The Doctar and the Other: Part 2
Two years ago he hired his best friend, David Collins, straight from working the last four years for the Pentagon performing cellular and biological experiments. Collins once hinted to the Doctar that he had progressed in not only cloning a human, but also a person’s complete brain waves. He had completely replicated a human being. The only problem he related was that the replicated brain would go into cellular degradation after only minutes, and ultimately, complete brain damage. Doctar related his problem to Collins. He was to marry the love of his life, Kathryn, but didn’t believe that he’d even see the new year.
The two men made a pact. The Doctar would finance Collins’s experiments in exchange for another life. Collins would replicate the Doctar creating a new healthy life with wife and the prospect of a large family. Last night, that goal was accomplished. Doctar had cheated death. The Other had been created.
The Doctar’s last request was for Collins to record his last patterns of thought and store them in his heir. Tomorrow, the Other was to take his place, full knowledge of everything, even the heat of a bullet shooting through the skull and brain matter, exploding within the body with the last heaving of chest and beating of heart. Doctar always wanted to know what death felt like.
Music, conversation, and laughter surrounds the home like constant chatter. The bride stands out in white among her pink-clad sisters. The cake has been cut. The first dance between bride and groom has taken place. The band begins to play watered down, polka-laced versions of Super-freak and Sex Machine. The house empties out.
Only a few feet away from the celebrations stands the groom. He wondered off to his sanctuary, sitting at the last few wooden steps of his home. Right below him sits a stream, man made by the celebrated architect that designed the house. The stream comes from a waterfall that was created to run down its side. The water comes from the river some ways from the back of his home.
Through the machinations of one, the natural current of the river was manipulated. Water was pumped from its body, forced through a series of small irrigated pipes around the odd shaped structure that is his home, over and through the elongated roof, to form the “natural occurrence” of a waterfall streaming down the greenish brick of the side of the building, down into a stream that flows under and back into the river. The groom thinks, “How beautiful,” as he swishes his hands in the cold liquid.
At the top of the steps stands the best man, Collins. His hands are in his pocket, head lowered staring at his shiny black shoes. The cold air and the warm heat from his skin makes his glasses fog up. Guests stand and talk around him. One guest, a male, slaps the Other as he passes and quietly congratulates him. “Good job,” he says, telling the groom afterwards, “Congratulations, old man.”
Collins turns toward the small crowd. He suggestes that everyone should go in the house. It is a lot warmer inside. He and the groom will be in shortly, he tells them. The crowd agrees and sees inside. Collins focus returns to the groom. He knows that they have something very important to talk about.
“Is this day one to be celebrated, Einstein?” the Other says to Collins.
Silence penetrates the air. The Other starts to shiver. The cold air begins to affect him. He rubs his hands over and around, trying to keep his fingers warm.
“I don’t know,” the Collins replies, taken aback, not by the question, but by how it was asked.
The Other stands and slowly walks up the stairs. His momentum forces Collins to take a few steps backwards. The Other places his hands in his pockets. He leans toward Collins. He turns his head toward the people in the house. He swiftly turns toward the river and returns back to his view of Collins. One of his hands reaches up to his face and rubs his bottom lip.
“I can feel them, man,” the Other says, slowly shaking his head afterwards.
Collins lowers his head, his eyes rising to meet the Other’s.
“I can feel them,” the Other repeats. “His eyes, they’re staring at me.” He stops, brushing the tip of his nose with his thumb and index finger.
His hands slowly fall to his chin, stroking the black hairs that are upon it, and finally down to the base of his neck and clavicle bone, where he pinches the skin.
“That fat, rat bastard is still alive, isn’t he?” he begins again, his voice slowly rising to a roar. “I thought we made a deal,” he directs at Collins.
“We made a deal.”
Collins backs away from the Other.
“What the hell was I suppose to do, Jay,” Collins nervously says to the Other.
“What? You wanted me to kill him, or something.”
The Other places his hands in the air.
“You’re damn right,” the Other proclaims.
“You’re damn right. Kill that bastard.”
He stops and turns away from Collins.
“I couldn’t just go out and kill him,” Collins replies.
“I made the deal with him.”
“He had to do it himself. I couldn’t make him.”
The Other turns back to Collins. His voice lowers. His eyes focuses everywhere, but where Collins is standing.
“I should have known that he wouldn’t have went through with it,” he says,
“Cowardly piece of doggy-crap.”
“I mean. I’m me. I know me. I wouldn’t go and kill me. If I had those kind of balls, I would’ve killed me a long time ago. I mean, I had plenty of reasons to off me off. But did I do it? Noooooooo.” With that, he suddenly goes into a tirade, his body jerks, his fists pound against his body, topping the episode off with a primordial scream.
“I can’t stand myself!” he ends, mumbling expletives to himself.
The people from inside look out, noticing the Other’s sudden attack. Collins waves at them, putting his thumbs up, hinting that everything is okay. He turns back to the Other, staring him down like a disapproving father. He walks over to the Other and grabs him by his lapels.
“Listen, man, you can’t start acting crazy on me,” he whispers intensely.
“We have to stay cool. That’s the only way to work these things out.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the Other replies, slapping Collins’s hands away from him.
He motions Collins away, his hands sweeping the air. He turns away, walking toward the river. His body leans against the wall of the terrace when he reaches it. He focuses his thoughts on the waters crashing against the rocks below. It makes more sense than to continue his conversation with his friend. That was getting him no where. It didn’t solve the situation that he was in. There was someone else, someone possibly more entitled to his life than he was, creeping through his house, peering through the cracks, watching him.
What does that someone want? Does he want to take away everything he has given to the Other? The Other thought that that was not fair. The Doctar wasn’t playing within the rules. He’s still trying to hold on to the gift he gave willingly. Why give a man life, the Other thinks, only to constantly remind him that he has no life, that it all belongs to someone else? As long as the Doctar lived, the Other owned nothing. He had become the understudy who got lucky one night, his one big break in the lead role. If the audience only knew.
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