Jeremiah leaned in closer to the monitor. Of all the times for his double to man-up and finally nibble at the edges of Diana’s infidelity, this probably wasn’t ideal. She was already pissed off. This could backfire.
“Don’t you dare make this about me,” she said, her words coming out in severe, rapid succession. “Don’t you dare turn this around. That is not fair, Jeremiah.”
Jeremiah winced. The clone should shut his mouth about now, he thought, but he inched closer to the edge of his seat, eager to see just how far he would go with this. Was he going to come out and say it? Was he going to confront her with the actual problem? Go ahead, Jeremiah urged silently, ask her who it is. Ask her.
“I’m not turning anything around,” the clone told her, mock innocence raising the pitch of his voice. “I’m just agreeing with you. How could I even think about adding this kind of stress to your life? There doesn’t seem to be enough of you to go around as it is. So, you’re right. It isn’t fair of me. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
Diana stared at the clone through narrowed eyes. Jeremiah shook his head and felt the full brunt of her anger right through the monitor.
Chapter 11
Day 81
The next day Jeremiah admitted to Natalie Young that he often worried about losing his mind.
“I think I’d rather my body went to hell than my mind,” he said. “It’s always one or the other in the end, but, to me, the mind has got to be worse.”
“Why are you afraid of that, Jeremiah?”
“Oh, come on, Natalie. You don’t have to be coy. I know it must be somewhere in that mammoth file of yours—my crazy uncle Charlie.”
“I am aware of your uncle. And I would prefer you don’t use the word crazy.”
“He was crazy.”
“He was a paranoid schizophrenic,” she said. “That is an illness. Nothing more.”
“And then, seeing it in my mother like that...” He shook his head and let out a long, slow breath. “It’s not an easy thing to see.”
“Dementia and schizophrenia are two completely different things,” she told him.
“And it would appear that both run in the family,” he said. “That doubles my odds. Beautiful.”
“You may be genetically predisposed,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean anything. It’s no more probable that you’ll suffer from one of these afflictions than it is that you’ll develop any other genetic trait. Arthritis and ulcers also run in your family.”
“I’d rather have the ulcers, given the choice.” He paused then and grew serious. “Do you think there’s any risk, though? I mean, if these things are in my family, and I’m taking Meld so much, don’t you think that poses a bigger risk?”
“Meld is perfectly safe when taken under the—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” he interrupted, “when taken under the supervision of a medical professional. I know that. I wrote it, remember? But I am asking you, Natalie. Do you think it’s wise, my taking Meld so often with this sort of thing in my genetic makeup?”
“I don’t think the Meld increases your risk at all,” she said.
“Have you seen anything—you know, warning signs, anything troubling—while I’m under the Meld with you?”
“Troubling, how?”
“Any signs of mental illness,” he said. “Instability, wild thoughts, thinking I can fly, that sort of thing.”
“No. Have you noticed anything like that in yourself?”
“Well, if I’m crazy,” he told her, “I wouldn’t be the best judge, would I?”
“Well, consider the more obvious things, then. Have you had any lapses in memory, headaches, anything like that?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t think so. Would that be a symptom?”
“Perhaps,” she said. “Perhaps not.”
“That’s not much help.”
“Well,” she added coyly, “do you think you can fly?”
“I’m serious, Natalie.”
“It is an imprecise science,” she said. “And you are in a very unique situation here, Jeremiah. In your case, anything that might manifest could simply be a normal reaction under these circumstances. We really don’t know because we have no basis.”
“It sounds like you don’t have any idea whether I’m crazy or not.”
“I do not think you exhibit any symptoms of mental illness.”
“But you don’t know for sure.”
“Jeremiah,” she said, a hint of frustration in her voice, “this is precisely why using the Meld at regular intervals is so crucial to this project. Among other things, it allows me to see the first signs of any change in your psychological makeup. I really don’t think you have anything to worry about. If something were wrong, I’d very likely see it under the Meld before you even begin to show outward signs. I’d know it before you do.”
“And you’d tell me, right?”
“And I’d tell you,” she said.
“I suppose I have no choice but to take you at your word, then.”
“Tell me a little about your uncle, Jeremiah. We’ve never talked about him.”
“I never knew him, really. He died more than twenty years ago. I only met him twice, and that was ages ago. He spent most of his life in and out of asylums.”
“We prefer the word hospital,” she said. “He was your mother’s brother. Were they close?”
“Oh, she loved Charlie,” he said. “She used to talk about him all the time, told me all these stories about his ‘wild antics,’ as she called them. I think he made her sad.”
“I’m sure it had an effect on her. Watching someone you love spiral into the grips of mental illness is very difficult. You had a hard time seeing your mother just for a short while. Imagine watching that happen over the course of a lifetime.”
“She used to say he could talk to the fairies,” he said. “That’s why no one else could understand him. Like
