Weird thing happened last week.
There was a work meeting at the usual time so I logged on to Zoom and saw that I was already in the meeting, sitting right there at my desk, laughing and joking with all the pre-meeting pleasantries, and no one else seemed to notice two me’s on the call. I did about a thousand double takes between the true me in the bottom right corner vanity view and the me in the gallery of other chuckling coworkers. We were wearing different shirts, but that was it. That was the only difference between us.
Then I locked eyes with the other me, or he with me, I’m not sure exactly who discovered who first. He and me stared right at the camera, and though this may have just seemed like we were merely focused on the meeting, me and me knew what it was. It was a stare down. We had the same exact background, same room, same place, two of us. Bewildered, I looked behind me, behind him, as if that would amount to anything or provide answers. All the while no one noticed two of me, and two of me panicked with each other at the impossibility of the situation.
He sent me a private message.
“Log off”
He simply said and then shook his head back and forth trying to take himself out of this strange reality, trying to shake free of this dream or delusion or hallucination, but it did him no good because I was still there and he was still here. I wasn’t going to log off. He was going to have to be the one to log off. I refused. I wanted him to log off and be gone forever. Perhaps he thought the same of me.
I sent him a message back.
“No, you log off.”
The meeting continued and we, me and him, him and me, hardly participated in the conversation, though when either of us answered, the group seemed to not care which one of me did. To them, this wasn’t really a problem. How can two of the same guy talking independently of himselves not be a concern? Not something to remark about? In my mind, I was begging for someone to realize the situation, to declare me the real me and banish the other me from the meeting and from our lives, from this reality.
But, no. No one noticed and no one care and no one even slowed down the work meeting at all despite the obviously look of terror in the dual faces of me and me. I didn’t want to bring it up to anyone, and neither did I. Acknowledgement felt like certain annihilation, and I must have felt the same way.
Finally, the call ended and everyone left, leaving me and me to hash things out. Just as I expected, I didn’t want to log off first because then I would never know what happened to me on the other side. I wasn’t in the room with me. I wasn’t two of me here with me, I made sure of that. I checked, then I checked, and I checked again, then I checked one more time.
No, it was true what was happening. One of myself was real, and my other of myself couldn’t possibly be true.
Then I asked me questions about me, about what happened to me yesterday, this morning, the day before, the weekend, 8th grade, favorite movie, last pizza, and anything else I knew that only I would know. I had the same answers as me every time.
Did I split with me only seconds before my call? What was I seeing here? I thought the same thing, obviously. I wasn’t going to log off first, and I wasn’t going to log off first either. I was in a standoff with me.
I had nothing much to talk about with me. I didn’t trust me and I didn’t trust me either. I was the impostor, I was sure of it. I was the real one, and I was the fake one. I just knew it. I felt it in my heart, that I was the impostor, the glitch in reality. I wasn’t going to log off first. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I didn’t care about me. If I died, then so be it. All that mattered was that I would live and live my life just as I always did and how I must want.
Was that it? I wanted my life? Is that why I logged on and refused to log off?
The silence stretched on for hours. Nothing changed with me, and nothing changed with me. Nothing but silent staring. Nothing but existential stubbornness.
Of course, I’m here talking now, which means, as you probably figured out, I am the real me. I always was, and I was fake after all. Something happened, some sort of internet connection problem, something fortuitous for me. I watched me as I struggled and panicked. My screen was smooth! My screen was all choppy, ha! The screen froze. The look on my face, ha! I had me now. My face twisted in agony! My brow furrowed in dread! I was distraught about what it would mean for me to log off. Then, just like that, I was gone. The call dropped. The call ended. I was staring at a blank screen. I didn’t feel different, but I knew I won and I was gone.
I basked in my victory, in my close call, in the dissolution of that other me from some inexplicable fragment of reality. My emails immediately started coming in. Everything was back to normal.
I hope that doesn’t happen again, because I’m not sure my internet will hold up next time like it did for me that day. I don’t want to be the one dropped from existence.
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