Killing Yourself

Jack came to a stop in front of the Aspect Corporation building and shut off his motorcycle’s engine. In the sudden silence, he swore he could hear a faint, meaty squishing and the occasional clack of enamel. The sound of chewing, of the loneliness as it slowly ate away at him from the inside.

But that was why Jack had driven for miles through blackened California countryside to get here, after hearing Aspect’s ad on the radio. It was the first thing he’d heard after a decade of static. A promise that they could help relieve his loneliness.

The other means of relief would be much simpler. Just ride off the top of the highest cliff he could find. Or full speed into the bottom. Either way worked. Still, Jack had already made the long drive through a dead and empty world to get here, so he might as well go inside.

Ashfall was light, and the diffused sun rays made the doors gleam as Jack opened them and entered. As they closed again behind him, Jack pulled off his gas mask and gazed about the lobby. Beautiful and stately, with a polished white-marble floor and intricately gilded wood paneling. A wide lane led to a large, oak reception desk, and off to either side were sitting areas with plush, maroon couches and lacquered oak coffee tables.

No one else was there. Jack wavered by the doors. There was no guarantee this would help—it’s not like they could bring his family back. And the alternative was fast, permanent relief.

He grabbed his mask, intending to put it on and leave, when a woman walked through the doors behind the reception desk.

“Oh my God, a customer!” She jumped and clapped her hands together like an excited little girl. Mid-thirties by appearance, with tawny skin, long hair of a near-black umber, and large brown eyes. “You weren’t about to leave, were you?”

“Well, I—”

“I’m so glad you’re not leaving!” The woman scurried around the desk and over to Jack. She proffered a hand. “I’m Raya.”

“Jack.” He shook her hand. It’d been so long since he’d touched another person. Terrifying and thrilling.

“Such a great name. Are you here for an aspect?”

“I—”

“Of course you are. Why else would you be here? You definitely look like you need a friend. But doesn’t everyone?” Raya put an arm around Jack and led him towards the reception desk.

“I love customers, but we don’t get enough of them. Not that we’re doing poorly; there’re just not many people left. And repeat customers are a sign of a flawed product, and Aspect only makes the best. But no one even comes back to chat with the receptionist that made their experience a wonderful one. I am making your experience a wonderful one, aren’t I?” Raya stopped, turned to Jack, and flashed him the most dazzling of smiles. “Rate my job performance!”

“You—”

“Oh my God, you are the sweetest!” Raya gave Jack a quick hug. “You’re my favorite customer, ever.” Then, as an aside, “I do tell all the customers that.” And then, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper, “but I don’t tell all the customers that I tell all the customers that they’re my favorite, so you’re still special.”

At the reception desk, Raya let go of Jack—to both his relief and disappointment—and scampered around to the other side. “While I’d love to just chat with you all eternity long, I’m guessing you probably want to learn more about our product and process.”

“That—” Jack stopped, but Raya just waited expectantly. “Um, yes, that would be helpful.”

Raya pressed a button on the desk and leaned toward a microphone. “We need a nerd out here.” She let go of the button and smiled at Jack. “So, while we wait, tell me all about yourself. And start from the beginning.”

“I—”

“Oh, I don’t mean to be rude or pry. Here, I’ll start by telling you all about me. See, my life began—”

A side door opened and an identical looking woman entered. Or she would’ve been identical, if the newcomer’s serious expression could reconcile with Raya’s beaming joy. “Please forgive Raya. She lives for interaction and gets far too little of it. My name is Doctor Raya Mizrahi. Welcome to Aspect Corporation.”

“Jack Henderson.”

“Please, come with me.”

“It was nice meeting you, Jack!” Raya the receptionist called after them. “Don’t forget me!”

Dr. Mizrahi led Jack to a smaller room with an oak desk and two chairs.

The radio ad had mentioned a Doctor Mizrahi. Jack said, “You’re the head of Aspect Corporation.”

