Chapter I
The Uncanny Valley
Claire Foley felt ready. Curious, passionate, daring, the young post-doctoral researcher was struggling to tame her eagerness.
Admittedly, she was getting nervous as well: just like sailing off to the unknown without having the absolute certitude that land would welcome you on the other side; just like leaping off a cliff with a biplane that might as well refuse to take flight; just like stepping out of a rocket and into an arid place, where only the thin veil of your pure white suit could save you from the vacuum of space… The project they were about to put to fruition was, on one hand, the thrilling exploration of an unknown territory, with the intent of completing yet another step for the progress of humanity; and, on the other hand, a mad and dangerous dream, which could turn into a vivid nightmare at the slightest mistake.
But one of Claire's greatest qualities was her courage: and it was thus with confidence and trepidation that she had prepared herself for this long-awaited moment.
Her light golden curls twirling cheerfully behind her steps, her face pale but sparkling with an innocent, almost carefree joy, the physicist gave one last glance to the one who would manoeuvre the experiment; then she made her way straight to the core of their time machine.
Bill Hawks turned back to a control panel filled with buttons of all sizes and colours, levers of all shapes and directions, large cathodic screens placed so high that, due to his short size, he was forced to dislocate his thick neck and tilt his head upwards whenever he wished to look at those in the higher rows.
He approached a hand to one of the many levers, his hesitation only caused by, once again, this overwhelming, yet exhilarating feeling of responsibility. Some would have collapsed under the weight of a guilt that would have crawled into their minds long before they could act; he, on the other hand, saw himself already filled with success, this same aspiration towards glory remaining the only thing which, in this moment, turned his entire self into a heavy mass of cold, dripping lead.
One movement, and the doors would close; one movement, and the assistant would be shut away from the entire world; one movement, and she would be sent beyond the limits of their present. Ready to become the first time traveller in existence.
September 28, 1953
02:13 PM
Bill took one last breath… then, having waited for long enough, he sprang into action.
The lever was pulled.
The doors were closed.
Something opened.
It was brief, transient, and blinding. Just what was it that opened in this moment, nobody could tell; however, 'what was it' that came out of it was soon revealed, and with it came a blast powerful enough to entirely blow away the very same doors that Bill had been so adamant on closing in the first place.
Just as shocked as him, Claire turned around to stare at the gaping hole that laid behind her, and rendered their prototype most certainly improper for use.
Completely dumbfounded, the head scientist, who still had his hand resting on the lever that presumably started it all, uselessly lifted it back to its original position. There was no more door to reopen; but the hinges let him know that they tried their best nonetheless, as a sorry screech of agony resonated in response.
The young lady cautiously came out of the machine, stepping over both the broken doors and whatever had come out of whatever this place—if it even was a place to begin with—was, careful not to disturb the scene. What could this possibly be… a person?
Unmoving at first, the form granted the astounded duo a few long seconds to admire it; and once the shock washed away, both realised that 'it,' in fact, did look an awful lot like a person, as surprising as it may be.
Considering the extraordinary circumstances behind its appearance, as well as the highly uncomfortable posture in which it had landed—limbs sprawled all over a vast, coarse and uneven surface, torso trying to deviate as much as possible from verticality, face hidden in the shadows due to it embracing a quite warm and touching reunion with the freezing floor—Claire tried to tell herself that it was a reasonable behaviour to not at all think right away about the possibility that the thing could actually be a regular, normal, perfectly average human being, just like those you would find down in the streets past any corner.
But all the same, despite their high intellect and reasoning skills, the initial shock caused by this inexplicable phenomenon was such that this realisation had to come in two stages.
The first stage was reached once they had acknowledged that it was a human being; the second was reached when Claire realised that it was a human being, yes, but also that this human being was currently lying face first, unconscious, sprawled on a floor that was overflowing with splinters and strewn with debris, and was thus, according to mattress standards, highly uncomfortable at best, razor sharp and deadly at worst; and all this, while in a position that was very much not what a physiotherapist (or any normal person with an iota of common sense, for that matter) would recommend.
