Self Inflicted

“Everything has to be perfect, alright?” He told the beautiful woman whom – for some reason – was his wife. She was standing in front of the mirror attached to her vanity table, applying make up like a seasoned pro. He was always shocked that she was with him, a forty-something, balding scientist in a lab that seemed like it was going to go down – and hard – because of the recession.
“You always tell me that,” She smiled as she added pleasant rouge to her lips that made her look like some kind of movie star, “He’s your boss, not the President.” She stood from the cushioned stool and walked towards him. She corrected his tie – something he appeared to always need help with. The television in the corner of the bedroom played a news story about the President and he shook his head while flipping the show off with a snapping of his fingers, “I don’t think I’d be quite so nervous if it were the President. Mr. Shore may only be my boss and not some famous political figure, but there’s been a lot of talk lately of him splitting from the company and going to someone else.”
“Which wouldn’t be good because he’s the only one holding it together and blah blah…? Yes, honey. I know. You’ve told me a hundred and one times. I promise, I’ll be a good girl,” She smiled into a kiss and then went to spray her hair quickly and slip on her nicest pair of earrings.
“No, no. There’s been other talk around. Apparently it’s going around that he’s taking some of his best men with him. And I’m on the short list. This has to be perfect so that he really considers me a viable candidate, you know? We need the money.”
She shook her head with a smile as she checked herself out in the mirror – for a woman turning thirty next week, she looked fantastic. “We don’t need it, but I promise,” She crossed her heart and then walked out the room, intent on checking if their son was even close to ready. He, on the other hand, slumped down onto the bed and avoided running a hand through his hair.
Instead he stared at his shiny black shoes for several minutes, listening to the dripping water in the small rock fountain, hearing his beautiful wife laugh and play with their five year old. He had to provide for them. They deserved it. They needed it. He glanced at the clock – they would have to leave soon in order to get there on time.


“Johnson,” His boss greeted in that friendly way that all mustachioed, short, plump bosses seemed to give, “Thank you for clearing your dinner schedule on such short notice.”
“Oh, well anyth-“
“And Mrs. Johnson, Sasha – may I call you Sasha? Jimmy here talks about you all the time. You look lovelier than he’d ever described,” He leaned forward to kiss Sasha on either cheek before turning his attention downwards where a bright and excited face met his eyes. He bent at the knees and messed up the gelled back blonde hair of Jim Junior. He laughed jovially (and in a more than contrived manner), “And this must be your little John, huh? Future scientist like his dad, or pro ball player? He’s got that spark in his eyes I like to see.”
“Well, he’s certainly a talented young boy. Is the missus going to be joining us for dinner?” Sasha asked with an experienced smile set solidly on her lovely pale face.
A strange silence fell over them, and Jim felt the need to run his fingers through his hair nervously, but he avoided it. The boss’ wife had died several years ago, something that he thought he had mentioned to his wife. Something he knew he mentioned to his wife. How could she forget? This was not a good start.
“We brought some pasta!” His son piped up, breaking the silence in a way that only a small child could. Jim let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. His son deserved a trip to get ice cream when this was all over.
“Oh, well I love a good pasta,” the boss laughed, breaking out of the awkwardness that Sasha had created, “Please, come in.”


