That was something, at least.
Then she moved even closer and looked through the window. The birds were frightened by her presence, but it seemed as if they couldn’t fly away. The branches of the tree were limited by the area of the window. It was the same with the sky. The tree had no trunk. It emerged from the grayness, even though her bedroom was on the first floor. Things just floated in the grayness.
Tammy thrust her hand through the black, steel security bars in front of the open window, and it went beyond. Her fingers reached and touched the soft green leaves on a thin branch. The feeling surprised her, but she held on for a moment. That certainly felt like real leaves.
The birds hopped as far away as they could. It wasn’t far. About three meters.
The branches came to an abrupt end, as if they had been cut out of a bigger picture. It seemed to Tammy that only the window itself and the scene directly behind it had shifted with her. Only what she had seen reflected in the monitor had shifted here. Wherever here might be. Her desk, computer and bed were not there. Everything gone—except what had been in the reflection. Her cupboards, the bookshelf, clothing and the shoes on the floor. All gone.
What happened? she wondered anxiously. Who was playing such far-fetched tricks on her? Who even could play such tricks?
“Mum!” she shouted again. And again.
She closed the window so that the birds wouldn’t fly off into the grayness around her and stepped back and turned.
And bumped into something. No, not something. Into somebody.
An ice cold chill cut through her.
The somebody shouted, making Tammy jump at the sudden noise.
“Snap!”
She knew the sound, the voice. It was so totally familiar. Because it was her own voice, but it hadn’t come from her lips.
Very frightened, she tried to step away, but she was backed against the window. She couldn’t escape.
She stared, slowly raising her hands to hide her face. Everything was happening too slowly. She stared at herself as if looking into a full length mirror, willing her hands to move faster.
Tammy was standing in front of her, and staring right back.
She was standing in front of herself.
In exactly the same bikini . . .
Exactly the same, but different.
Still holding her breath, she looked more closely. She looked herself up and down, her eyes searching the face of the strange Tammy. She was staring at . . . herself.
Never before had Tammy seen herself so beautiful, so perfect in every way. Her blond hair was almost white, like it had been bleached by the sun and so very shiny. It was the same length, down to her shoulders, but much thicker, more healthy looking. Her skin was smooth and youthful with no sign of the ugly pimple next to her nose.
But her likeness looked . . . wrong. It looked evil! Wicked even.
Speechless, she stared at the other girl. The girl had cried “Snap!” as if they were playing a game. The game!
Damn it, had she been sucked into her computer like a character in some fantastic science fiction story?
Impossible. Unbelievable.
But what else could it be? It must be so, because her identical playmate was standing in front of her—bikini and all.
And then the Tammy she was facing spoke again.
“Hallo, Tammy,” she said. “I’m your alter ego. Your other you, or other me, or other I?” She smiled, but not in a friendly way, pausing before continuing: “Your perfect I, like you always wanted to be. Perfect like Rosette,” said the smugly perfect face. “Only even more so.”
“What? Where am I? Who are you? Am I dreaming? Am I inside my computer?” Tammy asked every question that crossed her mind, unable to wait for the answers.
It seemed as if the girl was gliding closer and closer without moving her legs.
“Oh no, you’re not dreaming. And you’re not inside your computer. You’re inside a different world, the Alter Ego Dimension. A place where all living people’s other selves are stored.”
Tammy frowned, and the perfect Tammy continued to explain: “Whenever somebody is dissatisfied with his or her own self, like you were this morning when you saw that ugly zit next to your nose, their alter ego awakens here and then waits. The more you hate yourself, the more awake we become. The more dissatisfied you are with your life, the stronger we get. That’s all the real you have to do so that the other you, that is me, can go to earth,” she said. “The other you then takes over for a while. Your best friends and family hardly notice the difference. They usually think: ‘She’s changed. She’s a new person’.”
For a few moments Tammy tried to digest her alter ego’s words.
