As soon as Malcolm ran upstairs he grabbed his phone and called Jericho.
“Dude, I’m so sorry. Listen, I’ve been thinking and-”
“Shut up for a second.” Malcolm interrupted. “My mom. She’s been replaced.”
Silence.
“Hello? Are you still there?”
“Well that’s good, isn’t it?” Jericho asked. “I mean, all you ever seem to do is bitch about her.”
He wanted to express the unease he felt knowing that one of those mushroom clones was now living in his house, but how could he expect sympathy from somebody living with two?
“It feels weird. Why did she do it? She was happy! She had no reason to replace herself.”
“I don’t know, man, your mom was always a bit high strung. Why don’t you ask her clone why she did it?”
The thought had never occurred to Malcolm, yet despite seeming preposterous on its surface he realized it was a perfectly sensible suggestion.
“I’ll call you back.” He said, hanging up the phone.
He slowly walked downstairs. His dad was in the living room watching television while his mom busied herself cleaning up the kitchen.
“Mom?” Malcolm asked. It felt odd addressing a replicant with such a personal, familial title.
“Yes dear?” She smiled.
“Errr, why did you, that is, the real you, jump into the Mycelloid pit?”
“Real me? Dear, I am the real me. Perhaps you’re referring to the human-version of me?”
“Yeah.” Malcolm said softly. “Why did she do it?”
“Stress.” She said with a simple shrug. “She was a ball of nerves. When she recently went out to eat with her friends one of them saw she was faring far worse than usual and suggested she take some time away from it all.”
“Why was she stressed? She never had to do anything. She just stayed around here, cleaned, went shopping every so often, and screamed at me the rest of the time.”
“She was stressed because of you, dear.” The clone said matter-of-factly. “You think she wasn’t snooping through your room? You think she didn’t see that science test you’d thrown away? You think she wasn’t in close communication with your teachers and didn’t know you’d already been rejected from every college? She knew you were keeping those secrets from her, and assumed you might have other secrets as well. She was worried your grades were bad because you were getting hooked on drugs, which is why she didn’t want you hanging out with that Sanders boy in the first place. She knew what kind of home-life he has and assumed he was your dealer.”
Rather than feeling guilty, Malcolm felt a small impassioned flame of anger pushing back against what she’d said.
“She was upset I wasn’t open and honest with her? Ha! What did she expect?! Anytime I confessed to putting even a toe out of place, she’d be there to bitch at me!” It felt cathartic to finally release his bottled frustrations at the source of his anger…or at least a facsimile of that source. “She never made it easy for me to talk to her!”
The clone shrugged, then returned to the dishes. “Perhaps not. That’s not for me to say. But you now know things are different and if you want, you can talk to me about anything.”
“Anything?”
The clone nodded. “Whatever’s on your mind.”
Ironically, Malcolm felt he really could be more honest with the fungal clone than he could his own mother.
“So do I just call you mom?” He asked.
“If you wish.” She said with a smile. “I would prefer that, but it’s up to you.”
He remained silent for a moment, trying to decide how much he could truthfully share.
“I can sense your pheromones, you know. I know you want to ask me something.” Her smile was far warmer than anything the original had ever been capable of creating. “It’s okay. No matter what, you can tell me anything.”
But he remined silent.
“Is this about your plans to kill us off?” She asked.
Malcolm looked up at her in surprise.
“How-?”
“I just told you…I can sense your pheromones. I can’t exactly read your mind, but I know you’re experiencing a great conflict, and you and Jericho recently tried dumping bleach down into the fungal colonies. Is that it?”
Malcolm looked at the floor sheepishly. “Well, I…I wonder if it’s possible to kill you lot off…All of you.”
Rather than react with anger, sadness, or threats, her smile persisted. “There we are. See? You can be honest with me.”
Despite himself, Malcolm grinned slightly.
“Well darling, what do you know about the colonies?”
“They’re underground…The video we took of them shows they’re deep and dark…Uhhh, there’s a lot of fungus down there…They also clone people…Oh, and they don’t like bleach!”
“But you don’t know much else about what goes on down there.”
He shook his head.
“Well dear, I could tell you, but don’t you think it’s better you find out for yourself?”
“I’m not going down there.” He stated flatly. “Another thing I’ve learned is that any living thing that goes down there gets trapped and drugged and replaced.”
“Only if you agree to it.”
Malcolm eyed her skeptically. “So you’re saying that everyone who goes down there is offered a choice?”
His clone-mom shrugged. “Admittedly, physical contact with the walls may sap your will, slightly.”
Malcolm nodded. “That’s why I’m not going down there.”
“Well don’t be so hasty. Think, Malcolm, how can you stay safe down there? How can you ensure the fungus doesn’t touch you?”
He tried to think. After a few seconds she added “I know for a fact you and your friend found a way to kill small patches of the Mycelloid colony. What did you use?”
“Bleach?” He asked.
She gave an excited nod. “There you go!”
“You want us to cover ourselves in bleach and go down there?”
