A WORKAROUND

Officer Parry, a rugged cop in his mid-forties, patrolled the crowded city streets. His eyes caught a digital screen displaying wanted criminals. To his surprise, one of the faces on the screen looked exactly like him.

“What the hell?” Parry muttered, stepping closer.

As he scrutinized the image, the resemblance became even more uncanny.  

* * *

Parry made his way through police headquarters. He entered an office where Michaels, a stern woman in her fifties, was buried in paperwork.

“Captain, we have a situation,” Parry reported.

Michaels looked up, raising an eyebrow. “What's the problem?”

Parry showed her a picture of the doppelgänger on his phone. “This guy, Roger Glen, he’s my exact double!”

“Is this a joke?” Michaels inquired, as she squinted at the picture.

“No!” Parry insisted. “Put me on the case and I’ll track him down.”

“Did you even do a background check on him?” Michaels queried.

“Glen’s got a long criminal record,” Parry revealed. “He was even picked up for burglary a few days ago.”

“Interesting…” Michaels replied, regarding Parry over her glasses.

“There’s more,” Parry continued. “I checked the city's CCTV for the past week, and the facial recognition only detected me. I had to look manually and found Glen walking into an abandoned sock factory earlier today.”

Michaels thought for a moment and then reluctantly nodded. “Alright, go after him. But keep this quiet. We don't want anyone panicking.”

* * *

“This is it,” Parry muttered to himself, as he stood outside the sock factory. He entered the building, his service weapon drawn.

He spotted a figure in the shadows and approached cautiously.

It was Roger Glen, sitting in a chair, calmly smoking a cigarette. Apart from Glen’s Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, he appeared identical to Parry.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Parry demanded.

“Me?” Glen asked, his voice exactly the same as Parry’s. “I'm your complete opposite.”

* * *

In a dim interview room, Parry interrogated Glen. Glen sat serenely, despite being handcuffed to a table.

“Who's behind this?” Parry challenged.

Glen could only grin. “You really have no idea, do you?”

Parry slammed his fist on the table. “Answer me!”

Glen laughed. “You're in over your head. They’re in control of everything...”

“Who the hell are ‘they’?” Parry responded, becoming irate.

Glen locked eyes with Parry. “Since we’re in the same situation, I’ll throw you a bone.”

Glen motioned for Parry to come closer. When Parry complied, Glen uttered in a hushed tone; “Start by looking at the top of your own totem pole.”

Parry thought for a moment and then stormed out of the room. He marched down the hall and barged into Michaels’ office.

“No more bullshit!” Parry demanded. “What the fuck’s going on?!”

“What are you talking about?” Michaels replied calmly.

“Did you clone me?!” Parry bellowed.

“Clone you?” Michaels replied, barely looking up from her paperwork. “Have you lost your mind?”

“But why does Glen look and sound like me?!” Parry shouted.

Michaels peered at him with a mixture of pity and resignation. “He doesn’t look and sound like you. During your annual medical, we injected some deepfake nanomachines into you. The technology overlays a pre-selected set of physical and vocal attributes onto anyone suspected of a crime.”

“What?!” Parry exclaimed.

“You’re well aware of the rise in complaints about police brutality,” Michaels explained. “The deepfake tech can create empathy for the alleged criminal if we overlay the officers' own characteristics onto them. For this example, we narrowed it down to just you and Glen.”

“So, you’ve been using me?” Parry questioned.

“Of course,” Michaels replied bluntly. “And now, I need to use you again. Glen needs to disappear. Permanently.”

“Why?!” Parry asked.

Michaels stood up from her desk. “Because, I agreed to let him go if he played along with my little ruse. However, the nanomachines are still only at their test stages, and we can’t have Glen blabbing to anyone about them.”

“Why do you think I’d do anything to help you now?” Parry chimed in.

“The deepfake tech can also overlay your traits onto every person you come across,” Michaels elucidated. “So, if you want to actually see your wife and kids again, you should probably play along.”

* * *

Glen knelt on a riverbank in the outskirts of the city, his hands cuffed behind his back. Parry stood in front of him, pointing his gun at Glen’s head.

Glen sobbed, tears streaming down his face.

“Please!” he begged. “I did what Michaels told me!”

Parry looked at Glen, seeing his own face crying back at him.

He hesitated, guilt overwhelming him.

His hand began to tremble as he looked into his own bloodshot eyes.

“I can’t do it,” Parry finally relented, lowering his gun. “I guess this deepfake shit really works.”

“Oh my god…” Glen exhaled. “Thank you!”

Parry sighed. “But, if this makes officers turn a blind eye, then isn’t that…”

He trailed off as a realisation slowly crept up on him.

Parry put his hand over his eyes and then aimed his weapon at Glen again.

“Doesn’t matter how good the new tech is,” he stated, wrapping his finger around the trigger. “They’ll always be a workaround.”