Were they… Was it even possible for this person to still be alive? Only one thing was for certain: just standing there and watching in silence was only going to reduce to zero what little chances of survival they still had. Claire gulped, still paralysed by the anguish of ignorance; but she resolutely kneeled down beside the stranger, gently reaching out with a comforting hand…
The very moment her fingers brushed a cold, limp shoulder, she reeled back and cried in both surprise and pain: a sudden and great shock, like an unusually strong zap of static electricity, had traversed her.
It seemed to have been mutual, as the strange individual chose this exact moment to spring to life, responding with a pained mumble of their own, then trying as best they could to gather their limbs and slowly rise to their knees.
Was it really static electricity? She hoped that there was nothing more to it—
Claire locked eyes with the stranger, and she screamed.
When she saw with her own eyes that this person had been able to rise from the ground without any assistance, as if, against all the conclusions she had reached so far, none of their bones had actually been broken in the first place, the young scientist had subconsciously acknowledged that something was very, very wrong. However, this observation was soon forgotten less than a second later, discarded and replaced by the equally disturbing vision that followed:
Eye to eye, in perfect and stunned silence, Claire found herself facing an astonishingly accurate recreation of her own face.
She saw the same features, the same curly ginger hair, the same black eyes hidden behind the same glasses; even the clothes seemed identical.
This was an almost perfect replica—the word almost being the main source of her instinctive terror.
The missing birthmark on the tip of the nose, the slightly inaccurate roundness of the glasses, the colour of some misplaced buttons on the lab coat, the khaki green colour that replaced the expected yellow-green of her pants, all these small differences were here to contradict the hypothesis that she would have so, so much preferred to see instead of what reality gave her.
For his part, it was only when he had seen the mysterious intruder move of his own accord that Bill had decided to hang up the receiver, which he had slowly picked up without having had either the time or courage to dial any number. Walking away from the landline telephone and the exit door, he took his first step forward.
When he found himself face to face with not one, but two Claires, he was quite naturally overcome by shock and disbelief; however, contrary to his assistant, this shock quickly gave way to a wide, delirious grin.
"Incredible… Could it really be…?"
This unfinished question, alongside all of Bill's deductions and hopes, were shattered as soon as he looked at the second Claire more intently. Her head turned to look at him, alerted by the sound of his voice; and in utter silence, unmoving from her kneeling position, it appeared that her entire body was somehow melting. This body lost almost an entire foot in height, gained many inches in width, exchanged its soft curves for straight and harsher features, until it was reshaped into a nearly perfect copy of his compact, decrepit self.
The answer to his question? No. This was not time travel. That thing was absolutely not a hypothetical alter-ego of his assistant who would have come from a near future thanks to his research.
Coincidentally, Claire had recently finished reading a certain science fiction horror novel; a certain story about scientists who encountered some kind of alien creature of unknown origin, capable of imitating any living organism, whose sole purpose was to reproduce and expand, replacing the originals one by one.
Needless to say, she was trying as best she could not to panic or jump to conclusions; there had to be a rational explanation behind all this, there just had to be… But still, just in case, her eyes started to carefully glance around during the rare moments when she dared take her eyes off whatever this was, searching for any elements here and there which could, perhaps, generate a small and controlled fire, for the simple purpose of purification and sterilisation, if the need ever came to be.
The head researcher opened his mouth, just about to blabber some jumble of terrified and incoherent words; but he was not given this chance.
The door to their office crashed open as a thin panting man barged in at full force, his lab coat soaked with cold sweat, his skinny legs barely holding up, his grizzled hair glued to his forehead.
Dimitri Allen, whom his two colleagues believed was still on leave, was now standing within the door frame. Completely exhausted, but still determined to get his point across, he hardly took the time to breathe and instead shouted instantly, as distinctly as he could:
"Bill! Claire! We cannot…!" There was some loud coughing. "We can't, proceed, with the experiment… We made a grave mistake!"
