’s mind in a relaxed and conducive state. Even with the drugs, an upload couldn’t be made of an unwilling consciousness, but the drugs smoothed the way. Laleh waited until Con had taken the pills before excusing herself again, saying she would return after Con had finished her paperwork.
“All set?” Laleh asked.
Con’s head jerked up. She’d been daydreaming when she should have been filling out the forms. Her eyes felt too small in their sockets.
“What? No, I still haven’t eaten yet,” Con said, pointing to a serving tray that was empty apart from sliced ginger and a dollop of wasabi. Who ate her sushi? She looked around for the culprit. The old man in the bathrobe had also disappeared. Coincidence? Con frowned. But on her LFD, a green halo indicated the forms were complete. When had she finished filling them out? She noticed how thick her tongue felt and smacked her lips together, enjoying the sound it made.
“You’re so beautiful,” she told Laleh. “You’re the queen of pencil skirts.”
Lowered inhibitions were a side effect of the drugs, along with short-term memory loss. Perhaps that was why she didn’t remember taking the pills in the first place. Con wanted more than anything to yank out that gold pin and see Laleh’s hair tumble down around her shoulders.
“Thank you,” Laleh said sweetly, kneeling to help Con with her slippers.
“So you know how much this place sucks, right?” Con whispered conspiratorially.
“Alright, then,” Laleh said with the indulgent chuckle you saved for a three-year-old who had stripped naked in a family restaurant. “Time for a little trip. Are you ready?”