My Skin Is Green

My skin is green. I don't really remember it always being that way, but I guess it was. Not many people really have green skin that I'm aware of. Of course, there is the Martian Manhunter, but he's an alien I think.

I sometimes wonder why my hands and face don't hurt at all. They're terribly burnt and scarred. That's why they're so pink. Each time I hold my hands up to inspect them, as if it was for the first time, I nod my head, assuring myself that they are pink. I'm not looking at my face, but I know that it's pink, too. I know that I must be scarred, because a person isn't born with more than one color skin. My parents happened to be born with pink skin. The green skin must just be part of what makes me special.

I can't quite remember when I got burnt so badly. I don't remember playing with fire at any particular time in my life. My dad used to light fires in the fireplace, but I don't think he ever shoved me into it. Although he did send me here—and I don't really like it here very much.

"You're such a whiner," the other voice said. It was such an annoying voice: one which I had heard many times over the last year or so. He kept telling me that it was just like my voice, but I refused to believe that, I hated the sound of his voice I looked up from my bed to see him standing over me, his head drooping and then bobbing back and forth. He was always telepathic like that, knowing just what I was thinking like that.

I looked at him and remembered that my face was indeed pink. "If I'm a whiner, then so are you," I said.

"I'm not the one whining," he said.

I stared at him, perturbed. He had the same sleek dark green skin that I did, with no clothes on—like I. His hands and face were pink, too. We looked exactly alike.

I tugged at my short, spiky brown hair with both hands and grunted in frustration. It really wasn't fun to argue with yourself. You may always win, but you also always lose. "Majority rules," I said, sitting up in the bed and gently pushing him away.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated for a second. It wasn't really that hard of a task, not for me anyway. But having my eyes closed is how I've always done it; it's just what always felt right. For a moment, my molecular make-up wavered and blurred. Where there was one head one moment, there were two the next. When a second ago, there was one arm sticking out my right side, there were suddenly two. Within a few more seconds, I had split off into yet another complete self. That made three of us.

I'd never seen the transformation, but I've told myself what it looked like, so I can tell you what was happening.

"He's right," the second, newly made double said, sitting on the bed next to me.

I stuck out my tongue at my first double.

The first double looked perturbedly at I and the second double both. "Which one are you?" he said. "Me, myself, or I?"

"I'm Myself," he said. The third one was always Myself.

"You should know that, Me," I said.

"I do," he replied.

"But you're Me," I said.

"I suppose I am Me, but you, in fact, are I."

It was so queer talking to yourself.

"Well at least you've got that straightened out," I said sarcastically.

"You may have, but I think the whole thing is tiring really," Me said.

"Well, if you're going to be testy, I'll just reabsorb you."

"Now wait a minute—" Me began.

My molecular pattern blurred again and I absorbed both of my doubles. Sometimes having superpowers wasn't a great responsibility—it was a great pain in the rear.

Just then I heard the lock turn to my door. Roger was back. The door opened and the guardsman stepped in. As always, he was wearing a thick suit of armor. It was state of the art battle armor. It was made up of a shiny grey metal plates, highlighted with red and blue, here and there. Very fashionable, I’m sure.

"Hello, Roger," I said cheerily.

"Come on, Jeremy, Doc Brenner wants to see you," the guard said to I.

"Okay, Roj," I replied. I had no need to be rude, so I followed him out of the room.

"Why do you persist on calling me that?" the guard asked as he escorted me to see the doc.

"That's your name," I replied, giving the guardsman an odd look.

The guard's head craned around and down and he looked over at me. Of course, his mask was expressionless, but if I had to guess, I'd suppose he was making a face at me. He looked ahead again, shaking his head a little bit.

The guardsmen really weren't that bad. They just took us to the doctors. I'm not sure who they were protecting us from. We all had superpowers here.

"Hi, Roger," I said to another guardsman that passed us going the other direction.

Now, I was walking on the guardsman's left side. So you can imagine his surprise when I suddenly appeared on his right. Of course that wasn't I, it was me.

"Hey, Roj!" my double said. The guardsman jumped just so slightly—I always caught him off guard like that. "How ya been?" he asked, peering into the guard's face, wide-eyed.

