Over the following week Malcolm and Jericho tried their best to figure out a way to destroy the Mycelloids, and yet no matter where the boys met or how focused they initially felt, these meetings often devolved into a raucous cacophony of video games, internet clips, and booze. It got to the point that the boys weren’t fighting the clones, but were instead fighting against the allure of their new lifestyles.
“More donuts, boys?” Malcolm’s mom asked.
“Of course!” Jericho beamed.
She left them a plate, and without taking their eyes off the screen each boy grabbed one, took a bite, and continued playing Malcolm’s new game system.
“You know we’re gonna hafta eventually kill those clones.” Jericho said with his mouth half-filled with pastry.
Malcolm didn’t respond.
“You know that, right?” Jericho pressed.
“Eh.”
“Right?”
“I mean…Do we really need to?” Malcolm asked.
This time the suggestion was met with hesitant speculation.
“Well yeah.” Jericho decided eventually. “We still can’t trust them.”
“We can trust them a hell of a lot more than we can trust our old parents. Honestly, I’ve never been closer to my mom, and no offense, but your old dad was kind of an asshole. He’s better as a clone, and you and I both know it.”
Jericho couldn’t debate these facts. “What if they eventually reach a point where they overtake all of us?”
“Your brother – your real brother – seemed perfectly content down there. I guess if that’s their plan and they want to forcibly take over there’s nothing we can do. It’s not like two kids can really stop them, right?”
Jericho shrugged. “I suppose.” He finally relented.
“I mean, our parents have never been cooler. Truth be told I’m thinking of a few people at school who could benefit from a replacement.”
“I’m willing to coexist with the clones, but I’m not exactly going to help them replace real people.” Jericho said in a low voice. “We’d be strengthening their numbers.”
“Eh, I was only half kidding.”
After the conversation ended, there didn’t seem to be much more on Malcolm’s mind. The ACT, once a fearsome beast looming on the horizon, suddenly looked like nothing more than another test he was destined to fail. He’d never be accepted in a good college and knew there was no point in trying.
His mom had bought him a gaming console and some games…Something she never would have let him have before…And so he just spent his time playing games.
…And snacking…
…And drinking…
The perfect way to end a school year.
…
Malcolm woke to a commotion coming from downstairs. He looked at the clock and saw it was almost noon.
His head pounded, and as he sat up several empty beer cans fell to the floor. He’d have his mom clean those up later.
He swayed out of bed and made his way downstairs.
“The heck’s going on? I was sleepin-” But the words caught in his throat when he saw his sister standing in the foyer, frowning up at him.
“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed!” She exclaimed. “Is that any way to greet your sister?”
He ran downstairs and hugged her.
“You smell like booze.” She whispered in his ear. “You better grab a shower before mom realizes what you’ve been up to.”
In his hangover-addled, sleep-deprived mind, he momentarily felt confusion about what she was saying, then when the memories of their old mom hit him, he said “Oh…Right.”
He did as his sister instructed, using the shower as a means of hydrating himself and injecting conscious thought into his alcohol-shriveled brain. After putting on a fresh set of clothes and masking any lingering scents with an ample application of deodorant, he headed back downstairs and found his mom and sister sitting casually in the living room.
“Your father’s going to try and get out of the office early today, so dinner will be around four.” His mom smiled.
“Thanks.” He said, taking a seat on the couch.
“The big test is coming up!” Lori grinned. “When is it? Two weeks? Three?”
“A week and a half.” Malcolm said in a dismissive voice.
Lori leaned back in her chair. “My, you seem really confident.”
He shrugged. “I’m not worried about it.” He replied.
“And I’m sure you’ve been pushing him to do his best.” She said with a smile, turning to their mother.
“Not even a little.” Their mom answered, smile still warmly displayed to the world.
Lori’s head reared back slightly as an expression of shock crossed her face.
“You’re not pushing him?”
