"Are you paying attention Jarod?"

  A teenage Jarod sat expressionless at the cold and impersonal stainless-steel desk of the sim lab. He was staring at the scale model of the American continent that sat across from him, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

  A younger, less worn Sydney snapped his fingers, "Jarod, are you listening to me?"

  Jarod blinked to attention and tore his eyes away from the model, fixing them upon Sydney's stout but resolute fingers instead.

  He just couldn't understand what it was that Sydney couldn't see and that he could. There was no way that this sim was just hypothetical. He'd never been asked to compete anything even close to the scale they were expecting this time... And Jarod seriously doubted there was a terrorist cell in current operation that could achieve something even remotely close to the technical precision Sydney was expecting from him...

  Solemnly, Jarod nodded an acknowledgement to Sydney, not wanting the sweepers to think he was being incompliant again. He was virtually an adult now and Raines simply took that to mean he could play rougher than ever before. The last thing Jarod wanted was to gift-wrap another opportunity for Raines to play, he swore he could still taste the bitter cocktail of drugs from his last dealings with the devil and his lanky frame had the bruises to back his convalescing taste buds.

  "Well, what do you propose?" Sydney crouched down so his face was level with his pupil's, determined to meet Jarod's weak attempt at defiance with a firmly polemic stance of his own.

  Jarod sighed, after what happened the last time he objected to a sim, he'd learnt better than to second-guess his mentor. Sydney did want and know what was best for Jarod, despite the strange way he went about proving it...

  Jarod dropped his gaze to the shiny metal table before him and spoke deliberately in a hushed mumble, "...They would have to go after the banks and trade markets succinctly... wiping the binary codes would be the best way to do it..."

  "Good. Good work Jarod. How would they do that?"

  Jarod looked Sydney in the eye. A silent protest that he hoped would get past Sydney's pathetic attempt at appraisal, before slipping back out of himself in defeat. It was no use...

  "...Going after the computer systems... a virus couldn't do it... They'd have to use something bigger... something that would wipe all the computers at the same time... Magnets would do it... If they dropped a big enough electromagnetic pulse..."

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  Jarod woke up in a cold sweat. His heart was racing and thoughts were rushing around his head faster than he could grasp at them. He sat upright, trying to catch his breath as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the dilapidated apartment. Glancing to his left, he checked to see if he'd woken his brother. He hadn't.

  Jay was sleeping awkwardly sprawled on his back, a tangled mess of sheets lying on the floor where he'd kicked them earlier. He didn't stir, even when Jarod got up and walked to the window. Jay was a heavy sleeper, a trait that Jarod sorely resented.

  It was raining harder outside than it had in a long time, what felt like forever, and Jarod watched the sheets of driving rain pelting the decrepit sidewalk below. Usually, he enjoyed the rain. In fact the rain was usually something he revered; a giver; a replenisher; a creator... But today, the rain was just rain, a mere necessity born out of the evaporation and consequent condensation of atmospheric water, bided by the geographical formation of the continents and the dynamic water table that accompanied them.

 It was all his fault...

  Staring at the travel alarm clock on the bedside table next to Jay, Jarod took his head in his hands and slid down the wall next to the window. 3:25am.

  Pulling at his hair, Jarod cursed himself over and over... He was stuck... Supposed to be excited and happy... Not supposed to be haunted by a sim he'd long since forgotten... It was his fault... All of it...

  Getting silently to his feet, Jarod crossed the room once more and opened the dresser next to his bed. Pulling out the small selection of newspaper clippings and handwritten notes he'd compiled over the last few weeks, ever since he'd first learnt that the pulse was his handy-work. Jarod thought back to that day, the day that Sydney had asked him to understand the most intricate details of America's National and International finances...

  Even at the time Jarod had suspected that something was wrong, but he chose not to protest beyond his means so that he could save himself from Raines's particular brand of persuasion; evidently a bad decision that had decided to resurface decades later...

