Day 83 - Magic

 MAGIC

Prompt - Magic : Imagine you have a touch of magic, and can make impossible things happen.  What would you do?

It was a minute he'd remember for the rest of his life.  The day it didn't just happen, but was made to happen.

He was looking at himself looking at himself looking at himself.  On one side of the room a fully clothed, in control, David.  On the other a naked, slightly surprised looking, David.  Right on the spot, right where he should be, swiftly realising how (what?) he was, where he was, how he came to be.  Because David had willed it.  Because David had finally unlocked the magic.

It had happened before of course.  Or how else could he have known?  It had happened four times.  Or how else could he have believed?  It had happened without his participation.  Until now.

As a baby he'd suddenly appeared alongside himself, the one version well swaddled, the other naked as a baby.  His mother had screamed, he had cried, he'd both cried.  By the time his father came in there was just the one of him.  And his gibbering parent.  Who'd believe a story like that?  

His mum was never quite the same after that day, or so he was later told, and couldn't cope with the thought that something so real had come from her own disturbed mind.  Until he was nine, and it happened again.  He was in the back garden, felt himself parting, felt himself sharing strength, sensed he was both himself and another who was also himself.  That other self was in the bushes, cowering, bewildered, scared.  It, he, peeked out, and saw his clothed self across the lawn, looking back at him, simultaneously shocked and unsurprised.  Both fainted.  There were no witnesses.

Fast forward another four years, it happens again.  He's in his bedroom, feels that same sensation of being divided in two, and this time he knows what's coming.  Knows that if he opens the door his unclothed self will be there.  Hears his mother coming up the stairs.  She sees the naked doppelganger, asks him what one earth he's doing.

"Sorry, just went to the loo and couldn't be bothered putting stuff on."  And goes into the bedroom, there to evaporate.  When his mum knocks it's all he can do to keep himself conscious.

"How did you get dressed so quick?"  He grins.

One more.  He's eighteen.  He should have been out on the town, but stayed in to do some studying.  Lucky.  By now he's tried a few times to make it happen again, but without any real idea how to set about it.  He believes he can, he doesn't know how.  So when he feels it coming again, after such a long wait, he tries to be observer as much as participant.  Feels for the how beyond the why.  Senses a glimmer of understanding.

It's taken him three years.  Being on his own makes it easier to undertake his self-experimentation without fear of being barged in on.  His behaviour becomes erratic, personal hygiene questionable, social skills redundant.  Obsessive.  And he knows it, no longer cares, he will learn to master his magic.  
And then he does.  Three nights later, energy levels restored, he does it again.  The next week he stands outside and clones himself into his room.  This time he has the control, the patience, the stamina, to make his inside self get dressed, and wait until his original comes to the door to see him.  For the first time he has the sense of his single personality managing two bodies, controlling their movements.  It is easier if one sits down, while the other acts, and it doesn't matter which one.  He develops his abilities slowly, getting better each time.

But the question remains.  What is it for?  It is the perfect tool for creating an alibi.  But he'd only need one of those if he did something wrong.  A crime, a betrayal.  he doesn't feel he has those in him.  Or it could be for entertainment, being able to appear to be in two places at once.  Except that he had no real sense of showmanship, had no other tricks to offer, and knew that once the real trick was discovered, that this was no master of illusion, he would become a freak show.  Not a reality he wanted to face up to.  It was bad enough thinking of himself that way.

He'd learned, and tamed, his magical ability.  He'd accepted he was who he was.  He'd felt like a genius must feel on making their first great discovery.  But he hadn't been able to answer the biggest question.

Why?