Martin didn’t move or say a word. He just sat and wrung his hands, cracking his fingers, looking even more worried. He looked about to cry.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped.
“Martin, look,” I said, gathering my thoughts. I’d been thinking about doing this for a long while now, and I let some anger swell my courage. “I don’t know the best way to say this, but…”
Still I hesitated.
“Yes Bob?” he pleaded with perfectly unaware eyes.
“Martin, look…” I repeated.
He looked at me.
“You know you’re dead, right? At least some part of you must know this…” I trailed off, now suddenly unsure where to go.
There was silence, anxious silence, before his angry response. “Bob, are you stoned again?”
“Martin, I’m not stoned, and I’m not upset.” I was shaking my head, trying to find a way through this. “Actually, yes I am angry and upset, but not at you. I don’t know.”
If I didn’t get this out now, he would just forget. They had a cognitive blind spot working on his memories and perception, sort of like if you were walking in the desert and there was a hovercraft following a dozen paces behind you that dusted away your footprints as you walked, so there were a few steps behind you that you could see, but beyond that there remained just a general impression of where you had been, or more appropriately, who you had been.
“What, that I’m dead? Very funny asshole. You’re messed up, man, stop with the drugs, Bob. They’re screwing with your head. Just tell dad to get me on the evacuation list. I’m outta here.”
He got up and made to leave.
“Don’t leave Martin. This is important, and I’m not kidding and I’m not stoned.”
I moved all my phantoms to block his paths outwards into the multiverse, and pulled a heavy glittering security blanket down around us at the same time.
“Look at you! This isn’t even that much of a shock. If someone told me I was dead I’d laugh at them, but you’re getting defensive.”
“I’m not dead, Bob. I’m right here, talking to you,” said Martin, smiling awkwardly. He wasn’t telling me as much as asking me.
“Martin, don’t you find it at all odd that everyone else here has a proxxi but you?”
“I have a proxxi—Dean.”
“Uh huh. And when was the last time you were in your physical body?”
“I don’t know, it’s been a while,” he replied, shrugging as he cocked his head upwards. “What about that time that you and I went surfing and you crashed into that…”
“That was seven years ago, Martin, seven years…”
He just shrugged again and added more angrily, “So what? Maybe I’ve been detached for a while, but that doesn’t prove anything. I know lots of people who hardly spend any time at all in their bodies.”
He shook his head aggressively.
Meanwhile, my own frustration was mounting and boiling over. I could feel my cheeks flushing hot. I had to blame someone.
“It’s your goddamn fault he’s gone, Martin,” I screamed at him, finally letting it go. “Every day I have to look at your goddamn shit eating fucking grinning face and just take it. I just feel like smashing your face in, but what difference would it make?”
I was full on venting now, and the words were coming out before I even knew what I was saying. The whole world shifted red as blood gorged into my veins, and my blood pressure indicator shot off the charts. I took a deep breath and watched it sink back down, trying to calm myself. Screaming wouldn’t accomplish anything.
Martin was silent, pale, his hands shaking a little as he wrung them some more. His voice quavered as he asked, “Bob, what’s wrong with you?”
I was calmer now, and I sighed heavily.
“Martin, it’s not what’s wrong with me. Or maybe it is. I think it’s what’s wrong with this place.”
“You’re not making sense, what are you getting all crazy for?” He was starting to cry now, perched on the edge of the couch.
I took a deep breath.
“Martin, look, my brother, Dean killed himself about six years ago, an intentional drug overdose. Brain dead at first, but they kept his body in stasis, vegetative, but you were still active, his proxxi. You were still attached to him, your proxxi smarticle network intimately wired into his dead body and holding all his memories, his emotions, until we switched off the machines and transferred you entirely into the pssi nervenet.”
My voice cracked as I tried to continue, “It was too much for us. It wrecked our mother, dad as well, and then there you were, but he suddenly wasn’t. Mum took to spending all her time with you, saying how much it helped her. All of us took to spending time wandering back into the inVerse you shared with Dean.”
He looked at me, his world falling away through the floor, trying to make sense of what I was saying.
“What do you mean? I’m your brother!”
“No, no you’re not,” I explained, shaking my head sadly. “We had Dr. Granger install a cognitive blind spot so you couldn’t see what was right front and center, but saw everything around it. One day, we pulled a linchpin somewhere in your mind and then you just thought you were him. We left the blind spot active to sweep away anything that didn’t fit.”
“Bob, Jesus, Bob…” pleaded Martin, tears streaming down his face.
With the anger having blown through, my sails deflated. I suddenly felt very sorry for him. Why was I doing this?
“At the time, I just couldn’t take it, and mum and dad couldn’t either. It was a way of fixing the pain, pretending it didn’t happen. If we just suspended disbelief that little bit more, our own blind spots took over and you became him.”
Watching his face twist up in pain, it was time for me to own up.
“To be honest, Martin, this was mostly my idea to begin with, but now it’s taken on a life of its own, you’ve taken on a life of your own. Now Cognix is using it as another application of pssi.”
Martin wiped away his tears with the back of one hand.
“It’s funny, now that you tell me, I can see it all, even remember it all. I guess I always sort of knew it, but I love mum and dad so much…and you too.”
He wiped away more tears.
“But why do you blame me? Why are you so angry at me?”
“What, for impersonating my brother?” I snorted, but immediately regretted it seeing the pain flash in his eyes. I sighed again, letting my last sparks of anger fizzle.
“I think that Dean just felt like you were a better version of him, that mum and dad liked you better, that people were happier when you answered a call than if he did. He was a great guy, not that he didn’t have his issues,” I said smiling sadly. Dean was lazy and irresponsible, amazing and funny. “But he just had so much trouble keeping up with it all.”
“With all what?”
“With his pssi experiment!” I shot back, angry again. “Living in a hundred worlds at once, being here and there and somewhere and someone else all at the same time. Dean just figured, why not, I’ll just remove myself, and you’ll all be able to keep a better version without all the effort.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
“In his messed up head he didn’t think he was dying, he figured he was leaving a better version of himself to continue on. That’s what he left in his note, anyway.”
I looked down at the ground, feeling my own tears coming, starting to cry. Why was it I’d been able to be so many things, to be so smart, but I hadn’t been there for him?
Martin looked at me, shaking his head. “But maybe I am him, Bob. I think like him, I look like him, and I remember everything—every memory he ever had.”
