A Pounding on the Door

Evelyn sat paralyzed in her apartment. It was a bright yet blustery March afternoon, but the chill that accompanied the pounding on her door had nothing to do with the weather outside.

Every step to answer a sentence. Every pace forward leading to an ending she deserved yet dreaded.

Two enforcers were at her apartment door, their insectile-like helmets cocked at an angle as Evelyn threw open the door before she could talk herself out of it. She expected to hear her name read and a stiff “Come with us.” But instead, the enforcers pointedly gathered between them a most startling creature–a bald, shivering humanoid figure cuffed.

The creature was emaciated, in a simple gray shift dress, a uniform usually reserved only for surrogates. With no sweater or coat to shield its body from the cold, it trembled like a leaf caught on the wind. Its head had been shaved, and angry blotches of insect bites grazed the totality of its arms and legs.

At Evelyn's opening of the door, it brought its gaze up to face Eveyln. Two piercing blue eyes peered out from the mere skull stretched over with a layer of skin. Evelyn admired how it lifted its chin, not shying away from direct eye contact.

And it was as Evelyn glimpsed into its eyes, it dawned on her that the creature shared her facial structure. It perfectly matched her for height as it gathered itself to its full length. Most telling of all was how its eyes were a perfect reflection of her own.

Her copy–lost and supposed dead in the realm of the scroungers–stood before Evelyn blinking in the bright afternoon Sun, like a creature recently resurfaced from a journey to the Underworld.

“We found your copy in terrible shape, ma’am. At the Facility, the decision was made to shave it, as it was covered in lice and ticks.” The automaton voice of one of the enforcers woke Evelyn from the reverie of her thoughts.

“That’s quite all right.”

“Please inspect the inscription that this is indeed your property.” The robotic voice commanded, and Evelyn acquiesced, pulling the copy’s lilly-white arm towards her to examine.

Indeed, the tattoo EVEANN03 was raised on its arm. Her Copy, her own personal Lazarus.

Relinquishing to her her property as per their duty, the enforcers marched away down the hallway and out of sight. Evelyn let out a sigh of relief, before drawing the Copy forward into her humble abode. It moved to stand in the middle of the living space and cleared its throat as an uncomfortable silence dropped between them.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” Evelyn couldn’t keep the exasperation from creeping into her voice, nor the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, despite her will to remain stern. “You’ve caused quite a stir by your running off like that.”

“You meant to retire me though, didn’t you? I didn’t have much of a choice.” There was no accusation, but her copy’s eyes widened, the irises a more pronounced cerulean.

It was an uncanny feeling that unsettled Evelyn’s stomach, to stare deeply into her copy’s mirror-like gaze, and so she looked at the corner of her apartment, focusing her eyesight on some cobwebs floating on the disturbed air from the door being opened. It was her turn to clear her throat.

“It wasn’t my idea to retire you. I suppose I didn’t feel like I had much choice, either.” Her voice faltered, as all the thoughts of the endless contentious meetings filtered through her mind. She opened her mouth to explain further, but how could this gangly, hungry creature begin to understand the complexity of her life as an elite in the Foundation?

Her copy seemed to accept this response, thankfully. It stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, blinking with mouth pursed. Evelyn allowed the silence to reach a boil of awkwardness until she could stand it no longer.

“Well, what?” It came out more aggressive than she intended. Only God knew what this thing had been through the last few months.

Her copy rubbed the tattoo along her forearm as if it was contemplating what to say next.

Finally, it raised its large cobalt eyes and asked, “What happened to Evelyn the Second?”

Author’s Note: The story above is an excerpt from a longer WIP (“Work in progress”). The song above is one of the fundamental inspirations to the work as a whole. Please enjoy!