A Curious Case of a Split Mind

Mind bending sci-fi, 2017

(Originally written as a Jekyll & Hyde inspired university narrative project)

A blunt headache nudged me into consciousness. I turn over sluggishly, almost falling off the bed, but I felt like something was off, as if I wasn't really turning over. I could move, and yet I couldn’t. I opened my eyes, and was blinded by darkness. It’s a strange, surreal feeling, as if I was seeing... no, not just seeing, but feeling, smelling, hearing two dark rooms at once. It’s making me dizzy, actually, acclimating to such a large input on all of my senses.

As the energy of curiosity wakes me up a little more, I start to recognise what I’m seeing. On the one hand, I'm seeing my office, that doubles as my bedroom right now. It's where I remember going to bed, so that all makes sense. What doesn't make sense is the other vision I'm getting at the same time - a stone ceiling with dangerously fragile-looking metal pipes running across it, and a single light bulb in the middle. The light is off, but the ceiling is lit with the blinking greens and reds from the equipment in the room. It’s unmistakably my laboratory, I'm always thinking about how I need to fix those pipes. I focus on this vision harder, feeling cold metal beneath me, restraints painfully holding me down, the bubble of chemicals close to my ear, the freezing air stinging my naked body. What is this?

I focus back on the vision that makes sense, where I'm in my pyjamas, in my bed that's too small but at least it's comfy, in my office. I can't get rid of the other vision though. These other feelings. I reach out and turn on my bedside lamp, and I feel my other body in the laboratory struggle against the restraints to do the same, despite there being no lamps in that room. I turn out of bed and stagger towards the door, each movement chafing as my other body tries to do the same.

After a long trek down the corridor, I reach the laboratory. The white, clinical light flickers on, a stark contrast to the orange glow of the lamp in the office, and I wince as both my visions have to adjust. I see myself strapped to the table, and through that bodies eyes, I see myself in the doorway. We’re both shivering uncontrollably. There's an unfamiliar look on my face, on both of my faces, of utterly terrified confusion.

I recall last night in my experiments, I was trying to give life to an empty shell of a body, but now… now that shell has taken on my appearance, and my brain has taken control of both bodies. Like a hive mind. Fascinating.

I set the clone body free, and in that body I try to stand up. It takes everything I have to stop my standing body from falling over while my other body bends and extends its legs to the floor, using its hands to propel myself up. It's hard to get both of my bodies to move independently of each other, like patting your head and rubbing your stomach, splitting your concentration between two activities that feel like they shouldn't be happening simultaneously, but it's something I'll have to master in time. This turn of events, as strange and scary as it feels right now, it's lit an inquisitive fire in me. I am a scientist after all.