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Publisher: Aidan Finley
Info Biotech nerd. Tweets are my own.
Runtime 1 Hours 49min
Three Christs tells the story of an extraordinary experiment that began in 1959 at Michigan's Ypsilanti State Hospital, where Dr. Alan Stone treated three paranoid schizophrenic patients who each believe they are Jesus Christ. Dr. Stone pioneers a simple, yet revolutionary treatment: instead of submitting the patients to electroshock, forced restraints and tranquilizers, he puts them in a room together to confront their delusions. What transpires is a darkly comic, intensely dramatic story about the nature of identity and the power of empathy
director Jon Avnet
6,3 of 10
Milton Rokeach
Release year 2017
Would love to see it. Love Juliana Marguilles ! The book is incredible
Is like an imaginary hound ? That only he can see #scoobydoo. Is that the death stranding font. Delusions The Three Christs of Ypsilanti: A Narrative Study of Three Lost Men. by Milton Rokeach. Knopf. 336 pp. $5. 95. The book opens with a promising epigraph. “Every man would like to be God, if it were possible; some few find it difficult to admit the impossibility. ” This pleasantry of Bertrand Russell's obviously is used by Dr. Rokeach to refer to the three Ypsilanti madmen each of whom thought he was Christ. It also colors the first page and a half of the exposition in the “Prologue”: as Dr. Rokeach describes what he did to these madmen, it seems that he is recognizing that he too (“every man, ” Russell said) wants to be God. He makes it clear that he had the three delusional Christs brought together in the state hospital without their knowledge or permission, in order to see what would happen when they were confronted with one another. Splendid, says the reader, an act worthy of a godling. The fact that Rokeach the writer gives Rokeach the character a human-sounding justification for thus manipulating these three helpless men is altogether suitable. “My training is in social psychology and personality theory, and it is this background that led me to my meeting with the three Christs. ” Wonderful: that a godling should be represented in a story as wearing the false face of a behavioral scientist is a brilliant narrative stroke. Surely Rokeach the storyteller knows what he is up to and can be held to the highest narrative standards—though a wary eye must be kept on any writer who can say he is led by his background. As the Philosopher said or implied, in metaphor begins intelligence. Then the confrontation of the three Christs occurs, in eleven pages of stunning narrative. The first madman is described. He introduces himself. My name is Joseph Cassel. — Joseph, is there anything else you want to tell us? — Yes. I'm God. What economy! Then the second madman. My name is Clyde Benson. That's my name straight. — Do you have any other names? — Well, I have other names, but that's my vital side and I made God five and Jesus six. — Does that mean you're God? — I made God, yes. I made it seventy years old a year ago. Hell! I passed seventy years old. What about that personless voice that speaks only in italics, is never described, and consistently poses the most intrusive and troubling questions it is possible to ask these men? Yes, indeed, Rokeach the narrator knows which of these four characters thinks he's really God. (One of the things which Dr. Rokeach, a reasonably perceptive man about some things, points out later in the book is that each of the three delusional Christs knows that no one else believes he is Christ and knows that other people believe he is a hospital patient with a human name and history. ) Then the third madman speaks, in one of the liveliest self-introductions since Jacobean drama. “Sir, ” Leon began, “it so happens that my birth certificate says that I am Dr. Domino Dominorum et Rex Rexarum, Simplis Christianus Pueris Mentalis Doktor. [This is all the Latin Leon knows: Lord of Lord, and King of Kings, Simple Christian Boy Psychiatrist. ] It also states on my birth certificate that I am the reincarnation of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, and I also salute, and I want to add this. I do salute the manliness in Jesus Christ also, because the vine is Jesus and the rock is Christ, pertaining to the penis and testicles; and it so happens that I was railroaded into this place because of prejudice and jealousy and duping that started before I was born, and this is the main issue why I am here. I want to be myself. I do not consent to their misuse of the frequency of my life. ” Those last two sentences—Dr. Rokeach may not be able to write good prose, but he can transcribe noble rhetoric when he's taped it. Then the god-from-italics agitates the three Christs by asking them why they think they have been brought together. — Are we all in agreement that there was just one Christ who was resurrected? — “By God Almighty, that is