Shakespeare Finds A Body

I

I am aware that my name is something of an oddity amongst the Others. Apparently it is also the name of one of their precious little playwrights – someone long dead.

    My Other likes to remind her Other Friends that he probably had a Birmingham accent. She only makes a point of saying this not because it matters to anyone, but because it also happens to be where she was born. She often admits this is the case, though always with an underlying tone of self-deprecation. From my point of view, the man is dead, so what does it matter? Voices last as long as the body is functional, and by the sounds of it, this playwright’s body has not been functional for hundreds of years. What does his accent matter?

    I often find myself pitying my Other, particularly in situations such as this. I watch her as she stands at the patio window, holding it half open and shouting the names of my household Kin in a high-pitched voice. Her head pokes out into the rain, the sky grey and miserable.

    ‘Cally! Mona! Gino! Come on, then!’ After repeating this over and over again, she returns inside, shaking her head. ‘Where could they have gotten to?’

    Her sigh tells me she is embarrassed. I do not blame her. Her reputation in the community could very well be tarnished if her neighbours had heard her shout out like that. She slides the window shut and locks it, during which I shift my gaze over to the fat idiot lying next to me under the Dining Room table: Alfie.

    In a sense, Alfie is my Kin, but he is… different. Alfie is bigger, both in size and weight. He is three, maybe four times larger than the rest of us, and is nowhere near as flexible. His tail does not stop wagging, either, and, based on my observations, he has little to no control over it, resulting in the constant thwarting of my face. He also lacks any of what I would call self-respect.

    Nevertheless, I put up with him.

    Alfie lies on the floor, under the Dining Room table, his spotted body tucked away. He avoids looking at me, the whites of his eyes rimmed and visible, his chin trembling. This is good. It has been my intention to strike fear into his heart – it appears to be working. Let it be known, however, that I do this not out of malice nor scorn (though I do take some pleasure in it), rather it is part of the deal we are bound to, and it is my responsibility to keep him in line for the rest of the day. Both he and I know where our Kin is, and despite my persuading him not to, it is clear how much he wants to tell our Other.

    Fat idiot.

II

An hour ago I was strolling along the garden, clawing at and climbing up fences as I pleased. When I first arrived at this house, the grass was richer, full of life; copious green blades engulfed the garden, their tips tickling my stomach when I crouched and searched for a small creature – earthbound or winged – to prey upon. Oftentimes my Other and her Other-Kin would catch me doing this; sometimes they still do. A creature would dangle in my mouth, half-alive, and they would look at me from the patio window with visceral disgust. This always confused me and, to this day, it still does. Surely they should be impressed, proud even, by such an achievement? But no, for the idea of a half-alive or outright dead creature is apparently taboo amongst the Others.

    As a gesture of goodwill, I used to bring one of these creatures to my Other’s door. I was more than happy to offer my findings to her because it is she who feeds and shelters me, and I must admit, I bring very little to the table. Much to my surprise, whenever I did this, whenever I looked up at her with the wriggly, spasming thing clutched to my mouth, she would look at me with even more revulsion. Sometimes, she or one of her Other-Kin would say something like, ‘Well, thank you, Shakes,’ and would then proceed to pick it up from the floor, wincing, wearing a tight yellow glove, and throw it in the bin.

    I do not bother with this anymore. Waste of time, effort, and energy.

    Much like me, the grass has grown old and patchy over the years. It is no longer the ideal hunting ground. I have even taken to shorter constitutionals, uneventful and mind-numbing. I use this time to reminisce about the old days, when I had no Kin, when it was just me, my Other and her Other-Kin. It was peaceful, and I was special. Alone and special.

    And then Alfie turned up, crashing through the door and begging for food like an insolate child, his mouth drooling, his tail hitting me. He’d often bang his head against surfaces he knew full well were there just a minute prior. Idiot.

    Then came the rest.

    During my constitutional, I decided to make my way to the top of the metal shed at the rear of the garden. It baffles me as to why this shed has not been exchanged for a better one, or at the very least repaired. It has been here since even before we came to this house, and I cannot for the life of me figure out whether it was first painted over with a greenish colour and, over time, slowly faded into its natural grey; or if it had always been grey, and the green tint is now a sign of its old age, much like the pale-yellow fur on the backs of my legs.

