Last man on Earth

The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door. The knock was low, polite on the oaken door. The faint echo of the knock faded away as he tried to concentrate on the journal in front of his hand. He squinted to read the handwriting in the small candle light. There was a certain damp in the air, his breathing turning heavy every minute. The knock was unnatural; a bead of sweat trickled down his brow. He sipped the whisky off the jade glass. His throat was still dry though, the chill in the air made him shiver. His strong lower jaw clattered against the upper, was it from fear or the air . . . he wasn’t certain.

There was another knock—a heavy hand by the sound of it, this time the wall mount of a tiger loosened away, hanging perilously on the hook. The journal he was reading was that of his linguist friend, Joshua.

The doom, the  Xhaka, the indigenous tribals believed that a fair devil would walk on these lands. His minions following him, little would he know that the wheel of destruction would be rolled on his kind. The Xhaka. . .

Everybody had laughed off Joshua, feeling that the meek guy would piss his pants when he read his journal. Eddard had listened to him but he had never paid him much attention.

He was right though, every word of it. He’d seen deaths of all his family, his friends  . . . plague they called it, but he knew it was the curse. The ship brought news of the bubonic plague, spread across the known world, taking living souls cheap. This though was not any vermin’s work, the dead!—he squirmed in pain clutching his temples. He felt spent, the fear had numbed him. He couldn’t feel it, the ache in his temples was more excruciating to feel that. He was more frustrated, End it you bastard . . . end it! I’m waiting.

This was the same room in his villa where he lived with his wife . . . the scent of her still hung in that room. Was she there outside! She came back for me? Thoughts and tears swelled up, with a quavering voice he asked, “Who’s there? Mary? Are you there? Do you remember your Eddard’s voice?”

There was a knock again.

“Seven Hells! Go away, go away!” he shouted, he flung the jade glass towards the door. The fever was taking toll on his body; his senses seemed to desert him. He tried to read again.

. . . the path of destruction would be laid by him, the agents -- fair devil’s own minions. The bloodless revenge for his people, one would kill the other for flesh . . . devouring the meat. Abomination, these minions would be.

There was again thumping on the door; this time it was three slaps on the door. He didn’t dare to open the door, he was suddenly feeling frightened. Was it death or something else, he couldn’t decide on that. He could sense the anger of whatever entity was beyond the door.

The candle light flickered as his heart pounded, he could hear the silence. The dead . . . , he remembered with index finger rolling the forehead.

It can’t be, they are dead . . . I’m alive, I’m the last man. No, no, no. This time there were more bangs on the door, the muffled sounds as if they were calling someone. The Xhakaaaa , he whispered under his breath.

Sitting on the chair, he cursed . . . but couldn’t hear his own voice. The bangs on the door were more prominent; the heavy oaken door started vibrating. He realized whatever the entity was; it was trying to break in. The door now creaked with the thuds on the door, every passing minute the door was giving in just like his will. His brow was now covered with sweat; he felt his legs becoming water. He could not think of any other thing. Minutes prior he wanted it to end, but now he wanted some more time. The fever made him sickly, his stomach churned and the headache.

The room was now becoming darker, the candle’s glow slowly diminishing. The pounding the door was taking made loud voice; he chose to ignore it then. He returned to the journal amidst the chaos

The dead would rise again, the revenge bloodless. The wheels of destruction in flow.

With a loud thump the door fell on the floor. The sudden wind blew away the candle. There were black figure, men and women alike staring at him with the hollows in their skull. He could sense the goose bumps on his arm, he felt his bowels out of control and sensed the sphincter had released. The figures were still looking at him, none talking. The room now stank of the waste, he could smell it.

Rising from his chair weakly Eddard Bolton walked towards the figures, accepting his fate—his death. As he moved forward, there was a glow of light from the other side—a lantern judging its shape. This felt odd, a figure moved towards him from the other direction with the lantern. He was aghast to find that it was Joyce, his maid. She looked the same—the closed set eyes, small mouth and slender frame. But something was wrong; she was seeing past him . . . he felt something strange.

He looked back; a sudden spark went through his forehead. The chair . . . How could . . . him! Me! He laughed hard, laughed hard until he broke down crying on the floor. He saw Eddard Bolton on the chair, the jade glass by his side and the book in his hand lay dead.

