My wife and daughter left me at home with Iglo and went on a yoga vacation. I didn't go with them because I don't believe I'll ever experience enlightenment. Iglo, our service robot, is a good servant, but he is chatty. As I got older, I became sensitive about it, especially when I am sick; I can't tolerate chatter.
To kill time, I was watching a version of Blade Runner, where I put myself in the place of android Roy Batty. Thanks to the sensofilm cap I wore on my head, I was able to see events from Roy Batty's point of view, as well as experience them. Especially in the scene where I got into a fight with Detective Rick Decard, I liked to smell the blood seeping out of my head into my lungs. I was just about to say the film's charismatic epilogue when the door was knocked.
Iglo looked at the diaphone and said, "Olgun Tunç Onaran is here. Do you want me to open the door?" said.
"I'm the only Olgun Tunç Başaran in Turkey, and I'm here. How could I have come?"I said. Here is the robot nation, which could not even make such simple reasoning, eager to talk when it comes to empty conversation.
"The person who comes looks exactly like you. Maybe your clone,” Iglo said.
Cloning could not have been done without permission from the original copy, so what he said didn't make any sense. I had to get up and look at who was at the door through the video intercom.
I had a lookalike at the door with greasy hair, a dirty beard, and collapsed shoulders. Did someone create my clone without permission? A person would have to be an idiot to do this; what good did the world actually see so that my copy would be made. My lookalike at the door rang the bell again in a hurry. He was leaning against the wall, barely standing. I opened the door because even if you're sick, you have to face things.
For some reason, he preferred the stairs instead of the elevator, came to my apartment door and pressed the bell. From the back of the apartment door, “What is your name?" I asked. When he said, “Olgun Tunç Onaran,” in my voice, my heart rate accelerated. After my eyes, my ears confirmed that I was facing a serious threat. Threat or opportunity? That was the question. I turned to Iglo and asked, " Shall I open the door?"
“There is no explosive object on him,” Iglo said.
I opened the door and let him in.
”Thank you for accepting me," he said with a grateful demeanor.
“Who are you? Why do you look like me?”
“I am Olgun Tunç Onaran, the chemical engineer,” he said, sitting in one of the seats in the hall with a timid attitude.
”He's mine," I said, trying to control my nerves. Why was I the only one surprised? Shouldn't he be surprised to see me? And why did his hair turned white more than mine?
Instead of answering my question, he started swinging like a person with a mental health condition.
”I think the gentleman is a little uncomfortable," said Iglo as he left a cub of tea on the coffee table next to him.
“We are the same person's reflections,” my guest said.
”So you're my clone," I said. How could my memory and personality be copied without my permission? When he didn't react to the comment I made about his identity, I asked, “Why did you want to see me?"
First, he looked at me, then at the ceiling, and said, "Everything is so wrong! My feet have brought me here." Then he became engrossed in thoughts and began to mumble a song from old times.
Leaving a city just like this
A thousand worries, a thousand questions in your mind
A song that never ends, a half-tune on your lip
Take shelter in songs, take shelter in a lifetime
Your eyes are a scream, a wounded cry
Your eyes are a ship that passes far away tonight
Your hands are a seagull, fussy and timid
Your hands are a fluttering white sail in the storm.
Why was he humming Zulfu Livaneli's song from the 20th century as if he was declaring his love to me? Was my voice that bad? He had such a docile image that I didn't feel like being angry with him. Things would have been easier if I hadn't been sick.
The bell of our apartment rang again, and Igloo said that there was a young man who looked like me at the entrance to the apartment. Why were they at my door when there were so many alternatives, such as calls, messages, holo-conferences? And more importantly, who were these people?
I got up and went to the diaphone and asked the young man who really looked like me, “Who are you looking for?"
“I'm sorry to bother You. I should have given you notice in advance, but unfortunately, I have very little time. As you can see from my appearance, I'm a relative, and My Name Is Okan. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to tell you the details in the house,” said the teenager at the door.
I opened the door thinking,” if another person comes after this, I will send him back."
The young man looked like me, but he was more handsome than I was at that age. He was a confident child, and he was thoughtful; he came with a package in his hand. I turned and looked at my previous guest to compare, trying to understand what was going on.
“I never expected this to happen; I liked you,” Okan said as soon as he sat in the corner seat.
But my patience had a limit. A sick man wouldn't be so tortured. People I don't know come and set up in my living room as huge question marks, and they didn't feel the need to make any significant statements.
"May I ask the extent of our kinship?" I asked.
”I am your son who didn't come into the world because of your ambivalence, even though you wanted to have me," Okan said.
“If you're not born, what are you doing here? And my wife Eylem has never had an abortion."
"It's true; I couldn't go beyond being a plan. But you've both given it a lot of thought. It led me to be born in another universe. You're not so different from my father; you could have had a son like me. Parallel universes came into play two years ago. They are working on an individual plan. Critical turning points in people's lives trigger them. Every person's life on earth is not divided into different universes; this applies to some people. I don't know how the system understands whose life is worth dividing into more than one version. Today, for the first time, the parallel-universe transition has been allowed.”
I was listening to Okan with my mouth open. What he told was complete nonsense, but he told them so faithfully that I called Igloo. I guess I had a fever, and I didn't feel capable of evaluating things healthily. “Have you ever heard of a parallel inter-universe pass? " I asked Iglo as he served us the profiteroles brought by Okan.
"Yes, there have been thousands of encounters like yours today. Social media is full of this stuff,” he said.
It was good news that this situation didn't just happen to me.
"Okan, I loved you, my child. I wish we'd brought you to life, but I think it's too late. Let's call it fate... Do you have any idea who the gentleman sitting across me is?”
"Can't he explain his situation?" Okan asked.
"The gene sequence is the same as you. In this case, he may have been the result of one of the critical decisions that you made in your life,” Iglo said.
The first guest, who listened to the conversations with his face between his hands, said, “I am the original Olgun Tunç Onaran. I wish I would not have been.”
“No!"I said. That was too much bullshit.
"Once parallel universes have occurred, it doesn't make sense to ask which one is the original. In this context, you are both genuine. Now that our time is running out, my advice is to put aside the past and the future and live in the moment. You can't stop what you fear will happen to you,” Okan said.
"Does the parallel universe seem absurd to me? It came out of nowhere?" I said.
”We didn't understand the meaning of our existence, anyway," said Okan, and that was the last word he said. Both of my guests disappeared.
I suspected that all this was a dream or illusion, but the profiterole plates in front of me never said so. I picked up my profiterole and started spooning it with an appetite.
Image Source: https://unsplash.com/photos/EP6_VZhzXM8
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