Simon's heart beat heavily as he drove past the house again, the Chronivac in the passenger seat. He had driven past the house three times but couldn't work up the nerve to stop and get out.
He wondered why he hadn't given any thought to finding his real mom and dad in the year he had been living, not as a 14 year old kid in a comfortable, upper middle class family, but as a poor, overweight and prematurely bald auto mechanic.
No, he knew why. It was his impulsive decision to genetically merge with his best friends, making Bryan his father and Jay his son. That one decision, made on the spur of the moment to prove a point, had become the point on which everything hung. Had Simon not altered reality to make them related, to make them actually family, he would have no problem bringing up the menu on the Chronivac and undoing everything. He looked at his stubby, grease-stained hands. He rubbed the three-day old stubble on his double-chin, then passed his hands over his eyes (which were brown now, not blue), and stroked his bald head.
"If only I hadn't made us family," Simon whispered, the anguish building inside him as he thought of his father and son and how much he loved them. "If only I hadn't joined our genetic lines, I could undo this NOW!"
He parked the car at the curb and put it in park. It was his old house. He recognized it. It hadn't changed a bit. It was his house. He knew it was. But it also WASN'T his house.
"This isn't me," Simon said loudly, eyes wide. He had to convince himself. "Bryan is not my dad and Jay is not my son. They're just my friends who came over for a sleepover. I'm not an auto mechanic. I'm a 14 year old boy. This isn't real, it's a fake reality made by this machine."
He looked at the Chronivac. Simon bit down on his lip. It hurt. He inhaled through his nose. It tingled a bit from all the dust floating around and he had to resist the very real urge to sneeze. Some water came to his eyes. He could smell the leather in the car. He could smell the faint body odor coming from his unwashed white undershirt from yesterday. There was a tomato stain on his chest from the meatball sub he ate for lunch...and greatly enjoyed...while at the shop. He loved his job. He knew everything there was to know about fixing a car.
No, it WAS real. It may have been a constructed reality, the memories leading up to their transformation may have been fabricated by the Chronivac, but THIS was real now. Simon HAD been a 14 year old boy. He wasn't anymore.
"I've got to check on...on THEM," Simon said, not wishing to use the words "Mom" and "Dad". "I've got to see how they are. If I know they've moved on, I can move on too. I can put this entire former life behind me. I just have to know."
Simon was walking up the front steps. His heart was pounding in his barrel chest. His palms were sweating. He had to think of something to ask, something to get them talking about...about their son who had disappeared a year ago.
He knew what he'd say. He'd just tell them that his son Jay had gone missing too--that he had heard of Simon disappearing a year ago and he just wanted to offer his sympathy...one grieving parent to another. They might invite him in. He'd ask about the circumstances of Simon's disappearance and how they were recovering--any words of comfort they could provide.
He'd know for sure then. He'd know the misery he'd put this man and woman through. He'd know that, while they'd never fully get over it, they'd moved on. And then, he'd get in his car and figure out what to do with the Chronivac.
Simon clenched his fist and knocked on the door.
A few seconds later he heard footsteps. The door opened.
And...