                                                                       ***

Sir Eddard Bolton, (1580 – 1621) resident of Jamestown, Virginia. Author and Philosopher. He  was an insomniac and was supposed to have split personality disorder which was an unknown entity in those times. Joshua, his alternate personality through whom he wrote about the Powhatan Tribes and their culture. There were suspicions about the death of his wife, Mary Bolton during the winter of 1609. Mary Bolton was rumoured to be murdered by Eddard Bolton for his Cannibalistic theory of Pleasure. Since his wife’s death, he was locked in a room by his nephew, Robert Bolton and attended by Joyce, the maid who brought him food and looked after him. The journal written by him was thought to be his confessions about his crime but every work of Sir Bolton was burned by his nephew who owned the sprawling mansion.

When love bites!

“—it clear when you said, I jus —t don’t—looove—yyyyou—nooooo—moo -- --- ---rr”

 “Damn it, this CD, just did a suicide. I so love this song, and Oh!  The ripped body of Craig David, maybe—I should move to MP3 formats” Reggie chewed the CD angrily.

 “C’mon Reggie, let’s play some Frisbee outside,” Naaz called out for him.

 “Coming!” Reggie replied, “Goddamn, should I destroy it now or in the next session—can’t even flip a coin.”

 “Yoo-hoo, I’m waiting Reggie darling!” Naaz called him out again.

 This girl gets on my nerves sometimes. Christ sakes can’t even wait.

 Reggie was happy today; first time around, Naaz declared their love publicly in front of her parents. She was all his now, he thought.  They played a game of Frisbee, like they did when they were kids. They had some refreshments and Reggie had a great bath outside. He enjoyed that day a lot and more so because Naaz was happy. While they lay on the trimmed, green grass of the garden Reggie saw a handsome bloke coming their way.

 He saw Naaz now; she stood upright and ran towards him, just like those heroines who run dramatically in films which he saw with Naaz’s mother. The frame of Naaz was like the slow-motion videos; every bounce, every muscle of hers going about like the roadside crane—slow and efficient. He pondered on the choice of words and metaphors he was thinking. He high-fived—in his mind.

 But the scene which he saw struck him hard, quite deep, like a knife stab to his heart. He saw Naaz hanging around the neck of that Men’s magazine model-esque man. He was about to vomit and everything was going blur in front of his eyes. He then saw both of them approaching him. “This is my cutie pie, Reggie! Reggie this is Varun, say hi to him!” Naaz told him. Reggie looked at him with puppy eyes and—barked at him— Bhow…bhow….bowbowbow.

 “Such a cute dog you have Naaz, —okay then shall we go inside?” asked Varun

 Reggie was a Golden retriever, which Naaz’s parents had gifted her as her 13th Birthday gift. Now, he was 7 years old and Naaz was 20. Naaz had brought her boyfriend, Varun to her home today as nobody was in the house.

 Reggie could hear the Tadap Tadap ke song in his doggie brain; it was not his favourite though. His heart broke for the first time, all the love and adulation just gone in seconds for that child of a human, he questioned himself. He simply could not take it; that bitch must suffer! He growled like a mad wolf -- Yes wolf because referring as a dog is too main stream, the dog in him thought.

 He gave a long howl, and the next thing was Reggie leaped on Varun and bit his hand. The tears flowing down Naaz’s face gave him sense of revenge. Bitch.  .  . when love bites! He barked.

Follow @Prato_s

Debt to be paid

There was a screeching noise, like grown nails against the rust of the mangled bus. It broke his sopor. Boy! That was some heck of a power nap, he slurped the saliva dangling off his mouth’s edge. He looked at his digital watch, five minutes to twelve it read. He seemed to have slept in the bus on the way home. His heart skipped a beat when he found himself alone in the bus. The silence was eerie—unknown and dark places reminded him of the graveyard. It brought back memories, once while by his uncle’s grave, he saw him weeping besides his coffin. It disturbed him a lot. A memory locked away in a corner, this place seemed to make him dig that.

