Mindscan

And I would have gladly answered those questions. But he didn't ask them. No, he picked the one I didn't want to answer. Whether it was because he perversely wanted to humiliate me, even though the revelation would presumably hurt him, too, or because he wanted to show me, so that I would convey to Smythe and the others, just how far he was willing to go, I couldn't tell.

"Exactly where," he asked, "were we when our father suffered brain damage?"

I looked at Karen, then back at the camera. "In his den."

"And what were we doing?"

"Jake…"

"You don't know, do you?"

Oh, I know. I know. "Come on, Jake," I said.

"Smythe, if this is another trick, I'll kill Hades — I swear it."

"Don't do that," I said. "I'll answer. I'll answer." I really did miss being able to take a deep, calming breath. "We were arguing with him."

"About what?"

"Come on, Jake. You've heard enough to know it's really me."

"About what?" demanded the other me.

I closed my eyes, and spoke softly, quickly, without opening them. "I'd been caught using a fake ID. We were shouting at each other, and he collapsed right in front of me. It was arguing with me that caused the hemorrhaging in his brain."

I felt Karen's hand alight on my shoulder. She squeezed gently.

"Well, well, well," said the other me. "Welcome to the moon, brother."

"I wish it was under better circumstances," I said, opening my eyes at last.

"So do I." He paused. "Who is that? The other upload?"

"A friend."

"Hmm. Oh, my — it's Karen, isn't it? I saw the new you on TV. Karen Bessarian."

"Hello, Jake," she said.

"You must know your skin has passed on — that came out during the trial, didn't it?

What are you doing here?"

"I came with Jake," said Karen. "He's … we're…"

"What?"

I glanced over my shoulder at Karen. She shrugged at the camera a little, and said, simply, "We're lovers."

The biological me looked stunned. "What?"

"You can't picture it, can you?" said Karen. "A version of you with an old woman.

You know, I remember when we met, at the sales pitch."

The other Jake seemed momentarily flustered, then: "Right. Of course you do."

"Age doesn't matter," said Karen. "Not for me. And not for Jake."

" I'm Jake," said the biological me.

"No, you're not. Not legally. Not any more than the woman who died here was me."

I could see Gabe and the others looking quite nervous, but nobody moved to stop Karen. And the other me actually looked pleased. "Let me get this straight: the two of you — Mindscan Karen and Mindscan Jake — are together, a couple?"

"That's right."

"So that means — that means, you, Jake, you aren't with Rebecca?"

I was surprised. "Rebecca? Rebecca Chong?"

"Do we know another Rebecca? Yes, of course, Rebecca Chong!"

"No, no. We, I — she … she didn't take well to my having uploaded. And, ah, neither did Clamhead — Rebecca is looking after her now."

An actual grin broke out on his face. "Excellent. Excellent." He looked at me, then at Karen, and practically laughed the words, "I hope the two of you will be very happy together."

"There's no need to mock us," said Karen sharply.

"Oh, I'm not, I'm not," said the original me, with glee. "I'm totally sincere." But then he sobered. "Still, I've been following your legal troubles, Karen. Maybe you'll both end up losing your rights of personhood."

"We're not going to lose," said Karen sharply. "My Jake hasn't just been a placeholder, looking after your life for you until you're ready to reclaim it. He's gone on, making his own life — with me. We're not going to backtrack."

The biological me seemed cowed by Karen's forcefulness. "I — um…"

"So, you see," snapped Karen, "it isn't just about you and what you want. My Jake has a life of his own now. New friends. New relationships."

"But I'm the real one."

"Bullshit," snapped Karen. "How would you ever back up that claim?"

"I'm the one with … the one who has—

"What? A soul? You think this is about souls? There's no such thing as souls. You live as long as I have and you know that. You see people slipping away, day by day, year by year, until there's nothing left. Souls! Cartesian nonsense. There's no magic, airy-fairy insubstantial part of you. Everything you are is a physical process — processes that can be, and have been, flawlessly reproduced. You've got nothing — nothing — that this Jake doesn't. Souls? Give me a break!"

"You know that she's right," I said, gently. "You never believed in souls before.

When Mom talked about Dad's soul still being in there, in that wrecked brain, you felt sorry for her not because of what had happened to Dad, but because she was deluded. That's the very word you thought; you know it and I know it. Deluded."

"Yes, but—"

"But what?" I said. "You going to try to tell me it's different now? That you've had some sort of epiphany?"

"You—"

"If anyone should be seeing things differently," I said, "it's me. In fact, I am — I can see all colors now. And I know nothing is missing in me. My mind is a perfect — perfect — copy of yours."