    At the roof of the shed I watched along the neighbouring gardens in search of any worthy rivals or prey, when a smell of the utmost peculiar wafted into my nostrils, causing me too sneeze. I say it was peculiar not because it was a new smell, but because it was far more potent than normal. I had smelt it many-a-time, though never like this, never this strongly. A gruesome smell it was, ordinarily welcome, but this… this was the pure, unadulterated, foreboding stench of Death. 

    I would have been a fool not to find its source.

III

It did not take me long. In fact, it took mere seconds, for behind the shed, walking along a pile of branches, leaves, and discarded cigarette buds, were two of my Kin: Cally and Mona.

     Cally, the youngest of us, is thick furred – just as I was in my prime. She is russet coloured with stripes of black splattered all around her. Her dozy eyes are a pale green, and her figure is far chubbier than the rest of ours (I have always found this strange, for it is she who is outside the most and gets more exercise. Maybe it is to do with how much she eats).

    Mona, despite being the smallest of the Kin, is the most assertive and, dare I say, threatening. It is for this reason I respect her the most. She is almost entirely pitch-black, with the exception of a small white dot placed upon her neck. Her eyes are green, but deeper, more saturated than Cally’s, and she has an overbite which put her fangs on full display.

    The pair of them were curiously sniffing and poking at the gruesome corpse of an Other.

    I spoke not, only watched.

    The Other’s body was laid on its back, long and pallid; its jaw hung open as gravity pushed it back into his neck. Its once male face had been scratched into oblivion by what I could only assume were thorns and needles, or barbed wire; hundreds of dark-red etchings were scattered across its cheeks, all of which once dripped with blood and ran down its face, now dried up in the form of crusty lines and a few small smudges. Its lower clothes were stained in urine and faeces, and its left arm appeared to have been broken, bent out of shape.

    By my estimations, this Other had been dead for about a day.

    ‘What do we have here, then?’ I announced from the roof.

    Cally and Mona looked up towards me, their eyes wide and filled with horror at having been discovered. I stared down at and exuded my dominance over them as the mighty clouds moved behind me; less a warning, more a threat of the rain to come.

    ‘Ah!’ screeched Cally.

    ‘Keep your voice down,’ admonished Mona, hitting her over the head.

    ‘I hope this wasn’t your doing,’ I said, hopping down from the shed. ‘Do not misunderstand me, if it was you, consider me impressed. But you know the rules…’

    ‘No Others,’ recited Mona, monotonal. ‘Don’t worry, it wasn’t us. We just happened to find it like this.’

    I orbited the body, sniffing it. The blood in its ears had formed dried-up rings around the insides. Its neck was bruised also – someone had strangled it with the sole intention of draining its once sentient life.

    ‘Do you know what caused it?’ I asked.

    ‘No,’ said Mona. I looked at Cally for an answer, but Mona spoke for her, ‘She doesn’t know either, Shakespeare. I swear, we just found it like this.’

    The two of them always had a sister-like relationship. They came to our home at around the same time and they took to each other right away; from the moment they met, they would never be alone.. Maybe it was because of their tough upbringing; perhaps they had bonded over it and decided to always have each other’s backs.

    ‘Why are the Others like this?’ I questioned, though I expected no answer. ‘They can never just kill efficiently, can they? There always has to be some malice in it. Always so messy. Sure, we have fun with our prey, but it is never like this. This is not fun.’

    The two sisters looked at each other, frowning in confusion.

    Cally felt the need to ask, ‘Shakespeare, have you found a dead Other before?’

    ‘Oh, yes,’ I smirked.

    ‘Was it as gruesome as this?’

    ‘Oh, worse,’ I lied. Lying and exaggerating about your experiences is the biggest part of establishing yourself as the alpha amongst your Kin, especially in my world, and especially when you are the Elder, such as I.

    The dead body I had actually found a few years back was through the window of a retirement home, not too far from here. There was nothing to it. A Female Other had died peacefully in her sleep whilst her Other-Kin circled around her bed, their expressions morose, some even sobbing. I watched from a tree and observed as her soul left its body. I even observed the emotions of the Other-Kin, and I found myself confused. I did not understand why they were all so sad; they had their whole lives ahead of them with so much left to achieve. They had each other, too, just like Cally and Mona. This one Female Other, a blip, wrinkly and skeletal… what was so special about her? Why did their souls weaken just because hers had to leave?

    ‘How was it worse?’ asked Mona with a trace of disbelief.

    ‘You do not want to know, child.’