Why did not the conductor wake me up? Where the heck am I? And why is this bus in such a bad shape and—filled with webs around? , he seemed to be bamboozled by the conditions around.
He let a sigh and got down from the bus, stretched his arms with a yawn. “Need to smoke, where did I keep that friggin cigarette?” he searched his bag like a desperate soul. “Haha—got you lovely” he kissed the cigarette with some passion. That cigarette was the only thing which could suppress the weird feeling inside him.Counting those rolls, he was disappointed to find only two remaining.

He lit the one in his hand and took a puff. Ah! Bliss, he took in a deep long stroke to fill his lungs with the smoke. The nerves were twitching and the surroundings seemed much sinister as he realized after finishing his cigarette. The road was unknown, the bus—well garbage, street lamp flickering. No human in the vicinity, he screamed “Anybody here?”

No answer, his voice resounded in that empty neighborhood. Though the cigarette calmed his nerves, there were some baleful thoughts which came to him. Alone on this deserted—no, bedraggled place as it seemed to him now; How did I come here in the first place?  Questions riddled him as he paced towards the main road. He saw a dog digging a hole in the ground that was not which caught his attention. A cloth roll, seemed flesh inside that cloth to him from a distance. With virtual darkness around, he decided to investigate further. As the dog saw him approaching, he growled at him. “Chill dude, okay fine I won’t disturb you.” He reacted to dog’s growl. But then what he saw was pretty weird. It was a limb tore off somebody’s body; it did not have the stench as dead part would carry. His stomach was rumbling, a thought crossed his mind—that flesh looks juicy should I just try and roast it! He slapped himself hard, but the hunger pang grew to very much. He felt as if he did not have food for years.

The surroundings looked pretty familiar, yet some things he could notice were weird in moonless dark. How come no vehicle or a man on this Goddamn street, he cursed the Gods. He now reached the crossing; the board sign said M.G Road. Oh! Some place to start. Hope so would reach my place in 5 minutes. Familiar structures passed by him while walking, the City Corporation Building...all dark, This city sleeps early and things look pretty much like this. He walked for about ten minutes or so, but could not find way to his apartment--it was just two blocks away. He finally saw a board at a distance, M.G Road.The sign was not visible in the flickering streetlight at first, but it seemed to have squashed his hopes.

Scratching his head he stood there and saw his pot belly. He was tired and hungry. “You are one nasty creature, no food you affect my brain” he slapped his tummy. He sat beside the road, on the pavement. He took a deep breath and said, “Fuck this shit, this is a dream! I am probably dreaming — where’s the ciggy!” he again reached in his bag to get out the carton. “You are my real love, you rolled up piece of tobacco!” he looked at it with love. As he placed the butt in his fingers and kissed the smoke end, he thought of the darkness, his hand shivered while taking a puff. He always feared the dark, the thought of that grave, steel cold eyes of his uncle's and tears flowing of them flashed. His upper lip had drops of sweat accumulating like dew.

Alone on the wide road, he meandered on the day’s events distinctly remembering sleeping on the bus—that was it, he could remember nothing. Even the nicotine did not help much. He let a cough, but again took a stroke. He wiped the sweat off the cuff of his shirt.

“Can I have some smoke buddy?” a deep, croaky voice asked. He turned around to see a man, humongous—eyes shining like a cat, in the flicker of the street lamp he could get the impression this man was a bit strange. A man in sight atlast—a man? Yes, probably I would go with that.
“Umm—Yes—sure.” he reluctantly agreed to part with his precious. The man lit the cigarette and let in a big puff. Both were now two people on a street alone, what a night, D’oh!
“You seemed to be lost my friend” he enquired with a surprising concern in his voice, “Any help?”
“This place looks familiar, but is strangely not the place I lived in.” he shot a reply to the cat eyed man. “What’s your name?”

“They call me Xahaka” the cat eyed replied. “I’m Varun, never seen you here and what’s with the name? Xa—ka—haa, sorry but that’s some difficult name”

Xahaka took in another strong pull and finished the cigarette. “Oh, it’s just my nickname in another world.”

“Another world? You mean, some online game—World of Warcraft, Dungeons and Dragons kind of?” Varun laughed hysterically.

“Do you know who you are?” Xahaka asked with sincerity. “I told you my name, Isn’t that enough—now could you show me my way? You owe me a cigarette, a debt to be paid, think like that.” Varun got irritated. Xahaka got the address from Varun, he nodded, seemed to know how to go about. They both then left that spot, Xahaka leading him on the route which would lead to Varun’s apartment--it was just two blocks away. The road was one disaster, So much digging these days, Varun frowned.

