Twin Self – Part 2

Names are called in pairs and, in pairs, people cross aisles and gather in a group beneath a spotlight towards the back of the room.  I can’t decide if they should be celebrated or condemned.  They are all young, teenagers or college-aged.  Now that I can see their faces clearly, I notice that some of the smiles are just for show, that not everyone is as excited as they seemed to be in the dark room.  Some of the pairs aren’t as identical as I originally, thought either.  There are pairs of identical guys and identical girls, but there are also pairs that look like male and female versions of each other.  None of them look truly unique, though.  Looking through the faces in the crowd around me, I see the same pattern – similar faces, but no special little snowflakes.

I lose track of how many names are called when the voice from nowhere says, “Thank you for your participation.  Those are all of the students we have chosen today.”  The crowd claps as the group beneath the spotlight trails out of the room.  Eventually, the clapping dies down and the lights turn on again.  People start to rise from their seats and head out of the auditorium.

I look at Shelly and Winston.  “Safe for another day, ” says Winston with a shrug.  I follow Winston and Shelly out of the auditorium.  In the hallway, I trip on something and run into some people.

“Sorry, ‘scuse me,” I say, looking down to see what tripped me.  There was nothing, of course, just my own two feet.

“There she goes again,” murmurs Shelly.  I get a little annoyed by that remark.  It’s not like I’m clumsy on purpose.  Then, I notice that she’s staring at the back of someone’s head, someone who has the same build as me, but with straight hair highlighted by shades of pinks and purples.  I realize that I just missed my twin again.

“Do you wanna go after her?” Winston asks.

“No.  I’d never catch up.”

“True,” say Shelly and Winston together.  I follow them back to the dorms.

“Have either of you met your twins?” I ask.

“Yeah,” they reply in unison.  Shelly starts talking about her twin.  She’s okay, but it’s weird, talking to someone who looks like you.  Shelly and her twin get along pretty well and have alot in common.  Neither of them have figured out their powers yet and they’re in no hurry to either.

Winston’s twin is a girl.  Winston’s math grades have rapidly improved as his power has developed.  His twin hasn’t figured out her power yet, but has noticed sparks coming out of her hands from time to time.  They can’t figure out what her power is, but like to say that it’s the power of en- light-enment.

I start to wonder about my twin and my power.  I guess I should probably meet her sooner than later.  Then again, if it ain’t broke, then don’t fix it, right?  Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t know each other.  I don’t remember what The Process is, but every time I think about it, I feel panicked and nervous.  I do know that it has something to do with twins and our powers.  My brain feels foggy.  The more I try to remember, the thicker the fog gets and the harder it is to grasp my own thoughts.

That night, I lay in bed thinking in circles about the events of the evening and what they mean.  I can’t get any further back than when I woke up standing in line with Shelly and Winston.  I’m not sure why I remember Shelly and Winston better than I remember myself.  There’s so much that I don’t know, but I can’t figure out if it’s because I forgot it all or because I never knew things in the first place.

to be continued…

Twin Self – Part 1

I’m standing in a long line in a dark hallway.  Most people around me look happy and excited, but my friends look worried.  I feel like I should know what’s going on, but I don’t.  I feel like I should be worried, but the excitement of the crowd fills the room.  I try to keep a neutral look on my face, but am sure that I just look confused.

The hallway opens up to an auditorium or theater of some sort.  The lights are low.  The walls are black and the cushioned seats are a dark red.  There are three sections and the floor slants downward.  The room reminds me of a movie theater, but there is no screen.  I follow my friends to a row of seats on the far left side of the room, about halfway down.  I look around and see people rushing to join people they know.  They hug in greeting and laugh while they sit to wait for…whatever it is that’s coming.

My friends are staring at me.  I stare back.

“What?” I ask.

“Why are you so calm?” asks Shelly, her long blonde braid trailing down her left arm.

“How should I feel?” I reply, honestly hoping for a suggestion.

“Do you think we should be sitting with them?  Do you think we’ll look suspicious sitting over here alone?” Winston whispers as he stares at the row of people sitting in front of us.  I follow his eyes.

There are two of each person in front of us.  It’s like that row was reserved for twins.  As I look more closely at the growing crowd, I realize that most of the people in the room are sitting in pairs.  It’s as if I have double vision, every person is a repeat of someone else.  The room is dark and I doubt what I’m seeing.  I blink my eyes, but nothing changes.  We are the largest group of people I can see who are not sitting with our doppelgängers.

“Angela, did you ever meet her?” a voice asks.

“Huh?” I say, still looking around the room in awe, trying to understand what I’m seeing.

“Did you ever meet her?  She’s right over there.” Shelly nods towards the opposite end of the room.

“Who?” I ask.  Was I supposed to be looking for someone?

Shelly looks at me like I’m dumb.  “Her.  Your twin.  Priscilla.”  My twin?  I have a twin?  I guess that makes sense, but…this is all a bit much to take in at the same time.  “I met her on the way in and started talking to her like she was you.  You look exactly the same.  I mean, your styles are different, but you look exactly the same.”

“What’s her style like?  Wait, what’s my style like?”  Shelly and Winston laugh.

The lights dim further and a spotlight turns on in the back of the room.  A voice from nowhere announces, “Greetings, young men and women, and thank you for joining us today.”  The crowd cheers.  Winston mutters, “Like we had a choice,” as he and Shelly clap half-heartedly.

The voice from nowhere continues, “When your name is called, please come forward for The Process.”  The room goes silent.  I look at Shelly and Winston, their faces covered in shadow.  What’s “The Process”?  Why can’t I remember anything?  Why does everyone else seem to know what’s going on except for me?  Even without my memory, I don’t think that “The Process” is a name for something that could possibly be good.

to be continued…