    It was then that we heard the squeaky patio door open. We froze in a line behind the shed, our tails bent rigidly. I looked at the body, then at the sisters, and it was agreed through a series of wordless nods that it was I who had to be the lookout. I did not want to, but I was the closest to the shed’s corner. I did not have much of a choice.

    I crept over, crouched down and watched the garden surreptitiously. The wind rocked the washing line back and forth, and the wooden fences banged against their frames. From the patio window, Alfie ran into the barren grass then round and round in circles. Next he ate the grass, without thought and in big chunks whilst jumping back and forth. In the end he chose a spot not too far from us and proceeded to push his faeces out of his backside, as though it was the biggest struggle ever.

    (When I say he has no self-respect, this is what I am talking about).

    ‘It is just Alfie,’ I whispered.

    ‘Do you think he’ll come over here?’ asked Cally.

    ‘I cannot say. He is stupid, but he does have a strong sense of smell, something we should account for. If I could smell the body, then I have no doubt that he can. Luckily for us, he is easily distracted.’

    I kept my gaze fixed upon him, though I could feel my own self-respect dwindling as I watched him continue his bowel movements. His body tensed and clenched and he looked about with anxiety, his greying brows curving outward. As I watched, the stench of the corpse floated into my nostrils and, despite my efforts to hold it off, my nose began to itch and my face lifted into the air, my entire body weakening—

    ‘Achhooo!’

    Immediately Alfie turned around and without hesitation he began moving towards me; I could feel Cally and Mona shaking their heads.

    ‘Well done,’ said Mona.

    I did not reply. I had to think fast. I ran out in front of him as his heavy head swung towards me; his giant, stupid body an out-of-control bulldozer, impossible to stop.

    ‘Stop it!’ I shouted in a panic. ‘Stop right where you are, Alfie!’

    Of course, he didn’t stop. No, he ran right behind the shed and, as soon as he saw the body, declaimed: ‘MOI EYES!!! OH MOI GORD!!!’

    ‘Will you keep it down!’ shouted Mona, borderline hissing.

    I ran in front of him; his face was riddled with panic. I said, ‘Alfie, we know this looks bad.’

    ‘THIS IS SO BAD!!!’

    ‘But it is not, okay? It is not that bad. It is bad, yes, but it is not as bad as it seems.’

    Cally then tried to placate the big oaf and rubbed her body along his legs. ‘Chill out, bab. It’s okay, it’s okay.’

    ‘NO THIS IS—’

    ‘It’s okay, Alfie,’ she reassured him. ‘Can you let us explain, please? Calm down.’

    ‘DID YOU…’ he lowered his voice whilst panting, fixing his composure as he stared straight at the Other’s body. ‘Was this you? Did youdew this?’

    Mona said, ‘No, idiot. You know the rules. We don’t kill Others.’

    ‘So why is it—’

    ‘We don’t know.’

    Alfie looked at me. Having known the fat idiot far longer than they, I tend to have a good inkling of what he is thinking and what he is going to say. In that moment I knew exactly what he was going to say, and I think he knew that I knew what he was going to say, and although I shook my head in an attempt to make sure he would not say it, he went ahead and said it anyway:

    ‘We need to tell Owner.’

    ‘Other,’ I corrected. ‘Not Owner. And no, we do not need to tell her. This is an incredible find we have here, and we cannot let the Other get a hold of it just yet.’

    ‘I am in agreement with the Elder,’ assented Mona. ‘We can’t let the Other find it. Not yet. This is… this is free food.’

    Alfie looked at me, then at Cally, then Mona. ‘You’re going to eat adeadbody?’

    ‘No offence, dear,’ said Cally, her eyes looking kindly towards him. ‘But I’ve seen you eat your own poo. This? This is just meat.’

    ‘But it’s my poo I’m eating, no one else’s.’

    ‘It’s poo, Alfie. Nobody should be eating poo in the first place. Also, that’s categorically not true, I’ve seen you eat other poos from the window.’

IV

The four of us were now stood around the corpse like a council of sorts, its pale and twisted body recumbent.

    It felt like the more we all stared at it, the more it was becoming one with the twigs and leaves. Despite the body’s grotesquery, the Earth was doing its best to harvest it as part of its lifeblood. If our Other did not find it – which, given the smell, was unlikely to happen – it may have turned into a tree as the years went by. The Earth tends to have a way of healing itself and its inhabitants like that; that is one thing I have learned to notice. I can feel it whenever I tread on dried mud, or when I scratch at the bark of a tree – it is alive, and it is housing us.