He was not expecting what was in store from him at the end of the corner, the apartment looked more like a ghost house than some dwelling and probably other apartment were also the same. There were vehicles, abandoned. Whole place seemed like barren--like Chernobyl, like all those haunted places he'd seen in shows.

He then heard the same screech, the same noise which woke up from his slumber.

“Where have you led me in?” Varun was red with anger. He could not see Xahaka, he vanished like he'd come around. He did not have an answer, why he was here. I sacrificed my cigarette for this guy! Now Varun was pretty pissed off with all things going on with him. Why do the strange things happen with me all the time?This is a nightmare. The night seemed to get stranger, his stomach still raging with hunger—that flesh could have done some good, he felt sick. Feeling a strong urge to smoke again, he unzipped his bag and stirred up the compartment—just empty carton. He slumped into a dark corner besides the gate--or what remained of it.

The surrounding now did not fazed him, It's only a dream--I would wake up, there was some hope that somebody would wake him. Varun searched his pockets and his bag again, There should be something—a butt or some thing! But only found a ticket. A bus ticket, dated 1^st April, 2012, he smiled dryly at the date, I chose this day of all! While he was in his thoughts he heard an alarm, it was from his watch.
He killed the alarm pressing the button carelessly. That glance at the watch felt uneasy, he checked his watch again. It read 1am, April 2031. Sweat broke off his brow, he was feeling gutted—more sick than he was that entire night. “You don’t know who you are!” a devilish laugh followed after.  Numbness gripped his entire body—Is it just a nightmare.

Xahaka appeared before him. “Who are you?” a shaken Varun asked him. “Going to take you home baby” Xahaka lampooned him, with a mocking laugh. “Who are you—what am I—No—it must not be—no, no,” Varun voice cracked like an adolescent teen, a tear down his right cheek. His uncle’s face flashed before him—weeping on his tombstone, his soul taken away. A sudden realization gripped him.

Xahaka beckoned him, his cat-like eyes glowing red--flares of Hell fire. The ground rumbled and a crater appeared there, gushing with molten lava.

“It's long that you had slipped past my radar, sleeping in that rusted iron case." Xahaka had that devil's grin. A silence followed the conversation until the devil spoke again.

"Let’s go home buddy, another world here they call me Xahaka—you have some debt to be paid.”

I'll be back

16:00, IST [21^th November, 2011]

It was particularly a tense day, with the project going live. Everybody in the team was very much engrossed in the deployment stage. The client was particular about the date, they had announced in the market launch of a new web based service. The mood within the User Interface development team was rather morose, the reason, a bug had been reported whose exact origin was difficult to find. They just had less than a day to fix it.

21:00, IST [20^th November, 2011]

The entire offshore development project team had worked day and night to meet the deadlines of the customer.  Everything was perfectly right and ready for the deployment phase. All was going fine until the client’s testing team found a bug in the User Interface. Tracking down that bug was pretty daunting; they had to call Vineeth, the guy who wrote the module code.

Vineeth was having dinner when his PM called. “Hey man, we need you here urgently. I’ve sent a cab to pick you up, be ready in 10 minutes, Okay?”, his PM ordered. Vineeth was really confused as why his PM called him after working hours, particularly when the project, he was pretty sure his part was perfectly executing. Son of a bitch, he cursed under his breath. After working on a Sunday and then calling back at night, what a life, he thought.

Vineeth came into the office and entered the ODC. Waiting by his cubicle was his PM and Team Lead talking to the onsite guy. He joined the call, but could not understand why the onsite guy was so paranoid about tomorrow.

“—we are a bit tight on schedule and such a problem would cause delay in deployment which we cannot afford, by the way has Vineeth arrived?”, asked the onsite guy. “Yes, here.” , replied Vineeth.

“So Vineeth there seems to be a small problem when the client’s testing team ran some reports. It’s a small glitch in the drop down list. There are some issue with the dropdown list, I would like you to go to the root of the problem and check it out asap ”.  
Goddamit! Freaks, at this point of time? , he thought.