“I am Aspect Corporation.” Dr. Mizrahi gestured for him to sit in front of the desk, then settled herself behind it. “That isn’t hubris. You know what it is we make here. Aspect Corporation is staffed and run entirely by me.”

“How much does an aspect cost?”

“We have a sliding-fee scale. You pay what you can and nothing more.”

“I grow my own food and purify water. Sometimes I have surplus. There’s not much else I have.”

“What all do you grow?”

Jack told her the entire list. Described a few in more detail, when prompted.

Dr. Mizrahi typed something on the desk computer. After a moment, she said, “We’re self-sustaining here. But much was mislaid when humanity fled to the stars. The peaches you describe are a strain whose genome was lost and would be of value to our off-world benefactors. We will accept samples as payment.”

“These benefactors will fly down here to Earth to pick up the samples?”

“Goodness, no.” Dr. Mizrahi laughed. “We’ll sequence the DNA and transmit it to them. In return, they’ll strap goods to an unmanned rocket and point it in our direction.”

The fantasy of fleeing the hellhole cradle of humanity for a community in the stars was snuffed before fully igniting. Abandoning hope had become, if not easy, at least familiar. So, Jack moved on. “Okay, how does this work?”

“It’s a very simple, entirely non-invasive brain scan that takes approximately one hour. The creation of the aspect takes significantly longer, although rarely more than three days.”

“Do I tell you what kind of companion I’m looking for? Exactly how extensive are the options, given you pull an aspect from my own mind?”

“You’re free to tell me what it is you want, but Aspect always provides exactly what you need. As for the extent of possibilities, human beings are highly complex creatures. We find that most individuals have a highly multifaceted psyche, often running the full spectrum of gender and encompassing many dispositions. For myself, there’s a part of me that loves to interact with people—mainly loves to talk, if I’m being honest. You’ve met her.”

Jack nodded in response.

“My depthless fascination with science and engineering keep this place running, but I also enjoy the feel of soil and the slow nurturing of plants. It’s those aspects that keep us fed. It still takes a village, but with so few left on Earth, more are needing to find that village within themselves.”

Allison would’ve loved them. His sister had been a few years older than Jack and carried her trauma mostly in silence. But she’d always loved plants; it should’ve been her with the greenhouse, not him. Jack choked the thought off before it spiraled further.

Dr. Mizrahi continued, “Also, you must understand that once created, an aspect will begin to have sensory input separate from yours. This means that no matter what aspect of you they are created from, they will grow and change over time, tempering and altering their most common, outward facet—what many call ‘personality’—just like the rest of us.”

“Okay.” Jack thought about backing out, about telling Dr. Mizrahi, No, sorry, never mind. But he knew where that path led. “When can I come in for the scan?”

“You’re here now.” Dr. Mizrahi’s smile was warm and friendly, though still shy a few lumens from the receptionist’s beam. “No need to make you come back later.”

The doctor led Jack to another room filled almost entirely by a large machine that looked distantly related to an MRI. There, Dr. Mizrahi left him in the hands of the technician Rafi. Rafi was easy to converse with and more than happy to explain the science behind the process. Most of it went over Jack’s head, but it made the hour pass fast.

Afterwards, he was given a card with Aspect Corporation’s radio frequency, a personal decryption key, and instructions to await their call.

* * *

Two days passed, during which time an aspect of Dr. Mizrahi had arrived to collect the peaches. On the morning of the third day, Jack was in his greenhouse harvesting fruit, feeling hollow and broken and dying slowly from loneliness and self-loathing. An average day.

The radio crackled and Jack heard his call sign. He acknowledged, then switched to Aspect’s frequency and input the decryption code.

“Jack Henderson, come in, over.” It sounded like Rafi.

“Jack here. Go ahead, over.”

“Please stand by, over.”

A brief pause.

“Jack,” said Dr. Mizrahi’s voice. “Something has gone terribly wrong. You did not divulge your active suicidal ideations. The dominance of this aspect corrupted the companion creation process. Do you understand what I am telling you? Over.”