It was incredible. He was laughing. Oh, it’d been a while since he’d laughed. This had been a hard eleven months because of the recession, because of… Well, other things. Marital problems. Problems Jim Junior was having at school. Life was beginning to turn up, though. Mr. Shore had invited him over to talk about where they were going to go together. What they were going to create together. Together. Co-owners. Jim was smiling brighter than he had all year. “That went well, I think,” He said as he drove, a grin beaming on his face from ear to ear. His wife was smiling pleasantly and his son was long asleep.
“You’ve deserved it for a while, you know. Something bigger, a promotion. I know it’s been a hard few months, and I know that I’ve been…” She looked down at her lap and then reached a hand over to place it on his leg, just above his knee. He took a breath and tried harder to concentrate on the road. “Distant?” He provided, not used to this kind of contact. They were happy, but they hadn’t been intimate for the longest time.
“Well I don’t think that… Alright. Distant. But I’ve still listened. And I’ve still heard and thought. And I still believed you deserved better in your job. You’re the best one there you know,” She was smiling more confidently now, happy that he had not removed her hand. She was Sasha again. “Maybe we should… Celebrate? When we get home. Once we put Jimmy to bed? You can dim the lights, set some candles, while I tuck him in… And then…”
“And then we can be back to how we were?” He asked, looking at her briefly before setting his eyes back on the dark and clear road. Nobody was driving tonight. Then again, it was… Nine? Thinking back on it, he realized that no one had been on the road the way there either. He realized then that she was speaking, smiling, rubbing his leg. “Sasha, do you think it’s strange that no one’s on the road tonight?” He asked, moving her hand back down towards his knee. She removed it completely. “No. People don’t like to drive in the snow.”
“It’s not snowing.”
“The forecast said it might. Didn’t you check it?”
“You really think people would cancel their plans because the weather man says we might have snow today? We haven’t had any snow all year.”
“People don’t want to take the risk,” Sasha said calmingly, bringing her hand back to his knee, “We should stop at the drug store.”
He noticed the change of subject, but decided not to worry too much about it. “Why? I went yesterday and picked up all of the stuff you needed. Besides, if it does snow, don’t you want to be safe at home and off the roads? The first snow’s always the worst for accidents.”
“Well, I didn’t think I’d need this… But if you and I are going to… you know,” She looked into the back seat to check on their son, “Make love? We’ll need something that we most certainly don’t have around the house.”
Cluing in, Jim kept his eye out for the turn into the strip mall that held their much frequented drug store, and pulled into a surprisingly crowded parking lot. Inside the store it was surprisingly busy as well. He pulled the door open and walked inside to a blast of pleasing warm air and a hustle and bustle of noise. He glanced about, looking for the item that they would most certainly need to perform the task at hand. As he looked around, however, he noticed something strange.
“Mrs. Priestley,” He asked, walking up to the elderly woman who was deciding between two different brands of cough syrup, “Weren’t you here yesterday?”
She laughed that little old lady laugh that all of them seemed to share and answered him meekly, “I’m afraid not Jim, are you feeling alright?”
“I’m feeling fine. You’re sure that you weren’t here? I just… I could have sworn that you were picking out cough medicine yesterday. We spoke, didn’t we?”
“Sorry, Jim, I’m afraid you must be mistaken. The last time I was here was… Well, two weeks ago. You were here then. Maybe you’re just confusing it?”
“Yeah, probably. Sorry Mrs. Priestly.”
“That’s alright Jim,” She smiled putting one of the cough syrups back on the shelf before inching towards the register where a pimply youth took her payment and thanked her for coming. Jim watched the whole thing, dumbfounded by this strange turn of events as he looked around the store, recognizing everyone from being there yesterday.
He turned around and exited, jumping back in the car and pulling out. Sasha questioned him about the brand he got, but he shook his head. “Something strange is going on in there Sash,” He used her nickname, something he hadn’t done for a long time, “Everyone there was there yesterday. Doing the exact same thing. I swear.”
“Honey, are you alright?”
“I’m fine. I know what I saw. It was weird. Why is there no traffic!?”
“We went over this, snow was forecast and-“
“It doesn’t make sense. There were fifteen people – at least – in there. Did all of them walk? It’s a bit cold and a bit late for walking and-“
“There’s a health kick going on right now, you know, walking everywhere. It’s better for you and the environment. I would have recommended it for us tonight, but we were all dressed up and there was such a long way to go…”
“Mrs. Priestly could hardly walk through the store. She wasn’t going to be walking home. She lives a mile from here.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Why don’t we see anyone on the roads? Why is there never traffic except for when I go to and from work? Why-“
“Honey, there’s traffic then because so many people are going to work. Not many people drive a lot of different places in a small town like this, there’s just not much to look at. Sweetie, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for everything. You’re just too used to looking for the unobvious.”
“Why do I feel like I’ve done all this before?”
“I don’t know. I certainly don’t remember this argument. Look, your mind is playing tricks on you. Malfunctioning.”
“Not this argument. I don’t mean this. I mean… The dinner with Mr. Shore. The new job. The trip to the drug store to get condoms. I’ve done it before!” Jim swerved, braking before he had the chance to run off the road and pausing, breathing deep, hurried breaths as he let his head fall against the steering wheel.
“Well, honey,” Sasha said calmingly, rubbing his back with a cool hand, “You have done it before. You’ve had dinner with Mr. Shore before. Just, not at his house. You’ve had a new job before. Remember? You got this one, well now it’s your old one, two years ago. Maybe this just seems similar and… Well, you’ve certainly gone to the drug store several times to get… those.”
“Mommy?” Came a voice from the back seat. Jim had forgotten his son was with them, “Why aren’t we moving?”
“We’ll be going soon sweetie,” Sasha smiled encouragingly like a mother would, and then turned back to brush her hand over his small face, “Just go back to sleep.”
“Okay.”
They waited on the side of the road for his breathing to change, and then Sasha turned to her husband, “Let’s talk about this later.”


