Alien Proliferation

the attention to detail on “Jeff” and “Chuckie” was accurately spread across all the others, we had the best-hung guys in the galaxy working for us. “Brian” was the most average, if you could call it that. “He” was in the back, so I’d missed him earlier. Yep, anatomically correct if faded memory served. I was impressed with my taste and selectivity. Oh, sure, I’d married the pick of the litter, but I’d known that already.
    “You done checking everyone out?” Chuckie asked, sarcasm knob up to eleven.
    “No need to be snide. I’m just trying not to scream again, okay?”
    “Out of horror or excitement? I’m not sure from your expression.”
    “Hilarious.” I looked at all of them. “Why isn’t there one of Richard in here?”
    “I’d make the others seem inadequate.”
    “Dude, I so love being your partner I can’t even find the words. But, I’d also guess the plan was for one of the Ron-nies to take your place, either Yates or Al Dejahl. But they would have to get rid of Jeff and Christopher, and Chuckie, in a way that wouldn’t cause suspicion.”
    “Makes sense.” Chuckie heaved a sigh. “I’d like to be on record that, as a straight male, this isn’t remotely enjoyable for me, on any level.”
    “Noted, and I never had a doubt.” Went back to examining the replicants. “I figure One through Three would be our three main men here.” The ones that resembled Jeff, Christopher, and Chuckie all seemed alive. Their eyes were open, at any rate, and it felt as if they were watching us. “Bet we can’t shoot them and expect to kill them.”
    “Doubt it.” Chuckie was examining them, too, though none of us had crossed the threshold. “They’re not all that accurate. I mean, decent for the shock value, but not for too much longer.”
    I managed not to mention that they were damned good for fakes. Put them into Armani suits so you couldn’t see the very careful stitching, and they’d pass pretty well. “Um, Chuckie? Remember how all of you were hanging like meat in the prison in Paris? I think you all were supposed to, well, be the basis for the more accurate final models. The next level in robotic replacements—replace them with something that feels alive, presumably.”
    He was quiet for a couple of moments. “Oh.”
    I went to the doorway. “Chuckie, you said this room is rigged. So, where’re the bombs and such?” The one who looked like Jeff raised its hand and pointed. “Oh. Uh. Huh. Erm. Hi. Yeah, guys? Number One is ready for sure. Can you dismantle the bombs?” It shook its head slowly. I couldn’t think of it as Jeff, or even real. It was too beyond gross. And even more horrifying, because if they could think and were put together this well, the odds were they could feel.
    “Don’t go in there,” Chuckie said.
    “Dude, neither that moronic nor that foolhardy.” I looked around at the others. It did seem only the three were alive. But never hurt to check. “Are the others . . . ready to go?” The Christopher one shook its head slowly. “Number Two is ready also, guys. Do you have more than one brain inside you?” The Chuckie one nodded this time. “And, happy day, Number Three’s up and running as well.”
    I didn’t want to ask, but I had to. But I sort of crept up on it. “Does one of you have a brother named Walter?” All three nodded. “And another brother named William?” More nods. Dammit.
    I swallowed hard. “Um, Wayne, is that you?” All three heads bobbed. “Only you?” I asked almost hopefully. The heads shook. That was a negatory. So much for optimism.
    “Wayne, the other three agents who were just killed, they in there, too?” Three heads bobbed. “How about the brains or consciousnesses or whatever from the other hybrids? Are they in there, too?” More head bobbing.
    “Okay. Um. Great. Give us a moment to freak out. Be right back.”
    “How did we miss this? How could Jeffrey and Christopher have missed it?” White asked quietly as I moved away from the doorway.
    I was shivering, but it wasn’t really from cold. Horror made you shiver, too. “We’re four stories underground, in a chamber built with the same stuff your other strongholds are, and undoubtedly reinforced by whatever horrible things the C.I.A. reinforces with. This was why they tried to get Jeff and Christopher and everyone during Operation Fugly.”
    “Why isn’t there a replica of you in here?” I could hear Chuckie’s wheels