Man Walks Into a Room by Nicole Krauss Read Free Book Online Page B

asked. To change the subject he told Lavell about the article on cloning he’d read that morning in the paper. As a boy, he’d always been drawn to science, to the discovery of miraculous things, the race for knowledge about the earth, human beings, the sky. It fascinated him now too, the idea that perhaps in fifty, a hundred years they could clone everyone at birth. “An extra,” he said, “in case something tragic should happen.”
    Lavell raised an eyebrow.
    “Seriously. They could keep the Extra on some kind of farm out in the middle of nowhere, just letting him get exercise and fresh air so he’ll be ready if he receives the call to duty. And then one day the callcomes through—there’s been a plane crash, or cancer, or a skiing accident.” Samson thought for a second. “Anything but a suicide, because a suicide would mean it’s a no go, the Original wanted out and so that’s that.”
    “The call comes through.”
    “Yes, and now we have a problem, right, because the Extra doesn’t know anything about the Original’s life. All right, so maybe he’s been reading about his life in installments they give him every month on the farm. Still, he doesn’t know the intimate things.”
    “The little names the Original whispered to his wife.”
    “That sort of thing. So the cloning project looks like it’s going to be a total failure, but then what do the scientists do?”
    He held Lavell’s gaze a beat like a performer, a stand-up, drumroll please.
    “They develop a way to slide out the Original’s memory like a safe-deposit box and pop it into the Extra. The whole thing, life experiences, all of them. And there you go. No one could tell this guy from the Original except for the fact that he doesn’t have the same physical scars.” Samson sat back and folded his arms over his chest. He was pleased with the idea, pleased with the sudden ease of talking when the subject wasn’t himself.
    “An interesting proposal. Actually I know a doctor who’s working on something like that. Not the cloning but the memory part. Transferring memories from one mind to another and so forth. A long shot if you ask me. But getting back to your scenario, I wonder, for argument’s sake, what would happen in a case like yours where the Original’s memory is damaged?”
    Samson thought for a minute. “In such a case I, the Original, would be forced to relinquish my role as key player, and the Extra would step forward and have his day.”
    “To lose your memory would be to forfeit your position as the Original.”
    “Right.”
    The door of Lavell’s office creaked opened and the gregariousAsian man poked his head in. His face broke into a broad grin when he saw them and he seemed about to say something but thought better of it and closed the door.
    “He sings two Lionel Richie songs over and over,” Lavell said. “Ask him to sing ‘Say You, Say Me’ when you leave.”
    On the way out Samson passed Marietta, who was watching television in the lounge, regurgitating the histrionics of a soap opera in her endless pantomime. The Asian man didn’t want to sing “Say You, Say Me,” but he belted out “Hello” instead, in a quivery falsetto accompanied by hand gestures:
Hello, is it me you’re looking for?

THE DAYS PASSED. Each day Anna tore off yesterday’s page from the calendar, and later Samson retrieved the page from the garbage. Eventually he might tie the pages in bunches like letters.
    After he’d worn a pair of corduroys he found at the back of the closet for a week straight, Anna offered to take him shopping. She sat patiently on the wooden gym bench in the sports store while Samson paced the rows of gleaming white sneakers, looking for the style he wanted.
    “I found it,” he said, bringing over an electric-blue suede sneaker. Anna wrinkled her nose. “I want them,” he insisted.
    “You’ll look ridiculous.”
    “Everyone has them.”
    “Who’s everyone?”
    “Look around,” Samson said over