by Cris Kane
"Ramon!"
Esteban leaned through the open car window and pressed firmly on the horn. He had been attempting to summon Ramon for the past ten minutes, to no avail. Agitated, Esteban glanced at his platinum Patek Philippe. He was in no danger of missing his flight, as he was important enough that the airline would delay takeoff if he had not yet arrived. In fact, the only person on earth who didn't jump into action immediately upon Esteban's command was his son.
At long last, Ramon shuffled drowsily out of the front door of the chalet, scratching his fingers through his short sandy hair. Ramon was trim and fit in his preferred ensemble of a zipper-front black polo, matching black cargo pants, and gleaming white trainers. Bored by the tedium of choosing a new combination of clothes each morning, he had settled on this outfit several years ago and rarely wore anything else. He was so fastidious about his appearance that, the moment his shoes became slightly soiled or scuffed, Ramon would discard them in favor of a fresh pair, and he was so spoiled that his father allowed him to continue this wasteful practice, even now as he reached adulthood.
"What is it, papa?", Ramon grumbled with annoyance, squinting even on such an overcast day. An outsider might chalk up this morning irritability to a hangover, but Ramon was too particular about his body to contaminate it with alcohol.
"I am leaving for my trip to Asia," Esteban said, sounding formal and stiff, as if he were about to address a roomful of stockholders. At least he understood his investors -- rich old men whose only desires were to become richer and never to die -- while Ramon's inner life remained largely a mystery to his father. Despite his frequent absences for business matters, Esteban had attempted to raise his finicky son alone, although his attempted solutions to every problem generally came down to a combination of material goods and straight-up cash. Over the years, Ramon had been dispatched to several of the best private schools on the continent, but he had never fit in. He seemed incapable of makingfriends or even acquaintances. it seemd that no one could ever live up to the arrogant young man's impossible expectations. He preferred to stay at the chalet, accompanied only by himself.
"I did not want to leave without wishing you a joyous birthday."
"Oh. Okay. Thank you, papa." Turning eighteen should be a momentous occasion, but Ramon merely shrugged and pivoted on the brick driveway, turning back toward the house.
"I got you something."
That caught Ramon's attention, and he spun back toward his father. He assumed the gift must be the silver BMW beside which his father was standing. "Another Beemer?", Ramon whined, as if he was being given another pair of tube socks.
"No, no, no," Esteban said reassuringly. "Something far more special." Esteban briskly clapped his hands twice.
Ramon heard a rustling in the garage, surprised that anyone else was on the property. Although the estate required numerous employees for upkeep, they were rarely on the premises this early in the day. Ramon had made it clear that he preferred his privacy, so the servants and gardeners arrived mid-day, with instructions never to bother Ramon except in the most dire emergencies. Ramon briefly considered that his father might have purchased him a horse or some more exotic animal, but Ramon had no interest in livestock with their foul smells and their unruly temperaments. He could never have guessed what would, in fact, emerge from the garage.
Standing at the far end of the drive was Ramon's doppelgänger, right down to the identical black and white wardrobe. Taking in this inexplicable vision, Ramon's brows furrowed while his eyes grew wide. His twin, however, seemed utterly unfazed.
Ramon
looked to his father, stammering. Esteban considered this something of a
victory. It was nearly impossible to get any sort of reaction out of
his jaded son, yet this surprise had rendered the boy speechless. He
gestured for the new arrival to come toward him. He walked with more of a
strut than Ramon, who tended to slump and shuffle, but only a father
would notice such a minor distinction.
"I know how lonely things must get up here while I'm away," Esteban said. "So I have brought someone to keep you company. Ramon, this is Nomar."
The young man stepped toward Ramon and extended his hand in friendship. "Pleased to meet you, Ramon," Nomar said politely, his voice the same as Ramon's, but drained of surliness. "I have heard so much about you."
"Yeah?" Ramon was sizing up his mirror image skeptically, refusing to shake the offered hand. "Well, I don't know shit about you." He turned toward his father, spittle flying from his lips. "What is the idea of this, papa? You have brought me...a replacement?"
"No, my son. A companion." Esteban took a step in Ramon's direction, a move meant to be comforting but which Ramon interpreted as aggressive. Ramon's body tensed up, his fists clenched. "Please, son," Esteban said calmly. "It is not good to be so alone. Believe me." He placed a hand over his heart and thought of Ramon's late mother, hoping as always that she would approve of his latest desperate parental strategy.
