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was.
    Yet I was standing in the living room as well. Dressed in identical clothes. My face, my body. Me, without a doubt.
    But how could that be?
    I wasn’t in that body, I realized then. I only observed it. Staring, I moved closer. The figure of myself looked corpse-like. There was no expression on its face. It might have been a figure of me in a wax museum. Except that it was moving slowly like a winding down automaton.
    I tore my gaze from it and looked around the living room. Ann was there, Richard, Ian and Marie; Perry, talking to the figure. Was it visible to all of them? I wondered, sickened. It was such a hideous sight.
    “Where are you?” Perry was asking.
    I looked at the cadaverous form. Its lips stirred feebly. When it spoke, its voice was not my own but a hollow, lifeless muttering as it said, “Beyond.”
    Perry told my family. He addressed the figure once again. “Can you describe where you are?”
    The figure didn’t speak. It shifted on its feet, eyes blinking sluggishly. At last it spoke. “Cold,” it said. “He says it’s cold,” Perry told them. “You said we’d be able to see him,” Marie said in a tight voice.
    I looked at Ann. She was on the sofa, sitting between Ian and Marie, her body looking collapsed. Her face was white and masklike, she was staring at her hands.
    “Please make yourself visible to everyone,” Perry said to the figure. Even now, his tone was arbitrary. The figure shook its head. It answered, “No.” I don’t know how I knew it but I did. The figure wasn’t speaking of its own accord. It merely parroted what Perry’s mind was feeding it. It wasn’t me in any way. It was a puppet he’d constructed with the power of his will.
    I moved to Perry angrily and stood in front of him, blocking off his view of the figure. “Stop this,” I told him. “Why can’t you manifest yourself?” he asked.
    I stared at him. He couldn’t see me anymore. He was looking through me, at my waxlike effigy. Just as Ann had looked through me.
    I reached out and tried to grab his shoulder. “What have you done?” I demanded.
    He had no awareness of my presence. He kept speaking to the figure as I turned to Ann. She was bending forward now, shaking, both palms pressed across her lower face, eyes haunted, staring sightlessly. Oh, God, I thought in anguish. Now she’II never know.
    The figure had responded with its witless voice. I looked at it, revolted by the sight.
    “Are you happy where you are?” Perry asked. The figure answered, “Happy.” “Have you a message for your wife?” Perry asked. “Be happy,” mumbled the figure. “He says be happy,” Perry said to Ann. With a gagging sound, she struggled to her feet and ran from the room. “Mom!” Ian hurried after her. “Don’t break the circle!” Perry cried.
    Marie stood up, incensed. “Break the circle? You… ass!” She ran after Ian.
    I looked at the figure standing in our living room like a faded mannequin. Its eyes were those of a catatonic. “Damn you,” I muttered. I walked to it suddenly.
    To my astonished loathing, I could feel its flesh as I grabbed for it. It was dead and cold.
    Revulsion seized me as it grabbed my arms, its icy fingers clutching at me. I cried out, harrowed, and began to struggle with it. I was wrestling with my own corpse, Robert, my dead face inches from me, my dead eyes staring at me. “Get away!” I shouted. “Away,” it repeated dully. “Damn you!” I screamed. It muttered, “Damn you.” Horrified, my stomach wrenched by nausea, I jerked free of its numbing touch.
    “Look out, he’s falling!” Perry cried. Suddenly, he fell back on the cushion of the chair he sat on. “He’s gone,” he murmured.
    It was. As I’d pulled free, the figure had started toppling toward me, then, before my eyes, dissolved in midair.
    “Something pushed him,” Perry said.
    “For Christ’s sake, Perry.” Richard’s voice was trembling.
    “Could I have a drink of water?” Perry