Love In The Time Of Apps

by Jay Begler

  Kildare tapped Goodwin on the shoulder and said, “We are going to start the press conference, so we have to return to the Med-TV Room.”

  The Med-TV Room was filled with reporters. All of the electrical equipment was gone, replaced by two- side- by side 60 inch flat screen television monitors suspended about twenty feet from the floor of the room. One monitor was marked “Sheila Left,” and one marked “Sheila Right.” The room had been restored to its original state, except for the addition of a lectern and several chairs placed below the monitors. Wang, flanked by Kildare and Goodwin, approached the lectern. Wang looked out to the 2000 or so reporters and assumed correctly that there were also hundreds of millions, if not billions, of television viewers watching the event.

  Wang, his demeanor confident and calm again, addressed the audience, “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, we have passed out fact sheets for this momentous medical event. The sheet verifies the rumors you might have heard about our now famous patient, Sheila Goodwin, the Original Sheila, splitting in two. These are not rumors at all. In the history of medicine this event is extraordinary and without any precedent. Sheila Goodwin has in fact divided in two. She is the first known case of “Physiological Schizophrenia.” That is to say, instead of a split personality, she’s a split person. Her husband, Philip Goodwin, is standing to my left and Dr. Kildare, our medical consultant, is to my right.” Goodwin half-expected applause, but none was forthcoming.

  “As you all know, Mrs. Goodwin was struck a number of months ago by an enormous and unusual bolt of lightning. We don’t know how she even survived. When, her body began to swell severely, we determined that her electromagnetic field was unusually high and we took steps to resolve that anomaly.” Goodwin sneered to himself. He thought “Anomaly, shit. Why don’t you admit it? You screwed up.”

  “And to make a long story short, in the middle of the night, whether it was due to steps we had taken or the result of some physiological mechanism, the Original Sheila split in two. What we do not know at present is whether or not her, or should I say ‘their,’ mental acuity was affected, whether one of these Sheilas will be more like or identifiable with the Original Sheila or if either of the Two Sheilas will ever come out of their beyond REM states. For now, their vital signs are excellent and Mr. Goodwin is trying to cope with this momentous event as best he can.”

  “We will be using the Med-TV room for all future briefing and news coverage, though you can appreciate if one or both of the Two Sheilas regain consciousness, they will need privacy. For this reason we have moved them into a private suite, but we will be providing continuous television coverage from their rooms.”

  A reporter asked, “If the Two Sheilas come out of their beyond REM states, when do you expect that to happen?”

  “I’m not certain, but judging from all of her, I mean their brain waves and other signs, we are guardedly optimistic that it will happen quite soon.”

  “What do you mean ‘guardedly optimistic?’” another reporter asked.

  “We are required to use that term now when we give a more or less positive prognosis. Don’t you notice that no one is ever unqualifiedly optimistic anymore or absolutely sure about the outcome of an event or a prediction. They are always ‘guardedly optimistic.’ We learned this trick from watching congressmen on television. In fact in the latest book, Strunk & White, The Elements of Political Style, it says: ‘Optimistic is never used without a qualifier, such as guardedly or slightly. Pessimistic needs no qualifier, however.’”

  A reporter from the back of the theater said, “May I ask Mr. Goodwin a question? How does it feel to have two wives who may be the same person?”

  “Frankly, I’m too dumbfounded to answer any questions.”

  The reporter continued, “We know that you and the Original Sheila were not getting along prior to the Sheila Bolt. How do you think this will impact your relationship with your wives?”

  Kildare intervened. “Mr. Goodwin is in deep shock and I’m virtually certain he hasn’t fully absorbed what has happened.” Goodwin gave an affirmative nod. “We’ll keep you posted.” As they walked off the stage, Kildare put his arm around Goodwin’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort and said, “Is it true? Did you have marital problems? Boy, fighting with one wife is bad enough...” Kildare then made one of those great remarks, not very funny to Goodwin at the time, but later as he replayed the moment and thought about it, extremely amusing and so true. Kildare continued, “But fighting with two wives is an impossible undertaking. In the battle of the sexes you’re hopelessly outnumbered.”