“Okay, just give me an hour. “, replied Vineeth. Cursing his TL, PM, onsite guy and God he started working. Code was running fine, he checked the mails in the archive for Requirement analysis, went through the documentation for interface design provided to look for anything that was missed out.  He worked entire night. To make sure he did not sleep, he took way too much coffee. All alone in the ODC, his PM and TL took off for their homes.

Bastards; left me alone with this bullshit.
The onsite guy then pinged him, "I know you must be pretty pissed off right now, just get me something which I can show to the client. I am sure the problem arose from their end, you know how they screwed up the requirement analysis document the first time around?"
Vineeth just replied, "Okay."

All night he tried to find solution but all in vain.

18:00, IST [22^th November, 2011]

Vineeth was strained a lot. He had worked all night, but outcome was zero! The sleep deprivation thing was taking a toll on him. He still managed to stay awake by sipping more caffeine. His TA was concerned about his condition. “Why don’t you take few hours rest in the dormitory and then come back”, his TA advised. “No I’m fine Suresh; unless I do not get this thing sleep is hard to come by. That PM of ours would get to my nerves”, Vineeth replied. “Okay, okay – your choice.” said Suresh with shrug of his shoulders.

 “Hey how is that bug fix coming? Did you guys get it?”, PM almost barked out those words at the UI team, “Vineeth? I’m sure you must have screwed up pretty bad.”, he added sarcastically. Now with no sleep and lot of stress only thing Vineeth wanted was such appreciation.

 All through the project he was undermined, new technology to learn and less time for implementation left him horribly exposed, and wanting which made him put in more efforts than required. “Early to office and late to leave” was his motto. Things were becoming worse on professional as well as personal front. His relationship with his colleagues was deteriorating as the project came to completion, his work was top class but still something was going bad. He cursed his luck. His health particularly suffered during those three months of project. He suffered from insomnia and that affected his work lately. His doctor had told him about the tests that he ran and concluded insomnia, but Vineeth did not agree that he had insomnia. He claimed to have 5-6 hours of sleep daily, with just few days where he would sleep a little late but would wake up early in the morning.

Wish I could punch him, thought Vineeth. “No still working on it”, replied Vineeth with a cold stare. “We do not have much time, all because of your stupid mistake this day has come”, PM replied curtly. Vineeth did not reply, he just wanted to get out of this. It was almost dinner time when the onsite guy called up Vineeth. “Hey I am really sorry to bother you—the thing is that — that bug right its entire client’s fault. They did not provide the details right which was found in testing phase.” said the onsite guy in soft tone. Now that was such a waste of my energy, Vineeth murmured.

“That’s okay man, so mail me the details what they need now. I would complete that in an hour or so. That won’t take much time right? Any impact on the other things?” asked Vineeth. “I do not know the impact, but surely that new thing would not take time. Just execute every module first, run the reports and mail them back with the tested code.”, assured the onsite guy.

The rest of the deployment went fine with and the project went live within the deadline.That same night the entire team partied hard after that but Vineeth went to have some sleep to his room. He was not able to get some rest though he had exerted himself to extreme levels for past few days and more than that for past few months.

He had not called his Dad for months, thought of calling him but he passed that. Instead he clicked on Twitter app in his phone to kill time before sleep kicked in. He had not tweeted for a while and was surprised how work could kill his Twitter addiction.

                Vineeth G @vinzip tweets:

                Project done, time for some rest now. Bench awaits me baby! #Bench #IT

09:00, IST [21^th November, 2011]

Vineeth woke up at the irritating alarm clock ringing besides his bed. He killed the alarm and like a normal guy checked his phone for any updates, missed calls or SMS.

There was one update, Retweeted by Alter Ego” Project done, time for some rest now. Bench awaits me baby! #Bench  #IT” Staring blankly at the screen he got out of the bed and placed the phone aside.

He then readied himself for office and took a bus. He had planned not to go in the ODC, so he sat in the cafeteria to have a breakfast. He then thought, I’ll just show my face up there and come back to cafeteria. Entering ODC he bumped into his PM, Vineeth just gave a sly smile to him. PM did not look back or returned a jibe at him. He went to his cubicle to find only Suresh talking to somebody on VOIP. When he was done with the call, he asked Vineeth why he chose not to come to the project completion party. Vineeth just dodged that question, “So is there any project in the pipeline?” he asked. “No probably, a long time on bench it seems”, replied Suresh. Vineeth then just sat on his chair and started checking updates on Twitter. Man I’m going to get hooked on this again, he thought looking at the screen.