    In that moment, I could not help but wonder: will the Earth die, just like this vile corpse? Just like the Female Other I saw? When you are alive, everything feels eternal, and I am sure this dead Other might have felt eternal also, right up to the point of his last breath. I, myself, used to feel eternal, but now… I do not know. I never used to think like this.

    ‘Okay,’ I said, breaking the silence. ‘I propose we divide the body up into three parts. Alfie, I assume you do not want to eat any of it?’

    ‘Erm…’ for a second, the fat idiot looked like he was contemplating it. ‘No. No I don’t think I should. Iwanttoo. But I shouldn’t. I have poorlytummy and this doesn’t look good for poorlytummy.’

    ‘Very well,’ I said. ‘But listen to me, Alfie. You cannot tell the Other, not yet. If you do, then so help me God I will come down on you like a tonne of bricks and shatter your world into a million little pieces. Do not ask me how I will do it, because it will be my intention for you not to notice it even happening. It will be incremental. But I will do it. Understand?’

    ‘That wasn’t very nice.’

    ‘It was not intended to be.’ I then turned towards Cally and Mona, ‘What do you say? Three sections?’

    The sisters looked at each other, and Mona said, ‘Please give us a second.’

    I frowned, but I allowed it. Meanwhile, Alfie and I were sat together in silence until he whispered, ‘This is really messed up.’

    ‘If you want,’ I whispered back, ‘I can see if I can get them to agree to you sniffing the corpse’s pockets. But I cannot promise anything.’

    ‘Really?’

    ‘Maybe. You just have to promise me that you will…’ I sighed before my next words; I could not believe I was about to say it, ‘be a good boy.’

    ‘Okokok,’ he nodded. ‘Ok I can dewthat!’

    The two turned back around and Mona strode forwards, her chin held high, looking almost the alpha. Almost. ‘William Shakespeare—’

    ‘What did you just call me?’

    ‘I heard one of the Others call it you once?’

    ‘That is their playwright. I am just Shakespeare. Nothing more. You know this.’ I shook my head, ‘This is your problem, you listen too much to the Others. When have I ever referred to myself as “William Shakespeare”? For crying out loud.’

    ‘Okay, sorry. I just assumed… anyways,’ she cleared her throat and resumed her snarky posture. ‘Shakespeare, we appreciate that you are the Elder of the household, however me and Cally—’

    ‘Cally and I,’ I corrected.

    ‘Cally and I wish to invoke the Finders Keepers Override.’

    There was a momentary silence as my brain struggled to believe what I was hearing.

    ‘You have got to be shitting me,’ I said.

    ‘I’m afraid not.’

    I shook my head and began pacing up and down between the sisters and Alfie. I would not have admitted it at the time, but I was having a bit of a tantrum. I cannot be blamed for such an emotion; any other Elder would have done the same. The gall of this child. The absolute gall.

    Alfie asked, ‘What’s the find-keepers-overhide?’

    ‘The Finders Keepers Override is a once-a-year admittance in any household of our kind around the world,’ explained Mona. She was speaking to Alfie but was watching me with a grin most lecherous. ‘Usually, an Elder has the right to make the final decision on anything the household Kin finds whilst hunting or scavenging – that is, if they bring it to the household. But once a year, all Kin have the ability to invoke the Finders Keepers Override in order to make that rule null.’

    ‘So, Shakespeare doesn’t get any of the body?’ said the fat idiot.

    ‘That is correct, Alfie, well done.’

    ‘So does that mean—’

    ‘Yes,’ I interrupted furiously, looking up at him midstride. ‘It means you cannot have a sniff at its pockets.’

    ‘Ha!’ laughed Cally. ‘As if we’d have agreed to that anyways.’

    It was then that my face morphed into one of the most sinister, crinkled expressions I had ever made, my fury succumbing my entire being until every feature upon it formed into a downward curve. I turned around, fangs pointing outwards as they took on a life of their own. I stomped towards the sisters; my tail rose into the air as I growled and pushed my face into Cally’s, pushing her onto the floor, cowering.