She shook her head. “Your brother’s old enough to make his own decisions. It’s his life!”
Lori seemed confused.
“Did something happen?” She asked skeptically. “Did you two get into a fight?”
“It’s nothing like that.” Malcolm said, then sighing, he looked at their mother and said “Mom’s been replaced with a clone.”
Lori’s shock increased until her composure completely disintegrated into a fit of laughter. “Mom…She’s…What?!”
“Mom has been replaced with a clone.” Malcolm said coolly. “Go ahead and ask her.”
“It’s true.” Their mother said. “Your human mom is about a quarter mile underground, resting peacefully in the walls of a giant fungal colony.”
Lori’s confusion returned. “What are you talking about? Is this some kind of joke?”
“No joke.” Malcolm said flatly.
“It’s the truth.” Their mom agreed.
Lori looked uncomfortable. “I don’t understand what you two are trying to pull.”
“I can prove it to you.” Malcolm said. He turned to their mom and asked “Hey mom? Did you know that Lori smokes cigarettes?”
The room’s atmosphere turned cold for a second, but only a second.
“Is that true dear?” Their mom asked in a nonjudgmental voice. “What brand? I can pick some up for you next time you visit.”
“That was supposed to be a secret between the two of us!” Lori hissed.
Malcolm shrugged. “You think this clone cares? She doesn’t.”
“It’s true. I just want to make you happy.” Their mom said.
But Lori wasn’t listening. “If you’ll excuse us, mom, Malcolm and I need to go on a walk.”
…
Yet again Lori waited until they lost line-of-sight with their house before sparking up a cigarette.
“The fuck was that?!” She barked. “I thought you could keep a secret! I thought I could trust you!”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious about why she didn’t freak out?” Malcolm asked. “And why she hasn’t been forcing me to study?”
“She must’ve snapped!” Lori exclaimed. “She’s under so much stress worrying about you that she had a freak out, and now she believes she’s a clone of herself. There’s actual clinical precedent for this, you know!” She took a quick and heavy drag from her cigarette. “Fuck, we need to get her help.”
“Several people around the neighborhood and nearby city have been replaced with clones.” Malcolm said calmly. “My friend’s brother and dad have both been replaced. The clones are fungal-based and come from deep in the Earth. If you want I can show you one of the holes where they came from.”
“They’re not clones!” Lori rubbed her temples. “You’re going along with this? Christ, this must be a mass delusion…Shit, we’re gonna need to get you and mom to see a psychologist. When we get back home I’m going to see if we can schedule some therapy. God, I hope you two didn’t break one another.”
Malcolm sighed. “Just follow me.” He said. “And I’ll show you.”
She resisted for a moment but then relented, following Malcolm toward the poorer part of the suburbs, across yards and through sections of woods, until they came to the overgrown field where he’d seen the Mycelloid hole. It didn’t take long before he spotted the sun glistening off the spongy pink flesh that lined the pit.
“Right there.” He said, pointing toward it.
His sister approached the hole, stooped down, and frowned.
“It’s just a sink hole.” Her voice was flat and humorless, and all familial love had been stripped from it.
“No, look! It’s got flesh.”
“It’s just a fungal growth.”
“Yes!” Malcolm agreed. “That’s what I’ve been saying!”
Lori stood back up, face just as stony as before.
“So you told mom my secret over this? This!?” She sighed, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “Fine…It’s fine. I guess she would’ve found out eventually, and I guess it’s a relief that I’m no longer hiding things from her.”
“But it’s not her!” Malcolm argued. “The mom back home isn’t our real mom! She’s a clone!”
“Malcolm, please.” She said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I need you to drop this. You’re starting to worry me.”
He quickly searched his memory for how the whole clone-thing had been proven to him. James. The clone was still in the room and the real one had been ejected from the depths.
…Ejected.
“I can show you!” Malcolm exclaimed. “We just need to throw a frog or something down there. Something alive. You’ll see.”