correct, ” Leon answered. “ I'm one—not you, ” said Clyde. “There's something wrong with you. ” “I am the reincarnation of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, ” Leon said. “My birth certificate says so; my habeas corpus says so. ” — Is it possible that there is more than one reincarnation of Jesus Christ? — “There is only one that I know of, ” Leon stated, “and I am the reincarnation of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, and I was baptized as such, sir, and I have my baptismic certificate, sir, and it's also in Dr. Yoder's office if you care to look at it. I believe the others are instrumental gods, the hollowed-out person who became a Jesus Christ through being hollowed out as such. ” “He is a rerise, he is a hick, ” Clyde said. “He is next to me. ” That last is one of the great responses in narrative dialogue. Then comes chapter one of the body of the book, “The Problem of Identity. ” The first sentence is promising. “Let me emphasize at the outset that my main purpose in bringing the three Christs together was scientific. ” Surely Rokeach the narrator is a fine ironist who understands that Rokeach the character recites the litany of scientific purity of motive in order to protect himself from realizing that he is playing god with three unhappy madmen. But no. No. Alas, it is not so. In no time at all it becomes clear that Rokeach the writer is as unaware as Rokeach the character of what is going on. What is wrong with this book is a problem of identity, all right—the identity of the writer. If only the writer had not confused himself with the character, the entire narrative could have continued at an ironic elevation worthy of the opening. _____________ For the action retains the power to delight and surprise. After a year of daily meetings, things are slowing down badly. Rokeach the character conceives and executes the notion of entering into the madmen's delusions by sending two of them a series of letters signed by persons toward whom each of the two has enormous respect. (Clyde is too far gone to be interested in anybody else. ) Joseph views the superintendent of the hospital as a good authority; one set of letters purportedly comes from him to Joseph. The other is from Leon's supposed wife, Madame Yeti Woman, who he at this point thinks is God. Now this is a situation of high comedy, and some of the letters and responses are literarily worthy of the macabre occasion. But clearly Rokeach the narrator does not appreciate how thoroughly Rokeach the character, in the flimsiest of disguises, is playing godling. Instead, the narrator gives to the reader the same justification which the character gives to himself for unironically deceiving the madmen this way: he is said to have done it as an experiment, out of pure scientific interest, and also out of a humane desire possibly to help them as patients. In fact, neither of them is helped, and, though the narrator assures us that this intrusion into their utmost privacy has yielded a genuine contribution to science, he is rather vague about what this contribution is. Cervantes knew all about it: anyone who has read Don Quixote already knows pretty well that trying to undelude a madman by deceitfully assuming the identity of one of the persons in his crazy system yields little enough good to him, though a lot of fun for the deceiver and his audience. In the introductory theoretical chapter, Dr. Rokeach (no longer narrator or character but would-be scientist) outlines his theory, what in his own terminology is called his belief-system. Each person has four classes of beliefs; three of these are varieties of what is commonly called beliefs, but, according to Dr. Rokeach, what one learns through the senses and by direct intuition, which most of mankind calls and always has called knowledge, is really primitive belief. Since I share most men's opinion on the subject and not Dr. Rokeach's, I find this sentence of his quite as amazing as any of those uttered by the three Christs. “ I believe this is a table is the statement of a primitive belief about the physical world which finds complete social support. ” Still, if defining knowledge as socially supported primitive belief is part of his epistemological game, all right, as a reader I am willing to suspend my disbelief in order to see how the system works out in the story. Unfortunately, the system works best as a way for Rokeach as writer and as character to disguise his goddy propensities from himself. As a way for Rokeach the writer to disguise these qualities from the reader, the system works poorly. And as a scientific explanation of the human psyche, it is awful. Dr. Rokeach believes in the religion of Science. The fundamentalist cult of which he is a learned doctor is standard contemporary Behavioral Science, American social psychology branch. Aside from the fact that Dr. Rokeach's belief system is the chief agent in the ruination