Sasha came out of Jim Junior’s room silently, shutting the door so quietly that it made no sound to awaken the now asleep child. As she turned about, she jumped, catching her loud gasp before it could awaken her child. Her husband leaned against the mauve walls, his eyes dark and frightening. “What are you doing?” She whispered harshly, moving softly away from their child’s room so that they wouldn’t disturb him.
“You said we could talk when we got home.”
“I honestly thought you’d forget by then.”
“Well, I didn’t. And I know I’m not crazy. Look…”
“Honey, maybe we should just go to bed,” Sasha tried to escape, entering their room and taking off her earrings and necklace, looking at herself in the mirror as she did so with a brand of disdain.
“This is not a time to sleep!”
Sasha stared at her husband in the mirror in a moment of silence, her ears straining to hear if their child had awoken from the noises he was making. She hoped he would have, so that she could escape. Instead, she sighed, no noise came from down the hall. “Unzip me.”
Jim moved forward, touching her back lightly and unzipping her slowly. He had thought that this would be rewarded by sex earlier, now he only wanted to talk. To get these thoughts out of his head. Things were wrong. Why couldn’t she understand that?
“Can you wait? I have to wash up.”
He sat on the bed, leaning back against the pillows that ought to be replaced, but that they wouldn’t because every penny saved was another they could use in desperate times. He heard water running, but no splashing sounds reached his ears. He was thinking too hard. Too deep. He couldn’t hear anything. He had thought about things while she set their son to sleep, and now the thoughts were back in his head, plaguing his mind. Making it difficult to hear.
“Alright, what do you want to talk about?”
He jumped up from the bed just as she came and spoke, sitting down on the same surface. It was as if it were some odd game, or a seesaw. “I was thinking about it, while you were reading JJ his story. So… In the lab, we do tests. On rats, rabbits, guinea pigs, sometimes people even volunteer, right?” She nodded slowly, unsure of exactly how she was supposed to react, “This seems like an experiment. You and me and JJ. We’re the guinea pigs. We’re the subjects. We’re being tested. An experiment. How soon will we notice? It took us years. Three years of being here. But I’ve noticed. Nobody starts doing things until we’re around them. They’re the variables. How we react to them is the experiment. How we notice them. When we notice them. What we do when we notice them… I think…”
Sasha sighed; rubbing her eyes tiredly, “Jim, you sound like a mad man.”
“Sasha, listen. I think that… there are cameras. All around. Watching us. Checking our reactions. Ever since we moved here, things have been kind of off. I didn’t notice, but now I look back and I see. Everything was planned!”
Sasha looked at him as if he had grown another head and then shook her own, looking extremely sad. “I’ll drive you to Doctor Thornrow tomorrow. Make sure you call Mr. Shore in the morning. Tell him you’re not feeling well.”
“Sasha!”
“Jim! You’re not feeling well. You’re acting crazy. You’re delusional! You have to go see the doctor. Now get into bed!”
They stared each other down, a silence falling between them. Seconds passed like minutes and minutes passed like hours. And then Jim broke the stare, moving to the bed and collapsing in it. Sasha snapped her fingers and the television turned on. The news held a weatherman talking about a possible snow day for kids at school tomorrow.
“I bet this news isn’t even real,” Jim commented, turning away from his wife to lie on his side, staring at the alarm clock as if it were out to get them. Sasha just looked at him, and then the news. She snapped it back off and clapped the lights off before trying to sleep herself.
“I know you’re watching,” Jim whispered. It wasn’t to his wife or anyone who might be nearby. It was to the alarm clock.


When Jim woke up in the morning, he found Sasha missing from his bed and the smell of bacon filling the air. Glancing at the clock he swore vehemently and rose from the sheets, scrambling to grab some clothes so that he could rush off to work. He was late. He knew that the alarm clock had something against him. Running down the hall into the kitchen that seemed too small when all three of them were in it (which was very rarely) he paused to grab a slice of bacon from the pan and head to the door.
“I called you in sick,” Sasha said as she flipped the eggs in the pan to make them over-easy, “You have an appointment at ten with Doctor Thornrow.”
“I don’t need to see the Doctor, Sasha. I just need to go in to…” He was about to say work as he collapsed into a spindly kitchen chair, and then he realized that this might be a golden opportunity. He could look more into this, this thing that was happening to him and his family. “You know what Sash, you’re right. I should go and check with him. Just in case.”
“I’m so glad you see it that way honey,” She kissed him on the crown of his head before placing the plate of bacon and eggs before him, “You still have time to eat before your appointment.”
“Sorry sweetie, I’m not hungry.” He dropped the piece of bacon he had grabbed on the table, planted a small kiss on the cheek of his wife and then walked out to his car.


Mr. Shore had to be involved somehow. That was why Jim had broken into his house. Well, not really broken in. He had grabbed the key from underneath the stone turtle in the garden and had unlocked the door. Nothing was broken. So it wasn’t really a breaking and entering. Just an entering. And the filing cabinet hadn’t been broken into either. It had been skillfully dismantled by a fantastic engineer who would put it back together once he had taken a look around.
There were several things in the filing cabinet that Jim had not expected. There were little knick-knacks from several different places all over the world. There were thousands of pictures of his boss with a woman who was lovely for her age, and a son, about the age of Jim’s own. He didn’t know that Mr. Shore had a son. Or had had a son, whatever the case actually was.
What Jim found was cause for further surprise was a section of the cabinet labeled ‘Designs’. Everything in there was a blueprint of buildings he was familiar with: The library, this house, the mall, the drug store – “What the hell?”
In the middle of the file Jim had come across something strange. Something… something that proved he was not a total loon. It was a diagram, a design, of his house. Of his family’s house. There was the kitchen that was too small for two and a half adults. The bedrooms with swatches of fabric glued on that matched perfectly to the ones that were inside his house. The house that he and his wife had furnished. Why would… She was in on it. That was why she was so adamant about him seeing a doctor, about telling him that everything would make sense when he wasn’t crazy. She chose the fabrics in their house, or at least he thought she had, and now here they were in some design that was dated years ago.
Jim dropped the papers and moved to his boss’s desk. He ripped a sheet of paper from the top of a pile and grabbed a pen, writing what was going through his mind before he could manage to forget it. There was something strange about the words he was seeing himself write out though. He dropped the pen abruptly and scrambled backwards to grab one of the blueprints which he placed next to his notes.
“This is wrong. This is very wrong.”


“Why did you miss your appointment?” Sasha was standing right inside the door, hands on her hips as she looked at him, tight-lipped.
“Why don’t you take showers?” His face was blank, but his eyes sparked with anger and suspicion. His cheeks reddened as he stared at her.
“What?”
“Why. Don’t. You. Take. Showers.”
“Well… I prefer baths.”
“Why don’t you eat?”
“You’re hardly ever here Jim, how do you know what or when I eat? Even this morning you left before I could even take a-“
“Piss? Crap? Do you do those?”
“Jim!”
“Do you ever have sex with me? Do you ever let me touch you like that?”
“Of course we do! We just haven’t-“
“Lately?”
“Jim, calm down. Go and see Doctor Thor-“
“Shut up!” He raised a hand, letting it swing forward and hit her square in the jaw. A silence fell between them. A silence that held all of the anger and sadness that had filled their distraught marriage throughout the year. She held her cheek in her hands, her eyes looked like they might tear up, but they didn’t. She stood with a drooped jaw and then let her eyes rise to him after her shock began to wear off. “Jim, how can you-“
“Do these look familiar?” He extended a hand, Sasha flinching as he did so, but all he was doing was handing her photos. In the photos were Mr. Shore’s wife and child. But they weren’t really his, not as far as Jim would be concerned.
“Well… That’s Jimmy. And that’s-“
“That’s you. You with gray hair and wrinkles, but still you. And that’s Jimmy with you. And these,” He flipped through the pictures, throwing them angrily around the room. “These are Mr. Shore’s pictures of you and Jimmy and him.”
“That’s not Mr. Shore! That’s y-“
“And this—“ Next he pulled out the designs for their house that he had found at his boss’ place.
“Well, this looks like the designs we did for our house…”
“We didn’t make any designs! The house was made, we brought our furniture from home and-“
“This is your writing Jim.”
“No. It’s not.”
“Jim, look, please…”
“And this. What do you have to say about it? Not much, I’m sure,” He handed her the last diagram he had seen. The one that he had put next to his note, “You won’t have anything to say because you think I’m crazy. You think this is all made up and in my head and you’ll tell me that there’s a logical explanation. You know why? Because you work great. They made you pretty good, didn’t they? You’re programmed to keep me sane and keep me from suspecting that people are watching me. You’re grade A quality, huh?”
She stared at the blueprint of herself and shook her head, eyes glistening before she looked up at her husband, “Jim, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening but I swear that hdbfjh. Kkkrk. RIIIIEJ.”
He pulled the knife from the side of her head, sparks shooting angrily from the hole. He knew it. He wasn’t crazy. This was all a set-up. People were fucking with him.
“Daddy?”
Jim looked menacingly at his son, his eyes softening only slightly before he started walking towards his son, knife ready.
“Daddy?! What’s wrong with mommy?!”
“Nothing.”
“Daddy, what are you doing?”
“Fixing things.”
“I think you’re supposed to use a scrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwww drhisbfer torfn gffff…”


