Me

I was startled and my steps stuttered as an engine revved a few streets away. My strides evened out again as the sound echoed off the concrete of the buildings and streets, too loud, stuttering in short bursts. It created a cacophony, rushing through the canyons of the city, the buildings attempting to contain the explosive sound, until it subsided and faded into the general hum of urban noise. 

I stared just ahead of my feet, mind blank, looking but not seeing, as the dingy concrete flowed by in a river of beige and grey blandness. There was a vague awareness of approaching footsteps, but it was too late when I realized they were quickening. I looked up in time to be shocked by a look of recognition in eyes that were too close, before I was knocked off my feet by a large, sturdy frame. 

Before my body hit the ground, I felt my essence being snapped back like a rubber band and smacking into an unfamiliar space. 

I blinked new eyes rapidly and shook my heavy head, getting my bearings.

“No.”

The voice that came from my mouth was a deep baritone, creating more disorientation. I looked down to the ground, seeing the face I had seen in the mirror for more than twenty years. There was a dazed look that I am sure reflected my own, but there was also the hint of a smirk. 

“No!” 

I tried to grasp at the arm that had been mine a few seconds ago, but my (his) body was already scurrying away and clambering to get to its feet. I could only focus on the scuffling noises he made and the quickness with which he moved. My new limbs were more difficult to move, and my steps were lumbering compared to what I was used to. I felt like I was moving through molasses as I grasped at air. 

“How...you can’t!” 

He had brought the frame of my body to a standing position and the smirk had broken into a full grin. It wasn’t malicious but triumphant. It was a wild look, like that of someone who had single-mindedly trained for a race his whole life and just won. He was standing with his knees slightly bent, arms spread slightly, as if preparing to move quickly in any direction, if necessary, but he didn’t run. 

Why doesn’t he run? 

I was torn. There was a desperate pull in the center of my stomach encouraging me to grab at him again; to touch his skin to mine and attempt to push my energy back in; to empty him out. But I knew the results of such a move, when he was resistant and prepared, were likely to harm me in a much more foundational way than I was prepared to risk. 

Was it worth it?  

“That’s. Mine.” I was satisfied to hear that my voice had a much more menacing tone than I was used to. His smile only faltered slightly. 

“Not anymore. Sorry.” 

The voice was slightly higher than it had sounded when it was my own. I clenched my teeth tightly and found that my jaw ached from the force of it. I had several words on the tip of my tongue but I couldn't give more away when I didn't know what he knew.  

“I could take it back.” If I could knock him unconscious... 

“You’d have to catch me. That one is not as spry as this one.” He stopped and took a visible breath, spreading his fingers and closing them into fists a few times, testing out the muscles and tendons. He seemed satisfied that I was not going to try and surprise him now.

“I’ve been looking for this for a long time.” 

He knows. How does he know? 

“Who are you?” 

“I’d wager I know who I am as much as you know who you are. Or as much as you have before this.” 

I tried to hide the fear that clenched my gut at his words. I took stock of my thoughts, suddenly needing to affirm that I was not slipping yet.  

What do you know? 

You are Kyle. Before that you were Alma. And before that, you were Chris. You do Taekwondo. You love coffee. You work as an accountant. You have a dog named Chief. No...Sadie? 

Both names seemed right. 

Your mother is...she is...”Pam.” I had not realized he spoke aloud until I heard a reply in the other voice. 

“Yes, that is your mother.” 

No. That’s not right. “No, it’s Amy.” Wasn’t it? 

I didn't remember melding happening so quickly. It had been so long since the last time. 

He spoke to me again, his voice clearly attempting to calm me. “My mother is Amy. Yours is Pam. She lives five minutes from here. She went to all your football games growing up. She loves you. You are loved.” 

I didn’t play football. 

But I could remember; the intensity and focus as I tracked another player; the mastery I felt over my large body as I used brute force to protect the ball and my teammates. The clash of pads and helmets; the ache deep in the fibers of my muscles. The sensation of tearing up the ground beneath my feet, feeling mud flying behind me, as I pushed my 220 pounds across the field. I could smell the grass and sweat; feel the elixir of competition and aggression. 