The two scientists in question turned to face the newcomer with great surprise. Claire quickly returned her gaze back to the entity who was located far too close to her, and who had gone back to staring at her with a face identical to hers. Bill, too, wanted to keep a terrified eye on this possible threat; but he was once again interrupted, once again by the very same thin panting man who had interrupted him the first time, when he saw himself assailed by a pile of papers and equations, forced to try and prevent their fall, yet still letting most of them slip through his fingers, all the while the troublemaker had begun to jabber all the details about the crucial importance of the error he had found in their calculations, and about the catastrophic consequences that would have resulted from the experience, had it actually taken place.
The hysterical scientist called for the woman to join him too, and despite her great fear of leaving the whatever it was unchecked, she soon found herself absorbed in the conversation nonetheless when she started hearing that, give or take only one or two minutes, she and the entire neighbourhood had just barely escaped a gruesome death.
And so, the entity was indeed left unchecked. Fortunately for the forgetful scientists, it made no effort to move, instead still staring at the group from afar with open but expressionless eyes, as if in a trance.
After hearing a few words, it too was absorbed in many thoughts: about an explosion that never occurred; about deaths that had been prevented at the last moment; about a man who had arrived just in time to stop a negligent and overly impatient colleague, who had been about to cause a large scale tragedy; about that same tragedy, which would have given birth to consequences far more terrifying than any of these three could even fathom at this very moment… The entity lost itself in the maze of its own mind, forgetting all about its surroundings.
Suddenly feeling faint, carried away by the weight of these revelations, this entity bent down, if ever so slightly. Through inertia, its gaze was therefore directed to the ground: and this was how a certain object came to appear in its field of vision. An object which was not scraps of a metal door, and an object that did not seem to belong in such a place.
It was a pouch of a simple design, its surface covered with a thin black canvas of blue and grey hues, its form rectangular and relatively thin, its size measuring just over seven by five inches. Intrigued, the entity picked it up, slid the zipper, and opened it… only to instantly widen its eyes and raise a silent, shocked gasp.
The pouch was instantly closed—with such force in fact, that despite the fact that it was made of a light and relatively soft material, one could have sworn to have heard a slight echo of this gesture, which would have bounced on the floor a few times. Right after, the zipper was slid back and all the way to its opposite end. And the strange item, which had suddenly become so important, was shoved against its chest, immediately surrounded by a pair of quivering arms.
From then on, many emotions could be reflected in the entity's gaze: confusion, terror, bewilderment… But the distracted scientists did not get to see any of it.
Distracted, however, they did not remain for much longer.
"…Wait, I just noticed… Who is this?"
Dimitri blinked in confusion, a shiver running down his spine when he recognised and compared the face of the stranger with that of the young woman standing next to him. His question having been uttered with a higher volume than his previous ramblings, it also caught the attention of the person involved; and so, in the distance, the stranger in question raised her head and silently locked eyes with him.
"Could we address why there's another—"
His sentence was abruptly cut short by a scream when he saw the face of the second Claire melt down and instantly morph into an imitation of his own.
Unfazed, the only movement that this copy bothered to make was to raise a light blue eye towards the curly, puffy strand of hair that, after appearing out of seemingly nowhere, had decided to hide half of its face.
"I suppose this answers at least part of your question," Claire replied gravely. Her words held her usual amount of faint mischievousness, but this time, none of it was shared by her tone. "This is definitely not me."
Hearing this very last sentence, the silent shape-shifting entity turned the copy of Dimitri's head back to her; yet, although this movement had been sudden and almost mechanical, its gaze was lost and unfocused. As its attention fell on her, once again, its appearance came to mirror hers, each time with more and more accuracy; this time reaching a level of precision close to perfection.
"I don't know what that thing is, but it's not human," Bill muttered, once again paralysed by terror now that he was no longer distracted by the topic of the cancelled experiment.
It appeared as though the non-human in question had just been struck by lightning. The entity lowered its head and weakly raised a thin, delicate hand, still keeping the black pouch in the other; it stared at this pale hand with some mixture between confusion, and what could have been interpreted as some form of denial; and it transformed again.
Dimitri. Claire. Dimitri. Claire. Bill showed up as well, but only once.
