X – The Changeling

Captive, bound and double-ironed! … Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh, such was I!"
Marley's Ghost (A Christmas Carol)

And all he things that he portrays
Show up my own obnoxious ways.
Carroll P. Craig, Sr.1

"Is anything wrong, Ferguson? You haven't said more than three words together all evening. You haven't even commented on my new dress." Miss Laurie lounged on the sofa, her hands filled with a half-finished doily. The droid looked out the window at the city, and did not answer. The lights seemed a mirror of the stars .that filled the clear sky. But the view did not impress him.

"It's lovely." He said finally.

Miss Laurie set down her handwork. "Now I know something's wrong. I didn't buy anything today." She watched him curiously, and went back to her doily. "If anyone was rude to you, I'm very sorry. You deserve better, and they should know better." He glanced in her direction, then turned back to the window.

"No one was rude – no more than usual."

"Well, something must have happened." She paused, then added, "If you'd rather I dropped the subject, though, I can do that, too." She returned to her crocheting. "It just seems funny talking to the back of your head."

"I do have a question." He turned to face her. Miss Laurie put down her handwork and met his gaze. "If you don't wish to tell me, I would underhand; but if you can, I would appreciate a direct and truthful answer." He hesitated a moment, then asked, with a calmness he certainly did not feel, " When I agreed to this - this masquerade – what became of my casing?"

The woman looked at his steadily, her expression unchanged. Her eyes dropped thoughtfully, then she said, "It was put on the unit whose casing you wear now. That droid was then sent to Chenoo , where it was offered for sale. Before he could be traced, the buyer spirited the unit away, and, as far as I know, that was the last anyone heard of it." She took a deep breath, and added, " You should also know that it was my idea. In case something went wrong, it seemed like a better plan for investigators to be looking for a droid sold on Chenoo than for a drone on the Vigilant."

"I see." Threepio turned back to the window. The two remained in silence for a long time.

Finally, Miss Laurie said gently, "They must have thought a lot of you to have restored you."

Threepio didn't ask how she knew what he had seen. Based on his question, it had been the logical assumption. But the presence of the – the imposter – led to another logical assumption: one he was sure she had already made.

"Are you going to report it?"

"What's there to report?" she shrugged. "It's common knowledge that the Rebellion is active here. And no, I'm not going to ask where you saw him." So, at least for now, the Alliance was safe.

Her eyes rested on him, but her vision seemed to drift beyond the walls of the sitting room.

"But you're thinking of something." His words restored her focus to the present.

"I am," she admitted, "but it has nothing to do with the Rebels. I was thinking of one of the characters in the old fairy tales." As she explained, the faraway look returned to her eyes. "In many of the stories, when a mortal was taken to Fairyland, a substitute was sent back to the World to take his place. That replacement was called a Changeling." She trailed off, lost in thought, then said, "They were never a good substitute for the original, though. I wonder what he's like."

Threepio started. Miss Laurie looked at him in surprise, as he turned bac to the window. "I'm sorry,' she murmured. "I – I take it you didn't like what you saw."

"It's never pleasant to see yourself as other see you." In the reflection in the windowpane, he saw her smile at his answer. But it was not a happy smile. Thoughtfulness soon replaced it.

"I wonder how they managed it."

"It would have been simple enough. Several months before … Well, several months before, the ROM of all the droids in service was backed up. Reloading it would have been… simple enough." He stood silently for a moment, then added, "As I recall, my first words upon completion were, 'So there's an end to a pointless and unnecessary procedure.'" He looked back toward the woman on the sofa. "When he said that, the technicians probably laughed themselves sick." Mis Laurie smiled again, but this time bit her lip. It was some time before she spoke.
"I don't know what you saw, but it might not have been as bad as you think. Or maybe I should say, you aren't as bad as what you thought you saw."

"Now what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well," she began, trying to gather her thoughts, "You probably weren't seeing him at his best. And, although he may be based on you, he isn't you."

Threepio glanced at her impatiently, "Of course he is. Who else would he be?"

"I don't expect he remembers being anyone else; except he has a hole in his memory between the backup and the reload. But – well, what you saw might have more to do with what that unit was before his memory crashed. For instance, my brother and I grew up in the same house, had the same experiences, and knew the same people. But a lot of times, he reacted to them one way, and I responded to them in another. We had the same memories, but we applied them differently."

"Yes, but all the responses he remembers would have been based on mine." He turned away from her again. "I have no illusions. He is I." In spite of the effort it took to make that painful admission, Threepio was amused at the unavoidable awkwardness of the statement. There were some situations that grammar was never meant to describe. Miss Laurie laughed quietly.

"You may be right, but I still think it's what's left of his original programming. Another thing: because he's not you, but imitating you, what you saw was a caricature. He may be trying to out-you you. You know, though," she began carefully, "there's another possibility. A lot can happen in a couple of years. It might be that what you saw wasn't what you are, but what you could have been."

Threepio considered the possibility.

"You remarked, on at least one occasion, how marginalized you felt as the Rebellion spread, and what little respect they had for your experience and knowledge. Maybe what you saw was the result of all that frustration."

"I have never described myself as marginalized," the droid muttered. As he did, he thought, "My stars! She has been paying attention!"

"Maybe you never used the word, but that was the idea." The woman said. "You know how insufferable I get when I feel left out. Maybe you caught him on one of those bad days."

Threepio tried to remember the last time Miss Laurie had been insufferable – but, instead, found himself thinking of the blistering scoldings he had given her over trivialities. Perhaps experiences he was unaware of had influenced the imposter's behavior, but he was forced to admit that the flaws of character that caused that behavior were all his own. There was no excusing the substitute's conduct – or his own. He glanced back at the woman, folding her handwork, and laying it on a table. Why did she put up with it? Why would she choose to put up with it?

