“Sir, please slow down! Start over. Where were you when the man turned into a succulent?”

 

A disheveled man and a police officer sat on opposite sides of a table. A miniature cactus was spotlighted between them.

 

“I WAS TAKING THE PHOTO!”

 

“Please lower your voice, sir,” the officer said. “So you were the one operating the photosynthesizer?”

 

The man looked at the officer with wild eyes. “Yes, but please believe me, I didn’t know that’s what he handed me! I thought it was a normal camera!”

 

The officer scoffed. “You’re telling me he knew the flash was set to ‘organic matter reallocator’ when he asked you to take his picture?”

 

“I don’t know if he did it on purpose, but I didn’t touch a single thing other than the shutter button!”

 

Both men glanced at the potted plant between them.

 

“Oookay,” the officer said as he turned a page in his folder. “What about the operator who fell into the gravshaft?”

 

“He was holding the door for me while I was running the man-cactus to the hospital…”

 

“Go on.”

 

“I told him I had to un-photosynthesize the succulent, so he must have selected a gravpull setting for three people. Somehow, it activated before we made it on.”

 

The officer slid a glossy photo across the table. The man in it had a crooked smile and an even more crooked neck. “It took the maintenance crew two hours to lasso him down. How does a seasoned gravshaft operator make a mistake like that?”

 

“I’m telling you the truth! I didn’t touch the gravshaft panel or anything! And I don’t know why it went up instead of down. He just wooshed away all on his own.”

 

“Sure, sure. Then how do you explain this!?” The officer slapped down another gruesome photo.

 

“Okay, yes, when I made it outside I did try to get the ambulance driver’s attention. But I didn’t expect him to run across the road without looking!”

 

The officer let out a slow exhale. “Three men are dead within a half hour. You were the primary witness each time. What am I supposed to make of this?”

 

“I don’t know, man! Freak accidents!”

 

“Charlie, let’s take 5,” a voice announced over a crackling speaker.

 

“You’re being detained for 24 hours. I hope you know a good lawyer,” the officer said as he exited.

 

Charlie barged into the observation room. “What are you doing? I had him right where I wanted him!” The other two officers were trying to catch their breath, wiping tears from their eyes. “Are you two laughing!? This man somehow murdered three people! We have a homicidal serial killer, and you two are—”

 

“Charlie! Calm down!” one officer said. “This is clearly your first encounter with the replicator program.”

 

Charlie bit his tongue and inhaled slowly. “The… replicator program?”

 

“Dammit, Bob! Now you’ve spoiled all the fun,” the other said.

 

“I think we’ve had plenty of fun, Ross. Listen, Charlie, the ultra-wealthy have been funding research for mind transference into clones. Just another one of their ‘live-forever’ schemes. In this case, I’m guessing the body testers decided to have a little fun at this man’s expense. So go back in there and tell him what I just told you. Then we’ll let our pranksters pay us a visit and prove everyone is okay.”

 

Charlie threw up his hands in exasperation. “So no one is dead?”

 

“Nope! Well, technically, the clones are. But they will just regrow the bodies and run more tests with ‘em. The consciousness leaves at a predetermined pain level, so it’s just the body that’s left behind. No harm done!”

 

“Except for that sucker in there,” Ross said, starting up another laugh.

 

All three men peered into the room where the suspect — victim, as it turned out — had balled up into the fetal position in the corner.

 

“Take some tissues with you,” Bob said.

 

Charlie slipped back into the room. “Sir, we’re going to let you go. There’s been a few… developments.”