The Human Divide(Christopher Long) I had always been impulsive, never giving too much thought to the consequences of my actions, always ignoring the rational part of myself which told me to wait, slow down and think.

One day at the age of five, despite the repeated warnings of my parents not to run in the house, I ran and tripped on one of my toys, hitting my head hard on the living room floor and started to cry. My mum and dad were cooking dinner and had left the double doors open between the kitchen and the living room so they could keep an eye on me. They saw the fall, rushed in and my mum picked me up, cuddled me and rubbed my back until I stopped sobbing. While dad, with a concerned look on his face rushed to get the car. As a precaution we drove to our local hospital. The doctors and nurses checked me over. As part of the examination they took x-rays of my head and discovered a crack at the front of my skull which mystified both the hospital staff and my parents. I was kept in for observation for a few days. However with no side effects from the fall I was discharged and soon the incident along with the strange discovery was forgotten. One night, months later, the figure made its first appearance. The apparition either stood at the foot of my bed or sat in the armchair that was used by my parents when I was unwell. At first it would only stay for short periods but as days and weeks passed, the length of the visitations increased until it stayed the entire night just watching

When I told my parents at first they smiled and said: “That’s nice Oscar.” However the more I talked about my nightly visitor, innocently telling them one day that it looked just like me, the more they became concerned. They checked my room every night for weeks but found nothing. Ultimately they took me to see a succession of doctors and psychologists. These professionals reassured my parents: “There's nothing to worry about Mr and Mrs Fields. It’s very common for children of his age to have an imaginary friend, it's just a phase he will grow out of.” Despite their assurances and my parent’s efforts, the figure remained. At first I was scared but soon became strangely comforted by its presence.

In my adolescence that feeling of comfort turned to frustration: ‘Why had the figure not tried to communicate with me? What did it want? Did it mean to help or hurt me?’ The figure still made no move either way, just stood and watched. I wanted to ask it but knew I couldn't. Crazy people got locked up for talking to themselves. So I decided the best course of action was to just ignore it and get on with my life. I got my answers eventually.

In adulthood I discovered that drinking helped to keep it away, so I drank…a lot. I also slept all the time which is why my manager at Roosters Car Parts & Repair, who was very generous to give me this job in the first place, called me into his office one afternoon: “We are all concerned about you Oscar, are you ok? You have missed five days of work in a row. Would you care to explain yourself?” Oh not this again! I know where this is going, I thought to myself. How could I? How am I supposed to tell him that I got so drunk that I didn’t hear the phone ring, because I was hiding from something that had plagued me my entire life. And so, unable to provide a satisfactory explanation, I was fired. Again. I really thought that job number ten would be my lucky number.

Due to the fact that I had no structure to fill my day, my drinking turned from medicinal to problematic. My eyes, once bright blue, were now dull and dark. I put on weight and my face turned red. I tried to look for another job, but nobody would hire me and so I would spend my days and nights in the local bar. It was here, sitting on a bar stool drowning my sorrows in whiskey, that a man approached me. He introduced himself as Mr Richards, flashing me a white business card. He said he represented an organisation called The Nine who were in the import export business. I was just about to tell him to get lost when out of the blue he offered me a job. Because I was desperate, I accepted without question. It appeared my drinking problem and chequered job history were of no concern to my new employers, whoever they were, and so for the first time in months I went to work.

When I learned who The Nine actually were, a top secret organisation of elite thieves, I wanted to leave because however desperate I was, this job didn’t sit right with me. But they told me: “Nobody forced you to be here, you came here of your own accord. We gave you a job and this is how you repay us. Who else would hire you? You are a drunk.” I was incensed. How dare they speak to me like that?! But I had to admit, they were right. And so, I reluctantly stayed. There was a plus side to this unwanted situation however, I found that I was good at stealing things, really good. I could be in and out of buildings before people even realised their valuables had been stolen. I worked hard on my image, slimming down to fit in tight spaces. In fact, I was so good I soon became one of the top operatives in the organisation. Until one day, when I almost died on a job receiving bad intelligence. We were ambushed by the police. I barely escaped with my life. I had been shot in my side trying to escape. Luckily it was just a flesh wound. I managed to retrieve the bullet by myself later. As I was fleeing I decided maybe a change of career was in order. But how was I going to slip away from the clutches of The Nine?

