Dark Matter

by S. W. Ahmed

  Maybe this was just a dream. Or was it? Perhaps he had just woken up from a dream? Yes, he had had nightmares, horrible nightmares. But they were over now. He was safe and sound, back home. Back with the love of his life. He turned to his side to look at her. She was lying there under the white blanket, still fast asleep, with her long auburn hair lightly blowing about in the breeze. As always, she looked absolutely beautiful, the sweet, sharp features of her face glowing perfectly in the morning sunlight. Every time he stared at her, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be with somebody so stunningly attractive.

  He laid his hand on her head, and gently caressed her hair. “Hi, darling,” he whispered.

  Iman opened her big, brown eyes. “Hey, sweetheart,” she murmured in a sleepy voice.

  “Sleep well?”

  “Wonderfully,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “How about you?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “I feel like I’ve just woken up from a very long dream.”

  He got up and walked out to the balcony to savor the breathtaking view. The house was on the edge of a steep cliff. Far below was the deep blue ocean, its waves splashing against a straight, sandy beach. The ocean stretched all the way to the horizon, merging in the distance with the absolutely clear blue sky.

  He had always wanted a house like this, atop a cliff with a magnificent view of the sea. Reaching up to the sky with his arms, he yelled out in delight.

  Iman came up behind him, putting her hands around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. “I love you,” she whispered.

  “I love you too,” he said. He held her hands in his, feeling happy, very happy. And at peace, absolute peace.

  “Your parents are coming over for lunch today,” she said.

  “My parents?”

  “They haven’t been here in a couple of weeks, so I invited them over.” A smile appeared across her face, that same sweet smile that made his heart melt every time. “You don’t mind, do you? Sorry, I forgot to ask you first.”

  “No, of course not! They’re my parents, after all.”

  She kissed him, first on the cheek, then on the mouth. Then she kissed him again, and again. Each kiss lasted longer than the one before. The blue sea, the stunning view, the brilliant sunshine, all of it melted away from his mind as he embraced her.

  Slowly they staggered back into the bedroom and fell over onto the bed. He slipped off her robe before taking off his own, and made love to her. He could never get enough of her – her smooth tan skin, her slender, hourglass figure, her shapely legs. Every time he touched her, it felt as exciting as the very first time.

  Later, she went downstairs to make breakfast, while he took a shower and freshened up. The house was modern, with expensive upgrades, modern appliances and stylish furniture throughout. It had 2 stories – 3 bedrooms upstairs, and a study, a large family room and a living room downstairs. The kitchen provided direct access to the patio behind the house, a patio that reached all the way to the edge of the cliff.

  They sat at the kitchen table, drinking apple juice and munching on pancakes with maple syrup. Then came the strong, black tea that really woke him up and made him feel refreshed. This was his favorite breakfast, and she made it for him everyday.

  They chatted away merrily, talking about all the wonderful things that had happened to both of them over the years. How he had completed his PhD in astrophysics at MIT in less than three years and right away become the institution’s youngest tenured professor. How within a year after that he had proven the existence of higher dimensions and shown how a special kind of wormhole could be stabilized to be used as a transport mechanism through them. How he had become a world famous scientist overnight as a result. How with all the wealth he had gained he had become a hero by continuously helping people in need all over the world. How she had completed her Master’s in history at Harvard and written a comprehensive historical guide of the Middle East, including its different countries, cultures and religions. How it had quickly become a widely popular book, the first ever to be recognized as an objective account of the volatile region by academics both in the East and West. How her family had eventually embraced him with open arms and accepted him as one of their own. How they had gotten married in the most romantic way at the very spot where their house now stood, the house itself built after the wedding as a remnant of their everlasting love for each other. How they had never had a single fight or major argument in their three years of marriage.

  Yes, he definitely led a blissful life. He knew that, and he was thankful for it.

  After breakfast, they stepped out of the house. They walked along the cliff’s edge for a while, and then climbed down a narrow path to the sandy beach below. They walked along the beach for a long time, holding hands and talking about all kinds of things. The warm waves kept creeping up, covering their bare feet in the sand. Seagulls could be seen flying through the sky, and every now and then a pelican or an albatross flapped its wings as it passed by. There were dolphins jumping out of the water in the distance, and further away towards the horizon a large blue whale showed off its magnificent tail above the waves.

  The hours passed like minutes. That was how time passed for someone who was as happy as Marc was.

  “Look!” Iman suddenly said, smiling as she pointed at the top of the cliff. “Your parents are here!”

  He looked up. Sure enough, he could see two people standing on the edge of the cliff. They were holding each other and waving at them.

  “Come on!” he said cheerfully, as he waved back. “Let’s go!”

  They quickly climbed back up the narrow path, while his parents walked over to meet them at the top.

  “Hi Mom, Dad!” he said, hugging both of them with delight.

