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Worldwide Ace » The Duality of Nature

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The Duality of Nature

13 January, 2003 (11:27) | Dreams

It all began with Cirque Du Soliel. They were coming to town and my grandmother wanted to take me, so I went down to Denver for dinner and then to go to the circus. It seems there was a slight hang-up, though, and we had to go pick up the tickets from the box office we could go to the circus.

My grandmother pulled up outside a small part of town that looked like a European version of Chinatown. I climbed through an old fire bombed building, up stairs, across rubble, and through the shattered wall, searching for this box office. Eventually, I saw it’s red awning across the promenade. I sauntered over and placed my elbows on the counter outside smiling at the cute attendant behind the window.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, smiling back. Her hair was a chestnut and was tied up in a pony tail. She definitely wore too much lipstick, but she was still cute.

“I had tickets waiting to be picked up.”

She looked at me quizzically, frowning just a smidge, and said, “Do you have to pick them up tonight? I was just shutting the office down.”

“My grandmother and I were going to see Cirque Du Soliel tonight, but our tickets are here. We need them to get in and if I don’t pick them up tonight, we won’t get to go.”

“I’ll need some ID,” she replied looking slightly downtrodden, but happy to help. I pulled out my wallet. It didn’t look like my wallet. I always carry a 3-fold wallet, but this was a 2-fold, perhaps the nice one my grandparents gave me for Christmas. I opened it and lay it on the counter. Inside was a Scandinavian ID with a picture of what looked like a possible Romanian Olympian. I don’t know why, but I pulled it out and handed it to her.

She looked at it, turning it over slowly in her hands, finally saying, “Exchange student?”

“Yeah,” I said, not really knowing why I had the ID or who she was. “She went back a while ago, but I think the tickets are in her name. If not, here’s my license.” I showed her my license in my wallet that had been underneath the ID. She handed me the tickets.

“Have a nice night!”

“You too.” I returned to the car and my grandmother and I drove off.

Sometimes There’s No Transition

My cell phone rang. It was my former boss from the pet store. She said she wanted me to come in for one final day, since she was short handed. I, of course, agreed, though in real life I doubt I would’ve.

I walked in and it was different. Not just the people, but the store. It was laid out like a mall barber shop, with swinging door in the back and warm summer sunlight filtering in through the dust floating in the air. I was greeted by one of the managers, Jessica, but it was more of a somber greeting than I had hoped for. “I warned you,” she said, “I guess that’s what happens.”

“Yup,” I replied. The night before I got fired, Jessica had called me and told me I had missed a chart or two and that if our boss saw, she would be really angry. I had merely acknowledged that it was true and that I didn’t have the energy, being sick and all, to come fix it then. If I had come and fixed it, I may not have been fired. But that was all in the past.

Molly and I went to the back with Matt and two others whose names and faces elude me. We chatted and worked slowly, taking in the warmth and the animals. The sun, somehow reached back here, and it was reassuring to me, allowing me a feeling that everything in the world was all right.

I don’t know what we chatted about. Maybe it was about music, or animals, or how to do things. All I know is that somewhere in there, we decided to rob a bank. We would use clones.

By cloning ourselves, our consciousness could jump from one body to the other… we could sacrifice ourselves in the bank, while sending ourselves out in hostage negotiations. That is, if we couldn’t save out clones too. Have two of each of us, would make it easy enough to say that there were 3 of each of us and we didn’t have anything to do with the robbery at all. Sure, our fingerprints and DNA were found at the scene, but we didn’t do. It was our clones.

A flawless plan, I thought.

Two for One Special

The day of the robbery, I sat in class. I glanced over at the window of the basement classroom when I heard a knock. My clone motioned for me to come outside, that the car was waiting. I got up and shimmied out the window, the class never noticing a man climbing out a side window even though no one would’ve cared if I had used the door. The teacher droned on, as if in an endless loop with the class outside of my stream of consciousness.

The jeep we rode in was full. The top was off, but it was cold enough that I had a warm jacket on. My backpack hugged it close causing sweat to form underneath when we sat in the sun too long. The wind rushed through my hair, grown shaggy from the lack of haircuts, and my throat became dry quickly.