I could also remember what it felt like to focus on my breath as I made more deliberate movements in the dojo, though that was getting more difficult to recall. I tried to hold onto it but it was slipping out of my grasp like water through my hands. Whatever of me that had shifted was unable to organize the memory into the existing structures in this new mind. This one had been molded by the consciousness that was present before. It was not compatible and made it difficult to keep the memory.  

I was disappearing.

It was that very evaporating essence which had appeared, with others like it, so many years ago. I could never be certain what happened to the others. Human vessels were the only options we had found for maintaining our energy in ways that allowed us to remember. But even then, so often, we didn't. We became the very vessels we were held within, dissipating into the consciousness and machinery of those bodies. It was like we were never there.  

I was not even sure of where we came from. That night that we arrived, we had known. I remember fear and hope. Confusion. Purpose. Its gone now. There is a vague but certain knowledge that there is something different about me; an alternative source; an essence distinct from the body. Was that how I naturally developed? Did the people we came from use some kind of technology to separate that essence from their original bodies? We couldn't even discuss it. Communication for our experiences was difficult initially and by the time I had adjusted, after a struggle to survive with memories intact, I was not sure of where any of the others were; the fragments of memory that were incompatible were lost. 

I got lucky. Some humans seem to have more malleable neural pathways; like the one starting back at me now. There seemed to be space for both me and him, without the loss of that factor that made me unique. I could always sense him there with me, still inside. Maybe I actually became him, in a way. Maybe I left some of me with him. How could I not? So much of what I have been in the last twenty years was that body; sensations, actions, decisions, consequences. That would be something we shared. Humans were attached to their bodies in a very fundamental way.  

But I wasn't, not like that. And the grief of what I was rapidly losing was hitting me. And even as it began, I could feel it slipping away. 

Those few bodies that allowed us to share the space were precious. My previous two decades were not the typical experience for others like me, from what I could gather. 

That’s why he wasn’t leaving. He wanted to see it done. He wanted to ensure that, in this new body, I would completely meld, as most of them had already. He wanted to be certain that I wouldn’t come back for him.  

Who was he? Did I know his name at some point? How did we both get to this point? What were we fighting for exactly? 

“Do we...did we know each other?” 

“Does it matter?” He barely blinked as he answered and continued to watch me. 

“Doesn’t it?” I collected my thoughts. Did it matter? I was fighting to be me, he was fighting to be him...but what did that mean? 

He spoke in that familiar, yet unfamiliar voice again. “Maybe. But...I don’t know. All I know is I want to be...me.” 

“And who is that?” It was more theoretical at this point. My emotional investment was slipping. 

“Me...I...” He seemed to think then; to consider something he hadn’t before.  

I felt something akin to pity for him. And my growing resignation to what was happening allowed me a moment of curiosity that I did not normally allow myself for our situation.  

If he was looking so hard for me, he must have never acquired what I had. If he still remembered himself, he likely never spent more than a week in a single body for the twenty-plus years we had been here. Who knows how many people spent a few days in a psych ward because he left them with a psychosis-like experience without explanation. Did he know who he was better than I knew myself because of his experience? Or was he more lost than anyone? Would he be able to settle into himself now, or would he just become who I had been? It might take longer than a melding, but eventually, was there any other outcome? 

“I...” What was I just thinking? It seemed important...and who was this guy? “Who...?” 

The skin on my chest was buzzing, like someone had just hit me in the chest. Had I just bumped into this guy? “I’m sorry did I...” 

I took in my surroundings. I recognized the bar across the street. There was a cute bartender there. Her face flashed in my mind.  

Why was this guy looking at me like that? “Look, sorry buddy. I think I zoned out for a second there. You okay?” He had a slight build. It probably hurt him more than me. 

When I spoke he seemed to relax. “No problem, it happens.”  

I met his gaze. He seemed familiar; something about his face and his voice. Something about his...energy....but I couldn't place him. I must really be out of it. 

For some reason, I felt a sudden anxiety when looking at him, like I needed to...grab him; shake him. But it passed quickly, and my thoughts turned to the bartender again. 

“Well...sorry again.” It was awkward. He seemed to be expecting something else but I didn't know what else to do so I smiled with a closed mouth, bobbed my head and turned to leave. 

The air was warm but not hot. The slight breeze, combined with the sun on my face, felt amazing. Everything seemed bright and warm.

Without thinking, I crossed the street, feeling oddly hopeful. 

“Let's go see a girl about a drink.”