“I’m not going to let you throw an innocent animal down there.”
“But it’ll prove that I’m telling the truth!”
“How?”
“Because it’s going to shoot back up here! Well, it won’t, but its clone will.”
But Lori was finished listening. She turned and began stomping back toward the house.
“Where are you going?!” Malcolm cried, chasing after his sister.
“Home.” She said flatly. “I’m done.”
“But you didn’t even give me a chance-
“-I said I’m done.” She roared. Malcolm reeled back upon seeing her expression; it reminded him too much of their old mom. But more than that, there was an aspect of emptiness. She looked angry and sad and empty and her eyes stared a thousand miles before reaching him. “I thought I could count on you. I thought there was a good reason for me to be here. Mom’s a slave driver and dad doesn’t care, but you? I thought you’d be…” She shook her head. “But you’ve cracked too. You’re not really you anymore. I can’t do this. No more.”
She tore away and walked briskly back home. Malcolm, left speechless, simply watched her disappear.
…
By the time he got home he found his sister had already left.
“Back to college! You know how busy she is!” His mom said in too-chipper a voice.
“Yeah.” He felt a deep discomfort gnawing away at his stomach. “I just wish she would’ve given me a chance to explain.”
“Oh don’t worry, your sister will be alright!” His mom said. “I spoke to her.”
Malcolm gave a grunt. “About what? She didn’t believe you.”
“I told her that if things got too difficult for her, there’d always be someone who’d happily take her place.”
Malcolm felt the pit of his stomach sink. “You…What?”
His mom shrugged. “I just told her the truth…You wanted her to know the truth, right?”
Malcolm wasn’t so sure. He tried to think but his clone-mom interrupted his thoughts by offering him a hot fudge sundae. Admittedly the ice cream did help him feel a little better, but even as he relaxed with his frozen treat and hours of mind-numbing television, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was dreadfully wrong.
…
A week passed, and both Malcolm and Jericho stopped caring about the Mycelloids. Rather than fight them, they both began to accept them and enjoy the service they provided.
“If you think about it, maybe this is just the universe’s way of dealing with overpopulation.” Jericho suggested one evening between hours of video game playing and countless beers. “These Mycelloids, maybe they’re here to help the remaining humans ease into a world where everything’s automated. They’re really peaceful, and I’ll bet they’d help the rest of us cope with mass pandemonium and large-scale disorder if the apocalypse ever happened… Plus they make great servants.”
“I guess.” Malcolm shrugged.
There was still a small part of him that felt uncomfortable about the clones, but if he were being completely objective, the fungal beings really did seem to be honest and peaceful, and were far friendlier and much more accommodating than most real humans he knew.
…
Malcolm’s head throbbed and his eyes burned, but he knew he needed to push through the discomfort to take the SAT.
“You’ll do great!” His clone-mom beamed.
Malcolm gave her a thumbs up and a weak smile before heading inside the school.
It didn’t matter. He knew that no matter how well he did, his clone-mom would be proud of him. He had no reason to push himself.
He followed the signs to the cafeteria, where a large assembly of evenly-spaced desks had been placed. A few familiar teachers sat near the front of the room or stood by doors, while strange men and women bustled in small groups around the room’s perimeter.
“Malcolm?” A familiar voice called.
He looked up and through his blurred vision he saw Mrs. Derrick approaching him.
He gave a faint smile.
She frowned.
“Uhhh, Mr. Ericson? Are you feeling okay?”
“Fine.” He answered. “Why?”
“Well, you look a bit…Heavier. And your skin’s lost its normal glow.” She sniffed the air around him and her frown grew more severe, but she didn’t say anything about the obvious aura of liquor that surrounded him.
It was true some of his clothes had been getting tighter, but he simply chalked that up to puberty-related growth spurts.
“Has everything been going alright at home?” She asked.
“Yeah.”
“Your mom hasn’t been too strict?”
“No.”