Had he been instructed to divulge such information? He couldn’t remember, and at this point it hardly mattered. “Copy. My aspect killed himself.” It almost felt funny, in a laughing-as-the-gallows-trap-door-opens kind of way. “Over,” he added belatedly.

“Negative. You are not homicidal, are you? You are suicidal, which means you want to kill yourself. That means there is only one specific person you wish to kill—”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“—Which means the single, driving force of your aspect is the desire to kill you. He got loose and you must protect yourself. Understand, though, that this is on you; Aspect Corporation is not at fault. We have a history of always providing the client exactly what they need. Our business is concluded. Do not return to Aspect Corporation premises. You are not welcome. Out.”

It felt surreal. Utterly insane. And yet simultaneously it felt right. This was how it was going to end for him. Always had been. Always would be, until that end arrived.

Jack sat down on his bed and waited to be killed by himself.

* * *

By evening, he had still not arrived.

Jack had waited patiently, a feeling he’d not felt in a long time settling over him. Peace. A lifting of all his burdens. He would no longer be alone, no longer in pain, no longer anything at all. It felt wonderful.

At least, it had for the first few hours. Then, Jack started thinking, which was never a good thing.

When he’d built his own, permanent home, Jack had made it a greenhouse. He planted seeds from Allison’s collection that had survived the fire she hadn’t. Allison would’ve wanted that. Would want him to keep on living.

How exactly was his aspect going to kill him? How to kill someone else wasn’t something he’d ever pondered. A gun seemed the easiest way, which was the inherent problem with guns. But Jack’s family had never owned any. Although Jack had scavenged many things while clearing a large swath around his home as defensible space against wildfires, he’d found no guns.

Unfortunately, the other ways of being murdered—strangulation, bludgeoning, stabbing—seemed far less appealing.

Thus, as the perpetual haze darkened further with the setting of the sun, Jack decided that, all things considered, he did not, in fact, want to be murdered. He thought he probably still wanted to die, but getting murdered seemed a rather unpleasant way to go about it.

Jack spent his life at home. This was the first place his aspect would come looking for him. He grabbed his backpack and filled it quickly—a knife, food, water, first-aid kit, portable radio, and extra filters.

Pack in hand, Jack pulled on his gas mask but stopped at the front door. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but he didn’t like the idea of abandoning his garden. For most of his plants, he had memories of Allison finding the seeds, showing them to him and then carefully packing them away. Now, this was all he had left of her.

Jack took a deep breath, then opened the door.

Standing on the far side of the clearing watching his house was a lone figure. Face obscured by distance and similar gear. Not that it made a difference. Jack would recognize himself anywhere.

“What do you want?” It came out of Jack’s mouth before his brain could tell him what a stupid question it was.

“To kill you.” It was like listening to a recording of his own voice.

“How?”

“Gently, if you’ll let me.”

An overwhelming part of Jack urged him to accept this offer. This was exactly what he’d wanted. To kill himself, without actually having to do it. But a tiny voice in the back of his mind told him that his suicidal ideation might not actually have his best interests in mind.

“Can I think about it?”

There was a moment of hesitation before his aspect finally said, “No.” He started towards Jack.

Jack realized he’d only have a chance to think things through if he got the hell out of there right then. He slammed the front door and ran, but it flew back open, caught him in the back, and sent him sprawling. Jack tried to scramble to his feet but was kicked over onto his back. His aspect thrust down with something jagged.

Jack swept up an arm reflexively. The uneven metal tore into his forearm with an explosion of pain. As the attack’s momentum carried his aspect down, Jack brought his knee up into the man’s groin. He slid himself backwards as the man dropped to his knees, and then kicked out at his face.

His aspect jerked his head back at the last instant, and Jack’s foot hit the bottom of his gas mask, sending it flying.

