Wondered what the toddler's guardians would have done if they'd known he was holding hands with a clone. "The clones'll getcha!" was my mother's favorite threat when I'd act up as a kid. Scared me for a long time. It's common knowledge how all clones get sterilized as soon as they're deincubated. Mandatory. So it made sense for clones to steal children because they can't have any of their own. Never heard of a real case of child-stealing, but the myth persists.

The older kids spotted me crossing toward the clone and the toddler. Must have thought I looked like trouble because they swept the little guy from the clone's grasp and spirited him away before I got within ten meters.

The clone watched them run down the street, a look of such longing on her face that I stopped in my tracks. Maybe it's not a myth — maybe clones do want kids bad enough to steal them.

We entered the Park Complex together. Good to get out of the October chill and the groundlevel dampness. As we walked along the central mall, I noticed her face contorting, like spasms.

"What's wrong with you?"

Her expression immediately reverted to normal. "Nothing."

"Don't give me that. You had your face all twisted up."

She smiled — sheepishly, I thought. "Just a little game I play." She pointed ahead of her. "See this lady over on the left here? Look at her expression: like she just bit into a lemon."

Looked. True enough, the middler in question did have a puckered face. Glanced at the clone. Her face was set in an excellent lemon-sucking imitation of the lady's.

"You working at trying to pass as Realpeople?"

"No. It's just fun. What do you do for fun, Mr. Dreyer?"

Opened my mouth to speak, then closed it. None of her business. And realized with a spiky kind of disquiet that I couldn't think of an answer. Had to be something I did for fun.