He checked the profile of the guy who had retweeted his yesterday’s tweet. He checked his following list, only one? That too me?, he was amused. Then he checked that guy’s TL, it was pretty good for a guy with just 10 followers, that too all Twitter bots. He chose to follow him right back.

That night he went to the sports bar to watch a Champions League match alone.

09:00, IST [22^th November, 2011]

He woke up again at that shrill alarm. If that clock was a human, pretty sure I would have killed him, he swore to himself. He was pretty hung over; I might have drunk too much probably. He did not remember a single incident what happened; I must have blacked out—hell who took me back home! , flurry of thoughts came in his mind.

He was getting late to office, so he hurried up. On the way he was thinking about last night, he then realized that he was tweeting the whole time till he was in his senses. He then opened Twitter app on his phone, looked for something which might suggest what exactly happened. Suddenly his eyes were fixated on a mention which he found scrolling down the list which said,

                Alter Ego @vinalt

                Enjoying the game with @vinzip, this man is good!

                1.30AM 22 Nov 11

Vineeth was a bit amused and shocked at the same time. How can a guy on Twitter who I followed yesterday meet me at a random place at such an odd time, he had so many questions in his mind at that moment. He concluded that coincidences happen and he might have bumped into him, he had his own profile picture on his Twitter profile, the Alter Ego guy might have found him. He then sent a DM to AlterEgo.

Vineeth G

Hey man, thanks for the lift back home. I assume you must have dropped me back home from the bar.

Do reply back.

04:00, IST [23^th November, 2011]

Vineeth woke up with a strong urge to drink water. So he went to the kitchen, opened the fridge, took out a bottle of water, and gulped it down. He reached out to his phone as he went to bed again, found a twitter update:  New direct messages

Alter Ego

No, I did not drop you back home. You and I were piss drunk last night. I went away early and you were still there.

Vineeth was confused, he then replied back to him asking Alter Ego guy to send his phone number.

09:00, IST [23^th November, 2011]

Today the alarm did not ring, Vineeth though woke up. He still remembered this morning he had sent a DM to Alter Ego regarding the night in the Bar.

He then checked his phone whether he had any message. No updates, he was too eager for a reply from this guy. He then hopped along to ready himself for another day at office. He had a meeting today with his PM, he never wanted to see that man’s face again, but he had to, appraisals were important. I could kill him if he takes a dig at me again —, he calmed himself down and moved towards the meeting room.

There he is— that fat, greasy bastard, Vineeth again controlled himself and put a fake smile on his face. They greeted each other and PM told Vineeth to have a seat. “We had put hold on the appraisal process due to the on-going project we had at our hands.” PM then added, “You guys did an admirable job though, especially you, Vineeth”. “Thank you for your kind and encouraging words”, Vineeth replied sarcastically. “But I’m afraid ­­– this time around we would not be able to increase you CTC, but—but there is a bonus of ten thousand Rupees”, PM said. “—which would be paid out over a duration of 12 months. Yes—yes, I know that bullshit. Frankly speaking I’ve taken a lot of it. I’m resigning”, Vineeth lashed out angrily. He stormed out of the room to the cafeteria and had a coffee to calm his nerves. That day he felt, he had enough of the sufferings. He then typed out a resignation letter and submitted it to the HR department in haste, then stormed out of the office building to catch a bus home. Everything was impulsive and even Vineeth, himself was shocked when that feeling started sinking into him.

15:00, IST [23^th November, 2011]

Vineeth woke up to the buzz of his vibrating phone. His TA, Suresh was calling him. Vineeth was not in a mood to talk to anybody. He was going to shut off his phone when his eyes turned to a new notification: New direct messages

Alter Ego 
Wretched is his soul who does not speak for himself, think of your desire what you want, numbered are your days, so speak for yourself.

Vineeth was really getting angry at how his day was going. First an inconsiderate boss, now this guy trolling him, sending vague and obscure texts. He replied to Alter Ego that stop joking around and be serious. He then tried to sleep. He wondered always, why that I feel is jaded even when I sleep sound at night. He then closed his eyes. He did not shut off his phone.