of this potentially good story, I have two main objections to it. One is that it produces more banalities than any other system now flourishing, along with gleams of surprising insight. (To a non-believer, the Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology is the most unsettling magazine in the world. ) For example, Dr. Rokeach solemnly assures us that “the concern with beliefs involving a sense of identity is of even wider scope, having application to normal people no less than to schizophrenics and to other persons suffering from pathological states. ” He spends pages adducing arguments and authorities to support this platitude. My God! Again, a few pages later, he takes the opening idea of The Divine Comedy (“In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself in a dark wood where the straight way was lost”) and makes a pomposity of it by quoting an “authority, ” another behavioral scientist named Norman Cameron, on the subject. Some time toward middle age, when a person turns thirty, thirty-five, or forty, comes the dawning realization that his life span actually is limited. With this recognition may also come fears that his lifelong hopes, overt or latent, will never be realized. Isn't there anything these men can assume and then go on to something interesting? My other objection to this belief-system is that it is self-deluding and timid. “There is no knowledge. What you think of as knowledge is really an uninspected primitive belief, ” he roars like any radical skeptic. Yet, in the last sentence of the book, he smuggles knowledge, along with humanism, back into the cloisters of Science. This study closes with the hope that at least a small portion of ignorance has here been dispelled, and with the faith that as knowledge gradually advances, the incurable conditions of yesterday and today become the curable conditions of tomorrow. This is said in another tone altogether, in a devout murmur: “ There is no knowledge except for us true believers. ” No, sir. You can't have it both ways. You may have a better belief-system than the three Christs and certainly a lot of people nowadays share it with you, but your belief is not a godlike knowledge permitting godlike interfering in the souls of inferior mortals, any more than theirs is. What a happy day it will be when no one can justify his poking around in other people's souls by saying, to the satisfaction of himself and of the rulers of our society, that he is doing it “in order to make a contribution to knowledge. ” O Thou who speakest only in italics, I would feel better about what Leon justly calls Thine impositions if Thou hadst already made a greater contribution to Thine own knowledge. Doctor, know Thyself. “I do not consent to their misuse of the frequency of my life. ”.
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The three christs of ypsilanti watch online free. Thanks so much for stopping by Mel! I was hoping you found it interesting and I'm sorry you didn't. There were parts of it that were indeed dry but the analyses sections were excellent and I got all excited about it! LOL. Peter Dinklage is obviously the one and true Christ.
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The Three Christs of Ypsilanti watch online. I wonder, if their beards were shaved would they still believe they are God. 
The problem with emotions and emotional thinking is that people can manipulate you if you're emotional. Religions do it and Hitler did it. Many people became moved after listening to Hitler. When you control a persons feelings you control their mind. Sounds like a great movie, love Walton Goggins he's a great actor.
When will we be able to view it.
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This looks absolutely ridiculous. Why even bother putting real people in the movie. The three christ's of ypsilanti watch online season. The three christ's of ypsilanti watch online series. Everyone: Umm. no SEGA: Looks fantastic. The Three Christs of Ypsilanti The Three Christs of Ypsilanti is a book-length psychiatric case study by Milton Rokeach, concerning his experiment on a group of three paranoid schizophrenics at Ypsilanti State Hospital in Ypsilanti, Michigan. The book details the interactions of the three patients—Clyde Benson, Joseph Cassel, Leon Gabor—each of whom believed himself to be Jesus Christ. Rokeach got the idea from an article in Harper's Magazine describing two women who both believed they were the Virgin Mary. After being assigned as psychiatric hospital roommates, one of the women recovered from her delusion as a result of conversations with the roommate and was discharged. Rokeach was influenced by Cesare Beccaria's essay On Crimes and Punishments, concerning the subject of Simon Morin, claimed to have been cured in a similar way; as a similar study of delusional belief systems, Rokeach brought together three men who each claimed to be Jesus Christ and confronted them with one another's conflicting claims, while encouraging them to interact as a support group. Rokeach attempted to manipulate other aspects of their delusions by inventing messages from imaginary characters. He did not, as he had hoped, provoke any lessening of the patients' delusions, but did document a number of changes in their beliefs. While the three patients quarreled over, holier and reached the point of physical altercation, they each explained away the other two as being patients with a mental disability in a hospital, or dead and being operated by machines; the graduate students who worked with Rokeach on the project have been critical of the morality of the project because of the amount of dishonesty and manipulation by Rokeach and the amount of distress experienced by the patients. Rokeach added a comment in the final revision of the book that, while the experiment did not cure any of the three Christs, "It did cure me of my godlike delusion that I could manipulate them out of their beliefs. "The book served as inspiration for the song'Ypsilanti' on the Detroit band Protomartyr's debut album No Passion All Technique. The Three Christs of Ypsilanti was first published in 1964. Rokeach came to think that his research had been manipulative and unethical, he offered an apology in the afterword of the 1984 edition of the book: "I had no right in the name of science, to play God and interfere round the clock with their daily lives. " The book was re-published by New York Review Books in 2011. A dark comedy film based on the book, Three Christs, starring Peter Dinklage, Richard Gere, Walton Goggins and Bradley Whitford, directed by Jon Avnet, was released on September 12, 2017. Folie à deux Religion and schizophrenia Tony Albert Tony Albert is a contemporary Australian artist working in a wide range of mediums including painting and mixed media. His work engages with political and cultural Aboriginal and Australian history, his fascination with kitsch “Aboriginalia". Albert was born in 1981 in North Queensland. In 2004 he graduated from the Queensland College of Art, Griffith University, with a degree in Contemporary Australian Indigenous Art. Albert's family is from Cardwell, Queensland and he is a descendant of the Girramay and Kuku-Yalanji peoples. Albert was a founding member of the urban-based Indigenous art collective ProppaNOW founded in 2004. ProppaNOW included artists Richard Bell, Jennifer Herd, Vernon Ah Kee, Fiona Foley, Bianca Beetson, Andrea Fisher. Like Bell and Ah Kee, the use of text is essential to Albert's practice. Headhunter, an installation consisted of various objects Albert had been collecting for several years, portrays the past racism in Australia and puts emphasis on "the commodification of Aboriginal people for consumption by the non-Indigenous population, at a time when actual engagements with Aboriginal people were rare and predominantly paternalistic. "The application of text can be seen in Albert's photographic work such as Hey ya!. In 2014 Albert won first prize in the National Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander Art Award with his work We can be Heroes, prompted by the 2012 shooting by police of two Aboriginal teenagers in Kings Cross. Albert's was the first photographic work to win the prize. In 2015, Albert was commissioned by the City of Sydney to create Yininmadyemi - Thou didst let fall, a public work for Hyde Park, Sydney; the work serves as a memorial to Aboriginal military history and features four large upright bullets and shell casings. He was the Archibald Prize finalist in 2016 and 2017. Albert's work has been the subject over fifty group exhibitions. Official site Tony Albert at the Art Gallery of New South Wales Tony Albert at UnDisclosed Void safety Void safety is a guarantee within an object-oriented programming language that no object references will have null or void values. In object-oriented languages, access to objects is achieved through references. 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I like Samuel L Jackson, but he has been in way to many movies. It's hard to convince my brain to accept his character in a movie I'm currently seeing, because I still remember the character from his last movie. So many great actors! Looks interesting. Movie tie-in edition also available. On July 1, 1959, at Ypsilanti State Hospital in Michigan, the social psychologist Milton Rokeach brought together three paranoid schizophrenics: Clyde Benson, an elderly farmer and alcoholic; Joseph Cassel, a failed writer who was institutionalized after increasingly violent behavior toward his family; and Leon Gabor, a college dropout and veteran of World War II. The men had one thing in common: each believed himself to be Jesus Christ. Their extraordinary meeting and the two years they spent in one another’s company serve as the basis for an investigation into the nature of human