There is a rumour floating amongst those in the know, that everyone has a double. Someone who looks, thinks, talks, fucks and swears the same as you. An exact double fishing in Australia, or drinking in Finland. An exact double dying in Nairobi, or perhaps being born in Canada. Your exact double need not be your exact age, despite my liberal use of the word ‘exact’. Your mirror may be ten years older than you, or ten younger. He or she may not exist for thousands of years. Or maybe when your friend taps you on the shoulder and swears that they saw you today, perhaps that was your double.
But what if you don’t have an exact body double, but instead an action double. A life double. A deed double. Another person who may not even be the same sex as you, but who may be performing the same amusing mime as you right now, or perhaps someone who is writing these same exact words right now, or perhaps someone, at this very moment, who is reading these words, just as you are. Would that not be fantastic?
And this is what Denis is thinking in the elevator, as he strips himself of his clothes. What if there was someone else, a girl even, who had also lost a tumultuous game of Jenga and thus the bet? What if they too had to run naked around campus, their own campus, like he has to right now? And what if, the mind-joke continues, that person also had just noticed the security camera in the elevator, their pants rolled around their ankles, their arms caught in jumper sleeves, eyes wide with shock? Would that not be fantastic too?
Ah, screw it. Just run.