“What? Do you mean . . . like when my father has been drinking?” Tammy wanted to know if she understood correctly.
“Our father,” sneered the perfect Tammy. “Oh no, wait, I am you and you are me, thus my father. He is a fine example.”
Tammy thought about her father. While her parents were still married, her mother used to say that her father became another person when he’d been drinking. It was not the person she’d married, and certainly not the man she’d fallen in love with. Did the other Tammy mean that the robust personality of her father was stored here in this Alter Ego Dimension? Had this alter dad awakened every time that her real father drank, to go to earth and afflict himself upon Tammy and her mother?
That made sense, because as soon as her father sobered up he apologized for his bad behavior. But if he was here, how did he know what his alter ego was doing? There obviously was a definite link between you and your alter ego.
“You’re right,” alter Tammy said as if she could read her mind, “and each time you put your best foot forward, it was me, doing it for you. I took over for a while.” Then her voice changed, becoming more businesslike and threatening. “But now there is new technology, Sweetie . . . ”
The beautiful face seemed to sneer and gloat at the same time. “It’s now possible for me to take over from you for as long as I want. For as long as you, for as long as we, live. I don’t have to come back to this boring place anymore. I can take your place on earth and you will be stored here . . . ” she indicated the grayness that surrounded them, “forever.” The alter Tammy’s cruel smile was back. “I shall take your place on earth as the perfect me. Or you. Or should I say us? Except it won’t be us anymore. It’ll just be me.”
Tammy went cold. This perfect Tammy was horrible. Her alter ego was planning to keep her here, a prisoner. How could she be so mean to . . . herself? She stared at her other self. Her perfect self. She was disgusted by what she saw. Did she really want to be that perfect?
It was so superficial. Perfectly pretty, but not perfectly nice. Her alter ego was perfectly horrible. She would rather have a few pimples now and then, thin hair and greasy skin, than be like the girl opposite her.
“What . . . what new technology?” she asked anxiously. She could feel the fear in her throat. Alter Tammy gave her the creeps.
“With the Snap game. With Skype, the Internet, nanotechnology, cell phones, micro waves and everything. Just clicking on the “Yes” option brings any person here that is not satisfied with themselves. People don’t need drugs or alcohol anymore to change or escape reality. When they think they’re not good enough they can simply play Snap on the Internet and in a blink they’re here. Here where the alter ego takes over. And then voilá!” she threw up her hands theatrically. “The real person is stored here forever.”
She glided even closer. Their faces almost touching.
“All your troubles will be gone. Look at me. I’m perfect. Like you’ve always wanted to be. Now I will become you. Your earthly self will have my perfection forever.”
Tammy’s blood raced against her temples. What now? She didn’t want to be stored in this place forever. She didn’t want a ‘perfect’ alter ego taking her place in the real world.
“But the window? Why is it here?” She had to play fo
r time, because she had no idea how to get away or how to escape. Darn, she had to think! Her fear-numbed brain knew just enough to warn her that she must play for time.
“Oh, the window? That comes as a consolation prize. Everything reflected in the screen of your monitor can come along with you, so while you are here you have something to remind you of your old life.”
The alter Tammy ran a finger down the real Tammy’s cheek. “Thoughtful, isn’t it? Something to remind you of what you’ve lost. The views, the animals, the sunny days and starry nights.” She clicked with her tongue. “Enough talking. Time for me to take my place on earth. Things to do. Wayne’s information still needs to be downloaded.”
The alter Tammy looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. She was almost purring. “Cute little Wayne,” she breathed his name provocatively, “he’ll be glad to see that my pimple has vanished into thin air!”
Tammy felt both hands of her alter ego on her face, then on her throat. Ice cold fingers clasped her neck. So hard that she couldn’t breathe.
Tammy grabbed the other Tammy’s hands. At the same time she lifted her knee and struck her alter ego as hard as she could between her legs. Even as she lashed out she wondered if it would hurt to strike herself. It didn’t. She felt nothing except the impact of her knee against the second Tammy’s groin.
