It looked exactly like me. The morning light that filtered through the blinds was dim but there was no doubt that an exact copy of myself stood in front of my bed. It looked at me as if I were a fish in an aquarium. When it started to speak, calm and collected, its cadence and mannerisms mirrored mine perfectly. It told me of the plans it had. They were all my plans.
When it had finished it hugged me and told me not to worry, but that I was obsolete now. It would take action, do all the things I meant to do but had never started. I couldn’t respond. I felt profoundly humiliated by how perfectly they had cloned me, down to every last shred I thought of as my personality, as my soul, if you will. Only, my copy was subtly superior, like a mirror clearer than the eye.
“The funny thing is,” it said to me with my smile, “you could have been me.” It squeezed my shoulder and left the room without another word. Outside I heard how Franz, my dog, greeted it as if it were me.
“Good boy,” I mouthed the same moment it said it out loud to Franz. Shortly after, they both left and I slowly melted into nothingness.