The guardsman reacted quick. Almost as quick as I would have—I'm damn fast, you know. Of course I should say that Me didn't really try to dodge, because I knew Roger wouldn't hurt me. Or rather Me knew that he wouldn't hurt I. No, that Me knew that he wouldn't hurt Me. I really wish that my split selves wouldn't persist in assigning each other such strict nomenclatures. It gets very difficult to explain things sometimes.

Anyway. The guard grabbed Me by the shoulder and pushed him over by I. Me yelped and squirmed in his grip. "Hey!" Me complained.

"Suck him back in, Jeremy."

Roger was being a little testy, don't you think?

"Get in," I said needlessly. My split had no choice but to obey, so once again Me was absorbed into I. I was just being friendly; I don't see why Roger had to react so rudely. To be honest, he was starting to perturb me.

I didn't want to even bother talking the rest of the trip. The guardsman was being an ass. Of course, some things are necessary to mention, and I couldn't keep quiet. For example, I just had to tell him—for the thousandth time—how boring this place was. They called it The Tank, but there were no pictures of tanks or anything else military. All I saw were plain white walls, locked doors, and titanium rails over the omniglass steel—which wasn't really glass by the way, it was a type of see-through metal. The titanium rails were hardly more protection than the glass itself. Outside, I could see rolling plains of green grass and tall, full trees. I wish they would let us out more often. It must have been because of whatever the guardsmen were protecting us from.

I stopped and stared out the window. What I wouldn't give to be out there again: free. I could be helping to save the world. I could be a superhero. I know that's what I'm supposed to be doing with my life. Especially once my powers all emerge.

"Keep moving, pal."

Was he going to be testy all day?

Doc Brenner wasn't on my list of favorite people, so I decided to play one of my little tricks on him. See, splitting isn't my only power. No. I have this neat little trick where I can become two-dimensional. It's really cool. Basically, I become a shadow. I can't really affect three-dimensional objects when I’m like that, but they can't affect me. Well, they probably could, but it's not easy. And at any rate, I doubt a normal human could.

So anyway, as the guardsman goes in—I always insist Roger goes first, to protect me from the doctor (or so I say)—I change to 2D. The guardsman announces me to the doctor, only when they look, they don't see me.

I'm just tryin' not to laugh. I position myself to where the light is casting a shadow of Doc Brenner against the wall. As these two morons start scrambling to find me, I start doin' this crazy dance. "Doc Brenner, is a sissy-boy," I repeat again and again.

They figure it out pretty quickly. They've seen the trick more than once. I decide to stop fooling around and get serious. You know, I have to be responsible and all that. Doc Brenner's a serious guy. I wouldn't want to let him down.

I shade back to 3D and somersault onto the Doc's desk. Then I do a flip—with a twist—and land in my seat. I promptly sit cross-legged in the chair. Doc Brenner gives me this wide-eyed look and then covers it up immediately. I know Roj is making the same face under his pouty-face mask. For some reason, they're always amazed at my super-dexterity. I keep tryin' to tell them. It's all part of the package.

"We never make any progress with you, do we, Mr. Cayhill?"

I ignore him, letting my head roll on my neck.

"Mr. Cayhill?"

"What?" my shadow answers with quite an edge. They didn't notice that I split while I was 2D. Ain't that a riot? They're such idiots.

Brenner spins his head around, and I—the 3D one that is—lean forward and grab his head. "I'm not insane, Doc! I'm really not!"

As the guardsman peels me off the Doc, I laugh hysterically. I can't help it. These guys are funny.

"Hey!" I finally say before the Doc can reply—I'm always keepin' him on his toes. "I have green skin, so what? I'm not the one running around in the nighttime, dressed in tights, chasing away the evils of night and calling myself 'Batman.' Now there's a loon. Doesn't he have a day job? When does he sleep?"

"Mr. Cayhill."

"Or look at Aquaman: he can breathe underwater. Wow! There's a really useful power." I was sort of hopping in my seat at this point. I was very excited, you know. "I could actually do something important in the real world!"

"Mr. Cayhill."

"What?" my shadow, Me, answered with an edge—again. I guess he was perturbed.