The entity opened a mouth, closed it, opened it again, but the shock seemed to have stolen its voice. Its entire body began to shake in panic, as it clutched the small black pouch against its chest; and then came the signs of an increasingly obvious and undeniable hyperventilation.
The thing… was having a panic attack; either that, or it was at the very least incredibly convincing in faking one. It morphed again, and again, changing shape with the same speed and fluidity as a chameleon would change colour, taking on new faces, some belonging to people who had never set foot in this laboratory.
Some alterations were too fleeting to be properly registered and recognised, as one would instantly blend into the others; but some more well-defined shapes would return at almost regular intervals: a man wearing a dark brown top hat laced with a red ribbon, a teenage girl in an orange dress, a young boy with a blue cap, a woman with fluffy hair and a bright yellow suit…
This shifting carousel of horror never stopped, and even the one instigating it seemed powerless to stop it. The breathing became faster and heavier, the shaking became more frantic, and finally, a fourth scream emerged.
The creature looked up at the three scientists, staring at them one by one, terror in the eyes; and a single word managed to escape.
"…Sorry…!"
Bill jumped three feet into the air, trading his horror and disgust for what was now the most absolute, rawest fear at its most fundamental level.
"It can talk!?"
The thing cowered even more, burying a shapeless head inside a pair of quivering shoulders.
"That— that's not—" It sounded like it was choking on thin air, shocked by its own ever changing voice, which at no point sounded like one it believed to be its own. "I'm not doing it on purpose, I swear!"
It was a rather nice way to clearly summarise what had now become a very well established fact, Claire reasoned.
The being stared at its ever changing body, terrified itself.
"I need help… Make it stop. Please make it stop!"
The assistant clenched her hands into shaking fists, still terrified and uncertain, but having taken her decision. Even if it meant falling into a trap, at least her conscience wouldn't blame her for it as much as it already did, with each passing second, as it kept incriminating her more and more for her inaction.
Against the odds, and more so against the better judgement of her two colleagues, she cautiously took a few steps forward, leaving only a few feet between her and the unknown being, then crouched down to their level.
"Let's try to… stay calm," she muttered both for the creature, and for herself. "We can see that you're scared too, at least as much as we are. So perhaps, if you can…"
Her sentence trailed off, as she tried to find better words. Her lips trembled for a few more seconds.
"Maybe, we should all, take a deep breath, and relax," she rephrased, turning towards the scientists in her back and giving them a deep look, begging them to follow her lead. "It doesn't seem like you would hurt us, and we do not want to hurt you either. We're just… surprised."
The word was quite weak, but she preferred using a borderline inadequate euphemism, to being too brutally honest and taking the risk of making things worse.
"So… Let's all just take some time to take this all in, alright? Surely, you would have better control over it if you can think clearly."
They merely looked at her. Though the transformations did not stop at once, she noticed with great relief that they did seem to gradually slow down and become more stable, until they managed to reach a single form. But as soon as the creature realised that it was that of the very same person who was trying to help them in this very moment, they shook their head forcefully, grabbed it, and the transformations resumed once again, forcing the young lady to reel back a bit.
"I can't… can't remember— I'm sorry!"
The woman looked at them in pity. Could it be that they did not actually have a shape of their own? Or rather, more likely given these last words, that they had found themselves incapable of settling on it, for one reason or another.
She bit her lip, hesitated… but she quickly decided to whisper in a tone that she maintained as reassuring as possible:
"Just focus on me for the time being. Can you do that?"
Two eyes filled with fear and sadness were cast upon her; but soon, those eyes became a perfect copy of hers. This reflection was still shaking, their skin acting somewhat similar to water about to boil and burst; but to Claire's relief, it seemed that granting them permission to keep her appearance was helping them stabilise its form.
"You… You don't mind?"
This all but confirmed that at the very least one of the main reasons behind their distress was the guilt of borrowing, or perhaps stealing other people's identities, and of understandably terrorising the ones targeted in the process. Once again, Claire paused and took some time to ponder her words carefully; seeking to remain comforting as before, but also wishing to remain transparent and honest.
