A Better Reality

He didn’t know what had happened. One second, he was floating peacefully in dreamland, and the next, the sensation of weight and warmth and life returned to him. It was almost like being born, if he could even remember how that felt.

His eyes slivered open, letting him see the room. It was boring, with beige walls and a tan carpet. The furniture was similarly bland, a nice, muted sepia that—admittedly—tied in nicely with everything else.

The interesting part of the room, however, was the people present. Everywhere he looked, there was another you. Some were younger—he recognized snot-nosed him from second grade—and some were older, as if they were a glimpse into his future.

They acted like him, as well, and as he wandered through their midst, they sounded like him.

“Hey, look, guys! We got a new arrival!” He turned toward the one who’d spoken up. He was wearing an impressive three-piece suit, with a thick golden-chained pocket watch in his hand. “About time.”

“Where are we?” the man asked.

“Don’t know, but the smarter ones here figured out we’re in some kinda fold between universes.” The suited man gestured to the others.

“Smarter ones?”

“That would be me,” said a version of him in a lab coat.

“And me.” This one wore some kind of futuristic almost-skintight suit.

“I was the one who first got the readings, though,” piped up a third, wearing a leather coat and with half his face replaced by mechanical pieces.

“This is incredible.” The man turned in place, taking in all the others. Their outfits varied wildly, and each one seemed like they had a story to tell.

“Tell you what.” The suited man placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Go mingle a bit, hear their stories, and then come back around front and tell us yours.”

The man couldn’t wait. He joined the crowd, striking up a conversation with himself. It was odd at first, hearing his voice in response to his own questions—almost like he was talking to himself in the mirror—but he soon enough adjusted.

He went around with pride, regaling others with how he was the best worker in his office, and about how he’d made the most sales for the quarter. He spoke about the nice—if cramped—apartment he owned in the city and the bevy of fun plants he had cultivated over the years. He was oblivious to it, but every group of himself that he walked away from, all let their kind smiles drop to concerned expressions as they murmured behind his back.

After his rounds, the man stood at the front of the room. However, before he could speak up, the suited man came over and stopped him.

“Actually, I’m gonna stop you. Turns out, you’ve kind of done the least of us all.”

The man looked around at the crowd, who all gave sheepish nods.

“Sorry, bud. You’re just too … boring.”