The Egg Said Nothing by Caris O'Malley Page B

you’ll attain a happiness you’ve never felt before. Then you’ll kill her. Like a rabid animal, you’ll crack her skull with the flat side of a garden shovel.

    “Why would you do such a thing, you ask? Because she’s going to change you. She’s going to help you see the world for how it really is. She will help you develop ideas. I don’t know what they are, but they’re pretty fucking cool. You’ll change the whole country. And you’ll have a kid together, but then things will fuck up. Really bad.

    So, you’ll get the bright idea you should be the one to change them. You’ll learn about quantum physics, or astral projection, or some such bullshit. You won’t be an expert. You’ll be no mechanic, but you’ll know enough to change your oil filter, enough to change a tire. But you’ll act as if you know more. You’ll overhaul the engine. You’ll try to repair a bent fender. You’ll apply some fucking Bondo. But you won’t read the manual.

    “And your girl will still be dead. Your egg will be so remarkably disappointing. You’ll still have hatched nothing worthwhile. But you have the chance, even though your future self thinks it’s a bad idea. He’d rather you waste your life away and achieve nothing than to achieve something and have it not work out exactly right.

    “And how do you feel about that? How can you feel? Is there a choice? That guy is you. His decision is your decision. His reasoning is yours. But, here’s the really fucking funny thing: you don’t have a choice in the matter. If you don’t do it, he can send somebody else. You’ve got the illusion of free will, but your actions are so meaningless they don’t even mean anything to you. Your existence affects you about as much as it affected your parents when they were children.

    “Of course, you can try. After hearing this message, you’ll have all the information just a little bit earlier than I did. And then there’ll be two of us who can fight it, if you choose. It’s that preservation instinct. You should embrace it, though you won’t have any reason to believe me yet. Here’s something: there’s a disc in the egg. Break it, you’ll see.

    “I don’t even know why I’m wasting my fucking time.” I hung up the phone, stared at it, willed it to burst into flames. It didn’t. I howled in frustration and picked up the phone, slamming it against the wall. The plastic receiver shattered.

    “Manfred?” my mother called. Great. Perfect. She can’t hear the goddamned phone ring, but she can hear it hit the wall. Fucking convenient.

    “Manfred?”

    I imagined I could hear her creeping closer, though the din of the TV prevented any such thing.

    “Manfred?”

    “What?” I yelled, punching the wall. I looked down at my fist. The knuckles were dusted with white from the hole I drove into the drywall.

    “Manfred, what’s all that noise?” she asked from just outside.

    I opened the door. “It was just the train, Mom.”

    She looked at me, her dull green eyes searching for answers.

    “The train?” she asked.

    “Yes, the train. It came in through this wall like it does every day. It went through the living room behind your chair and disappeared into the refrigerator,” I said, staring at the ceiling.

    “Into the frigerator?” she asked.

    “Yep, into the frigerator,” I replied. “You can go watch your shows some more.”

    “Okay,” she said. She turned and walked back down the hall. I watched her go, her fragile frame moving slowly. I didn’t imagine she would last much longer. A few years at best. Would she outlive me? Would she ever give birth to me? Would she ever leave me at home as a child?

    Could I beat her head in with a shovel? Could I go back in time and take care of her before I was born? Could I hit her father over the head with a shovel?

    For the first time in years, I looked with tenderness at her white hair and her old stained sweater. Maybe her shitty parenting wasn’t her