  Several hours after the press conference, the two 60 inch television monitors in the MED-TV room were operational. Each of the monitors projected identical pictures, one of Sheila Left and one of Sheila Right. Medical statistics for the Two Sheilas began to move across the bottom of each screen much in the way stock prices are flashed on the bottom of a television screen. As a medical statistic for Sheila Left appeared on the screen, blood type for example, a corresponding statistic for Sheila Right flashed on her screen. These images and statistics were being broadcast simultaneously all over the country and to most of the world. In the beginning this caused some confusion. An investor who saw BP at 120 (both Sheilas’ blood pressure readings) believed it was the price of British Petroleum and lost a fortune when he sold the stock short.

  All of these tests were for show, however. Goodwin and the doctors knew that the Two Sheilas would be identical. Blood typing, DNA analysis, skin structure analysis, hair analysis, dental analysis, urine analysis, MRIs, CT scans, and every other test merely confirmed that the Two Sheilas were molecule for molecule identical.

  About two hours after the tests began, Kildare, Wang, and Goodwin sat quietly in the Host-Pital’s lounge. Goodwin was almost on the verge of comforting himself by thinking that perhaps the Two Sheilas would not regain consciousness, a wishful thinking exercise that lasted until Kildare received a call. “Better come quickly, I’ve just been advised that they are moving about.” Goodwin could not get used to the concept of “they.”

  Two teams of doctors had taken their respective places in each of the Sheilas’ rooms. Some doctors stood ready at diagnostic devices, others stood by the Two Sheilas’ beds. The television cameras had the Two Sheilas in focus. No one knew exactly how many people were watching these events unfold. The consensus, however, was that virtually everyone who owned a television set or had access to one was tuned in.

  Suddenly, the Two Sheilas bent their knees and held this position for several minutes. Then, as if on cue, both put their hands behind their heads, did six perfectly executed sit-ups, unfolded their knees, and resumed their original positions. Goodwin didn’t know why he thought of it then, but he imagined that his favorite supermarket tabloid, the World News, the one whose latest shocker was, GOD LISTS HIMSELF ON CHRISTIANMINGLES.COM; JDATE OBJECTS, would have a headline: WOMAN SPLITS IN TWO, DOES SIT-UPS. That headline did appear, but it was in the New York Times. CNN immediately had exercise gurus interviewed as to whether the Two Sheilas were doing their sit-ups correctly. Each expert confirmed that their motions were perfect. Within 48 hours of this event an unauthorized and rather cheesy DVD, called “Perfect Abs” and bearing images of the Two Sheilas in their sit-up positions was being sold on street corners in most major cities.

  The doctors conferred immediately and replayed the sit-ups. It was clear that the Two Sheilas’ movements were as coordinated as the United States’ Olympic synchronized swim team.

  “What do you think this means?” Goodwin asked Dr. Kildare.

  “Well, it could be the result of several things. It could be that the Spa IV really worked or she likes working out or it’s the reenactment of a past life experience. Maybe in a past life she was the sit-up champion of Asbury Park, New Jersey. To be honest, I don’t have a clue. My guess is that your wives sustained no permanent damage and are edging towards consciousness and probably dreaming of a time in a health club or a sexual encounter. I assume you ar
e familiar with the comma position. In any event, we now have to concern ourselves with the potentially profound psychological trauma that may occur when Sheila Right and Sheila Left finally meet.”

  “We’ve been consulting with the staff psychiatrists and everyone believes that this has to be done very gradually, perhaps a day or two after they come out of their beyond REM stages. At the appropriate time, I think we should show the Two Sheilas the videotape of the transformation and slowly explain what had happened. Some heavy duty tranquilizers might also help.”

  Goodwin asked, “For us or for them?”

  Part Six

  The Two Sheilas

  Funny Girls

  “Her, I mean their, eyelids have been fluttering like that for the last five minutes,” a resident said to Goodwin as he entered Sheila Left’s room. “From what we can tell, their respective fluttering patterns are identical. Wait a second, the fluttering just stopped.”