Esteban spoke quietly, attempting to say something in confidence to Ramon, although he knew that Namor had exceptionally good hearing. "I know that you are disappointed that other people never live up to your very high standards. Not even your papa." He hoped the segue hadn't been too abrupt from bold-faced flattery to shameless self-pity. "I just wanted you to have someone you could get along with." When Esteban saw the progress his engineers had made with advanced cloning techniques, he had posed them the challenge of replicating his own son in every detail. Someone who would share not only his son's appearance but his interests, his pet peeves, even his moods. All in hopes that Ramon might finally have another human being with whom he could coexist. Following an accelerated growth process, Namor had undergone intensive education, only enough to make him just as poorly informed as Ramon had been after dropping out of any schooling at age 16, as well as strategic aversion therapy to ensure that he and Ramon would have the same dislikes and fears.
"Think of him as your brother." Esteban had even had his staff create all the necessary documentation which would convince even the most inquisitive authorities that Nomar was Ramon's identical twin, born exactly eighteen years ago today but somehow unseen by anyone in the world until now.
Ramon remained suspicious. He glanced back at Nomar, who gazed back with a bland half-grin. Ramon strolled in a circle around Namor, inspecting him with his usual keen eye for flaws, yet finding none. Ramon was enraptured with himself, endlessly gazing at his reflection, snapping countless selfies which went unshared because he had no friends, not even online. Yet he had never had the pleasure of checking out his body from every possible angle, and found Nomar's broad back and firm ass to be even more perfect than Ramon had always presumed they must be. In fact, despite Esteban's best efforts to create a precise duplicate, it had been impossible to make Namor as sedentary and unmotivated as his source material, causing his physique to be slightly more muscular than that of Ramon. He was also more agile and athletic and had more mechanical aptitude than Ramon, but Esteban considered these minor variations to be an asset. Perhaps Nomar would prove to be of more use around the estate than Ramon had ever been. Fortunately, Ramon's vanity was so strong that he viewed this new, improved specimen as an accurate reproduction of his own perfection.
Ramon began to pepper Nomar with questions about his preferences and attitudes, and was pleased to learn that his customized clone was a germophobic vegan with a fondness for German techno bands and an ironic appreciation of 8-bit video games. Although Ramon didn't know it yet, Nomar had even been programmed to enjoy the more illicit pleasures which Ramon felt certain he had kept hidden from his father's prying eyes. But Ramon was impressed enough by this cursory introductory quiz to give his tentative approval.
"Thank you, papa," Ramon said. "Namor is a very thoughtful gift."
Esteban felt a stirring in his heart. Perhaps for once he had done something right in his son's eyes. He felt an urge to hug the boy, but knew that such affectionate contact was on the list of unacceptable activities...for both Ramon and now Nomar. Esteban merely smiled and said, "I am so pleased."
Esteban checked his watch again. He would definitely be keeping some people waiting on the tarmac, but the delay had been worth it. "I hope you boys will enjoy getting acquainted."
Ramon said, "So long, Papa," and was surprised to hear Nomar saying precisely the same words at precisely the same time, like a simultaneous echo, or stereo speakers.
Esteban climbed into the BMW and made a u-turn in the drive, pleased as he saw Ramon and Nomar standing side-by-side in his rear-view mirror. He passed through the gate and began to snake his way down the winding mountain road.
"So," Ramon asked his new companion, "what should we do first?"
Nomar turned to Ramon and said, matter-of-factly, "How about some mutual masturbation while we watch some bondage videos?"
Damn, Ramon thought, Papa really did his research. "I like the way you think, Nomar. I think we're gonna get along fine."
As they strode side by side toward the house, with Ramon straining to keep up to Nomar's loping stride, Ramon paused a moment. "I forgot to ask Papa when he's coming back."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Nomar said slyly, reaching a hand into a pocket of his cargos and retrieving several greasy bolts and nuts. Ramon had little interest in such things, but he assumed they must have come from some part of a car. "I think we'll have the house to ourselves for a good long time."
Ramon felt unfamiliar pangs of shock and guilt as he instantly intuited what those auto parts implied. He felt terrible at the thought of his father hurtling down the steep and circuitous road down the mountain, discovering that the BMW was not working as it should. Ramon reached for his cell phone, instinctively wanting to warn his papa that he was in grave danger.
But the sensation passed as it occurred to him that he was about to inherit his father's entire estate. He would have the freedom to live his life any way he pleased. With an uncharacteristic burst of energy, Ramon sprinted toward the front door, unzipping his shirt and flinging it aside, racing Nomar toward the bedroom and what he had thought until moments ago was his secret stash of S&M porn.
Nomar let Ramon take the lead, sauntering into the house and admiring the lavish interior. Every detail had been implanted in his memory, but this was the first time he actually laying his eyes upon it. Yes, he would enjoy living here, at least to start.
He wondered how long it would take Ramon to realize that, thanks to the fake paperwork authenticating Nomar's existence as his twin brother, the two of them would soon be splitting Esteban's fortune.
