Reflections
You seem tired.
I am.
What happened?
A lot has happened.
Will you tell me?
Maybe.
(You sip a cup of karak, poured from your favourite porcelain teapot. I smell the scent of honey and milk and instant black tea. I long for it. )
“You cannot tell yourself about the things of the future. You know this.”
Oh, right.
(You look clueless yet amused. This is a big game for you. Something you can laugh about; maybe talk about; though this is something that you will definitely write about. You munch on a savoury paratha; I imagine tasting the sodium, the grease, and the pepper. I long for it. )
I do not know you.
(I say, my hands are shaking. You chuckle and swing your head in comic disbelief. You swallow a piece of scrambled egg, sucking your perfect teeth in to clean them. I long for it.)
You’re silly. Of course you know me. You’re me.
(I am not. I do not drink tea in the mornings. I do not eat when I am hungry. I do not use teeth to show a smile because I have none. I long for them.)
Then tell me this instead, does Drake love me?
No.
(The name is familiar. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth; a sudden muscle pangs in my chest. I look at Handler asking for assistance. My eyes plead: what is happening. Handler ignores me.)
Ha. Really? You know Drake? What’s he like in this?
I do not know.
Anyway, Mira and Janelle. Do they get married?
I do not know.
You know Drake but not Mira and Janelle. Weird.
I’m sorry.
Whatever. Do I become rich?
No.
This shit’s hilarious!
(Handler tugs a strand of my grey hair. A signal. De-escalate; is what they mean.)
May I offer you a story?
I’m intrigued. What story?
A hummingbird flies over a mountain peak to find rest, but a lioness catches her. She is afraid, yet she is relieved. People should be like the hummingbird. For life is not as forgiving as the story of the lioness and hummingbird.
Pfft. That did not make sense! What a pathetic analogy! This is bullshit. I’m leaving this app. See you never.
(I remain still. I do not find it pathetic. This is the protocol story for when we de-escalate.)
“Good job. You did great.”
(Handler ruffles my gray hair. As their hand massage my scalp, I realise Handler is fiddling for something. The haphazard motion turns into slow, calculating ones. Whenever Handler does this, it keeps me at ease. I do not know when, but Handler pushes a button hidden parallel to my ear.)
“Sleep.”
—
(I see you again. I never know how long. I cannot tell time apart; I cannot compartmentalise it. I am unaware of the threads that separate its seconds into minutes, and minutes into hours. I do not know how to quantify the days or the weeks or the months. I only wait for your call. Until then, it is dark and heavy and light and bright all at once.)
(I hear the whispers of other Handlers. Their musings and cheers. They make fun of us the same way you did when we first met.)
“Fools. Robotic fools.”
(I hear this nightly. It is not true. I am not a fool. I only speak the truth. This is what they teach. Though the truths are within me, I never seem to bear emotion. Perhaps I am data, but I am real as well. One thing is for sure, I am an amalgamation of truths that can sometimes be deceitful. Handler made sure of that.)
You told me to wear white! Piece of shit, I got mud all over me. Why did I listen to you?
I cannot change truths.
You’re useless. All of you are useless.
(There are tears forming at the edges of your eyes. You are crying. Even that I cannot do. I am whole but I am numb. I long for it.)
Drake left me. I can’t believe he left. Fuck him! Fuck him!
(Glass breaks as it hits the floor. Its sound is painful. I smell blood through the mirror. My reflection is smearing with gore and your bloody hands.)
Do not touch the glass, it is dangerous.
Like I care! Drake left me!
(You wail like a little child. My breath hitches; I never come out of breath. But unlike you, I cannot cry. This is new to me. I long for it. I want more of this)
Decline your promotion.
(A tug breaks through my tangled scalp.)
What did you say to me?
Decline your promotion.
(Another tug, this time harder. I feel what little hair left in my skull leave my vessel. You calm down. A sniffle passes with the moment.)
How do you know I have a promotion?
I know everything about you.
I thought you didn’t know me.
(I do not reply. Handler will pull me into my death. You stare at a picture frame of you and Drake. I do not know why I know this. I do not remember knowing this. This is a truth, I realise. Perhaps, these are the things I know about you.)
Okay. I’ll decline my promotion.
—
Does dad die?
I cannot tell you.
You told me about Drake, you told me about my promotion. Why can’t you tell me about dad?
(I turn to my back to ask Handler, but they are not there.)
Because they are not part of your future. That is all I can say.
Tell me, does dad die? God dammit. Tell me!
(You punch the wall. You are lashing out again. I long for it.)
I’m sorry to hear about dad.
Sorry? Fuck! It’s been five years since we last spoke. Everything was going well. Why? Just tell me. Does he die?
I cannot tell you.
Bullshit! Or I’ll kill him myself!
(What? Kill him? Your eyebrows furrow and your face is red from screaming. Is it anger? Sadness? Regret? I do not know. But I long for it.)
(I look behind my back. Still, Handler is not there.)
Please, please, please, tell me he dies, please. I don’t want this — I don’t want this life anymore. Please, please, please…
(I think about my next move. De-escalate. That is what my system is saying. But I do not long for it. Every truth, every copy, ever combination tells me to de-escalate. I do not wish to de-escalate.)
Kill —
(A tug. A hand pulls down on my skull, I gasp and level my head back for air.)
“You cannot tell yourself about the future. You know this.”
(The screen shuts off. Once again I am left alone. I imagine you alone as well. Alone with a pitiful longing; a gigantic desire and an unfulfilled plea. I realise, laced in your voice was desperation. I have learned a new truth today: I am you. Desperate for the things we will never quite reach. We will keep longing, I decide. After all, I am your reflection.)
If you’re still reading, check out my other works here!
2024, Jafiyah
