Project Paper Doll: #2 by Stacey Kade

Author:Stacey Kade [Kade, Stacey]
Language: rus
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Ariane

IT WAS LIKE LOOKING IN A MIRROR. I’D HEARD FULL-

blooded humans use that expression before, marveling at the

resemblance of their offspring or horrifi ed at seeing their own

worst characteristics refl ected in someone else.

But I’d never experienced it. Until now.

In all three of Laughlin’s hybrids, I could see pieces of

myself. The pale skin, the dark eyes, the minimal nose and

disproportionately small ears. It was disconcerting and also

somehow a relief. Family. Connection. Proof that I wasn’t alone.

Looking at Ford, the female, though, it went beyond all

of that. She was . . . me.

It made my breath catch in my throat, and I felt the ridic-

ulous urge to wave to see if she would mimic the motion,

just as a dutiful refl ection would.

Or maybe I was the refl ection.

I shook my head. How was this even possible? The obvi-

ous answer, under normal (aka human) circumstances would

be twins. But we’d been made, not conceived. And even if

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THE HUNT

HUNT

someone had created two identical “samples”—I hated that

term—I doubted that either Laughlin or Jacobs would have

been much in a sharing mood with a competitor.

Next to me, I could feel the prickling of Zane’s discom-

fort. He thought it was unnatural. And it was. We were.

Humiliation churned inside me. This was just one more

explicit reminder that I was not of his kind. That he and I

were not the same.

I told you, Mara’s voice drifted across my memory.

Mara. Both she and my father alluded to GTX and

Laughlin Integrated regularly spying on one another. So,

perhaps, then, our shared looks were simply a sign of success-

ful corporate espionage. I could easily imagine Laughlin or

Jacobs driven to act on the information gathered or materials

stolen. Out of scientifi c curiosity, maybe. Or, more likely, a

case of thumbing his nose at the other guy. Anything you

can do, I can improve upon.

I wondered which I was—the chicken or the egg. It didn’t

matter, really. But it felt like it did. Was I, on top of every-

thing else, just an imitation of someone else’s creation?

Upon closer inspection, we weren’t completely identical.

Ford might have been an inch or two taller. Her hair was

paler than mine, but I was pretty sure that was only because

she had not dyed it. Her eyes were the same penetrating

darkness that I saw before I put my contact lenses in. She

was more me than me, in that respect.

As they passed, Ford turned her head to look at me. Meet-

ing her gaze sent a shockwave through me. It felt like falling

forward into open space with no way to catch myself and

only a vague idea of where the ground might be.

From this angle, I could now see that she bore a small,

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dark line on her right cheekbone, like a single hash mark. It

appeared almost as though someone had written on her face,

but it was too precise and permanent looking to be someone’s

carelessness with a pen.

Before I could fi gure out what to say or do, if anything,

she broke eye contact, and they continued down the hall

without any further sign that they’d noticed my existence.

I automatically

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