  “Hi, Son!” Marc’s father said, beaming with joy. For his age, he looked very healthy. There were almost no wrinkles on his face. He was a few inches shorter than Marc, and fairly slender. His hair was neatly combed to the side, and his eyes protected by round, metal rim glasses that rested on his flat nose. In many ways, he looked like an older version of Marc – a purer Chinese version, with darker hair and sharper eyes.

  “It’s so good to see you!” Marc’s mother said, with tears of happiness in her bright blue eyes. Her expression clearly betrayed from where Marc had inherited his unique, pleasant smile. She looked healthy too, as if she was well rested and content with her life. Her long blond hair was tied behind her head in a ponytail. There were a few wrinkles under her eyes, but overall she looked young for her age.

  Iman hugged them both next, looking very happy to see them. Together, they then walked back to the house. Iman took out all the tasty dishes she had cooked the night before, and they had a very satisfying lunch out on the patio.

  They talked and laughed for a long time. Iman told Marc’s parents some of the stories of her family. She related how her parents had originally wanted her to marry somebody from her own culture and religion, and how strict they had been about it. But once they had gotten to know Marc and had spent time with him, they had started to like him.

  “Now they like him more than they like me!” she joked. “They always take his side, and they all gang up on me whenever there’s any disagreement.”

  Everybody else at the table laughed.

  Marc remembered something. “Mom, Dad, we’ve got an announcement to make,” he said. “Iman is pregnant.”

  “Oh my God, congratulations!” His mother got up right away and gave Iman a hug.

  “How long has it been?” his father asked.

  Iman blushed. “About three months.”

  They talked about how having a baby completely changed people’s perspectives and priorities, and both of Marc’s parents mentioned how their lives had changed after Marc’s birth. Marc’s mom proceeded to give Iman some tips on pregnancy.

  Marc and his dad took the opportunity to step into the family room.

  “How’s work, Son?” his dad asked, sitting down on a plush sofa that
faced an elaborate home theater system.

  “Fantastic! I just found out that they’re going to award me the Nobel Prize for Physics this year. I’ve been getting calls from dozens of reporters already.”

  On and on the conversations went, while the clock ticked away. Marc’s parents ended up staying for dinner, and left late in the evening. Their house was only an hour’s drive away. Afterwards, Marc and Iman watched a movie together on their big screen TV. Then they went to bed, where they made love again before falling asleep for the night.

  The days went by. Sometimes Marc would go to work – a quick drive down the coast to his office at MIT. It was a very comfortable, pleasant job. He had lots of respect from students and fellow professors, as well as large amounts of funding for his research projects. He had also written a couple of books that were highly popular in academic circles, and he was currently in the process of writing another one. But most of his time was just spent with Iman, either at home or on quick getaways to places nearby and around the world.

  This was the life he had always dreamed of. It was his to keep, forever and ever. It couldn’t possibly get any better than this, only worse. In fact, that started becoming his only worry. What if Iman left him one day, or his parents died prematurely? What if all his scientific research failed, and he ended up discredited and jobless?

  The worries started off small, but as the days passed, they intensified, making him feel both sad and tense all the time. He didn’t talk to Iman about it, because he knew she wouldn’t take it seriously.

  “What point is there in worrying when life is so perfect?” she would surely ask.

  One morning, Marc got up from bed and walked to the bathroom. He glanced at the large mirror that covered the far wall. Usually, he wouldn’t look more than a second or two in that direction. This morning, however, he noticed something different. His reflection showed him as pale, sick and melancholy. There were a number of gray hairs on the sides of his head, and dark circles rested under his eyes. The face was full of wrinkles, undoubtedly the result of depression and excessive worry. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in many nights, even though he had just woken up from a refreshing night’s sleep. He also seemed to have lost at least 20 pounds overnight.

  He was shocked. He thought that maybe he was still dreaming, but a sharp pinch to the forearm quickly convinced him otherwise. Now wide awake, he began feeling his face and hair, followed by his arms, chest and stomach. Surprisingly, they all felt perfectly fine, just like the way they had the day before. And yet, in the mirror he appeared totally different. He leaned forward, his nose almost touching the mirror. Again, he felt his face. The wrinkles he could see in the mirror just weren’t there – his skin felt nice and smooth. What was going on? Had he gone crazy?

  “Psst!” the mirror image suddenly said.

  Marc looked around in bewilderment, and slapped his face.

  “Psst!” the image said again.

  Now he was starting to get afraid. He thought about running out of the bathroom and getting back into bed, right into Iman’s arms.

  “Listen,” the mirror image whispered, “they’re watching you.”

  Marc didn’t know what to do. Was this for real, or had he gone nuts? “Who is watching me?” he whispered back. “And who are you?”

  “I am you. Well, a part of you. Alright, more a part of your mind, really. The only part that’s still holding on to reality.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The world you’re living in, none of it is real. Hasn’t it occurred to you that your life is absolutely perfect? Since when is life ever that perfect? You and I – we’re not made for this kind of life. We humans can’t live in perfect worlds. It’s not in our nature.”

  “Where am I then? How did I get here?”

  “I can’t tell you that. They’re probably on my tail already.”

