How did I start haunting myself? Well, it all began when I saw my sagging face and bulging eyes in the mirror opposite.
No, it’s not my face, it’s his. I am him, and he is me. The same man, but split into two beings.
– Fuck, this can’t be happening – the old man muttered in disbelief.
I felt sorry for him, knowing exactly how he felt, because just a moment ago, I was stuck in his (my) head.
And now my head was youthful, and his was gray, and his face was covered with wrinkled and sagging skin with liver spots.
He was slowly dying, and my life would go on for a very long time, maybe even forever.
I wanted to comfort him somehow, because just a moment ago, his despair was mine, but it was replaced by immense joy.
From his point of view, it was a failure; from mine, a success.
Yes, I would prefer not to be a copy. It would have been better if my mind had been transferred.
Just a moment ago, I did not exist as a second him, so if I had not been created, I would not have cared, because I would not have existed. He, on the other hand, would have continued to exist only in the body of an android.
I was half machine and half human, although of course I felt human.
Somewhere inside, I had an artificial skeleton and synthetic, non-perishable entrails. And on top of all that was rejuvenated natural biological tissue supported by regenerative synthetics. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t work for him; he wasn’t half-machine.
He rejuvenated me and modified my parameters a little—besides that, I was now in a twenty-year-old body, it was athletic, had a darker complexion, and I had black hair, which was, of course, thicker.
I know why he did it (I did it).
We both miss Helen, my… our…
No, now she is his deceased wife, whom I still loved (we loved), because she lived in my memories, in a copy of his memories.
Do I have the right to love her, to miss her as his copy?
I think so, because I feel real, just as alive as he is, and even more so, considering his condition.
And since I have his memories in my head and he made me feel them as if they were my own, I believe even more that we have the right to mourn a woman who was not formally my wife, even though in my mechanical heart she was my wife.
Anyway, what does it matter now? She doesn’t care anymore. She’s gone. And he doesn’t know that I miss her, even though he realizes that we have the same feelings.
I see his narrowed eyes, his gaze saturated with hateful jealousy – he’s probably thinking, – I was supposed to be in that body! You stole it from me!”
Yes, that look, if it could, would kill me in the blink of an eye – if only I could become dead.
Can I? Or will I just be a broken machine?
– You can’t be, you can’t exist – hissed the old man, and I simply felt sorry for him, as a human being. I knew that in reality, this hatred was not directed at me, but at failure, a wasted opportunity, the loss of illusions. It’s easier to spit venom and have someone to throw it at, and even better when there’s a reaction, because then you can react even more strongly. Yes, it’s much easier than looking in the mirror and facing your own infirmity and mortality.
I had a comment on the tip of my tongue that it was clear from the beginning that there was little chance of the mind transfer succeeding, but he knew that (since I knew it). Besides, I don’t kick a man when he’s down.
– You can’t exist – he croaked with sadness in his voice. – It was supposed to be me.
– But I do exist, and I am exactly the same as you. And you… Well, you could say you are my creator – he began to threaten me with his finger.
– And just as I created you, I can shut you down – he began to threaten me with his finger.
– You wouldn’t do that.
– And why is that? – he seemed genuinely surprised.
– Because you’re not a murderer. Remember, I know you better than anyone else.
He sighed heavily and began to struggle to get out of the machine.
I rushed over to him, wanting to help him, of course.
– Don’t touch me! Don’t kill me! – he yelled as if possessed. The only thing missing was for him to add ‘begone, evil spirit’.
But he didn’t.
– I couldn’t kill you – I raised my hands in a conciliatory gesture.
– I threatened you.
– I know.
– You have a reason – well, that’s how he is, he always has to be on top.
I decided to let it go.
So… I was already different from him in some way.
Well, that happened quickly.
I thought that time and events shape our character and that it takes years…
– Yes, I do – I replied reassuringly. – But I won’t do it. I’m not a murderer. Remember, we’re cut from the same cloth.
Suddenly, he began to cackle like… a man possessed.
– I can call the cops if you don’t get out of here right now! – he growled, after he had finished laughing, breaking into a phlegm, intense cough.
– This is my apartment – I was about to retort, but at the last moment, I bit my tongue. In fact, formally, it was his apartment, and I was a guest from nowhere; no papers, no contacts, no past.