20:00, IST [23^th November, 2011]

He then woke up again only to find himself hungry. He checked his phone again, that Alter Ego guy was still on his mind. Oh! New message!

 Alter Ego

You must be thinking I’m trolling you, eh? Just think who would troll a loser like you. But do not worry I would compel you to end your life tonight. Put you out of your misery like that old dog that nobody wants in his home. I’m coming for you. Watch out.

Vineeth laughed his guts out and thought about that guy as a maniac. He did not know him, might be just that something he was holding grudge for that day in the sports bar—must be a Manchester fan—yeah must be, I had tweeted something about that and he was there too, Vineeth thought. For such a banter, this guy took it way seriously it seems.
He then had his dinner, watched some TV and then booked ticket to go back to his home, Mumbai. He had not told his father about his resignation, he never told him anything. After his mother passed away talks between them had lessened and it contributed to their deteriorated relationship.

04.15, IST [24^th November, 2011]

Vineeth woke up crying out in pain. He was shocked to find his T-shirt covered in blood, a knife by his side, he could not comprehend the situation initially. His first reaction was to reach out to his phone and called Suresh, his only good friend. He told about his state and Suresh assured him that he would reach there in few minutes. Vineeth then called the nearby hospital for ambulance stating emergency. The hospital dispatched an ambulance to his place. Suresh reached Vineeth’s place, got the spare key from his landlord, and got to Vineeth's room, to his horror he found him in a pool of blood, unconscious. The ambulance then arrived and with the help of the ambulance guys took him to the hospital.

06.00, IST [24^th November, 2011]

The doctor who operated on Vineeth told Suresh that he needs to fill out the form and answer few questions by the police as it might be suicide case. Suresh was shocked to hear suicide from the doctor, Vineeth would never do that, he thought. The inspector called out Suresh from the room where Vineeth was kept under observation. Vineeth wound was bandaged and looked in better shape than the last time he saw. Vineeth was drugged to sleep by the doctor. Inspector asked Suresh about Vineeth and noted down all the information regarding him. Suresh told him everything he knew about Vineeth, though he was a good friend Suresh did not know all of the things. “Can you take me to his room? Just take me to his place and you can go your way afterwards”, inspector requested. “Yes, sure”, Suresh replied in affirmation. 

They both went to Vineeth’s room along with a party of few constables. The inspector assessed the room and told the constables to take the knife and Vineeth’s mobile phone as evidences. After searching extensively and cleaning the room  they left for the police station.

12.00, IST [24^th November, 2011]

The Inspector racked his brains on why this Vineeth guy attempted a suicide. The fingerprints on the knife showed Vineeth’s fingerprints, the case was crystal clear but why end one’s life, which was the question. He then turned on Vineeth’s phone to find any leads. As he turned on the phone there was a notification: New direct messages

Alter Ego

I’m coming for you friend—I’m coming. Be prepared.

He was shocked to read the earlier DM’s and this added to the mystery surrounding to this case. Suddenly his phone rang, it was the doctor. The doctor told him that Vineeth was awake.  Inspector rushed towards the hospital, Now only Vineeth can answer my questions, he was certain that Vineeth had answers.

Reaching the room where Vineeth was kept, the Inspector found him having some fruits. Inspector sat beside Vineeth’s bed. He inquired about his condition and smiled warmly at him.

“I do not like to beat around the bush, so let me come directly to the point—who is the Alter Ego guy you conversed with on Twitter?” Inspector asked. Vineeth became grave suddenly and told him everything what happened in past few days. “You mean to say you did not attempt suicide, that this guy tried to kill you for no apparent reason?” Inspector grilled Vineeth further. “Yes I am sure of that”, Vineeth replied with a firm conviction. Inspector told Vineeth to have some rest.

Inspector asked the doctor to get Vineeth’s family contact numbers and tell them about this. He then went back to police station with more questions than answers.

4.04, IST [25^th November, 2011]

“Sir, this is Dr. Rustom—yes, the one who is operating Vineeth—could you come here at the hospital urgently? We have something which we stumbled upon”, the doctor told Inspector with a fumbling voice. “Okay, I would be there in few minutes”, the Inspector replied and quickly changed into his uniform.