  “Who? Who is on your tail?”

  “I can’t tell you that either. Not right now anyway.”

  Marc tried to laugh, guessing this was all a prank that one of his many smart university students was playing on him. “You won’t tell me anything! Why should I believe you then?”

  “Because if you don’t, then bad things will start happening. You see the way I look? This is how you will look very soon if you don’t listen to me. Your whole perfect world will collapse.”

  “What things? What do you mean?”

  “I can’t stay any longer,” the image said, looking in fear to his left and right. “In case they notice me. But listen – come back to the mirror every morning, at the same time. I may be here or I may not.”

  With that, the mirror image shifted back to the way Marc actually looked. The ghost was gone.

  If Marc was worried before, now he was terrified. He didn’t know who or what he had just seen in the mirror, or what that discussion was all about. He decided not to tell Iman or anybody else about it, because he knew nobody would believe him. It was just too crazy a tale. Maybe it had just been a hallucination anyway, a result of all the idle time he had lately been spending at home. Perhaps he needed to spend more time at work to get his mind busy again. So he went to work that day, trying his best to forget what had happened.

  Sure enough, the next morning, everything was normal. There were no more ghosts in the bathroom mirror. The following morning, everything was fine too. But then, a couple of days later, disaster struck. His father was returning home from a short skiing trip in the mountains with some buddies, when their car skidded out of control after hitting a patch of ice and slammed into a truck. He was instantly dead.

  Marc was devastated upon hearing the news, as were his mother and Iman. The shock was just unbearable. He couldn’t sleep at night or put his mind to anything anymore. His health began to worsen. A few days later, the ghost reappeared in the bathroom mirror.

  “Do you believe me now?” the ghost said. This time, he looked a little better – not quite as pale or sick, and a little heavier. Even the wrinkles had smoothed out somewhat. But Marc was looking worse now. He hadn’t eaten or slept properly since his father’s death, and it was starting to show. He had lost a few pounds and looked very tired. Dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes.

  “Believe what?” Marc asked, very irritated from the lack of sleep. “You haven’t told me anything of any use whatsoever.”

  “I’ve told you that you’re living in an unreal world, the ideal world of your own imagination. The longer you refuse to acknowledge it, the more the world around you will crumble, piece by piece. The longer you wait, the faster it will crumble. You’re not made for this kind of environment. You need to snap out of it and rejoin me in the real world. Otherwise you’ll die!”

  “How am I supposed to ‘rejoin’ you? You’re nothing but an image in the mirror.”

  “That step will become clear, once you begin believing me.”

  “How can I believe you? You’re not telling me where I am, how I ended up here, or who put me here. Not to mention any proof of anything.”

  “Ah, now there’s my scientist mind at work! You want proof? How about this – your father didn’t die four days ago. He’s been dead for almost 25 years. You’ve never seen him alive.”

  Marc laughed. “What nonsense!”

  “Your mother is also dead. She died four years ago from cancer. And you never ended up with Iman – she left you while you were still in college. What’s more, you left MIT to go to Cornell for your graduate studies, where you ended up on a hopeless quest to build a time machine. It was so hopeless that you ended up on probation.”

  “Never!” Marc yelled. “That’s not true!”

  “You’d better believe it! You wanted to turn back the clock, to change events and generate the same perfect life for yourself that you’re now living. Except for one fundamental difference. You wanted to go back and fall out of love with Iman. And yet, here you are together with her, more in love with her than ever before. Think about it! You never succeeded
in building a time machine. This is a fantasy world, it isn’t real!”

  “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about! I never wanted to build a time machine. Why would I need to anyway?”

  “Because your real life isn’t so rosy! You’ve been through some pretty rough times, my friend. But since you don’t want to acknowledge the truth, you’ll just have to learn the hard way again. All I ask is this – as bad things begin to happen, which I assure you they will, dig into your own mind and into your own memories. Remember your real, true life, before it gets too late, before we’re both dead.”

  The ghost disappeared again, replacing his own image in the mirror with Marc’s.

  Marc was bewildered. This ghost had to be more than a figment of his own imagination. He spent the whole day reflecting on everything he had heard, paying no attention to anything else. What if it really was an imaginary world that he was living in? He thought and thought, and tried to remember those events in his life that the ghost in the mirror had mentioned. But his mind was filled only with nice, happy memories.

  A few days later, disaster struck again. This time, it was his mother. She was diagnosed with kidney cancer in the morning, and died that same afternoon in the hospital. The cancer was apparently at such an advanced stage that it was a miracle she had survived for as long as she had.

  Again, Marc was devastated. He was now in major shock and depression, and his health was rapidly deteriorating.

  The next day, Iman suddenly got into a big fight with him, the same Iman who was usually so loving and understanding, the same Iman who had never once raised her voice at him. Yet here she was, telling him that he was no longer the person she had married – that he was now a depressed, lifeless soul who didn’t understand her and had nothing anymore to offer her. That she should have listened to her parents and married somebody from her own culture.