Yes, I could have told him that he had probably committed a serious crime, but I didn’t want to go to war with him, it would be like fighting myself.
I wonder what made me choose the peaceful path? Was it because I had much better prospects than him, because he was about to go to heaven, and I would be young and healthy for the rest of my life?
Or maybe we are different after all?
If I had gone and reported the crime somewhere—which I wouldn’t have done in this case, because I’m not a snitch—I would certainly have hurt myself more than him (Hmm, funny, I quickly stopped identifying with him—a lightning-fast cutting of the umbilical cord; however strange that may sound in this situation…).
Most likely, I would be considered crazy, maybe a spy (due to my lack of papers and past), or at best an illegal immigrant.
None of these options suited me.
I was at home, I was fine with that, and I wasn’t going to change it.
And, to be honest, I wasn’t going to leave the nervous, pathetic old man I had recently been without help.
I knew that he (i.e., my former self) knew he couldn’t cope on his own anymore.
Besides, he created me, so…
– I can help you – I began gently.
– Oh, ho, I wonder how?! – he turned red in the face and almost spat.
Well, I had to admit to myself that I was, I am… he is repulsive.
Old age had defeated him, and having no strength to fight it, he had stopped taking care of himself.
The most obvious evidence of this was that he simply reeked of musty dirt, and the worst smell came from his long-untreated rotten teeth.
And well, it was my own stench, which, being trapped in an old body, I had become so accustomed to that I no longer noticed it. But to be honest, now, from a different perspective, it was very unpleasant for me… I was disgusting, however absurd that may sound.
– Well, how are you going to help me?! – he roared, leaning towards me, and I was again overwhelmed by my own stench.
God, what a hothead I was – I was shocked at myself, and in a moment I understood why I was now so unmoved and filled with calm.
He was suffering, cruelly, consumed alive by old age and everything that comes with it: weakness, fatigue, depression, all kinds of pain, blurred vision, and all the damn limitations that unfortunately come to their victims with the passing of the years. And suffering like that, he envied me for everything he had long since lost, and which I am now regaining.
He spat venom, saturated with bitterness and despair, hatred, not because he had anything against me personally, but because I would spend many passionate moments with beautiful women, whom he now saw only as more or less blurred, moving spots; because I could eat pizza without feeling sick, while he would suffer from heartburn all day and night, and the next day it could chain him to his throne; and probably most of all because I was not in pain, I was not suffering – and that would never change – while he was wallowing in a swamp of suffering.
It was simply jealousy for his lost youth, which he wanted to regain by using me. But he failed, and that’s what hurts him.
Yes, just a moment ago, I was scaring myself, I was terrified of myself, but when I understood that, it immediately passed, and instead, compassion arose.
– Listen, I know what you’re afraid of and how much you’re suffering, because just a moment ago my mind was your mind, so I remember it all perfectly
When I finished, he fell silent, and I noticed that he was looking at me differently, without that fierce hatred, but with a gentle intrigue.
– What do you suggest? – he asked.
– For starters, maybe you could give me something to wear – I suggested.
Talking to the old version of myself with my dick hanging out was a little uncomfortable.
– Huh – he replied, scratching behind his ear.
How well I knew that – huh – combined with that scratching.
– Well, I should have expected that. You didn’t think about it at all, did you?
In response, he toddled clumsily toward the closet.
– Oh no, I’m not wearing any of those stained underpants – I protested.
– Are you disgusted with yourself? – he cackled obscenely. – You were just wearing them, because you’re me.
I didn’t answer, moving toward the other closet.
– Oh no, these are for our funeral – he tried to block my way, but I was faster, much faster.
– Yours – I corrected him.
– Yes, mine – surprisingly, he stopped arguing about everything.
– Listen, we’ll buy you better ones – I consoled him, pulling out some elegant clothes.
– I wonder whose – he started complaining again, and I promised myself that no matter what happened in my life, I would never be such a whiner again.
– Don’t be such a geezer – I said thoughtlessly.
– Geezer – he sighed martyrishly.
– I’m sorry – I felt myself blushing.
– Well, you took my best clothes – he said with resignation. – Now enlighten me and tell me what your plan is.
– You know what you were thinking when you had a moment of doubt about this… project – the last word strangely refused to pass my throat, and my hand refused to obey when I pointed at myself.
