Upright Beasts (18 page)

Then another Arthur walked out of the kitchen wearing a smile and a blue windowpane suit. “I see you've met my butler,” the new Arthur said. He stood next to the first Arthur and let out a laugh.

Anne's eyes got very large, and her mouth opened a little bit. Roberta reached out and squeezed the first Arthur's cheek with her thumb and forefinger.

“It feels so lifelike,” she said with delight. “What is it? Latex?”

“Roberta, you're such a spark plug,” Arthur in the blue suit said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “And, Anne, you look like one in a million.”

A few weeks ago, Arthur had gone inside part of Anne. Soon after that, Arthur had gone inside several parts of Roberta. Roberta and Anne were old friends. The issue was still unresolved.

Arthur was an architect and owned the entire floor. Large glass walls exposed the twinkling darkness of the city. The interior was divided into new geometry by bright wood walls
and paper doors. In the largest room, a half-dozen guests were sipping cocktails and admiring a marble sculpture of Athena budding out of the head of Zeus.

“Well, spill the beans. How is it made?” Roberta demanded.

Arthur in the blue suit put his arm around Arthur in the butler outfit. “Please, Roberta. He isn't a
how,
he's a
who
.”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Roberta said angrily. “Don't explain anything until I get back.”

Anne and the Arthurs looked at each other. The two men's faces were identical but showed very different expressions. One of them was smiling politely.

“The whole ordeal was really very painless,” Arthur was saying to the multiplying crowd. “They run a few tests, checking the genes for quality I suppose, and then prick out a thimbleful of blood when you aren't looking. You come back to the laboratory six months later, and your custom-made man—or woman, as the case may be—is complete.”

“Talk about bespoke!” someone said.

“It cost a pretty penny, I can tell you that,” Arthur said. “But simply everybody who is anybody is going to have one soon.”

“Arthur, you devil!” Roberta said with a squeal.

Anne had only been at the party one hour and was already feeling drained. Her necklace was heavy, plus they didn't even have cocktail onions for her martini. The problem with parties is that you could never relax and be yourself. Anne wished she were floating in a hot bath instead of trying to avoid Arthur in a noisy crowd. Two of him at that!

Anne's olive bobbed around her glass as Roberta scraped some caviar onto her cracker. She noticed that Roberta looked taller than her, thanks to three-inch heels. Why had Anne worn
flats? She bet Roberta would surgically implant robotic heel extensions, if she only could afford it.

There was a thunderstorm brewing outside, which brightened the party with strobic flashes. A new guest materialized every ten minutes or so.

Anne wandered from the main group. She said hello to the Hoffmanns, the wife of whom was a psychologist who had once declared, at another awful party, that Anne's love of salty foods was a clear expression of sexual exasperation.

“What does this mean for Rank's theory of the double?” the husband was saying.

Suddenly an Arthur appeared beside her. It was the cloned Arthur in the butler suit.

“Whoops, I didn't see you there,” Anne said.

This Arthur gave her a thin smile. He took her empty glass and arranged it next to another on his tray. The thunder clapped its clap outside.

“Cold weather today,” Anne offered.

“I haven't been outside.” He looked at Anne with an expression she didn't even know Arthur's face was capable of making. “He hasn't let me outside since the cloning.”

“That's awful,” Anne said. “Isn't that exactly like Arthur? The brute!”

The Arthur in the butler suit took a step back. He looked surprisingly hurt. “I'm Arthur too, you know.”

The original Arthur and Anne were alone in the library. He was holding his face very close to hers. She could smell the Scotch tiptoeing on his breath. Anne's back was pressed against the spines.

“But what about Roberta?” Anne said.

Arthur fingered the strap of her dress. He touched his forehead lightly to hers.

“Right now, there's only you and me. The only two people in the world.”

Arthur brought his teeth down gently on Anne's lower lip. She closed her eyes and pushed against him. This is how it had been in the beginning, the two of them hidden, alone, and groping.

Anne opened her eyes and saw the other Arthur standing in the doorway. His eyes were tight with anger, and he had something dark and heavy in his hands. Then there was a loud clap of thunder.

“Oh!” Anne said.

Arthur pulled away. His face was startled. He slowly turned around. “Ah, right, the toast,” he said, reaching for the bottle of champagne. “Is it already ten? You'll have to excuse me.”

The two Arthurs walked back to the main room. Anne tried to decide if she wanted to follow.

Roberta had her dress hiked up around her waist. Her stream hissed into Arthur's large toilet. Her skin looked very tan pressed against the porcelain.

“You just had to get at him. You're insatiable! The party isn't even half over yet.”

Roberta ripped off some toilet paper and folded it neatly three times.

“I'm not going to say sorry, and anyway, he came on to me.”

“Ho ho!” Roberta said. “All's fair in love and war, is that it?” She clicked out of the bathroom on her heels.

Anne stayed, looking at her tired face in the mirror for a bit.

The party was teeming now. Anne's shoulders bounced back and forth as she tried to get a drink.

She thought she saw Arthur and Roberta head off for one of
the back rooms. “Well doesn't that just beat all,” she whispered to herself.