He had known what would be under the mask, but it was still a surreal, dissociative feeling to see his own face. He could process that later. Before his aspect could recover, Jack scampered to his feet, scooped his backpack from the floor, and bolted out the back door.

Jack ran. Turned down streets and alleyways at random, his pounding footfalls startling a lone gray fox kit, which tried to limp for cover. Its left hindleg was burned and dragged behind it as he ran past.

Despite his head start, he was weighed down by his pack, so his aspect was bound to overtake him.

Weaving down another road, he thought his pursuer sounded close, though it was hard to tell. Jack glanced back but didn’t see his aspect. He ducked down the mouth of the next alley and ran another twenty feet before realizing it was a dead end. He tried doors in a panicked frenzy.

Finally, one opened, revealing a space the size of a closet. Jack stepped inside and shut the door behind him as quietly as he could before engaging the deadbolt. Then all he could do was wait and try to still the thundering of his telltale heart.

After a moment, the tide of adrenaline receded, leaving a feeling of stupid embarrassment exposed in its wake. Maybe he’d already lost his aspect. Maybe he hadn’t been pursued once he’d escaped the house.

Jack pulled water from his pack, drank, then poured some on his arm. His aspect’s improvised weapon hadn’t been sharp enough to penetrate through the limb, but it had left a long gash down the length of his forearm. Jack poured iodine over the wound and wrapped it with gauze—the extent of his first aid supplies, so it would suffice for now.

Jack repacked and had his hand on the deadbolt when he heard a soft rattling. He froze, but now all he could hear was the drumming of his newly antagonized heart. There it was again, a little louder. By the third repetition, Jack recognized it as the sound of doors being shaken. Moving towards him.

“Where are you?” His aspect’s yell echoed through the alley. “Come on out. We both want this.”

Jack had thought that was true. Yet if it was, why had he run off with a pack of survival gear?

The rattling grew louder, and he tried to keep his breathing even and quiet. Then it was there, the knob jiggling for an eternity contained in seconds.

And then his aspect was past. Jack heard the next door down being tried, followed shortly after by one across the way.

Jack waited until the sounds diminished down the alley. Until the noises vanished in the distance altogether. And after that he waited longer still.

When Jack finally, carefully, exited his hiding place, night fully reigned, the drop in temperature bringing with it a hazy mist thick with ash and pollution. The smells of sweat and stale air were welcome signs of the integrity of his mask’s seals.

Nothing moved in the alley. Filtered moonlight silhouetted ash piles—lumpy, misshapen, and long past indicating what objects lay buried beneath. Recessed doorways lurked in inky gloom darker than night. Over it all, a thick layer of silence lay like a coat of varnish.

This was as safe as it was going to get. Yet Jack had nowhere to go. As his surge of adrenaline waned, exhaustion waxed in its place. With it came a shroud of hopelessness, no less bearable for its familiarity.

Jack went back into his small hideaway, shut the door, and bolted it once again. He thought he’d fall asleep the moment he sat down, but his mind had other ideas.

It had been a jarring, unreal experience, seeing his own face on the aspect’s head. Not that his worst enemy had ever had any other face. It was the face that stared back at him in revulsion and loathing whenever he looked in the mirror these last ten years.

He had also seen the familiar pain. The hollow look of a man crushed by life and then dragged screaming into the depths by his own mind.

* * *

After waking up in that cramped, collapsed hallway, Jack pulled the portable radio from his backpack. It was already tuned to the open, post-disaster channel. He held down the push-to-talk and said, “Is anyone out there? Over.”

Only static answered.

Then, a crackle and a woman’s voice said in a loud stage whisper, “Jack?” A pause, then, “Oops, over!”

“Raya? Over.”

A squeal of delight. “You didn’t forget me! But I’m not supposed to be talking to you, sorry. Over.”

“Wait, Raya . . . Can an aspect change? Can a person change? Over.”