"I would be lying if I said that I don't mind it," she corrected, "but I believe that, out of the three of us, I would be the one most ready to somewhat accept it. I was meant to travel to a different time, you see, with the machine right behind you; so… I had prepared myself mentally for the prospect of meeting myself." She took a deep breath, closing her eyes resolutely, then continued: "This is not at all the same, but I suppose that I can live with this until we find a better solution."
The entire truth was that she much preferred having to face a replica of herself, as disturbing as that alone could be, than to bear for any longer the horrendous spectacle that she and her colleagues had the misfortune of witnessing during the last few moments.
The entity was only partially convinced and looked down in shame, but she cupped their chin—her own chin, oh stars, this was far too disconcerting—and gently turned their face back to her.
"Don't worry, we will get to the bottom of this together. All of us."
And without taking her eyes off them, she stood up slowly, then turned around. Finally deciding to include in the conversation the two men who had until then remained motionless and stunned in the back of the room, as close to the door as possible and on the verge of running away, Claire sent them what at first glance was a reassuring and somewhat confident smile, but which actually also came with a commanding look.
"Won't we?"
Bill's jaw dropped. Dimitri instinctively took a step back and his eyes darted away, trying to find anything to stare at for the next few hours, finding a strange new interest for the mould that started to form in the corners of the yellowing ceiling; all so he could stall for time until he found the right words to reason her with, since she had evidently lost her mind.
"I…" He closed his mouth; hesitated; opened his mouth; hesitated for twice as long. Eventually, he sighed and muttered something whose meaning was most definitely miles away from what he had meant to say originally: "…I trust your judgement, Claire."
He seemed at first simply resigned; but it could still be heard that his words were genuine, and himself was surprised when he realised that he actually meant it.
Claire, indeed. It had always been Claire. Her silliness, her courage, her laugh that always sounded so carefree, but was still always able to remain lucid… Yes. His loving heart trusted her, and the tenderness that she had somehow found the audacity to express in such a situation… This tenderness relieved him of the fear that clouded his mind.
Of course, he had not forgotten anything about the situation, far from it; but if Claire was convinced… Now that his fear was receding, both his sympathy and his curiosity resurfaced, slowly but surely.
In this body that had been amorphous, that now took on the appearance of the woman he loved, it was easy to miss it; but the more he analysed its behaviour, the more it felt similar to that of a young child, lost and innocent. If, to this, he had to take into account what appeared to be the first signs of a potential amnesia… It was quite difficult for his cold reason to silence his humanity.
Slowly and carefully approaching, Dimitri brought a hand to his chin. Surely, busying his logic with this quite puzzling problem would distract it from what it was currently doing; that was to say, scream in all corners of his mind that he should really just drop everything and run. But by taking deep breaths, he was able to stay focused… and let his curiosity take the reins.
This situation was strange and terrifying, to be sure; but there was no denying that it was just as fascinating. At the heart of his researcher's spirit, the desire to know and understand was now bubbling, and never stopped growing. They were facing quite the intriguing puzzle: and though he had little confidence in his ability to solve it, the mere fact of knowing that there had to be a solution somewhere out there, that they simply had to figure out where to look, was enough to make it irresistible.
"It seems that you will take on the appearance of whoever you are thinking about at any given time…" he uttered, believing that trying to rationalise the situation would give everyone some respite from the chaos of the fear that had clouded their minds for far too long, and fill up the awkward silence. "Could it be that it would be easier for you to imitate those you trust more? Ah, silly me, surely they go hand in hand—"
Cutting off his own sentence without any warning or obvious reason, Dimitri closed his eyes, slightly turned away his head, bit his tongue, pinched the top of his slender nose, and inhaled loudly.
"Well, apparently you can think of multiple people at once, and by all means possible, I sincerely wish it weren't the case."
The shape-shifter realised too little too late that they had once again transformed unconsciously, this time only partially so, and they started with a short guilty cry. Right after they managed to mend their mistake, they buried a head that still did not belong to them, within a pair of arms and knees that also did not belong to them, whining shamefully.
Claire sent her colleague an understanding, but nonetheless highly disapproving glare, her lips distinctly shaping the silent words, "You're not helping." And in return, his shoulders slumped down with regret.
