The Echo Inside Us

Thump..thump…thump.

I listened closely to the sound of the heartbeat, carefully searching for any mechanical background. I felt the sound rise and fall as I asked different questions, seeing if the anxiety rate adjusted the heartbeat as well.

“Sounds nice and healthy, she’s definitely not an Echoe.” I reported, taking my stethoscope off of the woman’s chest.

The man breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, doctor.” He said, anxiously.

“I told you I wasn’t a fucking robot!” The woman snapped, glaring at her boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” He said, exasperated, “It’s just hard to tell these days, okay? They’re everywhere. And look, nothing against them or anything, I just have a preference for humans.”

“I know,” The woman rolled her eyes, “you’ve made that very clear. Are we done now?”

“Yes,” He replied, before looking back at me for confirmation, “I mean–I think so. Are we?”

“Yes,” I smiled politely, “you guys are all set. Thanks for coming in.”

“Thanks for putting up with his bullshit,” The woman snorted, nudging her boyfriend in the ribs.

“Hey!” He said, defensively. “It’s not–I’m not–I’m sorry, okay? Can we please move on from this now?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She replied, fighting back a smile. “Well thanks for your time today.”

“Of course!” I opened the door for them. “You guys have a good one.”

The couple left the room, happy with their results from today’s screening. It was my last screening of the day, and I was getting ready to go home.

I knew that my job was important. I helped people confirm their humanity, during uncertain times when anyone and everyone looked human. When giving a screening, there is a three step process. The first step involves questioning. The subject is asked simple questions about their life, their relationships, and their emotions. We have projected responses based on the information they provide us (age, gender, sexuality, background, etc.), but sometimes our projections aren’t always accurate, so we don’t hold them to it. The second step involves social interaction; the way they respond to insults, jokes, banter, flirting, etc. This demonstrates regular patterns that we see in humans, such as laughing at the wrong moments, hesitating before answering difficult questions, and speaking about loss with a depth that doctors can’t easily dismiss. The last step involves listening for a heartbeat, ensuring that it isn’t a machine producing a heartbeat-like sound to mimic the true muscle. These screenings are completely voluntary, and can only be done by a professional. Doctors spend years in medical school learning about the screening process, as well as differences between Echoes and humans. Echoes are artificial beings that are indistinguishable from humans, other than the fact that they do not have a heartbeat. They think, speak, create, and even claim to feel—but they do not carry that quiet, biological rhythm of life. They live amongst people, not yet required by the government to carry an identity marker that informs people they’re an Echoe (though there’s currently a bill in Congress promoting that). This means that anyone you interact with may not be human; your friend, your lawyer, the gas station worker, the person you hit it off with at the bar, etc. Anyone could be an Echoe, and there’s only one way to prove it.

Society has a mixed opinion on Echoes. Some people believe they have a right to be here, that they aren’t harming anyone and should be left alone and accepted as equals. Others believe that they’re an abomination, a freak of nature that goes against various religions and threatens our way of life. Of course, there are many who have a more moderate view; they aren’t necessarily bothered by them, but they’d prefer it if they weren’t there, and/or at least if they knew whether or not someone was an Echoe. Personally, I’ve always found Echoes disturbing. The idea that I could connect with someone so well, just to find out that they’re not human, is terrifying. Their ability to act and pretend to be something they’re not is a mortifying example of what happens when the government doesn’t have boundaries. What if one day they decide to attack us? What if they want to make all of us like them? What if they strive to create a world where humans become the outliers? It was a horrifying thought, one that crossed my mind everyday.

With each screening I did, I became more and more aware of the signs of an Echoe. I’ve had people leave my office crying, breaking down as they find out their husband of 10 years had lied to them about their identity. I’ve also seen people look into their adopted child’s eyes with love, telling them that it doesn’t change a thing. Each screening is different, and I’ve seen just about every reaction you can imagine (including the violent ones). I did about 5-10 screenings everyday on average, but it differed week by week. Still, I knew my job was important, and I knew it helped keep humanity alive.

As I grabbed my things to leave, I stopped by the office to check in with my coworker, Daniel.

“Karaoke tonight?” I said, nudging the air as if it were his side.

“I don’t know, I,” He said, smiling at the one-letter nickname he’d given me, “I’m a little swamped with work.”

“All the more reason to go out!” I grinned at him. “Cmon, I know you want to. ‘Dancing Queen’ is calling your name!”

He sighed. “Alright, I guess I’ll go.” It didn’t take much convincing for Daniel.

“Yess! Okay–meet at 10:00?” I asked.

“10:15.” He decided.

“10:15 is it.” I winked at him, grabbed my jacket, and walked out the door.

The whole ride home all I could think about was that couple from today. ‘I just have a preference for humans’ He’d said. I suppose I couldn’t judge, I guess I had a preference for humans too. I could never be with an Echoe, it wasn’t natural.

