Chris Abani - The Secret History of Las Vegas

Do you feel conflicted about holding them?

Yes.

That means you haven’t completely sold your soul to Brewster, she said, smiling.

In that moment he felt like he could fall for her, that he could make a life with her. He knew she liked him, was attracted to him. So what was holding him back? Was it because she was unabashedly black?

Sheila, he said, before he could stop himself.

What, she asked with a smile.

And he wanted to say, I like you, we should explore that. Instead he said: They have odd names, the twins.

Really, she said, and he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was disappointed. That she clearly thought he would say something different.

Yes, he said. His speech was quick, awkward, filling the space between them. One is called Fire and the other Water, and the one called Fire is a fire wizard. A sideshow thing, their act is called King Kongo, African Witchdoctor. Anyway, I noticed something really curious. Even though Fire is the wizard, there were burn marks only on Water.

Realizing she’d lost him to his work, she clenched her jaw. I have to go, she said, getting up abruptly. I have something to do. She hesitated in the doorway.

I’ll be brewing fresh coffee all day, Sunil offered.

She nodded and closed the door behind her. He stared at the smudge of lipstick on her coffee cup for a long time.

So what is your diagnosis, Brewster asked as soon as Sunil picked up the phone.

Fuck, Sunil swore quietly. He wanted to say, Who doesn’t say hello when they call someone? Instead he said: You know how I feel about making hasty diagnoses.

Would you present them as psychopathic, Brewster pressed.

Always this shit with Brewster. Look, Sunil said, nearly every person in the world, at some point and under some condition, presents as psychopathic, from road rage to actual murder, but I don’t want to waste time researching twins who present nothing more unusual than their physicality.

Their twinning is everything, Brewster countered. We haven’t had an opportunity to study monsters before. We need to run an MRI on them. Judging from the photo on file, we may need to ask the zoo to assist, because the twins clearly won’t fit our own machines.

The zoo, Sunil echoed.

Consider their width, Brewster said. We can’t fit them in a regular MRI.

But the zoo?

What do you suggest, Sunil?

I don’t know. Aren’t there facilities that might have bigger MRIs that aren’t zoos? Shouldn’t we check with an obesity specialist first?

Yes, Brewster said, we could. But the zoo is a safe bet.

You don’t think taking a pair of conjoined black twins to a zoo for a medical procedure presents a problem, Sunil asked.

No, Brewster said. Whatever your sentiments, which are duly noted, make the arrangements for the MRI. We should probably try for tomorrow, as it will be less busy there on Sunday and cheaper for us. I’ll send them with a senior intern if that makes you feel better.

Sunil was silent at first.

Fine, I’ll have the intern handle all of it, Brewster said. That way you can keep your moral high ground. Brewster sighed impatiently. Listen, maybe the twins can provide the breakthrough we need for your X7 serum to work.

If they turn out to be psychopaths, Sunil said.

Well, we can only hope, Brewster said.

Sunil was pacing when Sheila knocked and walked in.

Back for more coffee, she said sheepishly.

Sunil kept pacing.

Sunil, Sheila said. Sunil, stop.

That man, Sunil said.

Brewster?

Sunil nodded.

I know, Sheila said. He is such a dick.

Sunil smiled tightly. This isn’t your problem, Sheila, he said.

I know, but still, you know? So what happened exactly?

He wanted me to take the twins to the zoo to get an MRI tomorrow.

The zoo!

My point exactly.

So what’s going to happen?

An intern is taking them, Sunil said.

Well, that’s not the I-told-him-to-fuck-off I was expecting, but at least you don’t have to do it, she said.

Before Sunil could answer, there was a knock at the door. A nurse stood there with a DVD in his hand.

Good morning, Dr. Singh, he said. This is the recording of the twins’ room from last night.

Thank you, Sunil said, taking the DVD.

You recorded them, Sheila asked as the nurse left.

Yes, they were on suicide watch. Of course I recorded them.

Did they consent?

Sunil crossed to his desk, ignoring Sheila’s question.

Maybe a little of Brewster is rubbing off on you, she said.

Sunil put the disk into his computer and pulled out his chair to sit. As the screen lit up, he became aware of Sheila’s breath on the back of his neck as she leaned over to watch. Goose bumps rose on his skin, but he pretended not to notice. The first twenty minutes of the DVD were uneventful, the twins moved about restlessly, trying to settle down. But then Fire slipped his caul over himself and retreated, to sleep no doubt. Water lay around for a while and then got up to cross to the window.

Sunil moved to fast-forward the video, but Sheila’s hand stayed his, and he felt her breasts brush his back. In the six years they had worked together, this was the closest they had come physically. He had a moment of guilt, like he was cheating on Asia, which was stupid. Asia was a prostitute. But he loved her.

What is he doing, Sheila asked.

They watched Water as he leaned up against the window. He was hugging himself and his lips were moving but the audio was really bad and they couldn’t make out the words. It sounded like a melodic hum.

I think he is singing, Sunil said.

I think you’re right. How odd, Sheila said.

Yeah, that is odd, Sunil agreed.

They watched Water, occasionally forwarding through the footage. Sometimes he was by the window, other times he was in the corner, and then sometimes on the bed. But wherever he was in the room he seemed to be singing the same inaudible song. Finally he fell asleep and then woke with a start less than an hour later when the duty nurse checked in on them.

This is exciting, Sheila said.

About that, Sunil began.

Don’t send me away. I can help, Sheila said. Besides, I’ll be gone on Tuesday. So let me help. Please.

Sunil looked at her from behind his steepled fingers.

I’ll even make the coffee, Sheila volunteered.

Actually, I’ll let you stay only if you promise not to make the coffee, Sunil said.

She smiled. I like this. We should hang out more often. What do you think the singing means?

Sunil was sitting back, legs crossed, crease pinched, chewing thoughtfully on a wooden stirrer. More important than what it means, he said, is the question of his manner.

How do you mean?

When the police and I interviewed the twins yesterday, Water exhibited traits of autism. He spoke mostly in factoids that were only tenuously connected to the conversation, and only when pushed.

So?

Some experts say twins can swap consciousness. What if Fire is the one singing, and Water is the one sleeping?

That’s creepy, Sheila said.

Sunil smiled. Are you going to attempt a diagnosis?

I work on robots, Sunil, not psychopaths.

Some could argue that’s the same thing, he said.

She laughed. I have to get back to work, she said.

Okay.

I won’t wait forever, Sunil, she said.

I know, he said.

It’s Dr. SS, Fire said as Sunil knocked and entered their room. The twins were sitting in the chair in the corner. Water was surfing through channels on the television, a bored look on his face. He barely glanced at Sunil, who was flicking through their chart, a nurse hovering by his elbow.