identity, belief, and delusion that is poignant, amusing, and at times disturbing. Displaying the sympathy and subtlety of a gifted novelist, Rokeach draws us into the lives of three troubled and profoundly different men who find themselves “confronted with the ultimate contradiction conceivable for human beings: more than one person claiming the same identity. ” Now a motion picture starring Richard Gere, Peter Dinklage, Walton Goggins, and Bradley Whitford, and directed by Jon Avnet. Praise The Three Christs is part meticulous log-book, part intriguing commentary and part high-voltage play as Rokeach recreates the men's interactions over 25 months. Rokeach's aim was to force them to confront 'the ultimate contradiction' of believing they were the same being.... Reissued for the first time in over 25 years, it comes with a pithy and sensitive preface by Rick Moody, foregrounding both changing attitudes to institutional care and the problems and possibilities of Rokeach's experiment. — The Guardian The Three Christs of Ypsilanti is more than the record of an experiment in the outermost reaches of social psychology. Among other things it represents, in an unpretentious but remarkably vivid way, what institutionalized madness is like. —Steven Marcus, The New York Review of Books A rare and eccentric journey into the madness of not three, but four men in an asylum. It is, in that sense, an unexpected tribute to human folly, and one that works best as a meditation on our own misplaced self-confidence. Whether scientist or psychiatric patient, we assume others are more likely to be biased or misled than we are, and we take for granted that our own beliefs are based on sound reasoning and observation. This may be the nearest we can get to revelation—the understanding that our most cherished beliefs could be wrong. —Vaughan Bell, Slate It... seemed to me, aged 16, that The Three Christs of Ypsilanti contained everything there was to know about the world. That's not the case of course, but if resources were short, I'd still be inclined to salvage this book as a way of explaining the terror of the human condition, and the astonishing fact that people battle for their rights and dignity in the face of that terror, in order to establish their place in the world, whatever they decide it has to be. — Jenny Diski, London Review of Books.
The three christ's of ypsilanti watch online full. The Three Christs of Ypsilanti Watch online. The three christ's of ypsilanti watch online movies. Wow, great cast. Bucky lookin a little scrawny. The three christ's of ypsilanti watch online watch. The three christ's of ypsilanti watch online show. Day 1: A Partridge in a Pear Tree. Day 2: Two Turtle Doves When I was young I remember wondering what makes me unique, what makes me me. I’d look at a friend and play a little game in my head where I’d try to imagine myself in their shoes, in their life, in no small part due to the relative stability most of my friends enjoyed with their families that was lacking from mine. It’d make me dizzy. I’d imagine what it was like to be them and imagined that it was almost as if I could feel what they felt, and think what they thought, and know the security of a stable loving family. As I grew up my ability to imagine such things became less and less frequent as I accepted my lot in life. I’d completely forgotten about that game until I read about The Three Christs of Ypsilanti in my first year in college. It all came rushing back. What if that game became real? What if I could meet a version of me who’d actually walking in different shoes and enjoyed a different life? Again, it was an idle thought that I filed away and had forgotten about, until I was forced to revisit my childhood game. Our train continued its course into the frigid wilds of the alien north. As the morning sun crested the horizon Nicole slept. Altogether our rapidly dwindling group now amounted to 11, and the rest of us couldn’t find sleep so easily. I paced. The woman who killed her best friend, Jane, lay quietly in the corner. The man with the military haircut stared out the window into the snow-covered expanse. An older man with much more pounds than years fiddled with a rosary as he stared at the carpet. I remained restless and in need of conversation to either distract me from my own thoughts or to help me process them, so I approached. “Hey, you want to talk about what happened? ” I prompted. His gaze focused and drifted over to me. “I’m not sure how we got here. This was supposed to be…” He choked up on his own words. “It wasn’t supposed to be this. I’d never so much as been in a fist-fight before today. Now I killed…a boy. He couldn’t have even been 18. He trusted me but…” The man shuddered. I simply nodded. I had it easy, relatively speaking. “You know I’m a priest? Well, after tonight I’m not. How could I be? This was only the second day, Sam. We have 10 more days and no way