As I got ready for karaoke I thought about Daniel. We’d been working together for three years, going on four, and he knew me better than anyone else in that building. Truthfully speaking, he was probably my best friend, when I thought about it. Nobody else understood me the way he did. When I first arrived at the screening center, I was fresh out of college and terrified. Daniel and I both had the same first day, but unlike me, he radiated confidence. It was to a point where I wondered if it was arrogance I was sensing, but when he spoke, he confirmed his own humility while also demonstrating his knowledge. I hated him for two weeks. Not because he was confident, but because I wasn’t. He was everything I wanted to be, and I was more than envious, I was spiteful. That is, until one day, I was eating alone in the break room when he sat down.

“Can I join you?” He’d asked, while opening his pudding cup.

“You already have,” I rolled my eyes.

“Can I ask you a question?” He inquired.

“You just did, that’s a question,” I said, sarcastically, “but sure.”

“Why do you hate me so much?” He said, making direct eye contact with me.

I immediately turned red. “I don’t–”

“You do.” He interrupted me. “I can tell, I’m not stupid you know? What did I do? Did I offend you at some point or something?”

“No–it’s just–” I fumbled for words, “you just know everything. It pisses me off I guess.”

He laughed. “I do not know everything.”

“Tell me something you don’t know then.” I challenged.

“If I don’t know it, how can I tell you?” He retorted.

“Whatever, you know what I mean,” I laughed.

He pointed at me. “Oops, I made you smile. Looks like you don’t hate me after all.”

“Oh, shut up,” I grinned at him, “I guess you’re not so bad.”

We had lunch every day together after that. Soon, we started hanging out outside of work, and before I knew it, he was one of my closest friends. Nowadays, Daniel and I are two peas in a pod. I don’t think I’d still be at the center if it weren’t for him. After everything I’ve seen, I couldn’t live without my partner in crime.

I looked in the mirror, satisfied with my outfit. I wore a black, sequin filled dress that stopped just above my knees, with a matching purse around my right shoulder blade. My hair was a deep auburn, and I wore just a bit of eyeliner and glitter in the center of my eyes. I was ready for karaoke. When I showed up at 10:10, I waited outside the building, knowing Daniel would be here at exactly 10:15 (he was never early, but never late, always exactly on time). I scrolled through Instagram on my phone, checking the latest memes, the latest news, and the latest memes about the latest news.

“Hey stranger.”

I turned around to see Daniel, dressed in black dress pants with a matching short-sleeve button-up and some jewelry. He only wore silver, never gold.

I grinned at the sight of him. “Hey!”

We embraced briefly before heading inside.

We must have sang about 20 different songs together that night, genres ranging from pop, to metal, to musicals. Every time we ended a song the crowd cheered and whistled, some even patting us on the backs as we walked back to our seats. Then, suddenly, someone got up on the stage to sing a song, announcing “this one is for all my fellow Echoes.” I went still, my smile dropping. The music began playing and I immediately recognized it as “Creep” by Radiohead.

“Let’s go.” I said quietly, nudging Daniel.

“Why?” He asked, eyes fixated on the man, or rather, the Echoe on stage.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” I admitted, “not with that thing here.”

Daniel opened his mouth, then hesitated. Finally, he spoke. “I want to hear it.”

I turned to argue with him but when I looked at his face, I saw tears in his eyes as he stared at the stage, listening intently to the song.

“You’re so fucking special,” The Echoe sang, “I wish I was special. But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here.”

As the bridge hit, Daniel appeared almost in a trance, eyes still teary. I watched as one fell down his cheek, surprised by his connection to the singer. When the song was over, Daniel insisted on going to talk to the singer. I stayed at our table, not wanting to be near one of those creatures. They must have talked for ten minutes, before I began signaling him to come back. When he finally returned, there was something different, as if he’d had some weight lifted off of his chest.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“Nothing much.” He replied. “I was just trying to hear more about his experience, y’know?”

“Why would you care about that?” I said, puzzled by his sudden interest in an Echoe.

“Look, Iris, I know you don’t like them,” He started, “but they’re here, okay? They’re here, and they’re not going anywhere. Maybe we should just–I don’t know–try to understand them?”

“What is there to understand?” I snapped. “They walk around pretending to be human, they’re liars, all of them.”

“He wasn’t a liar. He tells everyone he’s an Echoe.” Daniel pointed out, growing more upset with me.

“Just because this one tells people, doesn’t mean they all do,” I said, gesturing to him like he was an inanimate object.

“Why should they have to anyway?” Daniel exclaimed, raising his voice a bit. “They don’t owe us that. They’re not hurting anybody.”

“Since when do you care so much about Echoes?” I glared at him skeptically.