  Flicking through the scarce newspaper articles that he'd managed to track down, Jarod stopped at one that was from a French newspaper and stared solemnly at the title.

  ‘3rd World America: fallen empire of the West.'

  And now he was destined to pay the price for his earlier fear.

  It was all his fault...

  Scrunching the page into a tight ball, Jarod threw it across the apartment as hard as he could. It was purely a gesture born of frustration that did little to make him feel any better, but at the same time Jarod knew there was little that could.

  Stuffing the rest of the papers back into the drawer with a sigh, he retrieved his cell phone and hit the second number in his speed-dial, pausing to reflect on the fact that re-establishing the phone networks across the country happened within a few days, but international aid was still virtually non-existent.

  "What?"

  Jarod sighed, "It's all my fault you know..."

  Miss Parker replaced the gun underneath her pillow and turned the lamp on her bedside table back off, "Of course it is Wonder-boy. It always has been your fault." She stared exhaustedly at the fluorescent green numbers of the alarm clock.

  "No, Miss Parker I don't think you understand..."

  "It's not even 4am, Jarod. If you want someone to understand, come and see me during business hours. I'm sure I'd have no trouble finding someone to understand you..." She lay down, letting her head rest on the pillow once more. Why this morning? She thought rubbing her forehead with her free hand. Why didn't he call her yesterday or the day before? It would have saved her the jurisdictional warfare she'd encountered with the section police in Idaho...

  She heard a weak sigh on the other end of the line, before the all too familiar dial tone set in. She snapped her phone shut and dropped it on the mattress next to her in frustration. Burying her tired head in the pillow, she made a mental note to enquire about changing that tone. After all, the Centre did own the overseas contract to rebuild the phone networks nation-wide, surely they had the power to change that stupid incessant ‘beep, beep, beep.'

  Jarod hung up the phone and tossed it half-heartedly on the bed he should have been sleeping on. He didn't really know what to expect from that phone call, but he didn't get what he was looking for and it had left him feeling just as empty as he had before.

  Silently, Jarod made his way into the kitchenette and retrieved a Twinkie from the pantry that was overflowing with a random assortment of acquired junk food. Opening the plastic wrapper with all the silent precision of a seasoned Twinkie fan, Jarod stood and watched his other brother, curled tightly amongst several blankets and sound asleep on the couch. Ethan's sleeping patterns were seemingly the exact opposite of Jay's, a fact that never ceased to amaze Jarod.

  Determined not to wake the light sleeping Ethan, Jarod rounded the bench and cleared a space at the breakfast bar. Glancing over the books Jay had been reading over the last week he smiled. He picked up a particular volume, staring fondly at the photograph on the cover.

‘Epigenetics: Rainbow's conundrum.'

  He remembered Jay's expression when he had given him that book...

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  "What's this?" Jay asked taking the book from Jarod's hands and staring at the two cats on the cover.

  "This... is why you should stop trying to eat liquorice..." Jarod held the bin under Jay's mouth and Jay spat out the semi-chewn black mess he was trying so desperately to enjoy.

  "But you..."

  Jarod placed a firm but peaceful hand on his shoulder, "Just because I like liquorice, doesn't mean that you have to pretend to..."

 Jay's shoulders dropped, his head sinking into his chest in shame, "But..."

 Jarod gestured to the book, "It's a good book and with a bit of luck, it will convince you to stop..." he paused, not wanting to hurt his brother's feelings, "...trying to make yourself like things that you don't..."

  Jay looked up at him ashamedly and Jarod smiled, "You're not me Jay, and you don't have to try to be anymore. You're you. And you, do not like liquorice..." He returned the bin to the floor, "You get to decide everything you do and don't like now... Regardless of what Ethan and I think, say, or do..."

  "...I tried to like it..."

  Jarod took the brown paper bag from the cupboard and pulled off a long strand of liquorice, "Hey, I like that you don't like it. It means there's more for me!"

