I Am the Real One, Right? (ONC2024)

Chapter Nine: Befriending my other me.

The moment I dodged the oncoming car and glimpsed the driver, my heart raced. It was me—another version of myself. How many duplicates were out there? As the vehicle skidded to a halt, it kicked up pebbles across the slick, rain-drenched asphalt, each one pinging and scattering like shrapnel in the aftermath of the abrupt stop. I braced myself against the chill wind, feeling the tension rise.

The driver's door swung open aggressively and out stepped another version of me, his expression twisted with suspicion and palpable anger. "Why are you trying to steal my life?" he demanded, his voice thick with hostility as he strode toward me, the dim streetlights casting long shadows behind him.

Raising my hands in a universal gesture of peace, I attempted to de-escalate the rising tension. "I know how this looks, and I totally get why you're upset. It seems like I'm trying to take over your life, but believe me, it's way more complicated," I explained, my voice earnest, filled with a hope that he'd be receptive to reason.

He paused, his brows furrowing deeper, eyes stormy with brewing anger and confusion. "Complicated? How? Explain now!" he demanded, his stance rigid against the gusty night air.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to figure out too," I replied quickly, the deserted street around us amplifying the surreal nature of our encounter. "Tell me, have you ever been hit by a lightning flash? Something really strange that you can't explain?" I asked, hoping to find common ground.

Before he could respond, the sky above crackled ominously. In an instant, a brilliant flash of lightning enveloped us, leaving us both momentarily dazed by its intensity. "Not this again..." I groaned, the echo of our isolation mirrored by the empty roads that stretched out eerily around us. This was the third time I'd been struck by this mysterious lightning.

He stared at me, his initial anger now mixed with a growing confusion. "What was that? What's happening?" he asked, his voice a mix of fear and frustration.

"This lightning, it's doing some crazy stuff to us. I think it's why there are two of us now," I said, my voice tinged with uncertainty and a hint of dread. "Every time it strikes, things seem to reset or... I don't know exactly. It's like we're trapped in some sort of time loop."

Crossing his arms, he relaxed slightly, his anger subsiding into a cautious curiosity. "Time loop? That sounds like something out of a sci-fi movie," he remarked, almost incredulously.

"Yeah, I know how it sounds," I admitted, my voice reflecting a mix of resignation and bewilderment. "But I think we need to find someone who understands this better than we do. Someone who can explain what's happening with this lightning and why it's affecting us like this."

Nodding slowly, his skepticism seemed to wane as the shared strangeness of our situation began to resonate with him. "Okay, let's figure this out together. If we're both stuck in this, we might as well work as a team," he suggested, a new resolve firming his voice.

Together, we walked to the nearest hotel, our steps synchronized, creating a soft echo on the wet pavement. The hotel lobby was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of tasteful overhead lighting. The few late arrivals mingled with the gentle clinking of cups from the sparsely populated café, creating a backdrop that felt both comforting and surreal for our discussion.

We found a secluded corner with a pair of well-worn couches, sinking into the cushions with a mutual sense of weariness. "We need someone who can figure out this whole lightning thing. Any thoughts on where to start?" I asked, turning to face my double.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a gesture so familiar it was almost disconcerting. "How about a physicist? Someone who understands all this time and space stuff?" he suggested, his tone hopeful yet tinged with a rational skepticism.

"That could work," I agreed, pulling out my phone. Together, we began to search through the local yellow pages, our heads close together as we scrolled through the digital listings.

During our search, we struck up a casual conversation, the bizarre experience of discussing mundane details with myself. "So, did you wake up in a hospital too?" I asked, curious if his experiences mirrored my own bizarre journey.

"Yes," he replied simply. "Were there robbers with you?" I probed further, trying to piece together the fragmented timelines.

"No," he responded, shaking his head. "How did you find me then?" I inquired, intrigued by the paths our lives had taken.

"I saw you at Starbucks and have been following you since," he explained, then turned the question back to me. "Were you also hit by lightning and lost all your memories?"

"Yes," I answered, then shared details about the people I met in the hospital and the bizarre journey I'd embarked on to reclaim my identity.

"That sounds dumb," he commented dismissively, particularly skeptical of my mention of aliens. "And that alien part—that's completely made up."

I couldn't blame him; even I found it hard to believe some of the things I thought I'd done.

We continued to scroll through the yellow pages, looking for local physicists. That's when we found Dr. Helen Archer, listed as a specialist in theoretical physics at the local university. Her areas of expertise included quantum mechanics and—perfectly for us—temporal anomalies. "Looks like we found our expert," I exclaimed, and we decided to give her a call right away and booked an appointment for her next day.