Raya paused. Jack pictured her struggling to stay silent. Then she said, “What an interesting question! Hmm . . . I don’t think a person can stop from changing. But when it’s gradual, we just don’t see it happening. Not that it has to be gradual. One of our nerds decided making aspects was less interesting than the science of cleaning. He’s now our super overqualified janitor.

“But I really gotta go; I’m not allowed to talk to you yet. Stay safe, Jack. Keep not forgetting me! Out!”

Static returned, and Jack turned off the radio. He was surprised to find tears running down his cheeks and smacked his hand against his gas mask as he tried to wipe them away.

Jack knew what he had to do. Not all change had to be gradual. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life running from himself, the one person he could never outrun. No, he was going to end this. He was going to kill himself before he had a chance to kill him.

Kill his aspect, rather.

Physically, they’d be evenly matched. At least Jack had his knife, although he fervently wished he had a gun, which would make it much easier. But Jack knew that if he had owned one, he wouldn’t still be around.

As for where to find his aspect, the only hospitable location around was his greenhouse. So Jack headed home.

Closer to his greenhouse, Jack removed his backpack and unsheathed his knife. He crept slowly forward until he could just see down an intersection to the large buffer zone he’d cleared. Nobody within sight.

There was no choice but to sprint for the door, which Jack did, staying as low as possible. He carefully let himself inside.

His aspect was watering the peach trees, his back to the door. In a corner of the room were two metal bowls and a pile of blankets. Curled up on the latter was the gray fox kit. Its left hind leg was straightened and bandaged.

Jack hesitated. Wondered, for the first time, if there was a way other than violence to solve this.

No. I have to end this, now.

Quietly but swiftly, Jack moved in on his aspect.

He was a few feet away when the kit let out a throaty bark. His aspect turned as Jack rushed up and thrust with his knife. In a surreal reversal, the man raised an arm with the exact same motion Jack had the previous day. But this knife was sharp, and it buried itself in his aspect’s forearm.

The man howled in pain and jerked his arm back, taking the knife with it. Pulled it out right as Jack plowed into him. Jack heard it slide off across the floor as he struck his aspect in the face. Again. And again.

Seething with self-loathing, Jack shoved his aspect up against a wall and pushed his uninjured forearm into the man’s throat.

His aspect’s face turned red and he tried to thrash away. To push Jack off. But his attempts started feeble, grew weaker, and then stopped altogether as the man lost consciousness.

All Jack had to do now was keep applying pressure and this would all be over. Simple as that. Was this not, in essence, exactly what he wanted to do? Tears pooled at the bottom of Jack’s mask as he stared into the slack face of his adversary. His greatest enemy and sole companion. Into his own face.

He couldn’t do it.

I don’t want to kill myself. No, that was going too far.

Jack eased off his aspect’s throat and let him slide to the floor. The man’s breathing was wheezy but steady. Jack sealed the door and pulled off his face gear. He sat against an opposite wall, looking across the room at his own unconscious form.

I don’t want to want to kill myself.

A memory sprung unbidden into his head, of Dr. Mizrahi’s voice. “We have a long history of always providing the client exactly what they need.”

Jack knew then that nothing had gone wrong with the creation of his aspect. He couldn’t help but laugh. They’d given him the chance to kill himself without actually killing himself. Except, that’s not quite right. They’d given him the chance to attempt to kill himself, and in doing so realize maybe that wasn’t actually what he wanted.

The fox kit came out of hiding. It glared warily at Jack and gave him a wide berth as it limped over to nuzzle at the unconscious form of his aspect. For ten years, Jack had been slowly dying from loneliness, and now there was another human being lying on his floor. That he’d come within moments of killing.

Jack got to his feet. He’d have to find something to tie up his aspect, at least in the beginning. Allison always hated violence. She’d want him to try another way. He could do that much for her.

For himself, too.

It was the kind of commitment Jack felt needed to be spoken aloud. He sampled words, moving them around inside his mouth with his tongue. Finally, he got a flavor that felt right.

“It’s not going to be easy. It might end horribly and violently. But I’ve got to at least try to live with myself.”