Alter Tammy squealed. The sound was distorted, empty and hollow, but the girl’s hands held tight, keeping their murderous grasp around Tammy’s throat. They pressed even harder.
Tammy felt her strength draining away from lack of oxygen. She knew she had only seconds before she would lose consciousness. She had to act now, break the grip or lose the battle.
Tammy was not the kind of girl who picked fights with other girls. Never before had she even wanted to slap someone, except, perhaps, Wayne this morning. But now it was different. She had to do something or she would die. On her mother’s advice she had taken up martial arts lessons at the Mixed Martial Arts Academy. Her mother wanted to keep her safe in a South Africa plagued by a soaring crime rate. Now she must use her knowledge of self-defense against herself. Her other self. Because of the lessons, she knew exactly how to free herself from this grip . . .
“Ah, you’re thinking about mixed martial arts,” snapped alter Tammy panting. As fast as lightning she released Tammy’s neck and grabbed her underneath her armpits. Tammy sucked in air. At last. Oxygen.
“You’re forgetting that I know what you’re thinking, even as you’re thinking it,” alter Tammy said mockingly as she tried to pull her arm over Tammy’s head.
Tammy ignored the voice as she worked out what her enemy was doing.
Hell’s bells! she exclaimed inwardly as she realized the danger. Alter Tammy wanted to do the ‘guillotine strangle’ on her. If she succeeded, Tammy would lose consciousness for several seconds. Time enough for alter Tammy to store her here? No way was she going to let that happen. She must be strong. Enemy Tammy must not succeed.
Unable to apply the ‘guillotine strangle’, alter Tammy tried to put her arm behind Tammy’s neck to cut off her air supply. Again Tammy parried, quickly putting her arm between her own neck and the alter Tammy’s arm. She knew exactly what alter Tammy planned, because they both knew the different kind of grips taught in mixed martial arts.
Again Tammy lifted her knee, but this time she hadn’t enough strength left for a powerful blow. It felt as if alter Tammy was sapping her strength. She didn’t know how long she could withstand her onslaught.
“I . . . I didn’t like the pimple, that’s all,” Tammy stammered, trying to convince this other self that she really liked and enjoyed her life. “I love my mum’s house. I like Wayne. I even like Dad when he hasn’t been drinking. Please, let go of me. I’ll never, ever be discontented with myself again . . . ”
Tammy was interrupted by a loud and ugly laugh. “I like your life on earth, too. Do you think it’s pleasant to be stored here, in this grayness? With nothing to do except watch how you’re wasting your life? My life. Especially now that we alter egos can think for ourselves and know that we don’t have to hang around waiting for little snatches of real life? Do you think we like not existing for long periods of time? I want your life on earth and you are not going to stop me. Now you’re here, in my world, your better self will overpower you sooner or later.” Alter Tammy emphasized the word ‘better’. “So, the quicker you lose your strength, the quicker we can get this over with. Nobody will miss you anyway, spotty-face. Not even our dear mother will know you’re gone.”
Alter Tammy squeezed harder. Tammy could feel her arm squashed against her neck. She couldn’t push her rival away. She could still breathe, but she was losing her strength quickly. It was like watching a drowning scene in The Titanic movie. The actor would struggle slower and slower until he was too tired to fight anymore. Then he would surrender and slip below the surface.
That was how she was feeling now. She wanted to surrender to the mass of grayness that surrounded her . . .
She had fought so hard, for so long. Yet still alter Tammy was winning. Her perfect self was the stronger.
She may as well concede defeat . . .
“JIEJAJIEEE!”
The sound was blood curdling.