  Sheila Left was perfectly still. When she opened her eyes they protruded well out their sockets. This prompted one resident to whisper to Kildare, “Looks like a bad case of myopic distension,” only to be chided by the doctor, “No no, we don’t say that any more. Now it is she has a case of ‘big beautiful eyes.’ It’s a wonder that you passed your medical linguistics course.”

  Sheila Left closed her eyes and did not move for about five minutes. With her eyes still shut, she sat up and dangled her feet over the hospital bed. She yawned and stretched slowly. To Goodwin, these movements appeared to be stilted or posed, somewhat like an exaggerated theatrical yawn and stretch, with one hand placed on her mouth and her arm extended from her shoulder. She opened her eyes for an instant, closed them again and then to the surprise of everyone, began to do what could be best described as a “singing warm-up.”

  With various highs and lows and not following any melody pattern Sheila Left, and her counterpart in the other room, Sheila Right, began identical: “La La La La La La’s” These were followed by a series of musical “Me Me Me Me Me’s,” as if searching for the right tone and pitch. Both of them, at the identical moment, chuckled slightly as if something funny had occurred to them. With her eyes still closed, Sheila Left pointed at those in attendance and chanted, “You, You, You, You.” While some onlookers laughed nervously at this, for the most part the doctors in the Sheilas’ respective rooms and the vast television audience were virtually hypnotized by this unfolding semi-musical drama. Goodwin was searching his pockets for something that might function as worry beads.

  Each Sheila, eyes still closed, began to hum. It was clear to all who heard it that each was humming the iconic opening song from Oklahoma, “Oh, What A Beautiful Morning.” And then each began to sing. Before Sheila lost her sense of humor, she participated in little musical shows put on by Harborside and had a reasonably nice singing voice, but nothing of the caliber equaling her voice now, which was theatrical in quality. Once she became HH, she never sang again and only participated in certain dramas, usually updated Greek tragedies, most notably the lead in, “North Shore Antigone.”

  Goodwin never heard her sing this song before and he couldn’t recall that they ever actually saw the show. Yet each Sheila sang the song from start to finish and even included some of the more obscure lyrics: “And an ol’ Weepin’ Willer is laughin’ at me.” He mumbled, “Weepin willer?” In separate rooms they each closed with “I’ve got a wonderful feeling, everything’s going my way.” The audience seemed to pick up on this and joined in on the final lyrics. Goodwin’s final line sung only in his mind was, “Nothing is going my way.”

  Before Sheila Left (and simultaneously Sheila Right) had finished, two Broadway producers were on the phone to each other. “We’ve got to sign them for Oklahoma. Get their agent,” said one. “Yeah,” replied the other, “And this time, we’ll use twins for the leads, two Lauries, two Curleys, two Juds, and two Ado Annies. Brilliant!”

  The spontaneous clapping and “bravos” by those in attendance brought the Two Sheilas to full consciousness. In their separate rooms, they each opened their eyes, which were no longer bulging, and simultaneously and slowly surveyed their surroundings. No one spoke, but to most onlookers it appeared that they each comprehended where they were and what had happened to them. Each made eye contact with the doctors and medical personnel in their immediate vicinity, but neither said a word. After about 10 minutes and at precisely the same moment, Sheila Right and Sheila Left began to smile. Their smiles gave way to giggling that built to soft laughter and trended upwards to uncontrollable knee pounding and tears in the eyes hysterics, which continued unabated for an hour. Replays of video tapes and readings on sophisticated sound measurement devices revealed that the Two Sheilas’ laugh patterns were identical.

  Now relegated to a position behind a large team of doctors and nurses in Sheila Right’s room and out of her line of vision, Goodwin felt an undercurrent of low-level panic, but did not fully understand the basis for his anxiety. It was her uncharacteristic laughter to be sure, but there was something more, a certain look about her. Did she, they, look meaner? More aggressive? Evil? Had his panicked mental state moved him to the town of paranoia?

  Like an engine running out of gas, both Sheilas’ laughter quieted, first to some giggles, and then to intermittent guffaws, and then stopped completely. Each Sheila sat smiling at the edge of their beds. Dr. Kildare approached Sheila Right and said softly, “Sheila, I’m Doctor Kildare and you are in a hospital.”