Ignoring my shadow, Doc Brenner leaned forward and looked hard at me. "I certainly hope you can contribute to the community some day, Jeremy. But right now you are sick. You need help."

"No I don't."

"You not being able to admit that you need help is your biggest block to recovery."

I said nothing, although I could tell I wanted me to.

"Do I have to tell you what we have diagnosed you with again?"

I said nothing.

"We believe you are what we call an undifferentiated schizophrenic, Jeremy. Do you want me to remind you of the symptoms?"

"No."

"Do you remember why you are here, Jeremy?"

"Because my parents are loons?"

"No. Not quite. They sent you here because they didn't want you endangering anyone. They noticed your abnormal behavior early on, but ignored it. They thought it was a phase. But when you developed paranormal powers—"

"Shut up!" my shadow screamed. He was really annoyed now. I can't blame him. I was too.

As it turned out, so was the guardsman. A shock blast fired out of his gauntlets toward the dim figure against the wall. Of course, my shadow dodged, leaping straight up; he's extremely fast when he wants to be. He got it all from me, of course. Or from I, rather. The guardsman ran after him extremely indignantly and completely ignorantly. He looked like a fool, and always would be, cause he'd never catch Me.

The doctor reprimanded them both and they both settled down. The doc was trying a new tactic today. Usually, he forced me to absorb my doubles, but today I think he was trying to pretend like my shadow didn't bother him at all. The doc was getting in a worse and worse mood, though—I could tell.

He really needed to lighten up.

"Jeremy, do you remember killing the animals?"

He always said this. He always did this. He always tried to twist things. I never killed anything. I tried to use my healing powers, only they never worked. I don't know why they never understood that. Once, when my mother was sick, I laid my hands on her; the next day she recovered. I know I'm a great healer, and I am going to help save the world some day. I just have to learn how to control my powers.

"Do you?"

I was getting really perturbed. "I never killed anything! How many times do I have to tell you this?" My eyes must have been bulging because Doc looked scared. The guardsman put his hands on my shoulders—to keep me calm I guess. Unfortunately, he scared the Bejesus out of Me. He switched to 3D and started to pound the guardsman with both fists. He was so dumb. I—and thus Me—may be fast and agile, but we're pitifully weak. All nine of us couldn't hurt him like that.

I felt the guardsman let go of me, then I heard a quick sizzle. I shook my head. He'd engaged the stun field on his armor. Anyone touching the armor would be instantly stunned. Now like I said, we're pretty weak, but for some reason seem to be able to take a lot of punishment; tough skin I suppose. Nonetheless, the stun field is stronger. When I turned around, Me was on the floor. No surprise. I reabsorbed him, or Me, whichever. Maybe I should start naming them: like my first double would be Jeffrey, the second Bob . . .

The guardsman placed his hands back on my shoulders and I turned back to the Doc. "I never killed anyone," I repeated.

"You killed several animals around your neighborhood. We know you killed them. Why did you do that?"

"Why did I do what? I didn't kill anyone!" I was beginning to hate doctors. I slipped out of the guardsman's grip and leaned forward faster than the guard could possibly hope to react. I placed my hands on the doctor's head, and gripped him fast. "I did this. I healed them. Just like I'll heal you, Doc!"

The guardsman smacked me hard in the back, but I wouldn’t let go. He hit me again and this time I let go, letting the doc slump back in his chair, collapsing. The guardsman threw me against the wall and I almost passed out. Luckily, Me and Myself were there to protect me. With my head ringing, I don't remember them coming out, but they did.

I don't remember it myself—aargh—you know what I mean at this point don't you? This name game is driving me crazy. I don't remember it, but they—my other selves—told me that the guardsman freaked out. He was screaming something like the doctor was dead. He radioed for help and then stunned us all.

I don't remember that. I just crawled up into a ball and wondered why Roj had hurt me. I'd only wanted to help the doctor. "He was the one that's sick," I kept muttering, over and over, "He was the one that's sick." I said it because I meant it. I wasn't crazy. He was. They all were.

I'd been screaming and crying for the last hour. Well my other selves were screaming—and moaning every now and then. They couldn't believe what had happened and were terribly upset. As for me, I had been crying.

