I woke feeling well strange, utterly wild and right anxious. I paced about the flat unable to sit still, unable to read Brenda’s, unable to just be scratching at my prayer bones, The Tortelli’s unusually far from my mind. I had the Jimmies, the Jimmie Brits, and a right load of roo’s in my top paddock. I felt like doing a Larry Dooley on myself, gorging right out, blowing myself way over across the creek for a happy dispatch.
‘What’s up Brian?’ My well similar brothers said, scattered about all ten o’ clock scholars and Ludlam’s dog.
I gazed into their faces seeing myself many many times and felt well disturbed.
‘I feel disturbed.’ I said staring out of the window, utterly unwilling to look in their well similar faces anymore. I was thinking of Brian Nine (b) all glistening in his pod waiting for tomorrow.
‘Tenth Day Freak Out.’ Brian One said all wise. It well angered me.
‘How old are you?’ I said all livid and pointing.
‘Twenty, Brain, we are all twenty.’ Said my brothers.
‘You are not my brothers!’
‘Hey, chill it, Brian!’
‘Yeah, Brian, that’s hurtful. Just because you’re still an (a).’
‘My brothers are dead.’ I well yelled all spitfire and random as something seemed to dawn on me. ‘They are all dead. I am Brian! Just me. And I feel fine!’
‘We are all Brian, Brian. We are brothers. No one is dead, Brian.’
‘AHHH!’ I yelled and ran from the flat, all bothered, hearing Brian One say ‘Tenth Day Freak Out’ again as he reached for the phone.
I got on my rad scooter my mind a blind rush and headed off at two hundred miles an hour. I pushed my bum-bum well back in the seat and leaned way forwards pushing the scooter up to faster miles an hour and then faster, way faster, to way faster hundred miles an hour. The city, my city, streaking past all shadows and diffused yellow glare while I drove like Jehu, son of Nimshi. I had not died. I was an (a). My brothers were long dead, their replacements dead, again and again. I well clenched my teeth tight growling ‘I am Brian.’ over and over until I got to North Point in record time.
I stood on the boardwalk as people walked about around me, out in the yellow glow all diffused by the scarred dome, watching the Pacific heave. All dead people. All of them, all dead people.
‘You are all dead people!’ I well shouted in their faces. ‘I am Brian.’
‘Why?’ Eleven women said in panic. ‘What’s going to happen?’
‘It’s happened. Already happened. You are all dead. You are all…false.’ It sounded well lame but I had no words. I was all spitfire and snarly. ‘I am Brian.’ I said again.
‘Tenth Day Freak Out.’ Said the eleven men arm in arm with the eleven women. ‘Nothing’s going to happen.’
I stood there seething bent over scratching well furiously at my legs.
‘Chill it, son.’ Said the eleven men. Well false, all an utter lie. ‘Just a Tenth Day Freak Out, Brian.’
I stared at them wondering how old they really were. How young they really were. How fresh. Lies, I thought, way all shitty living lies.
‘Should we do something?’ The eleven women said.
‘It’s OK.’ The men said pointing past me.
Standing upright, I gave them a well fierce glare with my whole face and turned to look at where he pointed. I saw two black scooters with two Bobby Pigs dismounting.
‘Brian Nine.’ One shouted to me, waving. ‘Hey, Brain Nine.’ And they started over.
I got on my rad scooter all frantic, utterly freaked, thinking that maybe I wanted to be in The Tortelli’s, thinking I am the only one alive here under this old dome, thinking maybe I wanted to go live on the mainland, thinking, thinking, my mind a blind roar of mortal injustice.
I headed off at way faster miles an hour, my bum-bum well back lying as flat as I could. Taking the ring road with it’s slow banking curves, glancing back at the Bobby Pig’s. They were behind me waving right friendly. I well clenched my jaw all tight saying ‘I am Brian. Me. Brian.’ over and over, thinking find a doctor find a doctor there is nothing even wrong with me.
I was making great speed but the Bobby Pigs were soon next to me, one on each side, well surrounding me; another coming up from behind.
‘Hey, Brian Nine.’ They called. ‘Hey, Brian Nine, chill it, eh?’
I couldn’t chill it; I gave them well fierce looks trying to lay lower, to go faster.
The Bobby Pigs exchanged glances across me and one nodded. The other reached over to my scooter, and I could not swerve or anything because I was well surrounded with another Bobby Pig right behind me now and the one leaning in flicked some switch hidden on the front of my scooter. His hands were well quick and his smile all apologetic and my scooter instantly started to lose speed. I could do nothing as I slowly coasted to a halt sitting there surrounded by apologetic Bobby Pigs.
‘No biggie, Brian Nine. You’re just having a Tenth Day Freak Out.’
I nodded wondering how old he really was. How young, how fresh. How long since he glistened in a pod with lasers all busy. The utter living lie, scratching his legs like I do.