"I, um… suppose that I am quite curious about this situation," he muttered, hoping to appease them. "I wouldn't mind assisting in the investigation, if there can be one to begin with—I will admit that I don't even know where we could get started." Sighing once more, he directed his eyes towards the woman who actually wasn't one: "…Just one thing: promise me that you won't turn into me again. It's incredibly disturbing."
"…I can promise that I will try," the being in question corrected with blunt honesty, as the colour of a single strand of hair changed from Claire's ginger to a subtly purplish grey, and fell to cover half of their face.
A pair of dark, feminine eyes looked up and squinted; they pursed their lips; the strand of hair turned back to ginger and gently returned to its rightful place; their eyes came back to the physicist, and their mouth twisted into a shy, awkward and strained grin.
Dimitri buried his head in one hand, rubbing his forehead, sighing heavily for the he-did-not-care-to-count'th time, and muttered something that faintly sounded like an exhausted "Close enough."
Claire turned towards the one person who had remained in the back and not uttered a single word in the last few minutes.
"What about you, Bill? Will you help?"
The head scientist stared at her with a gaping jaw and a pair of eyes ready to pop out of their sockets and fly up to the ceiling like balloons. Unmoving, his gaze wandered from person to person, landing on her, then on the thing, then on the one man he thought he could count on to bring back a speck of common sense, then back to his starting point…
And finally, he shook his head in exasperation and disbelief, threw his hands in the air helplessly, and with his arms still up in the sky, his feet started to perform a perfectly smooth rotation of a hundred and eighty degrees. The message was clear: how dare she even entertain the idea that at any time, in any possible universe, he would ever feel the urge to get involved in something as ludicrous as this?
"I give up. This is insanity," said he as he sternly walked out of the office and slammed the door behind him.
Claire and Dimitri simply stared at the closed door for a moment. They both looked disappointed, but in some way, also not surprised in the slightest.
"Don't mind him," the woman sighed. "He won't do anything."
"And even if he tries, I frankly doubt that anyone will believe him." her colleague pointed out.
She nodded in approval, stifling a short laugh, that same laugh that would always melt his heart. She stood up, offering a hand to her double to help them follow suit, bore their weight for a few seconds (she was quite surprised by how light they were—did she really weigh so little, or was this rather another oddity coming from their nature?), and…
"Oh, my!" she exclaimed as a wave of embarrassment overcame her. "I'm terribly sorry, we should have started there first. Do you have a name?"
The fake Claire froze, staring into space with, once again, a lost and unfocused look. Then, slowly, their head turned away and down, again staring at the messy floorboards, while their arms tightened around the small black pouch that they were carrying. The silence lasted only for a little while, but it said enough on its own, and the two adults no longer needed the following sentence to understand. When it was broken, they had expected to hear these words:
"I don't… remember it."
The silence resumed with all the more tension, as their body had started shivering again, though this time for a completely different reason.
"I don't know what's going on— I just know that I wasn't… I wasn't always like this. I was normal before, I'm— I just had to be… But I can't remember anything about my life— I don't know who I am, or was, or… Heck, now I don't even know what I am."
The scientists shared a disconcerted and sympathetic look. If they could not even have a name or a face as a starting point for their investigation, was there even the slightest hope of ever finding out who this person was, and figuring out what had happened to them? And to this, they had to add their very easily understandable distress: not being able to remember their own identity was already quite the distressing experience, but being forced to wear that of others on top of it… This was all the more horrible to go through.
Suddenly raising their head with a flash of hope, the copy turned to the original with an intense gaze:
"Did I…" They gulped tensely. "Did you get to see what I looked like before I started–" Their hands moved in a brisk but evasive and inaccurate up and down shape, roughly gesturing their entire self. "–all this?"
"I'm afraid not." Claire said with a look that was meant to be comforting, but was just as disappointed. "You were facing the ground, and you were well hidden in the shadows…"
She blinked. Now that she was thinking about it, Claire also wondered how all these transformations could work, as they seemed to break at their most fundamental level all laws of biology, chemistry, and even of physics themselves: even the clothes changed! How was it possible? But more than simply being surprised by it, she defined this mystery as yet another element on the list of clues that they should have had at their disposal under normal conditions, but of which they were deprived here. No matter what outfit the entity was sporting when they appeared in their laboratory, it too had long since been replaced.
