The other side of the tarp

The alarm rings and I wake up with a jolt. The clock says 3:15 in the afternoon. Strange… Why so late? Maybe I took a nap and…
Suddenly I remember I have to go to class at the university.

My mom is asleep, which is odd. Normally at this hour, she’d be making lunch or talking on the phone. I’m running late, I’ll just grab something to eat at school. I pick up my backpack, which feels unusually light today, and head out to the street.

How strange. I know it’s later than morning, but the sky is completely dark, like nighttime. Even if it’s winter hours, when it gets dark earlier, it doesn’t make sense for the sky to look like this. I remember what my mom usually says about the end of times drawing near, and for the first time, I kind of believe her.

I thought about buying something at the corner shop, but it was closed. So was the next store down the road. I check my phone to make sure it’s Tuesday and not Sunday, and yep, it’s Tuesday. I guess maybe they closed the shops out of superstition, since the sky looks like this.

Now I wonder if I’m the only fool out here when something so obviously abnormal is happening. Social media says nothing. The news? Nothing. No one on the internet is talking about this.

I consider going back home and waiting for things to go back to normal, but I remember my group is supposed to present today. I can’t miss it. I send a message to the group: “Hey, are we still having class with the sky like this?”
The message was sent and delivered, but no one replies. I can’t just stand here waiting. I’m running late. I’ll just go, give the presentation, and head back. I doubt being outside will actually hurt me.

I keep walking and don’t see a single soul on the street. No people. Not even the dog that usually lies on this corner. My mouth and nose feel drier than usual, but it’s not hot or cold, it’s more like the air feels heavy, just like when a trash heap was burning and the smoke filled your lungs with filth. That must be it.

When I check the air quality website, my suspicion is confirmed: the little arrow that’s usually yellow is now red. There’s way too much pollution. But enough to cover the entire sky?

I walk on, paying attention to my pocket, hoping to feel the vibration of a new message. Nothing. Not on my phone. Not on the street. Not a single car, not even parked, which leaves a lot of empty space. Maybe too much. The scenery looks so different with that absence, it makes me question whether I’m even going the right way.

I had never heard the city so quiet before. The silence is overwhelming, threatening to trigger a panic attack as I walk through this thick, lonely gloom, lit only by the flickering streetlights.
The walk feels long and tedious. I know I’m moving forward, but it doesn’t feel fast enough. I just want to get to school. I want to see another person, anyone. I want to hear a sound that isn’t just my own desperate footsteps stomping and kicking whatever trash I find, just to break the silence.

I reach the usually busy boulevard, now deserted. Instead of taking the overpass, I decide to cross the street directly, both to save time and in hopes that maybe a car will appear and honk at me. I’ve always wanted to do this: walk in the middle of the road without fear of being run over.
Too bad I’m living that dream in such a disturbing situation.

Instead of crossing to the other side, I keep walking toward the university right down the center of the street. A wave of desperation washes over me, and I start to run. But I don’t last long. The oppressive air clings to my nose and mouth like I just swallowed spoonfuls of dust. Even though I want to keep running, I’m forced to stop, coughing and struggling to breathe.

The choking feeling doesn’t go away. My frantic gasps echo down the empty street. For a moment, I genuinely fear for my life, even the nearby pharmacy where I might’ve gotten help is closed.
I force myself to control my breathing. I calm down. Eventually, I manage to return to a semi-functional state. Each exhale makes me sound like that wheezing cartoon dog, but at least I’m not suffocating anymore.

Finally, the university comes into view, its gates wide open. Coming to class was the right decision after all; it looks like classes are still happening.

As I cross the main arch, I see new buildings. Some have glass walls, glowing lights inside, and people sitting down, apparently working. I feel a wave of relief at finally seeing human activity again… but something deep inside me feels uneasy. I don’t want to interact with those people. I don’t know why, but my instincts scream it’s better if they don’t see me.

I keep heading toward my department. There’s a lot of new construction, even some still in progress: cones, yellow caution tape blocking paths, piles of dirt, idle machines. I didn’t know the university had the budget for such an ambitious expansion.

All the construction turns my usual route into a maze, threatening to eat up the little time I have left to make it to class.

My destination is close, but a construction site blocks my path. I find a way to get through that improvised wall of bricks, rods, and tarps.
I spot an opening, covered only by a tarp. I duck as I lift it to crawl through, and as I straighten up…

I see a blue sky.
That’s what it’s supposed to look like at 4 in the afternoon.

The contrast hits me like a slap to the senses. The light blinds my eyes, still adjusted to the darkness. Clean air fills my lungs. I hear the chatter of students talking to one another. The university looks completely normal.

Relief washes over me, but only for a second. Something’s clearly wrong.
On this side, there’s no construction, nothing beyond that wall. It’s impossible for the darkness and pollution to have vanished so suddenly. I know what I saw, what I felt on my way here was real. But it’s not here.

Is this a dream?
To be sure, I pinch myself. I bite the skin on my hand. I check the time on my phone, searching for inconsistencies.
Everything seems normal.
I can touch the university walls. When I greet people, they respond.
I’m not a ghost. This isn’t a dream.

Then my phone’s clock yanks me back to reality,
Class has already started.

I rush to my classroom, breathless, sweaty, it doesn’t matter. First, the presentation, then everything else.
The classroom door is open. That tells me presentations haven’t started yet.
But when I peek inside…
I see myself.

I’m standing there, plugging the projector cable into the computer.
"Is it on already?"

Before that me can turn around, I duck out of sight, heart pounding.
What’s happening?
Why do I exist in two places at once?

I eavesdrop on what’s happening inside. And there’s no doubt, I hear my voice presenting, saying exactly what I had planned to say.
No distortion, no evil tone, no sign I’ve been replaced by some sinister clone.
If anything… I’m the clone.
After all, I came here… from the dark side.

I head back the way I came. I cross that tarp doorway,
And, unfortunately, there’s no blue sky on the other side.

It’s night again. The air is heavy.
And I feel an unbearable desolation.

No wonder I woke up confused.
I’m not the “evil version.”
So I won’t try to take my place on the other side of the tarp.

I’ll just return to the darkness,
and figure out how to live with the fact
that I’m not the real one.