    ‘You would have agreed to it,’ I said sonorously, ‘because I would have told you to. I am the Elder. You do as I say. How dare you speak to me with such disrespect? Do you know who I am? Do you know what I have seen in my lifetime? I have seen things far beyond your imagination, girl! I have watched souls leave the bodies of the Others. I have seen creatures of the utmost fierce stricken down by the Others’ wheeled machines. I have fought in battles you could only dream of fighting because you lack the strength and, most of all, the will. And what have you seen? You, with your impertinent attitude and your inability to say no to an Other when they pick you up and place you on their shoulders. Pathetic and submissive, is what you are—’

    Mona, whilst in the midst of my rage, pushed herself into me. I flew backwards with such force that my entire body fell and crashed into the brittle corpse. For the life of me, I could not stand up straight, not without wobbling. I had to use the corpse’s dirt-infested hands to stand. When I was on all fours, I realised I was shaking.

    ‘You’re all talk,’ said Mona, guarding a shaken-up Cally. ‘Look at her? Look at you! You can’t even stand up straight. You think you looked threatening just then? No. You looked like a pathetic old man with your missing bottom tooth and your piss-yellow legs. Sitting on the shed roof, staring down at us like you’re some menacing figure? Get over yourself. I have invoked the Finders Keepers Override on this corpse and you must respect it. You are our Elder, so I am allowing you to leave with whatever dignity you have left intact. But do that again, try to disobey the rules that our kind have lived by for centuries upon centuries, and I will not treat you with such mercy.’

    I could not bring myself to speak. How could I? I was but an old man desperate for power – to talk would have meant further humiliation. My fury subdued and my heart was beating out of its chest, its coldness freezing over into the rest of my limbs. God, I was so weak. I looked over to Alfie, who was watching us with that same lost, clueless look he always had.

    I walked over to him and muttered, ‘Come on, we should go.’

V

Alfie and I walked along the patchy garden, the rain spitting. I kept an eye out for Gino, another one of our Kin, but he did not seem to be anywhere. I was glad of this; I was not in the mood to deal with another.

    ‘So, can I tell Owner?’ asked Alfie, as if he had not just watched me fly completely off the handle.

    ‘Other,’ I corrected. ‘And no. You cannot.’

    ‘But you just got reaalmadd at them. And Mona pushed you!’

    ‘Yes, I did. And yes, she did. But I must obey the rules. One must stand by what one says. I have to have my principles; if you do not have your principles, then what are you?’

    ‘Why, I’m Alfie.’

    ‘Well, yes. Yes you are. But I mean it in a deeper, more philosophical sense. Understand?’

    His face scrunched up and I could see that his brain was trying to piece my words together, until he asked: ‘What’s phillaphophical?’

    I sighed and shook my head, ‘Forget it.’

VI

I am not quite sure what has come over Alfie since the ordeal. He seems to be ever so terrified. My main fear is that our Other will notice there is something wrong with him and, under the immense pressure, he will crack and take her to behind the shed. I cannot allow for this to happen. We made a deal with the sisters, and I must do everything in my power to see it through.

    I have probably been a little harsh in the way I have been glaring at the doltish buffoon, striking fear into his heart. Despite Mona’s verbal beatings and her criticising of my attempts at dominance, my glares have been known to cause some upset around the area of which we live. For example, when I first arrived at this house, there was another one of my kind who lived across the road and looked rather similar to me. We were around the same age, but he was a trifle lankier, his face slimmer and his eyes more squinty. Oftentimes, much to my chagrin, my Other and her Other-Kin would get us confused. They would see him and, as though it was the most innocent mistake in the world, say, ‘Oh! Sorry, I thought you were Shakespeare!’ Then they would just go about their days, as if they had not just said the stupidest thing in the world.

    Of course, I took great offence to this, for how dare they confuse me with this boy, this imposter. So I made it a point to start glaring at him from across the street every chance I got. Each time I was to make sure my expressions grew harsher and harsher, until eventually he would avoid looking my way altogether. All was going to plan, until one day, the sun blessing us with its rays, I found him sat on the bumpy bricks at the front of my house, my territory. He stared at me like he owned the place, all smug and unafraid.

    ‘Can I help you?’ I asked.

    ‘No,’ he replied. He pointed his tabby paw towards the gate of my household, ‘I think I’m going to empty my bladder over there, if you don’t mind?’

    ‘I do mind, actually.’

    He laughed, ‘No, you don’t.’

    ‘Yes, I do.’

    ‘No, you don’t.’

    ‘Yes, I do.’

    This went on for some time, until by the fourteenth repetition, we ended up fighting. He dove at me, and we both dug our claws and teeth into one another. He was a formidable opponent, fast, agile, though he lacked my strength. I scratched at his face, he scratched at mine; droplets of blood to flew into the air and painted the bricks in sporadic specks of red. At one point he managed to get on top of me, but I was able to choke him out until he jumped off, hissing in anger (I knew it was only to compensate for the pain). Our faces were filthy, and our eyes were dilated.

