I was at a cocktail party, with a
date. There were four of us having a conversation--if you
could call it that. It was mostly small talk, gossip about
who did what to whom and that sort of thing. But the fellow
facing me, who looked nothing like me, was also me. And I
was also having a conversation with him, but it was somehow
private, the others were completely unaware. I can't even
remember what was said aloud, my own contribution being
little more than appropriately placed laughs and nods and
occasionally filling in someone's name or other random detail
eluding my date's tongue. But the conversation with him,
with the other me, I remember quite well. His lips didn't
move, but I heard his words just as if they had. And when
I spoke to him, it was with my other mouth, my
ethereal mouth to my physical one as my right hand is to
my left. We talked of the economy, of technology, of psychology.
We traded sex stories, talked about our mates, swapped an
idea or two. My eyes rarely met his, as I could see his
emotions without looking. And I had no trouble following
both conversations at once--the other seemed to go so slowly.
Then for a moment, time almost stood still. Not like a
moment of panic which doesn't leave one time to think, but
really standing still, as if I could have walked around all
the frozen people and swapped their watches without them noticing.
Except my own body was frozen too, so I could do
nothing but observe--and converse with him, the other me.
He said, "Look, another one," and I took the offer of
his eyes and saw behind myself a man in the crowd. His shirt turned transparent and I
could plainly see a gun beneath it, strapped against his
naked body. Then time resumed and I regained my own eyes,
and me and me continued our conversation while keeping an
eye on the gunman, just in case. But nothing came of it,
and the evening drew to a close. My date and I drove home
in a silent car with no steering wheel, through beautiful
countryside, to a beautiful home. When I kissed her
goodnight, I thought, "You love me," and I could feel her
body respond with passion. "I love you," she
Much of today was spent lifting heavy objects when no one was
looking, and ogling naked women through their clothes with my
x-ray eyes. The latter was completely intuitive, once I knew to try.
It's really very distracting--I don't know how Clark Kent ever
got any work done. I guess I need to develop self-restraint.
I've tried talking to people without moving
my mouth, but no replies yet. I haven't eaten since yesterday,
but have no hunger. And I've been holding my breath for hours
again, but with no farting this time. Perhaps the breathing
helps process the food? Not sure I want to analyze that too
I'm half giddy to discover I have superpowers, but am also
struck with the irony of being here, in the Pit of Eden, where
I can't imagine ever having use for them. Except the
x-ray vision. But I'm sure even that will get old. Maybe.
Clearly I don't belong here. I want to get back to my lab,
to the world topside, out of this pit, to my friends--or their
descendants, or whatever is on the other side of my lone star
in the sky. Why hasn't anyone noticed the open door yet?
Where is the Wizard of Oz with his hot air balloon to take
me back to Los Kansas?
And what is this experiment I have fallen into?
I have told Laura none of this. When I kissed her goodnight a
few minutes ago, I thought, "you love me," and I could feel her
body respond with passion. "I love you," she said.
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