He nodded in agreement.
– Well, it didn’t work out, and now there are two of us, and I know your situation very well and I know you spent all your money on it. You simply can’t afford a care android, or even renting one.
– That’s right – he confirmed almost mechanically.
– I’ll take care of you for the rest of your days.
– Oh ho, what a benefactor, look at that! Don’t you think I’m simply entitled to it?” he blurted out, completely sulky. – You only exist because I created you.
– Oh ho, what a benefactor! I only exist because you made a mistake. And you pay for your mistakes.
– You have no right!” he protested. – It was my android, paid for with my money! You are my property.
– I’m alive and I have feelings!” I shouted back, and what harm could it do me? I had the upper hand and he knew it perfectly well, even though he couldn’t accept it (but he would have to). – And I’m nobody’s property!”
I decided to play with the situation until he softened up, but when I remembered that we had been in mourning for so many years and that, unlike me, he would not drown his sadness and longing with the joys of life, I was overcome with compassion. But only for a moment, because I immediately heard:
– I am your creator and I command you!”
God, have I always been so cheeky? It’s good to look at yourself from the outside sometimes, you can get quite a shock.
– Shut up already – I interrupted him and decided it was high time for the nuclear option: – If that’s how it’s going to be, then I’m leaving now and you won’t see me again. And unlike you, I’ll be just fine.
He stared at me in utter amazement, and I, taking advantage of the fact that he was momentarily speechless, got up and slowly moved toward the door, giving him time to apologize if he wanted to.
Regardless of whether he did or not, I wasn’t going to abandon him to his fate, but it would have been nice to hear that stupid “sorry” and be treated with dignity. It wouldn’t have cost him anything.
But either he didn’t realize it, or I realized… no, now he was the one who didn’t realize it, and I think we were becoming more and more different from each other, or… he just couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Well, tough to the end, so I would have to soften him up somehow.
– You know, you wouldn’t be doing me any favors if I changed your diapers and wiped your ass when you couldn’t do it yourself anymore. Instead of letting myself be humiliated by a shameless ingrate, I can just go and meet some cool chicks. And believe me, whatever else, I would be happy to take off their panties.
– Hey, no!… he managed to say, clenching his fingers on the back of the chair; still tough to the end, oh, I’m not going to have it easy with him…
– There’s a magic word, I added, deciding that at worst I would indeed go somewhere, remember what sex is and give my birdie a baptism of fire, and then
– Say a magic word – I added, deciding that at worst I would go somewhere to remind myself what sex is and give my birdie its baptism of fire, and then I would come back and see if he had wised up.
Wait… hang on a minute, was I a recycled virgin?…
Well, yes, but on the other hand, I had a lot of memories in my head, more or less blurred by time, related to Helen and all the girls who had come before her.
It was funny, it turned out that I was and wasn’t a virgin at the same time.
– Hold on, I… – he said in a trembling voice; you could see he was struggling with himself.
No, he could still be a jerk, because I’d love to sleep with some girl right now…
– . . . I’m sorry, he finally managed to say. And he struggled with it as if he were giving birth.
And so I’ll remain a virgin for a while longer.
Of course, I wasn’t going to wait until I left this world… I mean, until he left… but since he had already softened his tone, I wasn’t going to stress him (myself) with a sudden disappearance.
I stopped and turned around. I saw a mocking smile on his face – Would you go to the girls to seek oblivion?
I nodded, there was no point in lying.
You want it to stop hurting. It won’t stop. The pain will subside and that’s all – he pontificated – but you’ll never get rid of it. That’s what love is all about.
– You want the pain to stop. It won’t. The pain will ease, that’s all, he said wisely. – But you’ll never get rid of it. That’s what love is all about, you’ll always have that thorn in your heart, you’ll just get used to it over time.
– You do not have to tell me that. I am much younger – I pointed to my face. – But we are the same age and have the same baggage of experiences.
– Will you stay? Here, with me? – I sensed anxiety in his voice.
– Yes, I will stay.
He breathed a sigh of relief, closed his eyes, and literally a moment later, I heard his wet snoring.
I knew it wouldn’t be easy and that he would give me a hard time more than once, but… he broke all my bones!
Well, all I can say is that I brought this fate upon myself.
