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“Have you always known you were a clone?” I asked.
Glen shook his head. “I only just found out. Before I went for my adult soothsaying, I wanted to see the report my parents had gotten when I was born. But none existed — my dad had decided to save some money. He didn’t need a new report done, he figured; my sooth would be identical to his, after all. When I went to get my sooth read and found that I was sterile, well, it all fell into place in my mind.”
“And so you took your father’s blaster, and, since your fingerprints are essentially the same as his…”
Glen nodded slowly. His voice was low and bitter. “Dad never knew in advance what was wrong with him — never had a chance to get help. Uncle Skye never told him. Even after Dad had himself cloned, Skye never spoke up.” He looked at me, fury in his cold gray eyes. “It doesn’t work, dammit — our whole way of life doesn’t work if a soothsayer doesn’t tell the truth. You can’t play the hand you’re dealt if you don’t know what cards you’ve got. Skye deserved to die.”
“And you framed your dad for it. You wanted to punish him, too.”
Glen shook his head. “You don’t understand, man. You can’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“I didn’t want to punish Dad — I wanted to protect Billy. Dad can afford the best damn lawyer in Mendelia. Oh, he’ll be found guilty, sure, but he won’t get life. His lawyer will cut it down to the minimum mandatory sentence for murder, which is -”
“Ten years,” I said, realization dawning. “In ten years, Billy will be an adult — and out of danger from Rodger.”
Glen nodded once.
“But Rodger could have told the truth at any time — revealed that you were a clone of him. If he’d done that, he would have gotten off, and suspicion would have fallen on you. How did you know he wasn’t going to speak up?”
Glen sounded a lot older than his eighteen years. “If Dad exposed me, I’d expose him — and the penalty for child molestation is also a minimum ten years, so he’d be doing the time anyway.” He looked directly at me. “Except being a murderer gets you left alone in jail, and being a pedophile gets you wrecked up.”
I nodded, led him outside, and hailed a robocab.
Mendelia is a great place to live, honest.
And, hell, I did solve the crime, didn’t I? Meaning I am a good detective. So I guess my soothsayer didn’t lie to me.
At least — at least I hope not …
I had a sudden cold feeling that the SG would stop footing the bill long before this case could come to public trial.
THE END
Further Reading:
A few notes about the science in this story, for those who might be interested
Information about this story’s nomination for the Hugo Award
Information about this story’s nomination for the Crime Writers of Canada’s Arthur Ellis Award
Other short stories by Robert J. Sawyer
Information about Rob’s novel Frameshift, a current nominee for the Hugo
Award for Best Novel of the Year
A profile of Rob from Tangent concentrating on his short-fiction career Back to the Robert J. Sawyer main page (www.sfwriter.com)