Mr. Shore had done all this. There must be someway to shut it all down. To get revenge.
That was why he was sitting in his car, speeding to work and cursing at all the traffic. It was the middle of the day. Why was there so much traffic? Did nothing start until…
“They wait. They can’t move before I’m there. It all makes sense. Oh my god,” He laughed painfully, slapping his steering wheel out of a perverse form of amusement, “That explains it all doesn’t it. Haha. Figured it out you bastards. Now bring me my real life back!” He slammed down on the gas, hitting the car in front of him – hard. He set the stick shift into reverse and sped backwards, hitting another car before zooming out of traffic and traveling along the grass and the sidewalk. Pedestrians moved. It didn’t help some of them though. Their wires shot out of their skin and their hardware sparked. They were all fake.


“Sir!” He called out, hurrying into his boss’ office despite the secretary’s efforts. She was gone anyways. Circuitry blown.
“Johnson, I thought you were sick?”
“No sir. You’re the one who’s sick. You and whatever twisted freaks came up with all of this.”
“Johnson, are you alright? I think you might need to lie down.”
“No! I’m sick of lying down and taking this shit from you!”
“Johnson, put the knife down.”
“Show me where the main power is.”
“What?”
“Show me!”
Mr. Shore stared at his star employee, eyes glazing over with the thoughts of what was going to happen. With the thoughts of what had happened to the poor man over night. Was he really this crazy, or had it been a recent change?
“Show me!”
The boss nodded, standing swiftly from his chair and walking to the high-security door behind his giant silver desk. He typed in the code and the door flew open. He walked forward nervously, and opened another series of doors with the knife-wielding maniac following behind him. He wouldn’t take a chance with his life. When he opened the last door, he stepped aside and let Jim in before him. He was sick of having his back exposed to a lunatic.
“This is it?”
“Yes.”
The machinery was exquisite. High tech and fanciful. Jim loved it and understood it as if it were a child’s book. He started clacking away, intent on shutting down the power. He was met with several password screens, but they were bypassed with his boss’ help.
“Jim.” A voice came from the machines, and a picture showed up on the screen that was far too gigantic for anyone to take seriously. It was him up there, but not really him. The man was wrinkled, had liver spots, no hair at all.
“Stop what you’re doing,” The screen told him.
“What, why would I?”
“Stop what you’re doing,” It repeated, not hearing what he was saying, “What you’re doing will ruin everything. You’ve already hurt them, haven’t you?”
“Who?”
The screen couldn’t really answer him, but he didn’t remember that now. Everything was just so complicated. After a few moments of consideration, he spoke with conviction, “They aren’t real.”
“I made them for me, and then for you. I couldn’t live without them, you know. It was a mistake. A glorious one. But a mistake nonetheless. If you have hurt them already, then you have also made a mistake. But you can fix it. Just listen to me and-“
“Shut up.” Jim pressed more keys and the screen Jim disappeared. A message appeared on the screen, asking him permission to shut down the system and asking for a password. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Mr. Shore squeaked, a little mouse now that he was being threatened so much.
“How do you not know?”
“I’ve never…”
“Shut up.” Jim stood there, fingers grazing the keys as he thought of what it could be. He finally typed in five keys and pressed enter, hoping it would --