I remember when I was only six, I had heard the word death. I'm sure I'd heard it before, but this was the first time I remember caring about the meaning of the word. I asked my dad what it meant. He sat me down and explained to me the how and why of death, as best he could explain it. I cried all night that night. It seemed like such a horrible thing.

I don't think most kids think they can die. They think they're immortal. That goes for us teenagers, too. We think we won't die. But I know. I know I could die. And for any young person that realizes that, it's terror; knowing that after so few years our lives could be snuffed out just like that. I'm terrified of dying.

I thought I knew everything. I thought that everyone else was wrong. I thought because I had powers that I was special. I don't know what gave me the delusion that I could heal people. I guess I just wanted mom to live so much, I fooled myself into believing that I had that special power to save her. But it wasn't me. It was someone else. I don't know who, maybe God—if there is one.

Now I know that Doc Brenner was right. I didn't just fail to heal all those animals I found, hungry or hurt. I killed them. I don't know how, but I killed them. I'm not a healer, I'm a killer. I am what I fear most: death. Maybe it was some kind of a mental power. A psychic attack, perhaps? Could that be it?

The door opened. Three guardsmen came in. Me and Myself stepped between them and I. I stood up and wiped the tears on my forearm. My green skin seemed to always soak up my tears—or runny noses.

"Jeremy," one said. "Suck them up."

Visions of molecular reabsorbment filled my mind for some reason. I never thought about it, I just did it. But this time I saw it. Not only did I not close my eyes, but I actually saw it. Why did I do that? Why did it happen like that? Why did I see their molecules blur and disappear into me? I couldn't grasp it before the lead guardsman had his hand on my shoulder. He was leading me to see some more doctors, I guess.

For once, I didn't split and I didn't go into 2D; I didn't say anything, either. I didn't know what to say. For all the weird things that the doctors and guardsman said, they were right about one thing. I had killed Doc Brenner. I felt really bad, but as we walked down the boring corridors, all I could think about was the same vision: I kept seeing Me and Myself reabsorbing into me. Why? Why wasn't I thinking about the killing anymore, and what was the significance of me thinking about my reabsorption over and over again?

I stopped.

All three men looked at me.

I didn't know what they would do to me if I disobeyed, but I didn't care.

"Keep moving. Doctor's orders."

Doctors: I was really starting to hate them.

I stretched out my arms, parallel to the ground. All three guards stepped back and raised their own arms, as if they were going to shock blast me. I couldn't help letting out a small giggle; they were so easily rattled.

I split out a double and I watched it happen, I watched my molecules dissolve and reform outside myself.

"Jeremy," one of them warned me.

I was on the verge of learning something. This was important.

"Split," I told my double.

"How?" he asked.

"Reabsorb, him, or you'll both be shocked," a guardsman threatened.

"Feel out to your right, "I said," and move yourself until there are two of you." I don't know why I never tried this before. If I can make nine doubles, and each double can make nine doubles, I could have a virtual army of mes.

But he didn't split. His molecules shivered and then he disappeared.

"That's more like it," the guardsman said, putting his hand on my shoulder and pushing me along.

But he wasn't in me. I hadn't reabsorbed him.

I twisted my head backwards as we walked, and saw him looking at me, his mouth wide open and his eyebrows arched high. Me was about fifteen feet behind the group. He hadn't split off anyone else, but he'd moved his molecules!

"Where's the Doc?" I asked, trying to cover up my own anxiousness.

"In Brenner's office," the guardsman answered. "Doctor Milhouse has temporarily taken over the institute."

"Hmm."

I happened to know exactly where Brenner's office was. If I pictured myself moving my molecules there, could I do it? If I couldn't, what would that mean?

Oh well, if I was gonna save the world, I had to learn how to get out of here. I closed my eyes as we walked and I felt my molecules start to shake: then I pictured Brenner's office and tried to move my molecules there.

I opened my eyes, and three doctors were staring at me, their faces frozen in expressions of shock. I guess they expected the guardsmen to enter first.

"Hi guys," I said cheerily.

They didn't answer.

"I just want you to know that I feel really bad about what happened to Doc Brenner. I know that I killed him and I know that that's wrong. So, uhm, I was wondering if I could go home now? I really need to start using my new powers so I can save the world."