“Let’s hit that gas station,” I said, the car pulling over towards the station. We hopped out, 2 of each of us, and walked into the store. My eyes flowed across the different items to drink, the 1 liters of Sprite and Coke, the Nantucket Nectars, all sitting in cold cases. I glanced back over at my friends, already at the checkout counter.

As I turned back to decide, my eye caught something. It was a 2-liter bottle I have never seen. It wasn’t cold and there were only two of them, both sitting on a shelf below the soda dispenser. The bottle had a silver wrapper that glinted in the light, making it hard to read, so I assumed it was Barq’s Root Beer, but it wasn’t. As I came close, I saw it was the next big thing from Coke. Vanilla Coke had been such a success that they were trying other things. This happened to be Chai Coke.

I’m a Chai addict, so I grabbed it, of course. On the label there was advertising for other new drinks coming soon: Tang Mountain Dew, Dr. Lemon Pepper, Orange Coke, and others. I carried it up to the counter and put it down, the driver for my group putting down $20 and change for gas and the others’ snacks. The register rang up $29.

“29!?!?” I cried, staring at the $9 dollar difference in price. I tossed down $2 dollars, figuring that would be the price of the soda.

My friends looked at me. “That’s 9 dollars, boy,” said the man at the register snidely.

“There’s no way that 2-liter is 9 dollars….”

“It’s not,” said the man at the counter, bringing out a cup the size of a big gulp. “You don’t get to keep the whole 2-liter,” he sneered at me, his lips curling in cruel wonder.

“9 dollars for that!?!” I said taking the cup and tasting it. It was good, very good, but not worth $9.

“It’s imported,” the register man said. I turned and started to walk out. “HEY!” he called, “You gotta pay for that!” The door chimed as I walked out. I crossed the lot getting to the edge by the forest and benches. The door burst open behind me, the man screaming, “Stop! Thief!”

As I turned my head and laughed at him, hopping the cement barrier between the lot and the grass, a large man came out of no where in front of me, clothes lining me to the ground. My clone, starting walking over from the jeep. I slowly got up, but midway, the big man grabbed me and called, “I got ‘im!”

I thrashed in his grasp, unable to get away, finally dumping my Chai coke all over his head. He spun off, dripping slightly and obviously sticky. I grinned as I saw the look on his face when he realized I was his size, if not bigger… and another of me was coming. He turned and ran towards the woods. My clone stopped and watched as I gave chase.

He was just out of my reach, and though I was bigger, he was faster. He grabbed my back pack from the ground as he passed and ran, cutting left just before the cliff that fell off down to the forest. I slowed and turned back, knowing he’d be back this way. I spotted his bag and jacket on the ground by where we had been fighting and went and got it. He was looking at me from twenty or so yards.

“Mine’s empty,” I called to him, “What’s in yours? Something important.” His eyes flared in anger. I walked back to the cliff, gently swinging the bag and coat as if I were Little Red Riding hood on her way to Granny’s with a basket of goodies. I dropped in front of the cliff and swung the gear into the air, flinging it over the edge of the chasm.

Then he hit me; a full body tackle, sending us both into the chasm after the gear. The fall seemed an eternity, and I laughed, knowing I could transfer my consciousness to the clone and live. I began to take the measures to do so, but my connection to me clone was gone. It was as if he had died.

I hit a bar… it was on top of the lift that went from the station down to the trails at the bottom of the cliff. The big man kept falling past the slowly lowering lift as I lay on my back, balanced precariously on a bar that ran perfectly down the center of my spine. As the stars began to clear from my eyes, I saw the register man smiling at me over the cliff. He threw it then, and I knew it was over.

I watched myself fall towards me. My eyes dead and my body limply following the currents of air. My clone’s body crashed off the cliff wall as it approached me and suddenly I could see from both eyes. Myself staring into dead lifeless eyes careening down the cliff face and my clone watching me scream with fear unable to move from the bar.

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  • Wow. That’s weirder than most of my dreams are, which is saying something. Not sure what it means, though. I always kind of thought dreams included those things we encountered/thought of during the day but didn’t really pay attention to. Just my opinion, though.

  • Wow. That’s weirder than most of my dreams are, which is saying something. Not sure what it means, though. I always kind of thought dreams included those things we encountered/thought of during the day but didn’t really pay attention to. Just my opinion, though.