The-Man-Who-Folded-Himself-David-Gerrold

He went kind of frog-faced at that. He managed to stammer out, “Uh—yes. It’s very exciting.” I
couldn’t help myself. I started giggling; when we got to the car I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I wish
you could have seen your face—“ I said. Then I realized. “Well, you will—tomorrow.” He was half
glaring at me. “’Uh—yes. It’s very exciting,’” I mocked. “You looked as if you’d swallowed a frog.”
He stopped in the act of unlocking the passengerside car door. “Why didn’t you let me explain?” he
asked. “She’s my neighbor.”
“She’s my neighbor too,” I pointed out. “Besides, what would you have said? At least I’ve been
through this once before.” I opened my door and got into the car. I could see this twin business was
going to take some getting used to. Already I was noticing the differences between the Dan of today
and the Don of yesterday. Sure, it was only me—but I was beginning to realize that I would never be
the same person twice in a row. And I would never be viewing myself through the same pair of eyes
either. Dan seemed so—uncertain; it was as if he was a little cowed by me. It showed in little things—
his easy acquiescence of the fact that I would drive, for example. All I had done was point him at the
passenger side of the car while I headed toward the driver’s side myself, but he had accepted that. Not
without some resentment, of course; I could see him eyeing me as I unlatched the top, preparatory to
putting it down. “Put on a tape,” I said, pointing at the box of cassettes. I started to name one, then
stopped. “Want me to tell you which one you’re going to choose?” I realized that was a mistake as soon
as I’d said it. “Uh—no, thanks,” he muttered. He was frowning. I could have kicked myself. I’d let
myself get carried away with this wild sense of power. I hadn’t been considerate of Dan at all.
Belatedly, I remembered how I had felt yesterday. Resentful, sullen, and most of all, cautious. Poor
Dan—here he was, flush with excitement, filled with a feeling of omnipotence at the wondrous things
he could do with his timebelt—and I had stolen it all from him. By my mere presence, my know-it-all
attitude and cocksure arrogance, I was relegating him to second fiddle. Of course he wouldn’t like it.
As he put on the tape of Petrouchka, I resolved to try and be more considerate. I should have realized
how he would feel—no, that was wrong, I did know how he felt; I simply hadn’t paid it any mind.
Thinking back, I remembered that as Dan, my arrogance had bothered me only at first—later, as I had
gotten used to the idea of “Don,” I had begun to see the wisdom of following his lead. Or had that been
my reaction to Don’s suddenly realized consideration of me? It didn’t matter. There was bound to be
some confusion at first, on both sides. What counted would be what happened later on, over dinner. I
remembered how good I had felt last night in Don’s presence and I looked forward to it again tonight. I
would make it up to Dan. (The reservations—I hadn’t made them yet! No, wait a minute; it was all
right. I could make the reservations any time. All I had to do was flash back a day or so; I could do it
later. Boy, I could get used to this—) I found my way to the track easily enough; I’d been watching
Don yesterday. Today Dan was watching me. Now, if I remembered correctly, there should be a
parking place, right over . . . here. There was, and I pulled neatly into it.
I bought a private box and had no trouble finding it. Dan was properly impressed with how well I
knew my way around; actually, I was trying not to be so cocksure, but it wasn’t easy. He was such a
perfect audience to my newly discovered self-confidence.
After we’d gotten our drinks, I remembered how Don had pretended to study the newspaper yesterday
and how funny I thought that had been. So I did the same thing. I frowned and muttered thoughtfully,
and Danny giggled in appreciation. Maybe he was starting to warm up to me. “I think Absolam’s Ass
looks pretty good in the first,” I announced. “Danny, go put a hundred dollars on Absolam’s Ass. To
win.”
He started fumbling in his pockets. I pulled out some bills from mine. “Here,” I said impulsively,
“make it two hundred.”
He blinked and took the two hundred-dollar bills I was holding out. “You want to get rich?” I said.