“What the fuck?” I sputter.

My head spins. What just happened?

Someone grabs my arm as if to steady me, and I whirl around, confused, until I see them.

A small, round, serious face with skin of warm ochre, a slightly hooked nose, full arched brows. Dotted grains along the forehead. A soft jaw.

And wide, deep brown eyes that stare at me incredulously.

They look exactly like me. How the fuck is this possible?

“Who the hell are you?” I gasp. I try to stagger backwards, but my legs give and I tumble to the floor.

They lurch forward and grab my upper arms, hauling me to my feet.

Face-to face, we stare at each other for a second. And as we’re standing next to each other, I notice that we’re the exact same height.

I have no idea what this means or what to think of any of this. I’m terrified. And so, so confused. My brain whirls as I try to make sense of everything that just happened.

My eyes dart from the girl’s face to behind her, and I take in my surroundings.

We’re in a small office room. Glazed wood panels line the walls, and expensive-looking silver screens the size of iPads are placed at intervals along their lengths, reminding me of the shared computer rooms we used to have in school libraries when I was young. Long marble desks are laid against three of the walls. Scattered papers with pencilled drawings, pens and well-used notebooks lie atop of them. A square onyx-coloured metal box with several circular outlets for plugs rests against the fourth wall.

Despite the chaos of the room and the numerous metal devices indicating that it is communally used, there’s only one rolling chair in here. Again, my brain whirls as it tries to process all this information, all while I can only stare hopelessly around in search of answers.

“Are you okay?” the girl asks hesitantly, and my eyes snap back to meet her gaze. At least, I presume she’s female, since she looks exactly like me. She’s still gripping my arm, as though she thinks I’ll fall over again. I shake her off and try to look serious instead of scared.

“What the hell just happened?” I demand. She opens her mouth then closes it, as if she doesn’t know what to say.

The fear pumping through my blood turns to adrenaline, then frustration.

“One minute, I was outside and I was walking home, then there was a weird flash of light and – and now I’m here, and I don’t know where the hell this place is – “ I begin angrily, but the girl, who seems to finally have gotten her bearings, cuts me off.

“I get that you must be really scared right now,” she says in a tone that one would use when talking to an unruly child, “but I promise, I’ll explain everything.”

She gestures to the single rolling chair. “Why don’t you sit?”

I gingerly sit down, gripping the edges of the seat to steady myself. This is starting to feel real, like I really am sitting in this room with another person who looks just like me even though a second ago I was outside in my neighbourhood. I remember it so vividly; the midnight colours of the sky, the bright orange of the streetlights, the smell of asphalt and city fumes, the faint revs of car engines in the distance – it was so real and I was there, I know that I was, so how can I suddenly be here?

The girl stands a few feet away, as though she knows that I need space to process all of this. She wears a red hoodie and track pants, which initially strikes me as odd because it’s summer and hot outside, but then I remember that we aren’t outside anymore.

She stands with her back slightly arched, as though her spine is used to being hunched over a desk. Her eyes are wide and she bites her lip nervously, appearing to chew her words carefully before speaking.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Then, she smiles reassuringly at me. Gives an awkward half-wave.

“So, um, hi. I’m Farah,” she says in my voice. Same tenor, same tremble that I get when I’m nervous.

“I’m Aniya,” I manage to choke out. My grip on the chair has not lessened.

“Nice to meet you. So, um, the reason why you’re here is because, well, I brought you here. Not you, specifically, but just any one of my doppelgangers in any universe. I tried to find someone who was as genetically similar to me as possible, within a .001% margin,” she continues, but my brain short-circuits after she says in any universe.

“What do you mean, ‘in any universe’? And how are we doppelgangers?” I interrupt, cutting her off.

Farah looks down, not meeting my gaze. She fidgets with her hands – another nervous habit I share with her. It frustrates me that she’s beating around the bus so much with her responses.

“Just spit it out,” I say, exasperated.

She finally looks up at me.