  Jay looked up, clearly confused. He'd spent his whole life trying to be Jarod. Trying desperately to fill the gigantic shoes that he was created to fill, without success. His whole life he'd been forced to be as identical to Jarod as was possible, yet always told that he could never quite make the cut. And then here was Jarod himself, telling him that he had failed all over again, yet he didn't even seem mad. The only response to failure that Jay had ever known was Raines's particular brand of punishment but Jarod was still smiling at him...

  Jarod stuffed the rest of the liquorice strand into his mouth and returned to his stool at the bench, "Give the book a go Jay... You know I could never be disappointed with you right...?" He picked up the spoon that was sitting idly in the bowl of cereal he'd neglected for the liquorice earlier, "You're the most amazing person I know!" He shovelled a heaped spoon into his mouth, "Who else would have known that ice cream could replace the milk in cheerio's?"

  Jay couldn't help but smile, albeit a weak and highly nervous one. It was true, Jarod did owe him for that creation. Pushing the liquorice bag away across the bench and away from temptation, Jay sat next to his brother and read the blurb on the back of the book.

‘The cloning process has long since been thought of as a medical miracle. An answer to immortalizing a beloved pet or living forever... But the reality is, cloning will never be able to replicate what lies beyond the DNA. Rainbow and CC (Carbon Copy) are clones. They share the same genetics and have shared a similar upbringing, but there is more to their story. Read on to discover the world of epigenetics and learn just what makes these identical cats so dissimilar.'

'

  After an extended period of silence, Jay once again looked at the cover, gesturing to the cats, "They don't look like clones..."

  Jarod smiled between spoonfuls, "Yeah, we've got them beat there."

  Jay put the book down watched Jarod scrape the last drop of his sugar soup with his spoon against the plastic ‘Batman' bowl, "...I'm sorry..."

  "For what?" Jarod furrowed his eyebrows as he watched the sadness in his brother's eyes grow yet again.

  "For messing up. I didn't mean to copy you... I didn't..."

  Jarod cut him off, putting his arm firmly around his brother's shoulders in a gesture of kinship and security, "I meant what I said Jay, I'm not disappointed... I just don't think it's fair that you should have to try and be me anymore..." he grinned at the empty bowl on the counter, "You do a much better job of being you..."

  Jay watched his eyes closely. Jarod meant every word he said. Picking up the book once more, he brushed his fingers lightly over the front cover, "But I don't think I even know how to be me..."

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  Jarod's eyes fell to his sock-clad feet. Jay had hit the money in eleven short words that day. The Centre wasn't exactly renowned for fostering individuality. No, that was something that only Jay could work out for himself. Something that Jarod was still trying to work out for himself...

  Gently running his finger down the spines of the pile of books on the counter, Jarod remembered just how he'd come to grips with the whole cloning situation. It wasn't easy to learn that the Centre had tried to re-create what they already had in him and it was even harder to come to grips with the fact that they'd succeeded. He recalled taking a position at a library in the suburbs right after he'd broken free of the Centre's clutches and re-united the Nash family, just so he could learn all he possibly could about cloning and what that meant for him and his new family.

  Smiling at several of the more familiar titles as his finger brushed past them, Jarod traced the embossed spine of the book he'd picked up earlier and still held close to his chest. In his hour of need, that book had been everything that he needed to hear in order to gain the strength to reach out to his father and brother. It told him the process of cloning and just how difficult it must have been to create a viable embryo, let alone the walking, talking brother that he had grown to love... It had explained that no matter how accurate the cloning techniques employed were, the degree of epigenetic regulation and imprinting that would be required to achieve an absolute replica of any given organism, let alone a human and a pretender, was impossible. It could never happen. They could never create another him.

  Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Jarod remembered what that book had taught him about his own genetics and why he was so different; different to the other pretenders the Centre had exploited; different to Ethan; different even to his genetically identical younger brother.