“Covering yourself in bleach might be a bad idea. I’d recommend galoshes and gloves to protect your skin and a spray bottle to keep yourself regularly sprayed.”
“So if Jericho and I did that we’d be fine?”
“The fungus should avoid you, yes.”
Malcolm searched her expression for any signs of a lie. He quickly realized that not only did she appear completely honest, but Mycelloids didn’t lie in the first place.
They only replaced people who wanted to be replaced.
“Okay, let’s say hypothetically we try that and are willing to go down there to explore…We have no way to actually get down there, or back up for that matter.”
“I won’t tell you much.” She smiled. “After all, life isn’t worth living without surprises. I will say that you can jump down into any one of the pits and remain safe.”
“And getting back up?”
“They’ll eject you back up to the surface when you wish to return.”
“And we won’t be cloned?”
“Not unless you choose to be.”
Malcolm had to consider this.
“Uhhh, Mom? Is it alright if I spend the night at Jericho’s?”
…
Malcolm stepped out of the car and onto the Sanders’ front lawn. It looked far nicer than he’d ever seen it. The grass had been recently cut, and many of the old pieces of rusting rubbish that had littered the side yard had been removed.
“Have fun sweetheart!” His mom waved.
“Errr, yeah, I will.” He waved back.
She drove off.
He walked to the front door and knocked.
“Ahhhh, Malcolm! Good to see you!” Mr. Sanders smiled. “I didn’t know you were coming over.” Then leaning forward, and in a low voice, he added “Between you and me, I did know you were coming over. Shared intelligence, and all that…But social etiquette dictates I pretend otherwise.”
“Oh. So you lied.”
“Bound by humanity as I am, so too am I bound by humanity’s faults. That’s not to say I can’t correct these quirks after demonstrating them…In this case, following a lie with the truth… But I must do my best to be human.”
“A demon wearing a human disguise.”
Mr. Sanders stood back to full height. “Come now, you can’t honestly see me as being worse than the original.”
Malcolm harumphed. “An angel then. You and your lot are a bunch of fungal angels.”
Mr. Sanders chuckled at this. “If you so wish. Anyway, you’re spending the night?”
“Yeah.” Malcolm replied, pushing past him. “I’m spending the night.”
“In that case I’ll have to make a bit more breakfast in the morning. Do you want waffles or pancakes?”
“Waffles.” Malcolm answered. He hurried into the house and ran up the stairs to Jericho’s room. The door was closed and locked.
“Dude, let me in.” Malcolm said, knocking gently on the door.
The door swung open and his friend, somewhat surprised, stared at him. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“I’m spending the night.” Malcolm said, throwing his duffel bag into the corner of the room. “Look, you were right earlier, I wasn’t very helpful and I’m sorry.”
“No, listen, I’m the one that-”
“-Don’t worry about it.” Malcolm said, waving away the apology. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later. Right now, we need to buckle down and really figure out how to stop the Mycelloids.”
Jericho gave him a probing grin. “Not so easy when you have to live with one of them, is it?”
Malcolm shook his head. “My mom’s never been nicer, but…I dunno…”
“It’s weird, right?”
Malcolm nodded. “On the one hand she’s become downright pleasant, on the other, when I think of the human-version of her…”
“Yeah, I get it.” Jericho nodded. “I’ve been racking my brain and haven’t come up with any way to stop them.”
Malcolm frowned. “I’m not sure how we can stop them either, but I think I know how we can learn more about what’s down there.”
He explained what his clone-mom had told him, but rather than appearing excited, Jericho seemed skeptical.
“How do we know she’s telling the truth? What if she’s just trying to lure us down there to capture us?”
“Your brother said that being cloned is voluntary. She did too.”
“So they say. And even if it is, he also said that being down there feels euphoric, and you said your clone-mom told you that exposure to the fungus weakens your will. What if we get down there and decide we want to live down there forever?”
The temptation was certainly there. Malcolm understood that on multiple occasions he felt the call of the void…One simple jump and he’d no longer know hardship…One tiny action and his life would be taken over by a demi-god… By a fungal angel.
Jericho took a sip from a bottle, and Malcolm was surprised to find himself reaching for it. The booze passed hands, and tilting his head back, Malcolm took a small swallow.
He coughed and choked and felt his innards warming up.
Jericho laughed. “A bit of a lightweight, huh?”
“No…I just swallowed it wrong.” To prove his point he took another, slightly longer drink. This time he was ready for the liquid heat and managed to maintain his composure.
“I guess we’d better spend some time planning.” Jericho said. “Then maybe tomorrow we can figure out what we’re gonna do.”
The boys did start the night off well enough, but as time went on and they drank more and more, the conversations got more raucous and less focused. Malcolm wasn’t sure, but he swore that at some point in the night Jericho’s dad brought them another bottle of alcohol.
…
Light filtered in through the blinds. Jericho’s snores continued. Malcolm cussed.
He moved slightly. He wobbled to his feet, and when he did, the room sank around him. His head throbbed, his mouth felt dry as cotton, and the taste of vomit covered his tongue.