He was as annoying and whiny as possible, but I didn’t complain, I was prepared for it. Knowing how badly I endured all these ailments and limitations while trapped in my old body, I predicted that if they multiplied, I would endure them even worse.
His last moments were filled with helplessness and even more suffering than before, and taking care of him when he was bedridden required a lot of strength and determination. I don’t know if I could have coped if I had been a fully biological being.
I remember our last conversation:
– I envy you for being immortal. I’m afraid of what’s on the other side. I’m afraid there’s nothing there.
– It wouldn’t be so bad, I tried to comfort him. There would be no suffering and no worries.
– Because there would be nothing – he replied gloomily.
– It would be like sleeping, but without dreaming.
– But I wake up from such dreams…
– Wasn’t non-existence, before birth, so terrible? I had the impression that I was doing well in reassuring him.
– I envy you your immortality – he fixated on the subject.
– I’m not entirely immortal. All it takes is for lightning or a meteorite to strike me, and I’ll be gone – I replied.
– That’s too unlikely – he croaked.
– The longer I stay here, the greater the chances are, statistically speaking – I said this unnecessarily, because he was no longer in his body. And wherever he was, I hoped he hadn’t heard it. It would be a terribly stupid farewell to myself at the last moment of my life.
His glassy, expressionless eyes stared at the ceiling.
This change is so subtle that it is difficult to describe, but one glance is enough to see that there is no one inside the body.
I closed them carefully.
During the night, I dug a sufficiently deep hole.
I wanted to buy him a coffin, but I couldn’t afford it, and there was nothing else I could do – I couldn’t report the death or complete any formalities. And I didn’t want him to decompose like that until someone finally found him.
I wrapped the body in a sheet. I specifically looked for the prettiest one, with flowers on it. Fortunately, I had already bought him some elegant clothes, even more elegant than his old ones, although he grumbled a little, saying he preferred a tie to a bow tie, but in the end, we agreed.
He wasn’t, I was, he was religious, but after I buried him, I said a prayer I printed from the internet – just in case there was something there and it would help him somehow.
He wasn’t my beloved Helen, or my parents, whom I hardly remembered because they died when I was a child, nor was he the brother I never had but wanted so much, and yet I cried like a baby.
Well, maybe not right away, because he was like a pain in the ass to me, and on top of that, he was me—a version of me that I would never want to meet, extremely pissed off about everything.
Considering all this, I didn’t expect such an emotional reaction from myself, but I sobbed and wailed like a teenager who had been dumped by her first boyfriend.
It wasn’t that same night, he respected my mourning for the ‘creator who owns me’.
Another night came and it started – I was awakened by a chair being knocked over.
Then he threw a glass on the floor.
It didn’t make much of an impression on me, after all, I wasn’t entirely human, and if I tried hard enough, I would never die.
I knew it was him, because who else could it be? It didn’t take much deduction to figure that out.
One thing was comforting, though – when you die, you still exist.
Then again, if he was so frustrated even after death, maybe it wasn’t as great as it should have been.
But I explained it to myself by saying that he was probably stuck here because he was too attached to this world – I read something about it when I was still him.
A moment of calm, and the picture fell off the wall.
The glass finally stopped.
I thought he had given up, when suddenly it shot out like a slingshot.
I dodged at the last moment and it smashed into the wall.
Immediately afterwards, a burgundy mug began to slide.
– Enough! – I shouted. – I’m not afraid! And it’s not my fault you made a mistake! Give it up already, maybe you’ll go somewhere else, somewhere where it’s more fun.
The mug stopped, as if the spirit of the deceased was thinking about something.
– I loved you like a brother – I added quietly, not knowing if he was still there.
After a moment, I felt a strange warmth on my mechanical heart, as if someone had hugged me.
I knew it was him and that he was saying goodbye to me, and at that moment I felt as if I did have the brother I had always wanted.
I wiped away my tears and stopped sensing him.
He was gone.
And then I was terrified by the thought that if I ever ceased to exist, if I died tragically, then…
Do I have a soul?
I was chilled by the strange certainty that since I was a copy, I probably didn’t.
And then, for a moment, I felt that warmth again and heard his old man’s hoarse voice in my head:
– You have it – that’s all he told me, and I hoped he wasn’t just comforting me, but telling me the truth.