  “Thank God!” she said laughing,” I was sure I was on the set of America’s Funniest Operations, the one with medical bloopers. Woman goes in for some corrective surgery and, whoops, splits in two.” There was such a significant collective gasp by the doctors and nurses in attendance that the oxygen depletion monitors in the Two Sheilas’ rooms started to beep warnings. “How could she know?” was their common question. Sheila, however, did not pursue what Goodwin recognized was her first humorous line in twenty years.

  A nearby resident offered Sheila Right a robe that was much too long for her. She turned to him and said, with a humorous note in her voice, “I think I need a height lift.” Except for Goodwin, the line provoked mild laughter, both nervous and amused. Without skipping a beat and speaking in a fast-clipped style while walking back and forth in her room, in a manner reminiscent of those comedians that pace when they do the monologues, Sheila Right began what could best described as comedy routine.

  “You know when I was in a coma.”

  “We now say beyond Rem, in place of coma,” Dr. Kildare said.

  “Beyond REM, I like it. Sounds like a tour promo for a trip to Nepal. You know, ‘Come to Kathmandu and from there sail the Bagmati River beyond Rem.” Instantly millions of viewers, Goodwin included, asked Siri about the Bagmati River and learned that such a river flows through the city. “How did she know the name of the river?” Goodwin asked himself.

  When he heard this, the mayor of Kathmandu who, like virtually everyone in Nepal, was watching events unfold in the Host-Pital, sent an email to his board of supervisors and suggested that they rename an outer borough of his city, “Rem” as a way of attracting tourists. The following year, thousands of American tourists to Nepal returned home wearing “I Traveled Beyond Rem” t-shirts and bearing gift t-shirts for their children inscribed with “My Parents Traveled Beyond Rem And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt.”

  Sheila continued her monologue: “Anyway, while I’m beyond REM, I start thinking about the Seven Dwarfs. These little people are pushing 100 years. In all of that time, no one, absolutely no one has asked the Dwarfs about their sexuality. Seven single men living in a tiny cottage for close to 100 years? I don’t know about you, but it sounds to me like Fire Island or a rooming house in the Castro in San Francisco.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe they were just brothers. The problem is that you can’t tell if they were brothers because they don’t have last names. And that’s a shame. Their lives would have been so much better with surnames. With last names, the
y certainly would have had so much more cache. Suppose, for example, their last name was “Morgan.” So Doc would have been Doc Morgan. He could be a character on a TV western. Sneezy Morgan could have been a character in a really bad 60s sit-com, the old man who always sneezes at the most critical moment. You know, like when the pastor says in church ‘And now let’s have a moment of silence for the late departed Jeffrey the mailman…’ Achoo!!”

  Sheila’s delivery and timing was perfect. She even used a lower deeper male style voice for the pastor. She paused for a long moment and looked out her audience. This time the laughter was mixed with applause. A video of Sheila Left revealed that, word for word, she did the same routine. The only one in the room who was not laughing in response to Sheila’s opening salvo of humor was Goodwin. What he found shocking and upsetting was that Sheila’s impromptu routine was not only quite clever, particularly considering the circumstances in which she found herself, but that her delivery was actually better than those of his friends at Harborside whom he regarded as having first-rate senses of humor. Though he tried desperately to suppress the conclusion that Sheila was now funnier and, in terms of delivery and pace, a better comedian than he was, he failed. As the doctors and nurses in both Sheilas’ rooms applauded and laughed, some shouting “more,” a wave of depression washed over Goodwin.

  Sheila shifted gears. “Hey, did I tell you about my dog? I had a dog once, but had to get rid of it. It was one of those new crazy crossbreeds or hybrid dogs, like a Cockapoo, you know a combination of a cocker spaniel and poodle. I had actually ordered a Doxiepoo, which was supposed to be a combination of a dachshund and a poodle. The geneticists, however, made a mistake and I got a combination of a dachshund and a parrot. Son of a bitch, and that’s an accurate description, all he did was pee on the rug and complain about his height.”