The only thing that remained unchanged since the beginning was this tiny, black and rectangular pouch, which seemed so important to them, as they kept it stuck to their chest as if their life depended on it… She wondered what it could contain.
In the end, all that Claire could remember was that, ironically, nothing had caught her attention: it was a meagre clue, especially since at the time, she was not in a state to worry about this kind of detail, and was instead focused on something quite different… But they had to assume that whatever this outfit was made of, none of its details would have been particularly extravagant, if at all. She remembered a colour that was maybe vaguely brown and soft, which blended rather well with the debris and the parquet… But after several long minutes of further thinking, this was all that she could tell them.
The shape-shifter's shoulders slumped along with their glimmer of hope, and the young woman heard a faint "Thanks anyway" that broke her heart even more.
"Don't worry." Claire reassured with confidence, putting her hands on her hips and flashing a determined smile. "I said that we would help, and I will not go back on my word." Her face suddenly lit up with a joyful smile: "In fact, I believe that I should introduce you to a certain someone I know, and who would certainly be delighted to have such a fascinating mystery to solve."
The entity blinked, their interest piqued. They remained silent for a half second, but soon asked, a strong emotion in their eyes: "Ah… And who would that be?"
The impostor had visibly hesitated for quite a while before asking their question, and their gaze was very far from hers as those words were spoken. This was yet another sign that they were most likely a child, if only in spirit, and that they lied as craftily as a toddler bearing a cocoa-smeared face who would promise that no mummy, they have not set foot in the kitchen, and by the way the chocolate bars are absolutely not sitting on the table at all, filled with bite marks, oh no mummy absolutely not.
Despite all the empathy that she had displayed so far, Claire decided to be more severe this time. Crossing her arms, her lips tight and her stature unmoving, she inhaled sharply.
"I think that you already know," she said gravely. "After all, out of all the faces you borrowed when you were panicking, his was the one you came to the most."
As she spoke, Dimitri's face had begun to slowly and silently crumple, losing all colour, while his eyes grew large and empty like saucers. Lowering his head once again and burying it in his hands, he was now trying to take deep and slow breaths, hoping to remain unnoticed, part of him once again regretting his decision to get involved.
Claire ignored him, but a reaction of her own was that of disappointment and a very slight amount of annoyance.
"…It's no use pretending that my deduction was by any means impressive, because you are now making it painfully obvious," she sighed bitterly. "It was quite fleeting the first time I noticed it, but now you are not even trying to hide it. From the very moment I alluded to him and up till now, it is literally written all over your face—well, his face—that you know very well who I'm talking about."
Still surprised and oblivious, the shape-shifter slowly brought a hand to brush their cheek, and indeed came to the realisation that its shape had much squarer features than the one they were meant to wear. Their eyes, now thin and tiny like little black marbles, blinked rapidly in denial; but then, once again, with this fleeting split second of realisation now elapsed, yet another wave of panic and utter chaos washed over them as desperate attempts were made to fix their mistake, to no avail.
When the entity paused to catch their breath, Claire was still looking at the face of her boyfriend. In fact, if anything, the imitation had only become all the more indubitably accurate and complete than it had been when she had pointed it out: because now, she no longer saw a white blouse, a pink tie on a dark shirt, or green pants, as they had all been replaced by an orange sweater, a long coat, and brown pants; she no longer saw a single trace of ginger in their hair, which had become short and dull, almost invisible as they were covered with a particularly elevated top hat of the same sienna brown as his coat; and that she had to tilt her head upwards in order to keep meeting their gaze. Her arms crossed, her lips once again pursed with a stern and disappointed look, she slowly shook her head from side to side with a long sigh.
"By the way, you will have to explain how you knew about the hat. I gave it to him exactly today at lunch, so I'm quite eager to learn how it could have possibly crossed your mind—and ended up on your head."