‘Hospital then, eh, Brian?’ All well smiley and helpful suggestions. I nodded.
They escorted me to the hospital and we bypassed reception, going straight to the Tenth Day Freak Out Wing. They put me in a room and, smiling helpfully, offered me tea and told me to wait. One Bobby Pig patting me on the back as they all left.
‘It’ll be OK.’ He said. ‘Everything’s fine.’ I well scowled, all refusing tea and bottled mad thoughts.
A doctor came in scratching the back of his head and neck well quick with both hands. He sat down and looked at me all concern.
‘Your mind all a blind rush, eh?’
‘Yes. Utterly.’
‘Take this then.’ He gave me a pill and was well bogging right at me while I munched it up. Just a little something to ‘calm me the hell down’, he said.
‘Well, Brian Nine.’
‘Well, doctor.’
‘Tenth Day Freak Out, eh?’
‘Apparently.’
‘It’s all perfectly normal. Nothing to be embarrassed about.’
‘Wicked.’ I was grinding my teeth, shaking a little bit.
‘So what is it, eh? Not happy with where you choose to bury yourself?’
‘What?’
‘Unhappy with the burial plot? That’s the usual thing that kicks off Tenth Day Freak Out.’
‘Dear Jesus.’ I was well bog eyed in disbelief. ‘Plot’s fine.’ I said all bewildered. ‘It was available.’ I felt all lost and tiny.
‘Hmm.’ said the doctor. ‘So what’s the problem?’
‘I am the Original.’ I said firmly. ‘I am Brian.’ The doctor well laughed out loud. Utter cheek!
‘I am sorry, Brian.’ He said all mirthful, shaking his head, trying to understand. ‘Original?’ He said it like it was a word he hadn’t had to say for well ages.
‘Yes.’ I said. ‘I am an (a). My brothers, the other ten me’s. All dead. I am Brian Nine.’
‘Dead? But they called your freak out in. They are dead? When?’
‘No. They are false. Way loads of utter lies. I am (a). I am the original. Brian Nine.’
‘Oh, I see. I see. Well, Brian Nine you are not really original. Oh no.’
‘I am. I am Brian Nine. No shit!’
‘Let’s see, shall we? You think because you are an (a) and all your brothers have been regrown that you are the original?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you reject them and freak out. Say they are dead because they have been replaced. That it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well by your reckoning, if you stick to that judgment, then you too are dead.’
‘I’m fucking not. I am Brian Nine!’
‘And so are they.’
‘But they have been regrown. Brian Four is only really three bloody weeks old or something!’
‘And you?’
‘I am twenty.’
‘Yes you are.’
‘Well then.’
‘But you were grown too. Grown from the fetus like all people. You were not born you. You have not lived from the conception to now. Oh no. All fetuses are kept just for the basic data to grow you all. Don’t think so linear, Brian.’
‘I have died?’
‘We all have. Listen. When your parents conceived you there were eleven fetuses for us to use. We take the best of each and kind of meld it all together, keep it and use it for source data and material for eleven new Brian fetus’s. You were replaced many times just in the gestation period alone.’
‘I have died many times?’
‘Yes Brian. You see how hypocritical it is to hold that against your brothers? Against the rest of you?’
‘Shit!’
‘So Brian, I’ll give you a little something for the rest of today and then we’ll see you to tomorrow for the old green needle, eh?’ He was nodding at me, then looking down at his desk, writing something.
‘But…’ I said. He looked up sharp.
‘What?’
‘But…’
‘What, Brain?’
‘But…I don’t want to die.’
‘Well you have to. I am the doctor. It’s all settled. Brian Nine (b) is nearly ready. You die, yes?’
‘Shit!’
‘Come on, it’s not really dying, is it, eh?’
Not if you’re already dead, I thought, then it can’t be. Not if I am grown again already. I sagged, my teeth unclenched, feeling well drained The Tortelli’s theme music appeared in my head.
‘OK then, Brian.’ He gave me another pill ‘Keep you steady’, he said. ‘You sure you’re happy with the burial plot?’ I nodded, it was available. ‘Goodbye then, Brian. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
I went out to where the Bobby Pigs had left my scooter and headed off home at a sedate pace, well looking forward to The Tortelli’s.
At home my well similar brothers said nothing as I came in and I just nodded at them and sat in front of the screen, full of oblomovism. Brian Four gave me some wine and then they were all around me, having a right big group hug, all mutual scratching.
In The Tortelli’s a fat Bobby Pig came round to tell Ma and Pa Tortelli that Tortelli Jr. had gone to his long home because of a well heinous road accident and Jenny Popadopalos was in hospital well smashed up, expecting to suffer from negative patient care outcome too. Everyone well laughed, my well similar brothers rocking in similar mirth and I was utterly sucked in too, those way crazy Tortelli’s and their stupid mainland living and their daft real death.
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