  Possessing the pretender gene was one thing, but coupled with the specific epigenetic methylation and acetylation that Jarod just happened to be born with... And that was before you even added the complications of maternal and paternal imprinting to the mix... They just couldn't do it. He was, and always would be, 100% unique...

  Brushing away the tiny tear that escaped the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek, Jarod decided that today he, Ethan and Jay would try even harder than ever before to find Margaret, Emily and Major Charles, a task that had become months in the making...

  Jarod smiled again and put the book down. It had really helped Jay. Sure, he would still have to work things out for himself, but he understood that now. He understood that what he shared with Jarod, was not unlike what identical twins shared. They had the same genetics and a lot of similar traits, but they weren't the same person, they didn't have to be. And neither did Jarod and Jay. Not anymore. Not ever again. They were... free...

  Looking at the clock above the fridge, Jarod considered the ways he could pass the time before Jay and Ethan were awake and together and they could resume the search for their missing family; for any clues about the pulse that could help restore the country that Jarod had all but given to the Centre; for anything that could ease the burdens that plagued their respective souls...

  Picking up a pen, Jarod scribbled a quick note for his sleeping siblings. Knowing full well that he should have gone back to bed instead, Jarod grabbed his black leather jacket and boots from the couch behind Ethan and left the apartment. Carefully negotiating the creaking wooden stairs on his descent, Jarod considered Miss Parker's reaction to the letter he was going to send her.

 Expertly dodging the accumulated debris that had plagued the city streets since the pulse, Jarod headed towards the only place he could think of that would give him some reprieve and hastened his walk in the heavy rain towards the harbour. He'd always found that watching water was hypnotizing. It was like it could drown out the constant thoughts that haemorrhaged through his mind and just... exist, nothing more and nothing less. It was just there, and so was he...

  Sitting himself on the edge of one of the many stone sea walls, Jarod watched the rain falling into the harbour, a stark reminder of the raging storm that had turned the water into a turgid and murky green abyss. He sat and wondered what Seattle had been like before the pulse had hit and wiped out virtually every computer chip in the country...

  After all, it was his fault that it happened in the first place... If only he hadn't been so deathly afraid of Raines...

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  From a distance, Jarod was surrounded. They weren't taking any chances this time. Why he'd shown up at the harbour at this hour could have been sheer coincidence, if it weren't for the driving rain that had kept even the career fishermen away. No, there was definitely something about Jarod that didn't fit the picture, and that was reason enough to get a closer look.

  Besides, the way Lydecker had them scouring the country, they were authorised to use any means necessary to return a target and the Corporal seriously doubted there would be any repercussions should he be proven wrong about this guy.

  He held up his left hand and expertly waved his team of soldiers into place. They'd do a quick snatch, take him back to the warehouse and check him out. If they were wrong, Lydecker would never have to know. But if they had found one of Manticore's prized X-5's, a whole world of possibilities would open up for the soldier and his rookie team.

  With a quick flick of the wrist, the Corporal sent his team sweeping towards the oblivious man sitting with his back to them. With all guns trained squarely at the man's neck, the soldiers advanced under the cover of the rain and the crashing waves. When they were finally within range, one of the soldiers shot his pistol.

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  Jarod simultaneously heard the distinct ‘pop' of the silenced pistol and felt the sharp pinch in his exposed lower neck. Twisting violently to see the face of his attacker, he lost his balance and fell onto the soggy grass behind him.

  He tried desperately get a good look at the figures approaching him, but found it nearly impossible to make out their camouflaged uniforms in the heavy driving rain. He reached up to where he'd felt the pinch in the back of his neck and removed a small dart that had penetrated just underneath his skin.  

  Either the centre had really decided to amplify their search for the errant pretender, or he'd unwittingly done something to gain some unwanted attention from some seriously resourceful people.

  As he lost the battle to stay conscious, Jarod debated which would be worse in a country that had newly found itself in the midst of the third world. The devil he knew, or the devil that could sell him to the highest bidder...

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