Read Online Apocalypse Now Now by Charlie Human - Free Book Online

I saw her two nights ago,’ I say dumbly.
    ‘I’m sorry, Baxter,’ the Bearded One says, putting a hand on my shoulder. ‘The police are doing everything they can.’
    I stumble back into class. The class-herd tries to elicit information from me but I barely register their presence.
    ‘What’s up?’ Kyle whispers. ‘Bax?’
    I ignore him. All I can see is the image of Esmé with her throat cut and an eye carved on her forehead.
    I walk the hallways in a daze. It seems everybody now knows about Esmé’s disappearance and I have to dodge well-wishers and gloaters in equal amounts. I lean against the cool granite wall in the quad and take a few deep breaths. I have a searing headache and my breathing is shallow and ragged. I feel like I can’t draw in enough oxygen to survive.
    Then something bizarre happens. I can’t exactly explain it so I’m going to try and express it in an equation. If I were to mathematically express what is going on in my head it would look a little like: (d)reams + (g)eneral weirdness + (k)idnapped girlfriend = (m)ultiple personalities. I’m not exactly Jekyll and Hyde but two distinct voices emerge within my head, battling it out for ultimate supremacy of my cranium.
    First there’s the logical, clinical, businessman me. This is the me that creates plans, devises schemes and shifts pawns around like Kasparov. This me would drink neat vodka while stealing candy from babies and life savings from old people. This Donald Trump of the cerebellum I immediately dub BizBax.
    The other is a personality I didn’t even know I had. This is the me that feels. Gross, I know. This me probably attends crystal healing sessions in my cerebral cortex, believes people are important and almost certainly likes piña colada and getting caught in the rain. He is a flaming metrosexual. I call him MetroBax.
    Perhaps these two parts of me have always been there, their chatter a subtle murmur beneath my conscious mind, but since hearing about Esmé’s disappearance, they’ve become seriously talkative:
    BizBax: It sucks, but the truth is that Esmé is just a pawn like anyone else. A valuable pawn, one that comes with unique intimacies and affections; a pawn with benefits. But a pawn nonetheless.
    MetroBax: This is Esmé we’re talking about. Esmé. She introduced us to Nerdcore rap and banana, peanut butter and honey sandwiches.
    BizBax: And that information was gratefully assimilated but we can’t get nostalgic about it. Besides, what can we do?
    MetroBax: We need to help find her. I believe that working together we can achieve anything. After all, it’s not our darkness we’re afraid of. It’s our light …
    BizBax: You know what’s dark? Geriatric amputee bestiality.
    MetroBax: That’s disgusting. Why would you even say that?
    BizBax: Because I’m who I am. I’m the real Baxter, you’re just an afterbirth of the psyche.
    Insanity; it always seemed like so much more fun on TV. I clutch my head and try to make the voices stop. The businessman part of me is right. I can’t let this distract me. A calm comes over me as I ruthlessly shove the emotions back down.
    Love? You’re an idiot, Zevcenko. Think of all the pathetic love songs ever sung. Think about all that wasted time and effort for something that is now evolutionarily irrelevant. You’re programmed to love so that you can secure the perpetuation of your genes. You know what else will secure the perpetuation of your genes? A sperm bank.
    The real legacy that I should be thinking about is the Spider. We have the opportunity to create something great and your brain splattering oxytocin around is just getting in the way. Forget your adolescent dreams. Forget Esmé.

    The next morning, it’s Whitney Houston that does it. Not content with ruining her life with crack she’s taken to ruining mine with the emotional knuckleduster that is ‘I Will Always Love You’. The radio switches on at 7.13 a.m. and sends Whitney’s high-pitched wailing to kick