14 The Terrax lab is all white, spotless and glowing; a soft hum of purity and cleanliness washing over the room. There is a hospital bed off to one side of the room, an array of computers and padded walls. Lights blast forth from everywhere and every possible angle, exposing and crippling everything and anything in its path. The rush of light is so piercing that I am blinded as I walk in and shocked after my eyes adjust to see someone standing before me in a doctor’s coat. At first he is an amorphous blob, an undulating mass of whiteness, blurry and unfocused. But slowly he becomes himself—wan, long-haired and thin, yet stony looking, square faced, his jaw as massive as a shovel. “What we think we know about Terraxes,” says the man in the doctor’s coat stentorianly, “should not be confused with what the actual truth may be. Terraxes are identical to us in every way and in fact believe they are us. Which is important, because they need to make the decisions we would make, know what we know, and create a sense of reality that retains the whiff of dream, even as time passes and their job is done. It is a blending between what they are and who you are, and even if your spouse will later have moments where they recall hazy memories about their time together, a kind of déjà vu if you will, that is less about what was, and all about the near seamlessness of the transition from you to Terrax to you again.” Is there a correct response to that? I can’t think of one so I settle for, “hello.” B E N TA N Z E R 53 “Hello, I’m Dr. Thanos,” the stony-looking dude says smiling, “and now that I’ve shared my philosophical views on Terraxes we can proceed. This will be painless, promise.” “Can I hold you to that,” I say trying to crack a joke. Dr. Thanos pauses, looks up to the corner of the room at a camera and then looks back at me again. “Not legally,” he says, no longer smiling. Now it is my turn to pause. I look at the camera as well, wondering who is watching us, Morg maybe, definitely, and who else, who knows. “Gotcha,” Dr. Thanos says smiling again, but maybe a little sinister now as well. “Do you think you’re the only one who can joke around here? C’mon, we’re all friends and we’re all on the same team. In fact, call me by my first name, Beck, if you want, no don’t, joking. Or am I? Anyway, sit up on the bed then, alright? Alright, let’s get down to business.” “Sure,” I say unconvinced and hopping up and onto the bed. “You know Norrin, in the early years of the Terrax program there were problems,” says Dr. Thanos, pausing to move the hair out of his face. “The Terraxes didn’t want to leave their jobs, and why would they—they think they are you, and your family is theirs; they believe they are where they are supposed to be. There was confusion, late night raids and the occasional hostage situation, some bloodshed and disappearances. But we fixed this by embedding a chip in the Terraxes’ brains, a psychic on-off switch. The chip is initiated upon your departure and begins to wind down on the approximate day of your return. By the time you get home, they are no longer you, and then we assign them the odd jobs that no one else is willing to do. As the Terraxes age and eventually wear down, the chip turns [44.221.43.208] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 04:56 GMT) O R P H A N S 54 off, and their parts are recycled for transplants and other physical improvements needed by the 1-Percenters and Corporation leaders. Not bad, right?” “I guess not,” I say thinking about the outer stretches of Baidu, the chaos and fear, the lack of work, and how little Dr. Thanos probably cares about any of that. “Alright then, we will begin by taking a DNA sample from the inside of you cheek,” Dr. Thanos says, reaching into his pocket and removing a long metallic cotton swab. He rotates the swab in my mouth, the taste of metal lingering for a moment on the back of...