Anne finished the rest of her drink and placed it on the stereo speaker. It was the third martini glass she had placed on the stereo speaker. She thought it was about time to tell Arthur and Roberta a thing or two in a loud voice.

She moved her way through the crowd saying “hello” and “excuse me” to the people she knew. As she moved through the hallway, someone grabbed her elbow and yanked her into the study.

“I've been waiting to get you alone.”

“Help!” Anne yelled, trying to break his grip. “This mutant is attacking me.”

“I'm not attacking you,” the Arthur in the butler suit said. “And I'm not a mutant.”

The party was very loud outside, and no one came to rattle the door.

“Then what do you want?”

He shushed her with his finger, even though she was using a normal volume. He leaned in close, holding her forearm with his white glove.

“I have a horrible secret to tell you,” he whispered. He paused, his heavy breath heating Anne's left ear.
“I'm
Arthur.”

“Yes, yes,” she said, waving her hand. “Arthur explained the whole process. You are him, he is you, yada yada.”

Anne realized they were in the coatroom. There was a large, furry hump of them on the table. Finally, she could just grab her things and go.

“No, I'm the
real
Arthur. The other one is the clone and masquerading as me.”

This was all getting to be too much for Anne. She sat down in a leather wing chair and crossed her legs.

The Arthur in the butler suit knelt down beside her. He made his voice low and grave.

“Something must have gone wrong in the lab. He looks just like me, but he isn't the same. He overpowered me when I took him home and locked me in the closet, feeding me nothing except scones and tonic water for days.”

Anne felt goose bumps rise along her arms.

“There is an evil in him.” Arthur's eyes started to tear up. He rubbed them with his knuckles. “I suppose it's in me too. I was nasty to my brother and used to throw rocks at small animals as a child. I've struggled my whole life to contain it.”

Anne put a comforting hand on his shoulder. She didn't know what else to do.

“I should never have paid those doctors to play God. What have I unleashed on the world?”

Arthur was weeping into one hand. With his other, Arthur slid a thin vial of green liquid from his inside coat pocket and slipped it into Anne's hand.

“Anne, you know I love you. I would never hurt you. That wasn't me who slept with Roberta, it was the clone! He only threw this party to torture me.” Arthur was still holding her hand. He rubbed his thumb around her palm.

“Why am I supposed to believe you?” she said. Her breath was short, and she gripped the arms of the chair. She looked at the vial of green liquid in her free hand. There was a small skull and crossbones sticker affixed to it.

“You must decide for yourself,” he said, hanging his head. “But his genes are unstable. He is growing more powerful and erratic every minute.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Anne said.

“You're the only one who can get close enough to him. He trusts you. Because I trust you.”

Anne decided she didn't care who was the real Arthur and who was the fake. What if the cloning process had made the new Arthur possess a higher concentration of essential Arthurness? Could he be even more Arthur than Arthur? And in that case, how could you say which Arthur was real? It wasn't a question she was ready to handle.

And yet, despite everything, she didn't want Roberta to get hurt.

“I've always said it's the clothes that make the man,” Arthur was saying to Roberta as Anne walked into the room. She was walking slowly, but her heart was beating very fast.

Arthur had Roberta's hand in his, and he slid one of her fingers into his mouth and bit down.

“Ouch!” Roberta said with a giggle. Her finger was bleeding a little bit. “You scoundrel.”

When Arthur saw Anne, his eyes narrowed. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

Anne waved one hand toward another part of the apartment. In the other, she hid the vial in a fist. “I need to talk to Roberta,” she said.

Anne and Arthur exchanged looks and laughed together, but Roberta came anyway. Anne took Roberta out onto the balcony and slid the glass door shut.

“Did you see Jerome and Chiara Dopp?” Roberta said. “I told you that simply everybody who's anybody would be here. Aren't you glad we came?”

Roberta's words were slurred, and her eyes seemed to be swimming around in her skull. Anne's head was swimming too.

“Listen, have you noticed anything strange about Arthur? He doesn't seem quite like his usual self, right?”

Roberta groaned.

“Can't we talk about something else? Arthur is a free man. He can do whatever he wants.”

“But doesn't he seem more, I don't know,
aggressive
?”

“That's it,” Roberta said, “I'm getting another drink.”

Anne could see the Arthur in the butler suit looking at her from across the room. His eyes were pleading, and he was making frantic gestures. The other Arthur had his arms around both Roberta and Anne now.

Why was this Anne's decision to make? She was drunk and tired and sick of everyone and everything. She just wanted to go home and sleep a peaceful sleep in her own bed.

“If only I could keep both of you here for myself!” Arthur in the blue suit said.

Anne pretended to laugh. Roberta was laughing too, but shot Anne a nasty look.

“Maybe Anne can go freshen your drink,” Roberta offered. “So we can talk
alone
.”

Anne took the empty glass and huffed off to the bar.

Arthur's body twitched on the Oriental rug for quite some time.

It was late in the night, and the few remaining guests were standing aghast around the foyer. Anne was starting to sober up.

“Oh god. Oh god,” she muttered. The empty vial slipped out of her hand and clinked on the tiles. How would she know if she killed the right one?