My mother, husband and son entered a televised trial to prove they could live my life better than I had, and the entire country cheered when they learned the prize for succeeding was my disappearance. They sat beneath the studio lights like contestants on a game show, certain they understood every failure in my life. None of them looked nearly as confident when the machine announced what would happen if they failed.
Chapter 2
Greg chose finances.
Of course he did.
Even while trembling in the chair, he tried to rebuild the swagger he used whenever explaining my own life to me.
“Ages nineteen through twenty-eight,” he said. “I’ll prove she could have earned more, saved more, and avoided all those dead-end jobs.”
The system accepted his challenge.
He entered my nineteen-year-old body with one hundred fourteen dollars, no college degree, no car, no professional references, and an address in one of the poorest ZIP codes in western Pennsylvania.
His first decision was to quit my diner job.
“Minimum wage is a trap,” his voice explained through the simulation. “I’ll use the public library, write a professional résumé, and apply for office work.”
For three weeks, Greg applied to banks, insurance companies, medical offices, dealerships, and logistics firms.
Nobody called.
The system displayed the reasons.
NO DEGREE.
NO EXPERIENCE.
NO REFERENCES.
EMPLOYMENT GAP.
DISTANCE FROM WORKSITE.
Greg changed tactics.
He walked into offices wearing the nicest clothes I had owned at nineteen—a faded blouse, gray skirt, and shoes purchased secondhand.
Security escorted him from two buildings.
One receptionist told him to apply online.
The online system automatically rejected him.
By the end of the month, he had twelve dollars.
Rent was due.
“I need a job,” Greg whispered.
He took the same two jobs I had taken.
Hotel housekeeping during the day.
Meatpacking at night.
The audience watched him scrub bathtubs until his hands cracked from chemicals. They watched him stand beside a refrigerated conveyor belt at three in the morning, lifting boxes until my injured shoulder swelled.
At twenty-one, he developed the same kidney infection I had.
Greg tried to work through it because missing a shift meant losing the job.
He collapsed.
Hospital debt: $4,700.
The arithmetic he had always called simple became impossible.
Rent.
Food.
Medicine.
Bus fare.
Laundry.
Debt.
Every dollar already belonged somewhere before he earned it.
Then he met himself.
At twenty-two, simulated Greg entered the story as a handsome young hardware-store supervisor with a decent pickup truck and an easy smile.
The real Greg sounded relieved.
“Finally. Shared expenses.”
He moved in with himself.
For two months, life improved.
Then simulated Greg lost his job.
The audience watched him sit on the couch playing video games while Subject Caroline returned from twelve-hour shifts.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked.
Real Greg’s face contorted.
“Get up,” he whispered.
The simulation continued.
“You need to look for work,” Subject Caroline said.
Simulated Greg stood.
“You think I’m not trying?”
“We’re behind on rent.”
“Stop nagging me.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“So am I.”
“You slept until noon.”
Simulated Greg stepped close enough for intimidation to do the work his fists did not.
“You come home smelling like cleaning chemicals and start complaining. Maybe try acting like a supportive girlfriend.”
In the studio, Greg began crying.
“I wasn’t that bad.”
I looked at him.
“You were.”
Subject Caroline tried leaving.
She discovered the apartment lease was in Greg’s name. A new apartment required first month, last month, and a security deposit.
She had thirty-four dollars.
The shelter across town was full.
So she stayed.
At twenty-four, she became pregnant.
Greg’s financial strategies collapsed one by one.
He invested fifty dollars. The alternator failed.
He created an emergency fund. Simulated Greg found it and bought a game console.
He worked extra hours. Pregnancy complications forced him to reduce them.
He attempted to negotiate hospital bills.
The hospital put the balance into collections.
Then came the night that broke him.
Subject Caroline was nine months pregnant when the landlord arrived with an eviction notice.
Greg had taken the rent money.
“Where is it?” Caroline asked.
Simulated Greg would not look at her.
“I had a debt.”
“What debt?”
Silence.
“What debt, Greg?”
“Cards.”
Not credit cards.
Poker.
Sports betting.
Everything my real husband had once called “just a little fun.”
The simulated Caroline sank to the carpet, holding her belly.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
The screen froze.
The system displayed two columns.
CAROLINE AT AGE 26: housed, employed, $412 savings, no consumer debt.
GREG-AS-CAROLINE AT AGE 26: eviction pending, $14,280 debt, premature labor risk.
“Challenger Gregory Reed has failed.”
Greg woke screaming.
“It’s rigged!”
The restraints tightened.
“You can’t win under those conditions!”
I stood.
“That was my life.”
“Everything kept going wrong!”
“Yes.”
“I tried everything!”
“So did I.”
He stared at me with tears running down his face.
“But I wasn’t like him.”
“You were exactly like him.”
“No.”
“You never had to experience yourself from the other side.”
The chamber descended.
“Caroline, please.”
I remembered dozens of nights when I had asked him for help.
Please take Leo to school.
Please look for work.
Please don’t spend that money.
Please don’t yell tonight.
Please believe me when I say I’m tired.
Greg had called me dramatic.
Now he whispered, “I love you.”
I shook my head.
“You loved what I absorbed for you.”
The blue light flashed.
His chair became empty.
COMPENSATION: $6,000,000.
The audience was no longer cheering.
Some people had left.
Others sat crying.
Leo had fallen to his knees beside the front row.
“No,” he whispered.
The system called his name.
He crawled toward me.
“Mom.”
My son wrapped both arms around my legs.
“I’m sorry.”
For sixteen years, I had wanted to hear those words.
Now they came too late to stop the trial.