Mrs. Derrick gave him a critical look, seemingly unsure what to think, then with a sigh directed him to his assigned desk.
He took a seat.
He nodded off a bit, then woke up. He felt thirsty. Someone placed a test in front of him.
“Please open your test booklet to the first page.” A voice called from the front of the room.
Malcolm did as instructed.
He closed his eyes.
“-have 45 minutes to complete the-” A voice said.
He felt his center of balance beginning to fall to one side. He jerked awake.
“Ready? Begin!”
A flurry of rustling papers surrounded him. He glanced leftward, then rightward. Both students seemed incredibly focused on the test.
He opened the booklet. He began reading.
‘According to the Bureau of Statistics, in the year 1993, roughly 30% of all American households had-
Malcolm closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to fall asleep…He just needed a moment to think about what he’d just read.
His mind swam with images of Mycelloids and math. They understood the questions. He didn’t.
Becoming a Mycelloid…A fungal angel…The ultimate self-improvement.
“Five minutes!”
He woke up, feeling his heart flutter with panicked beats. He hadn’t read a single prompt, and he hadn’t answered a single question.
“Shit.” He cursed to himself.
He tried to read as fast as possible. “According to the Bureau of Statistics, in the year 1993, roughly 54% of all American households had a home computer. Within 10 years this number had increased to roughly 62%. According to the provided information, what assumptions can logically be made?” He looked down at the provided answers, darting from one to the next.
–The home computer’s usage increased-
-The number of people more than doubled-
He began to sweat. A cold chill ran through his blood. He was so thirsty and so, so tired.
“I’ll come back to this one.” He inaudibly whispered.
A container holding five hundred fifty gallons of water…There was nearly a paragraph’s worth of information, and he could feel himself growing sleepier with each new word.
Screw it. He filled in the bubble corresponding with ‘B’.
A train leaves station A at 3 PM and travels due-south-…
He filled in the bubble corresponding with ‘C’.
He read the first sentence of the next problem. A bag contains 50 marbles of varying colors. He filled in the ‘B’ bubble again.
He gave up on reading, and instead just filled in whatever letters caught his fancy.
‘D’.
‘A’.
‘B’.
‘A’ again.
“Time’s up!”
He’d barely finished guessing, but at least felt good knowing that every question had been given an answer. A random answer, yes, but an answer all the same.
And that’s largely how the rest of the test went. He’d nod off, wake up, half-consciously fill in some answers, then regain full consciousness whenever one of the administrators shouted out the remaining time. Ordinarily this subpar performance would leave him feeling stupid, inadequate, and generally horrible, but after closing his booklet and handing it to one of the roving adults, he simply felt empty.
Sleepy. Thirsty.
…But mostly empty.
All this time spent worrying about the test, and now it meant nothing. The peaks of anxiety and the pits of despair had been smoothed over for him. Now he had no reason to worry about anything, nor did he have a reason to feel sad. He was like an automaton moving from one carnal pleasure to the next… Alcohol, food, video games…
He stood up and stumbled to the door.
“Take care of yourself.” Mrs. Derrick waved, a worried expression still plastered to her face.
He feigned a smile and waved back before walking outside.
“How was the test?” His clone-mom asked when he returned to the parking lot.
“Okay.” He shrugged.
His clone-mom frowned. “Are you feeling okay? You look concerned.”
“No, I’m fine.” He said. He had no goals, long term or short term, and his once overly-structured future had unraveled. He had no one pushing him to go to college, and there were certainly no expectations for him to better himself. He could do whatever he liked while knowing the clones would fully support him.
“Are you sure?” She asked.
He nodded. “I’m just a bit tired. That test took a lot out of me.”
His clone-mom smiled. “We’ll get you home, but first we’ll stop and get you something to eat. You must be hungry. Do burgers sound good?”
Malcolm lightly shook his stomach. It jiggled in a way that it hadn’t weeks ago. He frowned.
“Sure.” He sighed.
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