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Bob Sparker approached what he called his other self, as he sat draped across his electric chair like a king. Usually the sight of his charged self in a dream like this would strike fear in him, but strangely he just felt empty and numb.
Bob sat on the stage next to the chair, hugging his knees. He closed his eyes and heard the voice come close next to his face. “You're not being very fun,” the other him accused with a hiss.
Bob felt tears come to his eyes. Trying to blink them away, he said hoarsely, “I'm tired of fighting you. I'm tired of fighting against this. What's the point, anyway?”
He opened his eyes to see his shock self standing, looking down at him. Taking a long finger, it lifted Bob's chin up and grinned. “That's a good question, isn't it? I knew you'd eventually see reason!”
Bob started crying for real now. “If... if I left Top Tier, I'd have nothing.”
His shock self sat beside him and patted him on the shoulder. “You don't have to leave! Stay. Stay with me,” it purred.
Bob looked at himself, the manic look in his other self's eye. Really stared at it for the first time.
There was nothing to lose by this acceptance, he was convinced at last.
He nodded and let his other self lift him back to his feet with a strong hand. “Finally,” the other said with a sigh. Suddenly, an invisible crowd roared and cheered. They were chanting Bob's name.
The other self winked at Bob. “You've made the right choice!” it reassured him.
It grabbed him by the shoulder and the scene changed. The two of them were now standing in Diamond Plaza. “Now,” the other Bob said, “I have a test for you.” It pointed at a figure that came into focus as Bob blinked.
It was Bob himself, fresh out of high school, in that second-hand magician get-up. There he was, performing coin and card tricks for whoever he could grab the attention of.
Bob gazed almost wistfully at his younger self. Those had been hard days, but they had been good, too. Doing street magic allowed him an intimacy that he seldom encountered anymore on his game-show.
He looked over at his high-shock self, who removed something from its pocket and pressed it into Bob's open palms. It was a switchblade. The tip looked very sharp. “I want you to kill him.”
“Why?”
“He's weak!” the other spat. “You don't need him anymore.”
A thought flitted through Bob's mind as he flipped the weapon over in his hands. He had this weapon now – couldn't he turn it on the one who'd given it to him?
He banished the thought as quickly as it came. He'd already pledged allegiance to this powerful self. No turning back now.
He strode to face his younger self with the same swagger he brought with him on the stage. The other self stared at him and stammered, “Who are you?”
Bob looked at his younger self and focused on all of his anger. He hadn't been able to defend himself then, against all of the people who were jealous of him. Who bullied him and hid his things and called him by cruel nicknames.
He didn't need this old self, the one that'd let other people push him around.
He was stronger now.
With one swift movement Bob pushed his younger self to the ground. Still holding the switchblade, he pressed it against the other's throat. “I'm you, but better,” he hissed. “Beg for your life.”
Pure fear flashed across his younger self's eyes. Bob shuddered as delight rose in his chest. “You can't,” the other said, almost too quietly for Bob to hear. “You need me.”
Bob felt the now-reassuring voice of his high-shock self whisper in his ear. “He's lying,” it said. “I am all you will ever need.”
The doubt now excised from his mind, Bob slashed his younger self's throat wide open. Blood gushed from the other's neck as it clawed at its throat in desperation. Bob dropped the knife and for good measure, pushed down on his younger self's chest with the palm of his hand, pouring in as much electricity as he could muster. The body seized from the power of the shocks as blood splattered all over Bob's suit. It did not take long before his younger self stopped moving.
Bob stood up, breathing heavily, his hair on end. His other self stood there. It was clapping. “Oh, wonderful job,” it said with a crude gentleness. “You've passed! With flying colors.”
It gripped him by the shoulders and became silhouetted in light. It seemed then to float into Bob, and filled him with a warmness that felt sharp.
---
Bob didn't remember his dream, but woke up with a big smile on his face.