He wobbled to the bathroom and turned on the sink and washed out his mouth before taking a few heavy gulps of water.
His weary eyes swept over to the toilet, which was half-covered in puke.
He just wanted some chips or pretzels or something but felt far too weak to undertake the arduous trek downstairs for sustenance.
He slowly made his way back to Jericho’s room and fell back onto the pile of blankets that had served as his bed. He brought one of them over his head, which hid the Sun well enough.
He went back to sleep.
…
“What time is it?” He heard himself ask weakly.
Jericho, who was busy playing video games, looked down at his phone.
“A little past two.”
“Shit! We overslept! We were supposed to…Uhh, what were we gonna do?”
“I was gonna beat this level.” Jericho said. “Then I was gonna get more food.”
“Food…Yeah…That sounds good…But what were we gonna do about the Mycelloids? Did we come up with a plan?”
Jericho shrugged again. “We’ll worry about them later. We can’t focus on an empty stomach. Let’s get something to eat first.”
Almost as if on cue, the door opened and Jericho’s dad brought up a number of large bowls filled with chips, pretzels, peanuts, dry cereals…Perfect belly-fillers for someone suffering from a hangover.
“Thanks.” Jericho mumbled.
“It seems you boys had a rough night!” Then nodding down at Malcolm, added “Good to see you’re awake. Looks like you didn’t want those waffles after all!” He laughed.
Malcolm frowned. “Sorry sir.” Even though Jericho’s dad was a clone, he still felt somewhat guilty for rebuking the waffles.
“No worries!” Mr. Sanders responded. “From what it sounded like, you two were busy trying to figure out ways to kill me!”
The room swayed as Malcolm tried sitting up.
“Easy there! Just take things slowly.”
Malcolm obeyed, slowing his movements and carefully making his way toward the offered snacks. He grabbed a bowl and began slowly filling his tortured stomach with the food within.
…Popcorn.
The clone-dad smiled. “I’ll be back up with some water and aspirin.”
The two boys remained silent after he left. Both felt far too sick to say anything.
Malcolm closed his eyes. The light hurt and he was fighting back the urge to vomit.
“Kinda wish we could keep a few of them around after we kill them.” Jericho said in a slightly raspy voice.
Malcolm gave a few pained nods.
“I mean, life’s never been easier, you know?”
Malcolm was halfway through saying the word ‘yeah’ when he felt his stomach do a back-flip. He gagged, spilled popcorn everywhere as he untangled himself from the blankets, then very nearly made it to the bathroom before expunging all over the floor.
As he spewed he felt a hand rubbing his back. At first he thought it might’ve belonged to Jericho, but as the last rivulets of vomit left his body he looked up and saw his friend’s clone-dad doing his best to steady him.
“Easy there, easy. It’ll be alright. How’s about we get you packed up and send you home where you can recover in peace?”
“No!” Malcolm sputtered. “My mom’ll-”
“Your mom will understand, remember?” And he tapped his own temple while giving Malcolm a coy smile.
“Oh…Yeah.”
Even though he knew his mom had been replaced with an unbelievably understanding clone, he still felt a terror in his stomach that rivaled the alcohol-fueled pain. There was no way his mom would ever, ever let him get away with drinking. Even replaced with a clone, on an emotional level he still expected her to severely punish him.
But he did not argue. He said nothing as he was led downstairs and passively followed Jericho’s clone-dad to the kitchen. He was seated. A bucket was placed in front of him.
“Just in case.” Mr. Sanders winked.
Malcolm nodded.
The clone disappeared, then some minutes later returned with Malcolm’s duffel bag.
“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
Malcolm felt extraordinarily grateful for the ride. He kept his eyes closed during the entire trip. Despite his queasiness, the car felt as if it were gliding on clouds, and Malcolm swore the Mycelloid was purposely driving as delicately as possible.
When he arrived home he saw his mom standing on the front lawn. Malcolm instinctively slumped down in his seat, but she ran to the door, opened it, and helped him up.
“Someone had a rough night, didn’t they?” She chided in a playful manner.
“How did you know?” He asked automatically.
“Shared intelligence, remember? Goodness, more nights like that and you’ll never figure out how to kill us.”
But saving humanity from being replaced with fungal clones was the last thing on his mind, and his clone-mom seemed to understand this.
“Come on, we’ll get you to bed. I’ll bring some soda and crackers upstairs for you.”
He squeezed his mom’s hand as a sign of gratitude, and she reciprocated.
“I thought you would have been mad.” He mumbled.
“Why would I be mad, dear?”
“Because you’re always mad at me.”
“You and I both know that’s not true.”
As she led Malcolm upstairs he heard his dad call, “Is that Malcolm?”
“I’m taking him upstairs.” His clone-mom called back. “He got food poisoning last night.”
“Food poisoning?” He heard movement from the other room.
“It’s alright honey, he’ll be okay. He just needs some rest.”
As she ushered him into his room and beneath his covers, he realized he was mouthing a silent “Thank you.”
He felt a pair of lips on his forehead. “I’ll be back up with some food.”
But he fell asleep before she could return.
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