“There’s an infinite number of parallel universes, and in some of them, there’s doppelgangers of us. All of us are genetically identical, we have the same DNA and parents and everything, but we have different lives.”

I take a minute to process everything she just said.

So, there’s an infinite number of parallel universes. I’ve never been much into sci-fi – but I’ve heard about that theory before. Like Schrodinger’s cat.

And instead of cats, there’s a whole bunch of different versions of me in those universes. Well, versions of me and Farah. Like the same person, just in different fonts.

“Okay,” I say slowly, “I get that. So, we’re like clones or twins or something?”

Farah shakes her head. “No. Well, sort of, but not really. Clones are copies based on an original, but none of us are the original, really. We’re all real in our own universes, and each of our universes is equal. And we’re definitely not twins. For starters, I’ve asked my parents multiple times if I had a secret twin they were hiding from me, and the answer was always no,” she says with a laugh. ‘

But I don’t laugh with her. Instead, a dull ache in my chest resonates in my chest as I remember that I too had asked my parents that same question after watching The Parent Trap for the first time, but that I’ll never be able to ask them anything ever again.

Farah’s smile drops as she notes my discontent. She straightens her shoulders.

“But we are definitely doppelgangers. We look just like one another,” she murmurs, and I nod in agreement.

“So all of our ancestors, family members would have been the same, so that we would end up having the exact same genetic structure. The main differences between us and all the other versions of us out there is our upbringing and environment, I’d say,” she adds.

“That…makes sense.”

By now, I understand the connection between us. That part is simple. There’s a million other questions I have for Farah, but the most pressing one I want to ask gets caught in my throat. I try to formulate a way to word it so as to not offend her, but my brain blanks.

There’s a beat of silence, then Farah folds her arms across her chest and raises an eyebrow at me. “So, what’s your universe like? And your life?”

My throat goes dry. Where do I start?

“Well, universe-wise, I don’t much about all the other planets other than Earth, which is a hot mess,” I chuckle, “and honestly, so’s my life. My family all died in a car crash five months ago, and I had to drop out of school so I could pay to keep our house.”

The words roll off my tongue before I have a chance to take them back. Farah’s jaw actually drops as she goggles at me, horror plain in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I had no idea. God, I – I’m so sorry for all of this, for dragging you here, this was stupid and selfish – if you want me to send you back to your world, I can do that. I’m so, so sorry.”

Up until now, I’d been slowly coming to terms with everything Farah had told me. The parallel universes, the doppelgangers, everything. It was crazy, but it seemed true. But it didn’t feel like I had any real connection to it, all of these grand, fantastical, larger-than-life concepts….until Farah apologized for bringing me into it and offered me an option to go home and forget that it had ever happened.

But now that I knew, could I go back? To my normal, boring life? Forget that any of this had happened? No. I couldn’t.

“Nah, it’s fine,” I say nonchalantly. It’s partially true – though it would’ve been nice to not reopen the old wound of my family’s demise, it no longer had the same crushing effect on me as it once did. I’d accepted long ago that they were gone, and saying it out loud wouldn’t change anything or make it a more permanent fact.

“It’s not painful to talk about anymore. It’s more like a fact that I have to wake up and accept, every day.” I lean back in the chair. “I’m guessing your family’s still around?”

Farah looks grateful for the subject change. “Yeah. My parents and Stephen, they’re still here. They’re fine.”

I wait for her to add more, but she doesn’t. Instead, she fidgets with her hands again, and I suddenly remember the burning question I still have to ask her.

“So, um….I hope this isn’t rude, but since you did summon me here without warning, I do have to ask……why? Like, why did you want to bring one of your doppelgangers here? Just to hang out?”

I feel like I might’ve overstepped there. It’s odd – on one hand, I feel like Farah and I are so similar, from our features to our habits, but on the other, we’re still virtual strangers. I have to remind myself that we only met fifteen minutes ago.

I expect Farah to get nervous again and fidget, or look away or something. But to my surprise, she doesn’t.

Her gaze locks with mine.

“Well, I’m glad you asked. I need your help. Specifically, yours.”