to turn back. What else will we be forced to do? ” He raised his eyes to mine. They shimmered like stars. He was on the verge of tears. I swept the cabin with my hand, “I don’t know, but anymore of that and there won’t be anyone left. ” He nodded and the train began to brake. “What’s going on? ” Someone shouted. “We’re stopping. ” “Do you see anything? ” We crowded the windows searching for some sign of what was to come. All around us were tall pines broken intermittently by snow covered meadows. We couldn’t make out anything out of the ordinary, certainly nothing worth stopping for. “Hey. ” The priest called out over the speculative chatter. “Hey, there’s another letter here. ” We turned to see that another letter rested on an alcove near the door. The man with a military haircut took the letter and began reading. “If you are still here you’ve been made to unleash the monster inside you. You now know yourself as we know you. But can you harness that monster? Before progressing further on this journey you must demonstrate that you truly understand yourself, you need to embrace the monster that dwells within before you can face those without. You will find appropriate attire in the storage car forward as well as personalized instructions for your next task. ” For fucks sake. I ground my teeth, for the first time consciously questioning the forum where I’d been introduced to the Polar Express. I felt certain now that it was bait. The why of it didn’t make sense but I figured If I happened to survive I’d find out. A young man started to hyperventilate and collapsed into his booth. The rest of us lined up to gather our items from the storage car. I pushed forward to Nicole, still holding my morning coffee. “What’s this one about? ” I whispered. As she turned she bumped me, causing me to spill some of my coffee onto the man with the military haircut. “Ow! Fucking shit, man! ” He cried out in surprise as the dark, hot liquid soaked into and stained his shirt. “Shit, I’m so sorry.. ” I mumbled as I pushed forward, greedily chugging the hot Beveridge. Nicole frowned at me. “You will be facing yourself. Or several versions of yourself, anyway. Only one of you can return. Just…just be honest with yourself. Don’t overthink it. ” One by one we moved into the forward rail car and got ready. The coat fit. The shoes fit. Everything fit perfectly and was well suited to the harsh weather outdoors that I may not have properly prepared for. Some people had already begun exiting the car into the snow as I started my personalized note. “Weak of will, arrogant and selfish - you are a detestable creature. Most seek to hide from their flaws and you are not unique. You will proceed to the north of the town. There you will find a small schoolhouse. If you do not return in two hours the train will depart. If you return with any others that look like you, the train will depart. If you return alone, the train will depart with you on it. ” What the fuck. “Hey Nicole, where you heading? ” I asked on impulse. She glanced once more at her letter. “Post office. Good luck. ” I trudged out into the snow and made my way north. Each of us moved to a different part of the abandoned town. Pristine, it was preserved by the cold. It could have been an ancient mining village for all I knew. Wooden buildings, oil-lamp posts and faded signs sprinkled to small remnant of humanity. A tight knot formed in my chest as I trudged further and further from the only shelter and the only way back home. I was on solid ground but felt as if I was staring out into an abyss. By the time I pushed through the doors of the schoolhouse I was exhausted from the journey. My muscles ached and my undershirt was soaked. I hurriedly closed the door behind me as my peripheral vision registered two forms in the school-house waiting for me. I looked into their faces and saw only my own. It wasn’t a trick of the eyes, or some supernatural reflection…two young men stood facing me. They were me and they wore the same expression of shock as I did. “What the fuck. ” We each uttered, forgetting for a moment the world outside. “Who the hell are you?! ” I nearly shouted. “Me? I’m Sam. Who the fuck are you? ” the confident one shot back, angrily. The meek one struggled to respond. “I…I…I’m Sam. ” A tense pause ensued. “How did you both get here? What’s your last memory? ” The confident one rolled his eyes and cross his arms. “I came here by a stupid, fucked up train man. I assume it was the same for you all, right? ” The meek one and I both nodded. “Ok, well the last major thing I had to endure - because how stupid is it to ask ‘what’s the last thing you remember’…” I shook my head in disbelief “Hey, fuck you buddy. ” He flipped me off before continuing, “Was having to murder a college professor type in a freezing cold train car. He tried to attack me, but I knew what he was up to. He put up a good fight, ” He motioned to a fresh scar over his