Redshirts

Corey peered at Dahl, groggily. “I know you,” he said after a minute. “You’re an extra on my show.” He looked at Duvall and Hanson. “So are you two.” His gaze turned to Hester. “You I’ve never seen before.”

Hester looked slightly exasperated at this. “We had a scene together,” he said to Corey. “You were attacked by swarm bots.”

“Dude, I have a lot of scenes with extras,” Corey said. “That’s why they’re called ‘extras.’” He turned his attention back to Dahl. “And if any of you ever want to work on the show again, you will give me my pants and my car keys, right now.”

“Your pants are in the restroom,” Hanson said. “Drying.”

“You were so drunk you pissed yourself,” Hester said.

“Besides taking your pants for discussion purposes, we figured you might not want to go into work with clothes that smelled like urine,” Dahl said.

Corey looked puzzled at this, glanced down at the underwear on his body, and then bent over at the waist, sniffing. Both Duvall and Hester gave up looks of mild disgust; Dahl watched impassively.

“I smell fine,” Corey said.

“New underwear,” Dahl said.

“Whose?” Corey said. “Yours?”

“No, mine,” Kerensky said. All this time he had been sitting silently in a suite chair with its back to the bed. Now he stood and turned to face Corey. “After all, you and I are the same size.”

Corey gazed up at Kerensky, dumbly. “You,” he said, finally.

“Me,” Kerensky agreed. “Who is also ‘you.’”

“It’s you I saw on Gawker yesterday,” Corey said.

“I don’t know what that means,” Kerensky said.

“There was a video of someone who looked like me standing in the street without pants,” Corey said. “Someone took the video on their phone and sent it to the Gawker Web site. Our show had to confirm I was on the set before anyone would believe it wasn’t me. It was you.”

“Yes, it was probably me,” Kerensky said.

“Who are you?” Corey asked.

“I’m you,” Kerensky said. “Or who you pretend to be, anyway.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Corey said.

“Well, you talking about this Gawker thing doesn’t make any sense to me, either, so we’re even,” Kerensky said.

“Why were you running around in the street without pants?” Corey asked.

Kerensky motioned to the others in the room. “They took my pants,” he said.

“Why?” Corey asked.

“Because we needed to talk to him,” Dahl said.

Corey tore his eyes away from Kerensky. “What is wrong with you people?” he asked.

“You’re still here,” Dahl pointed out.

But Corey was ignoring him again. He got out of the bed and walked over to Kerensky, who stood there, watching him. Corey looked him all over. “It’s amazing,” Corey said. “You look exactly like me.”

“I am exactly like you,” Kerensky said. “Down to the last detail.”

“That’s not possible,” Corey said, staring into Kerensky’s face.

“It’s possible,” Kerensky said, and stepped closer to Corey. “Take a closer look.” The two of them stood an inch apart while Corey examined Kerensky’s body.

“Okay, this is getting creepy,” Hester said, quietly, to Dahl.

“Marc, we need your help,” Dahl said to Corey. “We need you to get us in to talk to Charles Paulson.”

“Why?” Corey said, not taking his eyes off Kerensky.

“There’s something about the show we need to discuss with him,” Dahl said.

“He’s not seeing people right now,” Corey said, turning. “A month ago his son was in a motorcycle accident. Son’s in a coma right now and they don’t think he’s going to pull through. Paulson gave his son the bike for a birthday gift. The rumor is Paulson goes to his office in the morning, sits down and stares at the walls until six o’clock and then goes home again. He’s not going to see you.” He turned back to Kerensky.

“We need to try,” Dahl said. “And that’s why we need you. He can avoid dealing with nearly everyone else, but you’re a star on his show. He has to see you.”

“He doesn’t have to see anybody,” Corey said.

“You could make him see you,” Duvall said.

Corey glanced over, and then broke away from Kerensky to step over to her. “And why would I do that?” he asked. “You’re right, if I threw a fit and demanded to see Paulson, he’d make time to see me. But if I saw him and wasted his time, he might kick me off the show. He might have my character killed off in some horrible way just to get a quick ratings boost out of it. And then I’d be out of a job. Do you know how hard it is to get a regular series gig in this town? I was a waiter before I got this. I’m not going to do anything for you people.”

“It’s important,” Dahl said.

“I’m important,” Corey said. “My career is important. It’s more important than whatever you want.”

“If you help us, we can give you money,” Hanson said. “We’ve got ninety thousand dollars.”

“That’s less than what I make an episode,” Corey said, and looked back toward Kerensky. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Dahl opened his mouth to speak.

“I’ll handle this,” Kerensky said, and looked at the others. “Let me talk to Marc.”

“So talk,” Hester said.

“Alone,” Kerensky said.

“Are you sure?” Dahl said.

“Yes,” Kerensky said. “I’m sure.”

“All right,” Dahl said, and motioned to Duvall, Hanson and an incredulous Hester to clear the room.

“Tell me I’m not the only one who thinks something unseemly is about to happen in there,” Hester said, in the hall.

“It’s only you,” Dahl said.

“No it’s not,” Duvall said. Hanson also shook his head. “You can’t tell me you weren’t seeing how Corey was responding to Anatoly, Andy,” Duvall said.

“I must have missed it,” Dahl said.

“Right,” Hester said.

“You really are a prude, aren’t you,” Duvall said to Dahl.

“I just prefer to think there is a sober, reasoned discussion going on in there and that Kerensky is making some very good points.”

From the other side of the door there was a muffled thump.

“Yes, that’s it,” Hester said.

“I think I’m going to wait in the lobby,” Dahl said.

* * *

Two hours later, as dawn broke, a tired-looking Kerensky came down to the lobby.

“Marc needs his keys,” he said. “He’s got a six-thirty makeup call.”

Dahl dug in his pocket for the keys. “So he’ll help us?” he asked.

Kerensky nodded. “He’s going to put in a call as soon as he gets to the set,” he said. “He’ll tell Paulson that unless he schedules a meeting today, he’s going to quit.”

“And just how did you manage to get him to agree to that?” Hester said.

Kerensky fixed Hester with a direct stare. “Are you actually interested?”

“Uh,” Hester said. “Actually, no. No, I’m not.”

“Didn’t think so,” Kerensky said. He took the keys from Dahl.

“I am,” Duvall said.

Kerensky sighed, and turned to Duvall. “Tell me, Maia: Have you ever met someone who you know so completely, so exactly and so perfectly that it’s like the two of you share the same body, thoughts and desires? And