Submitted for the May 2025 prompt: Many Minds

On the day of my fifth birthday, I was given a gift — the gift of another mind.

 

There was no bow, no fancy wrapping. Instead, my mother took me into a white room, where other children like me sat on cold, white chairs.

 

We waited for our names to be called by white men in white coats.

 

“You’ll see, Jamie. This will be the best gift you’ll ever receive. You’ll be smarter, you’ll be—”

 

“Am I not smart already?”

 

Mother stumbled on her words. They hiccupped in her mouth. “Why, yes you are, my sweet girl, but this will make you even smarter. It will get you into all the good schools and universities. You will be someone.” Mother’s eyes positively glowed.

 

“Am I not someone already?”

 

It was too much for a five-year-old brain —  that I was not enough. That I needed to be more. My feet swung under my chair, and I wished my parents had bought me a doll, or a paint set, or a puppy.

 

“Yes, of course you’re someone, darling. But this will open up so many opportunities for you.”

 

Perhaps when I had my other mind I’d understand what an opportunity was.

 

“Is it a girl mind or boy mind?” I asked.

 

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that they’re smart. We’ve paid extra for genius level.”

 

Mother smiled. She gripped my hand so tightly. She wanted this, a lot.

 

“Will it hurt?” I asked.

 

She ignored my question. “Afterwards, we’ll go for ice cream. You can have sprinkles if you want. It is your birthday.”

 

I was taken from my cold white seat to a cold white room and made to lie on a cold white bed.

 

“Will it hurt?” I asked Mother again as the man with a shiny needle approached.

 

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” said Mother, as the needle plunged into my brain.

 

* * *

 

Jason, I called him. He was the man inside me. He was annoyed he was inside a child. He had hoped to be placed into a professor or doctor to help with ground-breaking scientific research. His speciality was in Alzheimer’s. What a misuse of the Minds Project, he muttered to himself. Pretentious parents. Total waste of money. He spoke as if I couldn’t hear him, but I couldn’t stop hearing him. He was always there with his big words I didn’t understand.

 

When I was playing with my dolls, he tut-tutted disapprovingly.

 

When I sang aloud, he screamed.

 

When I played with my friends, he called them imbeciles.

 

In time I stopped playing with dolls and friends, and my singing dried up.

 

Jason helped me with maths and science and even getting my ideas down. I knew all my timetables and algebra before anyone else in my class.

 

“Why you’re so smart,” my parents said proudly.

 

And I nodded like one of those imbeciles that Jason was always talking about, but I didn’t smile. Smiling was difficult.

 

The Med School scholarships came when I was only sixteen.

 

But they weren’t really for me. They were for Jason.

 

Finally. Perhaps we can get somewhere, Jason said inside me.

 

“Wonderful, Jamie. I knew you would be someone,” said Mother, beaming with pride.

 

“Money well spent,” agreed Father.

 

“Have you noticed I don’t sing anymore?” I asked my parents. “I used to like singing.”

 

“There are better things to spend your time on,” said my parents, and for once Jason agreed with them.

 

* * *

 

On my first day at Med School, I met others like me. Samantha had a Brian, Andrew had a Barbara, and John had a Mary. We said how funny it was. But none of us laughed, none of us smiled.

 

Tom didn’t have anyone.

 

“Aren’t you… lonely?” I asked. “Without another mind.”

 

“No. I have my family, friends, you know, real people.” Tom smiled.

 

I tried to return the smile, but the corners of my mouth felt so stiff.

 

“Do you like the person inside you? Is it like having a friend?” Tom asked.

 

“Yes, something like that,” I lied. “We’re going to develop a cure for Alzheimer’s together.”

 

Jason was itching inside. He was bored, wanting to go. I could feel him pulling like a dog on its leash.

 

“Oh, then you’d be interested in Paul Gelley’s recent announcement. It looks like they’ve found one already.”

 

“What?”

 

What?! Jason screamed.

 

“I said, it looks like they’ve—”

 

“Sorry. I heard. It’s just… The plan—”

 

* * *

 

Later Jason had me find the research online so he could read it.

 

How dare they! he yelled.

 

“There’ll be other things we can do. We could—”

 

No! Trapped inside a gormless kid all these years. And now, so close, only to find—

 

There was no off button. I had to listen to all of it. I couldn’t hear my own thoughts anymore. Jason had long ago drowned them out.

 

* * *

 

“Are you okay, Jamie?” Tom asked me in one of our lectures.

 

I hadn’t slept in weeks. Neither had Jason.

 

There was a fine line between genius and madness, and I was worried Jason had crossed over. He talked non-stop. Sometimes he cried. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t sleep.

 

“It’s my… mind. He’s not coping.”

 

Shut up! I’m fiiiinnnee. Yippee. Twinkle, twinkle…

 

“You can get it removed, you know?” Tom whispered.

 

“Removed?”

 

“Sometimes the minds can become mad, dominate, take over to the point where it’s not healthy for the host anymore.”

 

He’s lying! He wants you dumb! You can’t get rid of me!

 

“I’d like that,” I said as Jason raged inside my nerve endings.

 

* * *

 

The procedure happened on my eighteenth birthday. It was painless.

 

I opened my eyes to… silence.

 

No more Jason.

 

But Tom was with me. He smiled.

 

Such a nice smile.

 

The thought surprised me. It came from nowhere.

 

Jason?

 

No.

 

My thought.

 

“So what now?” Tom said.

 

I smiled.

 

“I think… I think I’d like to sing."

 

It was finally time to be me.