Chapter Three
WAYNE BASSON GOT OFF his metallic blue motorcycle, lifted the silver helmet from his head with both hands and walked with long, hasty strides towards Tammy’s mother’s one story house. He was still in his white cricket clothes with matching plain sneakers on his feet. He needed to go home and start his assignment, but without the information Tammy was downloading from the Internet, he couldn’t finish it. He knew it was wrong and risky to postpone his assignments to the last day, but he was addicted to risk. He always worked better under pressure. His mother would often complain: “Procrastination is the thief of time,” but he rarely heeded her advice. Today was his last day. Tomorrow the science teacher would give him detention and then he would be kept after school every Friday afternoon until it was done.
Heck. There were much better things to do on a Friday afternoon than to sit in detention.
He took the chocolate bar from his pants pocket, hoping it hadn’t melted in the heat of the day. Chocolate stains on cricket whites would look too awful for words. He ran his fingers through his rather long, dark blond hair. One of these days some teacher would, no doubt, complain about the length of his hair and he’d get a detention for that, too.
He rang the doorbell. He could hear footsteps on the wooden floors inside the house and it sounded as if Tammy’s mother was coming. Not Tammy.
“Hi, Wayne,” Tammy’s mother gave him a friendly greeting as she opened the door. Mrs. Delport was a very pleasant lady, not like Rosette’s mother. She was unfriendly, cold and a bit surly.
“Hallo, Mrs. Delport,” he replied with a warm smile. “Is Tammy here?”
“Come in, Wayne,” Mrs. Delport answered. “She had a swim earlier, but I think she might be in her room doing homework. I’ll go and see. You wait in the TV-room. Help yourself to some juice . . . ”
Wayne went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange, then made his way to the TV-room, sat on the sofa and stared at the black screen of the television. It reflected much of the room like a very dark mirror. He watched himself down the juice, and wondered if there was any cricket on the box today. Would it be rude to switch the TV on?
Deciding against watching the cricket, he put the slab of chocolate on the coffee table and looked at his white sneakers. He’d scuffed them on the bike, but it didn’t show too badly.
“Tammy!” he heard Mrs. Delport calling.
Then she called again. “Tammy, where are you? Wayne’s here.”
He waited, aware of Mrs. Delport moving about upstairs. Where was Tammy? More importantly, had she done the download for him?
Oh heck, he thought impatiently, Tammy had let him down. He was going to get detention because of her. She’d promised, but let him down. He could
feel it in his bones. If Tammy was getting him back for laughing at the bulge on her face, then he was going to take the chocolate back with him. Damn it. He was always doing something stupid when it comes to girls. Now Tammy was taking her revenge.
“Wayne.” Mrs. Delport was standing in the doorway. There was a worried expression on her face. “I can’t find Tammy anywhere. There’s a damp towel over the chair by the desk and her computer is still on, but she’s not in her room. She never leaves the PC on for long. She’s not gone back to the pool either.”
“Did you hear her go out?” Wayne asked.
“No,” Mrs. Delport answered. “She can’t have gone out, because she’s still in her swimming-costume, it’s not in her room or in the bathroom.”
“Would she go anywhere dressed only in her costume?” Wayne wanted to know.
“No, goodness me, only if she pulled something over it,” Mrs. Delport frowned. “But she didn’t say anything to me about going out. I was in my study the whole afternoon. She always tells me if she’s going out and I would see her walk past my window.”
“Oh dear, she had to download information for me from the Internet.” Wayne voiced his concern. He didn’t think Tammy would be gone for long, but he needed to hurry now. “May I go and look if it’s in her room somewhere? I can’t afford to wait for her much longer. Please, Mrs. Delport?” Wayne asked and stood up. He took the chocolate and put it back in his pocket. Just in case.
Together they went upstairs to Tammy’s room.
Wayne went in and sat on her chair. He clicked the mouse. The computer was still locked into the web page where Tammy was researching his information. But where was she then? He took his cell phone from his pocket and tapped in her cell’s number. He was startled as a phone sounded right next to him. Wayne quickly lifted some papers lying next to the keyboard and saw Tammy’s phone.
Mrs. Delport grabbed it.
SNAP! and the Alter Ego Dimension Page 2
