Skillet
He leaps from his bed, still half-asleep, as the banging coming from beyond the bedroom, from somewhere else within the house, pulls him from his world of dreams and frantically into reality. He stumbles out into the small hallway that connects all the rooms in the house, and his eyes grow wide with panic as he sees the light coming from beneath the kitchen door. He looks around the hallway, searching for some sort of weapon, anything, but there’s nothing in sight. He looks over his shoulder, back towards the bedroom. Before he can even contemplate going back, the kitchen door opens, and he freezes in fright. For five or more minutes, he stands there, petrified, waiting for whoever is in the kitchen to come walking out into the hallway, but no one does. Finally, after so many different scenarios run through his head, he builds up the courage to take a step forward, making his way nervously towards the kitchen. His ears prick up as he hears someone opening drawers, moving their contents around, then closing them again. He panics, trying to work out what they’d be searching for. He stops again, as he realises now that someone is definitely in his home. After ten or more minutes of slowly making his way down the three-metre hallway, he reaches the doorway to the kitchen. Nervously, he peers his head around the corner, and his mouth drops open. Searching through his kitchen cupboards and drawers is himself.
“What the fuck?” he whispers. The alternate version of himself rummaging through the kitchen stops.
“It took you long enough to drag yourself down the hallway,” he says, looking in his direction. “Well, don’t stand there all night. A hand would be nice.”
“W-W-What the fuck is going on?” he says as he slowly enters the kitchen.
“What does it look like? I’m trying to find a bottle opener,” he says, pointing to the bottle of cider that sits on the bench, condensation running down into a puddle that’s formed while it’s been there for the last twenty minutes.
“R-R-Right drawer, at the b-b-b-back,” he says, pointing towards the drawer.
“Of course, right drawer, at the back. I can’t believe I forgot. I mean, it’s been a long time since I lived here, but still, you’d think I’d remember something like that,” he says as he pulls open the drawer, gesturing for him to take a seat. “Sit down, Kevin, we’ve got a lot to talk about,” he says as he opens the bottle and slides it to Kevin.
“W-W-What the fuck are you? Are you me?”
“Awesome first questions. The simple answer is yes, I’m you.”
“T-T-There’s a co-c-complicated answer?”
“There’s always a complicated answer,” he says, placing a hand over his face and removing it to reveal a robotic skull beneath. Kevin’s mouth drops open again, and he slowly raises his shaking hands to rub his eyes. “I know, I know, it’s a lot to take in, but there doesn’t seem to be much of an option to reveal this slowly to you. We just don’t have the luxury anymore.”
“A-A-Am…”
“No, you’re not dreaming. This is as real as it gets, sadly.”
“S-S-So…”
“Why is this happening? Because you’re the answer to our problems. I know it doesn’t make sense, but that’s what I’m here to tell you. Some two or three hundred years from now, the human race is facing extinction—not from some threatening outside alien race or the impending collapse of the universe like all the movies would have you believe. The human race is going to become extinct because the genetic alterations humanity has rigorously subjected themselves to have destroyed the gene pool to the point where reproduction on any level is useless. We, they, have effectively backed themselves genetically into a corner with no way out.”
“W-W-Wh…”
“How does me being here fit into all of this? A few months ago, something happened—a recording that was stored in my memory banks activated itself. A recording I’d never seen before, a recording that should’ve never existed. The recording was of this moment, this meeting between you and me,” he says. Kevin looks dumbstruck as his mind tries to wrap around everything. He reaches down, grabs the cider, and takes a large mouthful, swallowing it quickly.
“T-T-This is crazy,” he says, wiping his mouth.
“You’re telling me. See, up until that moment, up until that recording played, I’d always believed I was an android. Somehow cast back in time for some unknown crazy reason, from some unknown future. But as soon as that recording played, I knew the real truth—the real reason I ended up here, lost in time, with no memory of why I was here,” he says. Kevin takes another large mouthful of the drink.
“I-I-I, okay, you’ve lost me. I have no idea what you’re even talking about now. What do you mean, lost in time with no memory?”
“I wish I had time to tell you. I wish we could sit here and fill in all the holes, but w…”
Suddenly everything shifts. Kevin’s head feels as if it cracks open, and then he finds himself somewhere else, with a woman waving her hands in front of his face.
“Kevin? Hello? Kevin, are you okay?”
“I-I-I, I truly do not know,” he says, tilting his head to the side, showing his confusion.
“What the hell happened? You stopped mid-sentence and just stood there like a fucking statue.”
“A memory file that I have no recollection of ever existing just played.”
“Fuck, was it anything important?”
“Saving humanity.”