Miss Laurie covered a yawn. "Is there anything I can do for you?" She inquired slowly, "I can see this might be a bad night for you."

"I'll be all right, but thank you for asking. Why don't you go to bed."

"If you need anything, just call. Good night."

As she reached the bedroom door, though, he stopped her. "Just a moment. There is something you can do." She turned, expectantly. "When I betrayed the Alliance, you could have turned me in for so large a reward that you would never have to have worked again. Can you tell me what you could possibly have seen in me that was worth saving?"

She gazed at the droid intently until he began to feel self-conscious. Yet, her expression was not that of someone looking for an answer, but for a clear way to express one. Finally, she spoke.

"Maybe I shouldn't tell you this, but, when I asked Jon to let me have you for the library, he said, 'Are you sure that's what you want? He looks to me like a real piece of work.'"

Threepio hung his head. "What did you say?"

"I agreed with him. When you're thinking of yourself, I'm afraid you can be quite a pill." With a crooked half-smile, she added, "It hasn't been my influence alone that's kept you from being harassed. But, in a way, that character serves to protect that other character: who you are when you aren't thinking of yourself. Vulgar \eyes see the first, and don't look any further. It was that second, sterling2 character that I saw: someone who would die to everything he held dear, so that they might live in security he would never know himself." She opened the door. "Credits can't buy that. Good night, Ferguson."

As it closed, Threepio turned back to the window. Her answer had stunned him, but, eventually, he discounted it as sentimental flattery. How else could someone mistake necessity for heroism? The lighted windows of the other residential buildings were flickering out, as the families in them retired. Unconsciously, his hand brushed the light switch. The soothing darkness allowed his thought to flow more freely. And, as he stared unseeingly out the window, he had much to think about.
But all thoughts seemed to lead back to that droid in his casing. He felt hurt, angry, embarrassed, ashamed, but most of all, lost. Dying to all he held dear. Miss Laurie had been more insightful than she knew. The fact of the substitute had been a tremendous blow. At times when his captivity had weighted heaviest, it had comforted him to think that, somewhere, his friends might be thinking of him fondly. Now he knew that no one had been thinking of him at all, because no one knew he was missing, They had abandoned him, without even knowing it. He had never felt so alone.

And what a replacement! Miss Laurie was right about his being a disappointment, but not for the reason she thought. It wasn't that Threepio had found his conduct so outrageous or unfamiliar; but because he hadn't. It was painfully familiar. How could he ever have said such spiteful things to Artoo – the best friend he ever had! Justice drew his gaze to the closed bedroom door. One of them, certainly. Yet, how many times had he passed the same remarks, or worse? He looked down on the street. Several sweeper units rolled slowly along the sidewalk. He watched them until they moved out of view.

The unbearable part was that the abuse had all been lies. He had never meant any of the terrible things he had said. If someone else had so much as hinted such things about Artoo – well – they had just better look out! Why had he never told the little droid what he really thought?

But now another unit had taken his place. Did he appreciate Artoo as he deserved? After that petulant exchange he had witnessed, he wondered. But perhaps that proxy had confided the truth to the little droid after all. Threepio found himself bristling with indignation. The thought of that – that thing – expressing his appreciation to Artoo – appreciation he had no right to express! – was more than he could bear. Yet, if the imposter did not tell him, who would? Threepio realized he had given up any opportunity to make amends when the troopers confiscated him at the Kong base. Gradually, his anger faded to deep, gnawing regret. He was beyond making his own amends.

He thought about the casing the substitute bore. It had been brilliantly polished, but he had noticed scratches that had not been there when he wore it, and spots where fresh dents had once been. The years had not been uneventful for that droid. What did he bear that I should have borne/ What had he suffered that I should have endured? Still, he was clearly well cared-for. Threepio's memory drifted back to something Miss Laurie had said about her dolls:

A doll doesn't get markings like these from sitting on a shelf. They've been loved.

They've been loved. That unit had been loved. Someone had to have found him and bought him from the mech dealer, at great personal risk. It could have taken weeks to reload his memory. Then there was the reeducation of those missing months, the intermediate repairs, the detailing, the …

He remembered the Kong base, and Chewbacca carrying him from the hangar to the maintenance bay – and how harsh he had been to the wookiee. He wondered how many other times that substitute might have needed the help of that kind, patient creature, and how he had treated him. Did that replacement realize what truly good friends he had? Would I have realized what good friends I had?

Threepio turned away from the window. That poor, ungrateful wretch!

"Ferguson."

He was startled to see Miss Laurie standing in the doorway. She still wore her uniform, and judging from its condition, she had not been sleeping. "I thought of something else about changelings that might be important." With an effort for which he could not account, she said, "In the fairy stories, the mortal almost always escapes from the fairies. But time passes differently in Fairyland, and when he finally does return home, his family has died, his friends are gone, and so many things had changed, that he is often worse off than he was with the fairies. But, then again," she concluded hurriedly, "Maybe things won't have changed so much after all. Good night." The door closed, and Threepio was left to his own troubled thoughts.

Notes

1Composer of the winning entry in the "I Can't Stand Jack Benny Because" contest of 1945: I Can't Stand jack Benny Because
He fills the air with boasts and brags, and obsolete obnoxious gags.
The way he plays his violin is music's most obnoxious sin.
His cowardice alone, indeed, is matched by his obnoxious greed,
And all the things that he portrays show up my own obnoxious ways.

2"The Ugly Madonna" in Guareschi, Giovanni. Don Camillo and his flock (New York: Pellegrini 8 Cudahy0 1952.