Ramon's anxious voice echoed down the hallway, "Are you coming, Nomar?"
I will be soon, thought Nomar, smiling as he strolled toward the bedroom which he knew so intimately yet had never seen.
"Ramon!"
Esteban leaned through the open car window and pressed firmly on the horn. He had been attempting to summon Ramon for the past ten minutes, to no avail. Agitated, Esteban glanced at his platinum Patek Philippe. He was in no danger of missing his flight, as he was important enough that the airline would delay takeoff if he had not yet arrived. In fact, the only person on earth who didn't jump into action immediately upon Esteban's command was his son.
At long last, Ramon shuffled drowsily out of the front door of the chalet, scratching his fingers through his short sandy hair. Ramon was trim and fit in his preferred ensemble of a zipper-front black polo, matching black cargo pants, and gleaming white trainers. Bored by the tedium of choosing a new combination of clothes each morning, he had settled on this outfit several years ago and rarely wore anything else. He was so fastidious about his appearance that, the moment his shoes became slightly soiled or scuffed, Ramon would discard them in favor of a fresh pair, and he was so spoiled that his father allowed him to continue this wasteful practice, even now as he reached adulthood.
"What is it, papa?", Ramon grumbled with annoyance, squinting even on such an overcast day. An outsider might chalk up this morning irritability to a hangover, but Ramon was too particular about his body to contaminate it with alcohol.
"I am leaving for my trip to Asia," Esteban said, sounding formal and stiff, as if he were about to address a roomful of stockholders. At least he understood his investors -- rich old men whose only desires were to become richer and never to die -- while Ramon's inner life remained largely a mystery to his father. Despite his frequent absences for business matters, Esteban had attempted to raise his finicky son alone, although his attempted solutions to every problem generally came down to a combination of material goods and straight-up cash. Over the years, Ramon had been dispatched to several of the best private schools on the continent, but he had never fit in. He seemed incapable of makingfriends or even acquaintances. it seemd that no one could ever live up to the arrogant young man's impossible expectations. He preferred to stay at the chalet, accompanied only by himself.
"I did not want to leave without wishing you a joyous birthday."
"Oh. Okay. Thank you, papa." Turning eighteen should be a momentous occasion, but Ramon merely shrugged and pivoted on the brick driveway, turning back toward the house.
"I got you something."
That caught Ramon's attention, and he spun back toward his father. He assumed the gift must be the silver BMW beside which his father was standing. "Another Beemer?", Ramon whined, as if he was being given another pair of tube socks.
"No, no, no," Esteban said reassuringly. "Something far more special." Esteban briskly clapped his hands twice.
Ramon heard a rustling in the garage, surprised that anyone else was on the property. Although the estate required numerous employees for upkeep, they were rarely on the premises this early in the day. Ramon had made it clear that he preferred his privacy, so the servants and gardeners arrived mid-day, with instructions never to bother Ramon except in the most dire emergencies. Ramon briefly considered that his father might have purchased him a horse or some more exotic animal, but Ramon had no interest in livestock with their foul smells and their unruly temperaments. He could never have guessed what would, in fact, emerge from the garage.
Standing at the far end of the drive was Ramon's doppelgänger, right down to the identical black and white wardrobe. Taking in this inexplicable vision, Ramon's brows furrowed while his eyes grew wide. His twin, however, seemed utterly unfazed.
"I know how lonely things must get up here while I'm away," Esteban said. "So I have brought someone to keep you company. Ramon, this is Nomar."
The young man stepped toward Ramon and extended his hand in friendship. "Pleased to meet you, Ramon," Nomar said politely, his voice the same as Ramon's, but drained of surliness. "I have heard so much about you."
"Yeah?" Ramon was sizing up his mirror image skeptically, refusing to shake the offered hand. "Well, I don't know shit about you." He turned toward his father, spittle flying from his lips. "What is the idea of this, papa? You have brought me...a replacement?"
"No, my son. A companion." Esteban took a step in Ramon's direction, a move meant to be comforting but which Ramon interpreted as aggressive. Ramon's body tensed up, his fists clenched. "Please, son," Esteban said calmly. "It is not good to be so alone. Believe me." He placed a hand over his heart and thought of Ramon's late mother, hoping as always that she would approve of his latest desperate parental strategy.
Esteban spoke quietly, attempting to say something in confidence to Ramon, although he knew that Namor had exceptionally good hearing. "I know that you are disappointed that other people never live up to your very high standards. Not even your papa." He hoped the segue hadn't been too abrupt from bold-faced flattery to shameless self-pity. "I just wanted you to have someone you could get along with." When Esteban saw the progress his engineers had made with advanced cloning techniques, he had posed them the challenge of replicating his own son in every detail. Someone who would share not only his son's appearance but his interests, his pet peeves, even his moods. All in hopes that Ramon might finally have another human being with whom he could coexist. Following an accelerated growth process, Namor had undergone intensive education, only enough to make him just as poorly informed as Ramon had been after dropping out of any schooling at age 16, as well as strategic aversion therapy to ensure that he and Ramon would have the same dislikes and fears.