The doctor I knew to be Milhouse stood up, leaning forward with his hands resting on his desk, propping him up. "You, young man, have sanctions to face beyond what we here control! You have murdered another human being!"

Why was he so perturbed?

"I said I was sorry!"

He was so red-faced he could barely speak. "It is good that you realize that. But still the fact remains that you have committed a serious crime! I am recommending you to be taken to The Vault, for incarceration!"

"What? I'm not a criminal! I won't go there! That’s not fair!”

“Jeremy,” Milhouse said. “You killed someone. That does make you a criminal. You will be summarily tried and convicted in a court of law.”

“I didn't know what I was doing!" I said.

"You can tell that to a judge," Millhouse said.

" I hate you!” I screamed. “I hate all doctors!"

Just as I felt like I was going to throw myself at the doctor, the three guardsmen barged in with Me.

"Doctor Milhouse! We brought him, but we just discovered that he can teleport," Roger's voice trailed off as he saw I.

I had to think fast. They were obviously out to get me now. I wouldn't be treated like this. I wouldn't be put away like a criminal.

Luckily, like I said, I was fast. I leapt over the doc's desk, flipping from a standstill. I knew the guardsmen wouldn't shoot because they were scared of hitting the doctors. Their stun blasts wouldn't kill me, but they might a nromal human. Luckily, Doctor Milhouse was really fat. I happen to be very skinny, so I hid behind him and they couldn't pick me off. I laid my hands on his head and held tight.

"I'll kill him if you don't let Me go." Of course, I didn't really want to kill the doctor, but I had to convince them I wasn't so innocent. "You know my touch can do that."

"We can't do that," one of the guardsman said.

"No, I mean let go of my double," I said.

"The other two doctors present nodded.

Of course, Me and I, being of the same mind, had no trouble coordinating. He came right over and did the same thing to one of the other doctors. Then, I let him scream out empty threats and curses at the guards and doctors, while I split off one more time. I know I'm sane, but I don't know about Me. He's really a little loony now and then—now in this particular case. I think Me already hated the doctors quite a bit.

Myself moved over to the third doctor. Now we had three hostages. The only question remaining was what to do. I couldn't really kill them. I knew that was wrong. Besides, I didn't really want to.

I could tell that the guardsmen were perturbed at this point.

"What are you planning to do now, Jeremy?" Doctor Milhouse squeaked.

"That depends on you, fat man," Me said. Of course, that didn't make I happy.

"Who have you told about Doc Brenner?" I asked.

"All of us doctors just had a conference and we were about to talk to you. Chances are, we were going to call the authorities to transport you to The Vault."

"Enough chatter, fatty," Me said, slapping him on the side of his head.

"Hey," I said, slapping Me in the same fashion.

He just looked at I, saying, don't start with me. Of course, he didn't need to say it. He was just perturbed. But so was perturbed myself. Or I. Whoever.

Things didn't end up quite like I had planned. First of all, I was quite disappointed to learn that my doubles couldn't split, too. I'm the only one that can spawn off doubles. That means there's a limit of nine of us. Although, that was enough to kill all of the doctors and guardsmen.

Second, when I freed all the rest of the people in The Tank, I was hoping that they would join me in my crusade to save the world. But they really didn't care. The first guy I released stared at me and just said, "Jesus must have his cigar." I don't get it. The next guy just drooled at me and hopped away.

At least no one knows what I did to Doc Brenner. It wouldn't be easy to save the world if people thought of me as a murderer. I guess I'll just go home and practice my new powers. It shouldn't be hard, now that I can teleport, which of course, makes me glad: I really didn't want to walk home. I don't know how far it is from where I am to home, but I bet it'd take several hours to walk.

I sat back down among my friends, or my selves—whichever you prefer—and watched The Tank burn. It was only fitting that a military installation like The Tank would go down in battle. It probably wanted to go out that way; better than being a victim of government spending cuts, I suppose.

Well, now I was starting with a clean slate. Although, to be honest, I was no longer looking forward to getting my driver's license. I could teleport. But beyond that, I was excited for the future. I wouldn't want have to live with the association of "murderer" for my entire life.

I just hoped that my green skin didn't make me stand out from the crowd.