“Yes doctor, tell me what happened!” Inspector asked curiously. Dr. Rustom then explained everything what he observed about Vineeth’s behaviour for past 1 hour. Dr. Rustom said, “He has not slept since he woke up from effect of anesthesia. He seems to switch between two people as if he has split personality disorder.”. “Are you kidding me? He’s perfectly normal now”, Inspector said looking at Vineeth through the door.

“No I tell you, few minutes back he was blabbering about killing his own self, Vineeth, and that how did he survive the knife stabs. Then he seemed to have calmed down and when he again closed his eyes he was talking the same thing. Ask the nurse who was on duty if you do not believe it. He still is exhibiting this behavior. Patients like Vineeth look normal, but there seems to be something which might have triggered the suppressed personality in him which took hold of him. I’ve tried to talk to his earlier doctor and got his medical history. It says he was an Insomniac, which might explain the switches and sleep deprivation. Also you were telling me he had quite grueling few months on his project? That also might be the case. Classic case of mind and body differences. ”, the doctor explained.

The Inspector was dumb founded at this discovery; he had heard about Split personality disorders but never encountered somebody. He still was not sure about this and thought about those Twitter messages.

Then out of the blue something struck him like a lightning. He then removed Vineeth’s phone from the box which was kept in the back of the police car. He remembered some days back his niece had told him about the Twitter app and coaxed him to join Twitter by installing that on his smartphone. She had explained about the app settings which also included “Manage accounts” through which you could switch between two or more Twitter handles. He turned on Vineeth’s phone, went to the Twitter app settings where to his surprise he found the “Alter Ego” handle which sent DM’s to Vineeth’s handle.

Suddenly things were falling into place and he was starting to believe Dr. Rustom’s observation about Vineeth. He then called Vineeth’s dad and asked him to come to Noida. Inspector then asked doctor about Vineeth’s condition. He then told the Inspector that if not treated this might lead to further incidents like this and with traumas like Job or family matters, they would compound the situation.

17.00, IST [25^th November, 2011]

Vineeth’s dad flew to Noida and visited the hospital directly. Vineeth was not pleased particularly to see his father. Both were silent until the doctor came in and briefed Vineeth’s dad about his condition. Vineeth himself was shocked to hear it. He then asked for the proofs, the Inspector came in meantime. He showed Vineeth his phone and told him about the “Alter Ego” that he was the one who send himself messages and tried to kill himself.  Vineeth could now relate to all the incidents— the night at sports bar where he thought he blacked out but in truth he never really remember what happened when he switched to Alter Ego, the DM's which he could not really understand, it was his other side which never forgave him. It was difficult for Vineeth to digest that but he was convinced by the doctor that such things happen when you have a split personality disorder. He explained how he switched personalities and turned into a horrid, severely disturbed alternate person who hated Vineeth for these reason.
Dr. Rustom asked Vineeth’s father in private about Vineeth’s childhood and adolescent years to find an oppressed desire or thing which might have contributed to his condition, that is when Vineeth’s
dad revealed that he attempted suicide in 12^th standard when he was refused to make Fine Arts as a career instead was forced to do Engineering.
“From that day onwards he started hating me, he was good at studies and also at arts but I never wanted that career for him. Finally he accepted what he was into—but I could never in my wildest dreams think about this happening to him. Oh! What have I done!” The doctor understood the main reason for such behavior, then he questioned his project teammates regarding his behavior and that further cemented the reasons for Vineeth’s disorder.

17.00, IST [25^th November, 2012]

“So Mr.Vineeth, do you now feel better after therapy?” the psychiatrist asked. “Yes, I do. I have not got any DM so far to my Twitter handle so—yes that would be good”,  Vineeth replied and they shared a good laugh.

Life was back to normal again for Vineeth after a year. He took up a job at local newspaper as an illustrator and was making good progress with his new found life and career. His relationship with his Dad also was better.

9.00, IST [26^th November, 2012]

The alarm rang and this irritated Vineeth too much. He woke up and checked the time, had a bath and sat for breakfast. He unlocked his phone with cup of tea in his other hand. There was a new notification: New direct messages

He dropped his cup on the floor and trembled with fear.

Alter Ego

I’m coming for you friend—I’m coming. Be prepared.