“I don’t know–I just–” He sighed, calming down a bit. “Look, I just think you can be a bit too harsh with them sometimes. We aren’t so different after all.”

"Who' s we?” I squinted my eyes at him, suddenly very aware of his ideal timing and pitch-perfect singing voice.

“What?” He laughed nervously. “You know, us and them.”

“Right…” I said, judging him carefully, “Daniel where were you born?”

“What?” He stared at me in disbelief. “What kind of question is that?”

“Where. Were you. Born?” I said, stating each word slowly as if he couldn’t understand me otherwise. I was asking him the first question on step one of the screening process.

“Okay Iris, stop fucking with me.” He shook his head.

“Then tell me where you were born.” I demanded.

He started looking around nervously, as people began staring at us and our conflict.

“Um, can we take this outside?” He asked.

“Where were you born?” I repeated.

“Iris–”

“Where were you born?”

“Can you please just–”

“WHERE WERE YOU BORN?”

“ATLANTA.” He yelled, causing heads to turn. “God, Iris.”

I stared at him with a flat expression. We sat in silence for about 30 seconds before one of us spoke.

“Do you have something to tell me?” I asked.

“Can we take this outside? Please?” He begged, talking with his hands.

I agreed, and we left the karaoke place.

We stood next to our cars in the parking lot.

“So? Are you gonna tell me?” I asked.

“Tell you what?” Daniel rolled his eyes. I didn’t react. My face was plain.

“You know what.” I replied.

He didn’t answer.

“Even if I did have something to tell you,” He started, “would you even listen? Or would you just hear two words and then walk away?”

My eyes softened. “Daniel,” I bit my lip, “you’re my best friend. No matter what you have to say, I don’t think I could not listen, even if I wanted to. But I need to know Daniel.”

He looked at me cautiously, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. After a long time, he finally spoke. “There is a reason I spoke to the singer, okay?”

“Okay.” I replied, waiting for more.

“His message, that song, it just…it connected with me.” He spoke slowly, looking for the right words. “It connected with me because–well–I just–”

“Because you’re an Echoe.” I answered for him.

He stared at me in shock for a moment. “You knew?”

I laughed, not because it was funny, but because I couldn’t believe he’d say that. “Knew? Are you kidding me? I had no idea.”

“Look, Iris, I know you don’t like people like me–” He said, tears filling his eyes.

“‘People like me’?” I interrupted him. “You’re not even a person Daniel. And this whole time, I thought you were. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“God, for once, can you not think about yourself?” He yelled back at me, hands in his hair. “It’s not about you! My identity is not about you, it has nothing to do with you. I get it, you think I’m a liar, but do you know how dangerous it is to openly be an Echoe? I could get killed for authenticity? Don’t you get that? And why does it even matter? Can’t you see that we’re the same? I’m just like you. I am just like you! I cry, I laugh, I get scared, I love myself, I love others. What more humanity do you want?”

“You don’t have a heartbeat.” I said firmly.

“And you hardly have a heart at all.” He exclaimed, coldly. “I want you to listen to your heartbeat and tell me, with full certainty, that that’s what makes you human. I have friends, I have family, I went to school, I have a job, but I’m an abomination just because I wasn’t born like you? You hate what you don’t understand, but hate gets you nowhere.”

I felt tears streaming down my cheeks. I never would’ve imagined Daniel could be an Echoe. He was so normal, so real. He was just like me, that’s why we got along so well. I found it hard to believe he didn’t come from flesh and blood like I did.

“Maybe you’re right,” He looked past me, up at the skyline, “maybe people like me shouldn’t be with people like you. But you talk about heartbeats as if they define humanity. But tell me—does the heart alone teach kindness when the world pushes you down? Does it teach us to hope when everything around us says we’re not enough? No. Humanity isn’t measured in beats per minute. It’s measured in the choices we make, the lives we touch, the truths we live. I’m an Echoe, yes. And you see that as a flaw, as a difference, as something less than human. But I’m here, breathing, and I am alive in every way that matters. Being human isn’t about being born a certain way, or fitting into someone else’s rules, or even having a heart that thumps. Being human isn’t about the body you’re given—it’s about the life you claim for yourself, and the courage to fully be. So look at me again, Iris, really look. I am human. I am whole. And I will not apologize for existing, for feeling, for being exactly who I am."

I stared at him, bewildered. I’d never thought about it that way, but I didn’t know if I was ready to now.

“I can’t do this right now, Daniel.” I shook my head.

He unlocked his car and opened the door. “Then don’t.”

I watched his car drive away.

I drove around mindlessly before I found myself back at the center.

I lifted the stethoscope up to my chest.

Thump…thump…thump.

I forced myself to confront an unsettling reality: if a heartbeat can be created, mimicked, or even taught…was it ever the thing that made us human?

And if it wasn’t—

What does?