Three weeks later I was sitting in the restaurant of the Submariner Hotel waiting to meet the man who’d hired me, having chosen this place specifically for the multiple escape routes. Surely they wouldn’t try anything in front of all of these diners and witnesses. While waiting I drummed my fingers on the white linen table cloth in time with the pop music playing through the speakers. A server walked up to my table: “Can I get you another drink sir?” she enquired cheerfully. I read her name tag before replying: “Thank you kindly Tracey!” “Coming right up,” she said as she smiled and walked away. I continued my rhythmic drumming on the table. Closing my eyes, letting the song transport me far away from this place as the last chords fade away, I reopened them. I was shocked and a little embarrassed to find someone sitting opposite me. However it was not who I was expecting: the translucent figure sat and regarded me quietly

“It can’t be,” I said under my breath in disbelief. I was taken aback when, for the first time ever, the figure spoke: “Oh I’m afraid it is Oscar.” His voice sounded surprisingly average, monotone with no recognisable accent. “I thought I got rid of you. What are you doing here?” I asked in irritation. “Tut tut Oscar,” the figure admonished: “Is that any way to speak to an old friend?” “You’re no friend of mine! You’re a nuisance. Now leave, I have business to attend to.” The figure did not move. “Leave!” I said again through gritted teeth. “It's this business I want to talk to you about.” “Oh now you want to talk? You haven’t spoken my entire life. Why now?” I said trying to keep my anger under control. “I simply want to warn you,” it replied calmly. “Warn me? About what? Why didn’t you talk to me before?” “You are the only one that sees me Oscar. If I spoke to you before it would make you look nuts and I don’t want that for you.” “Who are you?” I asked. “I am you.” “What do you mean you’re me?” “You know, yin and yang, day and night, light and dark. You are impulsive and I'm rational. Put simply we are what Germans call doppelgangers.” “But how?!” I exclaimed. “The head injury that you sustained as a child, the crack on your x-ray that the doctors could not explain…Well that schism somehow created me.” I nodded as I began to understand.

“Now please focus, we don't have much time. Your grand plan is just to ask to leave The Nine and you think they will let you go, correct?” “Yeah that's pretty much it,” I said confidently. “What makes you think they will do that? Your years of dedicated service? They won’t, Oscar. They will kill you. No one leaves The Nine alive,” it replies. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been trained.“ ''Oh I’m sure you can, Oscar. However, they won’t kill you with a gun, not in front of all these witnesses. Any of them might go to the police including you for that matter, and reveal their identities. They can't allow that. The Nine will find more creative ways of killing you. Like poisoning your whiskey or setting off a bomb, killing all these innocent people to cover up your murder.” The figure stopped talking as the server returned to the table with my drink and put it down. It shook its head as I made a move to pick it up. “Don’t drink that!” the figure warned. I left it where it was. “Mr. Richards is a reasonable man,” I continued. “Reasonable? You’re calling a group of top secret thieves reasonable? There’s nothing honourable about them, they’re criminals! How naive are you, Oscar?” I ignored him. “How do you know all of this?” I asked. “I know it because you know it. You need to come with me now or risk a premature death.” I wanted to be angry with the figure. But the more it talked the more it made sense. Could I trust it? It never tried to help me until now.

My thoughts were interrupted by the figure saying: “Tick Tock Oscar, make a decision. Make one now!” Just as he said this I heard a diner scream: “HE’S GOT A GUN!” The figure said: “That’s your cue.” Time seemed to slow, I saw one of The Nine with a semi automatic pistol and heard him shouting my name. Several diners got hit and fell to the floor. I turned and ran towards the closest emergency exit, while bullets ricocheted around me. I felt myself being pushed through the door. Just as I landed on the hard tarmac, an explosion behind me reduced the Submariner Hotel to rubble. I was hit with a piercing ringing and pressure through my ears and skull. At least I made it out of there alive, I thought to myself. Painfully I turned my head to get a better view of my saviour and saw the figure standing over me. As I lost consciousness, all the feelings of resentment I felt towards my life long visitor melted away, replaced by gratitude for having a protector.

Weeks later after a prolonged stay in hospital, I am sitting on a park bench reading the latest articles on the devastation of the Submariner. The Nine think they completed the job, that I’m dead. I swear under my breath that could have been me being excavated from the rubble. I look at my watch, I am late for my job interview. As I turn to leave the park I wave at the translucent figure standing at the perimeter. He smiles, waves back and disappears.

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