swollen orbital, “but I was too fast and too strong for him. Same for both of…. ” He trailed off, examining us. “You weren’t in the same fight as me. What the fuck is this? Ol’ St. Nick getting lazy? Couldn’t clone the latest version of me or what? ” The meek version of me cringed. “I killed him too. I pretended to stumble among the frozen bodies. I let him move in front of me before I stabbed him in the neck with a pen. ” They looked at me. “I…I strangled mine to death after he was possessed by The Conductor. ” The confident one started laughing. “The Conductor? Who is that? I haven’t seen anyone else besides us. ” I shrugged. “So, what now? ” I locked eyes with the confident one and he started to smile before his face fell. “Son of a bitch…” The meek one was running for the door and the last line of the letter flashed in my mind, ‘If you return alone, the train will depart with you on it’. We ran after him. Our pace slowed in the snow and became a comedically slow chase. Neither of us risked a fight with the other, lest the meek one escape. We had to turn the corner of a large warehouse, one of several, that lay between us and the train. The confident one was closing the distance to the meek one and was obviously in the best shape of the three of us, his confidence well earned. I knew I’d soon be left behind or worse. A thought occurred to me. I changed direction and headed directly for the warehouse. After pushing open the door I was greeted with a vast emptiness that allowed me to sprint unhindered by snow. I made it through the door at the opposite end of the building and launched myself back into the snow ahead of both of the other me’s. I was 100 yards closer to the train and my desperation drove me onward. I decided to try my little trick again on the next building between the train and I. Barreling through a smaller, but still large, office building I came face to face with another struggle. The man with the military haircut lay dead at my feet, his skull caved in as two others wrestled on the ground. Just as I was about to continue my escape towards the train I noticed the dead man didn’t have a coffee stain on his lapel. Neither did the man who was on the ground winning the fight. I grabbed the rock that’d been used on the dead man and rushed over. Just as the clone, for lack of any better understanding of what it was, sunk a rear-naked choke and the real man’s eyes began to flutter I brought the rock down as hard as I could on the mans clone. I swung again and again and again. Until his lifeless form spasmed and released the man with the military style haircut. Coughing he choked out “Much…. obliged……”, before I pulled him to his feet and ushered him along. I couldn’t explain what was going on, but he sensed my urgency and followed suit. After what seemed like an eternity I, in the lead, emerged out of the opposite end of the building just in time to catch a blurred glimpse of a form barreling towards me. With no time to react or change direction I watched in slow motion as my confident clone plowed into me at full speed. I gasped for breath as I tumbled to the ground. For the briefest moment I caught sight of the meek one’s lifeless eyes staring back at me from the snowbank. The confident one smiled broadly as he began raining blows on me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. All I could do was cradle my head in my arms. In the flurry of blows that nearly ended me, Mikey strode up from behind him and locked him in a strangle hold before he could react. The confident one didn’t have a chance. Despite how much faster or stronger he was than me, no version of me was really all that strong. We left his unconscious body in the building that was meant to be Mikey’s end to die a slow, painful death. We boarded the train together. There waiting for us was The Priest. He seemed unburdened by his earlier moral struggle as he smiled at us and welcomed us aboard. Others began to make their way to the train. Many bruised and bloody. I checked my watch. The two hours were almost up and the last of us still hadn’t arrived. Nicole. I waited anxiously. Finally, a form could be seen as the trains steam whistle blared. We began to move. The form began moving faster than before, impossibly fast, to catch up with the train. Mikey and I exchanged glances. Then she was aboard and we were on our way. Nicole came over and sat across from us, breathing normally as if she hadn’t just been sprinting through ankle deep snow. “Sooo…’d it go? ” she smiled at each of us. “Having fun? I had fun. Making new friends? Wonderful. ” My entire body ached and her sudden cheerfulness put on edge. “Are you the real Nicole? ” I sighed. “Well, yea, of course. But anyone who would have come back would say that, wouldn’t they? ” She took my hand and patted it. “Don’t worry hun, any who don’t belong will soon be revealed. ”.
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