“But one day, by total chance, the guest made a friend who matched himjustenough.That friend got very sick, like the others, but he didn’t die. Eventually, the friend started getting stronger and stronger as his body adapted. He had good genes. You know who else had good genes?” Eddie asks.
I shake my head. “No. Who?”
“The friend’s daughter,” Eddie replies. “That daughter’s son had good genes, too, and many years later, the daughter’s son’s son had evenbettergenes. In fact, every generation was easier for the guest to make friends with.”
“So that’s all I am?” I blurt. “The host you’ve prepared?”
“Twelve,” Eddie states flatly.
“What?” I huff.
“You have twelve siblings,” he explains. “It used to be thirteen siblings, but one of them died–your backup here in Palm Springs. So as far as viable, close options, you’re pretty much all I’ve got.”
“You don’t have twelve kids,” I counter. “I know everything about you.”
“Well,clearlynot everything,” Eddie laughs.
“I guess not.”
“Anyway, you’re half right, sport,” Eddie continues. “I have no kids … that thepublicknows about. I stopped trying to raise my own future hosts like five hundred years ago. It’s nice having a fresh body right there when you need it, but it’s also an absolute shitshow. Big, big feelings. Plus, you usually end up married to your own son-or daughter-in-law, which is awkward if you know them already.”
I shake my head, utterly confused. “What the hell does that even mean?”
“Think about it,” he replies. “After you become your own offspring, you can either keep up appearances, wade through a messy divorce, or someone has a terrible accidentcleaning grandpa’s hunting rifle. Regardless, it’s much easier to avoid getting chummy with your new outfit.”
“Your child,” I correct him.
Eddie shrugs. “Sure. Technically speaking, it’s mybody’skid, but whatever.”
As bizarre as it sounds, the one thing that sticks with me through this cascade of mind-bending revelations has nothing to do with me—at least, not directly. I can’t help thinking of my favorite Eddie Michaels live performance, the one that my group home somehow had an old VHS tape of. It was recorded directly off a television broadcast in the late ’90s, when Eddie performed “A Star Like Me” at the Grammy Awards.
There’s a moment in that performance that I’ll always remember. During the show, Eddie looked directly into the camera and belted out the lineone day you’ll be up here and I’ll be watching you, and when that happened I remember feeling the power ofentertainmentin a way I’d never experienced. I felt like I was connecting to someone through time and space, cosmically tethered in a way that went far beyond science and logic.
Tethered by art.
“So this was all just … a way to survive?” I ask.
Eddie tilts his head back and lets out a loud, singular “Ha!” It’s one of the most abbreviated yet effective laughs I’ve ever heard. “Have you been listening to meat alltonight?” Eddie snarls, disappointment searing his tongue. “Survival is nothing without art, without entertainment! I havealwaysbeen a star, and with your help, I’ll keep shining. So will you.”
“You’re a monster,” I retort, not entirely sure how to frame my thoughts but plowing ahead anyway. “Why would you care aboutentertainingpeop—”
“Let me stop you right fucking there,” Eddie snaps. “I’ve seen enough science fiction and horror in my day, and I’ll tell you one thing that everybody gets wrong … where are all the goddamnhobbies? Does every single swamp creature just eat peopleall day? Does every single alien just colonize planets? Sure, I’m tryin’a stay alive here, but when you’ve been around as long as I have, you start to realize there’s so much more to life than the struggle. I was born toentertain, sport.
“And sure, there are new things to learn with every generation. New media, new technology. TikTok,ugh. Fortunately, you’ve already got a head start, and once I’m at the helm, we can turn those followers of yours into anactualcareer.”
Eddie takes a long pause. I can’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but I’ve been leered at enough times to know that his gaze is wandering.
“Traditional beauty goes a long, long way,” he finally says, more to himself than to me. “This’ll be a fun couple of decades!”
Eddie makes a single clap with his hands, announcing an end to our conversation.
“That’s all, folks!” he chirps.
“Wait! Wait!” I cry, but Eddie doesn’t listen. He turns and lopes away, heading for the bedroom.
I instinctively tug against my handcuffs, metal andwood clattering in a frantic cacophony. From here, I can see through the open door, a direct line of sight to Eddie and his victim. Mary stands up, greeting Eddie warmly. At first, she’s wearing a T-shirt and underwear, but she strips them off and tosses them to the side. She’s completely naked now, standing at attention as Eddie gives his quiet instruction.
I pull the handcuffs even harder, the metal digging into my flesh and causing a terrible sting of pain to rocket up my arm.