"Think of him as your brother." Esteban had even had his staff create all the necessary documentation which would convince even the most inquisitive authorities that Nomar was Ramon's identical twin, born exactly eighteen years ago today but somehow unseen by anyone in the world until now.
Ramon remained suspicious. He glanced back at Nomar, who gazed back with a bland half-grin. Ramon strolled in a circle around Namor, inspecting him with his usual keen eye for flaws, yet finding none. Ramon was enraptured with himself, endlessly gazing at his reflection, snapping countless selfies which went unshared because he had no friends, not even online. Yet he had never had the pleasure of checking out his body from every possible angle, and found Nomar's broad back and firm ass to be even more perfect than Ramon had always presumed they must be. In fact, despite Esteban's best efforts to create a precise duplicate, it had been impossible to make Namor as sedentary and unmotivated as his source material, causing his physique to be slightly more muscular than that of Ramon. He was also more agile and athletic and had more mechanical aptitude than Ramon, but Esteban considered these minor variations to be an asset. Perhaps Nomar would prove to be of more use around the estate than Ramon had ever been. Fortunately, Ramon's vanity was so strong that he viewed this new, improved specimen as an accurate reproduction of his own perfection.
Ramon began to pepper Nomar with questions about his preferences and attitudes, and was pleased to learn that his customized clone was a germophobic vegan with a fondness for German techno bands and an ironic appreciation of 8-bit video games. Although Ramon didn't know it yet, Nomar had even been programmed to enjoy the more illicit pleasures which Ramon felt certain he had kept hidden from his father's prying eyes. But Ramon was impressed enough by this cursory introductory quiz to give his tentative approval.
Esteban felt a stirring in his heart. Perhaps for once he had done something right in his son's eyes. He felt an urge to hug the boy, but knew that such affectionate contact was on the list of unacceptable activities...for both Ramon and now Nomar. Esteban merely smiled and said, "I am so pleased."
Esteban checked his watch again. He would definitely be keeping some people waiting on the tarmac, but the delay had been worth it. "I hope you boys will enjoy getting acquainted."
Ramon said, "So long, Papa," and was surprised to hear Nomar saying precisely the same words at precisely the same time, like a simultaneous echo, or stereo speakers.
Esteban climbed into the BMW and made a u-turn in the drive, pleased as he saw Ramon and Nomar standing side-by-side in his rear-view mirror. He passed through the gate and began to snake his way down the winding mountain road.
"So," Ramon asked his new companion, "what should we do first?"
Nomar turned to Ramon and said, matter-of-factly, "How about some mutual masturbation while we watch some bondage videos?"
Damn, Ramon thought, Papa really did his research. "I like the way you think, Nomar. I think we're gonna get along fine."
As they strode side by side toward the house, with Ramon straining to keep up to Nomar's loping stride, Ramon paused a moment. "I forgot to ask Papa when he's coming back."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Nomar said slyly, reaching a hand into a pocket of his cargos and retrieving several greasy bolts and nuts. Ramon had little interest in such things, but he assumed they must have come from some part of a car. "I think we'll have the house to ourselves for a good long time."
Ramon felt unfamiliar pangs of shock and guilt as he instantly intuited what those auto parts implied. He felt terrible at the thought of his father hurtling down the steep and circuitous road down the mountain, discovering that the BMW was not working as it should. Ramon reached for his cell phone, instinctively wanting to warn his papa that he was in grave danger.
But the sensation passed as it occurred to him that he was about to inherit his father's entire estate. He would have the freedom to live his life any way he pleased. With an uncharacteristic burst of energy, Ramon sprinted toward the front door, unzipping his shirt and flinging it aside, racing Nomar toward the bedroom and what he had thought until moments ago was his secret stash of S&M porn.
Nomar let Ramon take the lead, sauntering into the house and admiring the lavish interior. Every detail had been implanted in his memory, but this was the first time he actually laying his eyes upon it. Yes, he would enjoy living here, at least to start.
He wondered how long it would take Ramon to realize that, thanks to the fake paperwork authenticating Nomar's existence as his twin brother, the two of them would soon be splitting Esteban's fortune.
Ramon's anxious voice echoed down the hallway, "Are you coming, Nomar?"
I will be soon, thought Nomar, smiling as he strolled toward the bedroom which he knew so intimately yet had never seen.
No comments :
Post a Comment