    But then he walked away. Just like that.

    We still saw each other every now and then. We would nod at each other not with apoplexy nor even respect, but with a general understanding.

    I haven’t seen him for a few months now. We are the same age, after all…

    Under the Dining Room table, Alfie decides he needs to relax somewhere else, somewhere he cannot see the shed. He stands up, banging his head on the surface (even though he definitely knew it was there) and moves through the Kitchen, through to the Hall, and then into the Living Room. I follow him a few paces behind to ensure he is not going to tell our Other.

    The Living Room is a lovely little area, probably my favourite of the house. The walls are predominantly white, apart from one intricate, pink patterned wall on the far side of the room with an electric fireplace clamped into it. There is also a large window looking out front, perfect for observing the area and guarding my territory. In a corner of the room is one of those Rectangular Light Boxes that the Others love to stare at – it is a confusing machine, I will say that much. Sometimes the Others will laugh at it, sometimes they will cry; I have even seen them shout at it both with excitement and fear. They are very odd creatures, the Others.

    Tucked up in the other corner of the room is a homely sofa, beige with pink blankets and cushions spread in disorderly fashion. Alfie climbs up on it and circles around, curling himself up next to the arm of the sofa, of which I decide to jump on not long after.

    ‘Are you okay?’ I ask, little emotion in my voice.

    ‘Yeah,’ he says, muffled under his paw.

    ‘Good.’

    I climb atop the back of the sofa, just behind Alfie, and curl into a ball, paralleling him.

    ‘Are you okay?’ he asks.

    ‘Yes. Why would I not be?’

    There is a pause.

    ‘It’s okay not to be, yaknow?’ he says. ‘To be honest, I lied to you jussnow.’

    ‘Oh?’

    ‘Yeah, I’m not okreally.’

    ‘Why is that?’

    I can see from the back of his head that he is trying to process his thoughts into something tangible, so I give him a minute. We are in no rush, and this conversation is for his benefit more than it is mine. So long as he says nothing to the Other.

    Finally, he says: ‘Do you remember when it was just us?’

    ‘I remember when it was just me,’ I respond. But then he huffs and sulks further into the sofa, so I indulge him. ‘Yes, Alfie, I remember when it was just us.’

    ‘It was simpler then, wussnt it?’

    ‘It certainly was.’

    Alfie looks up at me, ‘Thank you for trying to get me to sniff the pockets. I’m sorry you don’t get to eat any of the body.’

    ‘It is fine. I am sure there will be some left over for me. They cannot manage the whole thing by themselves. They are young and overly ambitious.’

    ‘How did it feel,’ he says, ‘when Mona shouted at you like that? She sedsum mean things.’

    At that, my chest begins to tighten. I think about her words, about how I could not stand up straight, my wobbliness. More than anything, I am embarrassed that this is me; this is what I have become in my old age and there is nothing I nor anyone else can do about it. I want to tell Alfie how much her words hurt me. I want to tell him that it felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped out my soul, then made me watch as they stomped on it over and over again. I want to say that I felt as though I was that corpse, that the corpse was an amalgamation of everything I should be, bruises, cuts and all, its broken bones and its lifelessness. Oh, the Death, it creeps; I can smell it. I see it. My soul wants to depart and yet… I do not, not really. I am not like that Female Other, I have not lived long enough. Will my Other and her Other-Kin encircle me when my time is due? I am acutely aware that my name will live on as something entirely different, associated not with me but with the life of a centuries old playwright. I will serve as food for the very creatures I have hunted and eaten, and all I can think about, ultimately, is a question: what have I done with all of this life? What have I achieved? My word, what have I achieved? I am sat here talking to the biggest idiot I have ever met. I am a—

    Our Other walks in, and my mind stops racing. She collapses onto the sofa with a big sigh. The Rectangular Lightbox turns on and, as she relaxes into position, she looks over to me and stretches her face into a smile. Her arm extends forwards; her hand rubs and scratches at my head, soon making its way under my chin. It is bliss, and I cannot help but purr in the process, moving my head in accordance with the direction of her fingers.

    All of my thoughts dissipate for the moment, and Alfie looks up and smiles.

    ‘It may be more complicated than it used to be,’ he says. ‘But this isn’t so bad, is it?’