INSIDE VOICES

A brain inside a skull atop a body sits in a seat. Across the dining room table sits another brain inside a skull atop a body. The two brains are having a conversation while their bodies, the only ones they’ve ever known, move their lips and produce speech and sound and occasionally pause to consume some of the food in front of them. Salad first, steak second. The bodies are eating the salads right now. 

One brain moves the lips of its body and says, Have you ever thought about how smother includes the word mother? 

The brain across the table, Brain II, says with its body, Do you think this was done purposely? That smother was born from the mother? 

The bodies continue eating. They need fuel. 

The brain who first used its body to speak, Brain I, now says, It makes sense. 

So very hungry. Salads are almost gone now. 

Brain II says, I have grown tired of having to consume food each day. Making decisions as to what my body will enjoy and then reminding myself that the body needs water and hydration, as well as sun and socialization. 

Brain I says, The responsibilities are tiring. 

Brain II says, I am burnt out. 

The brains rest and do not move their bodies except to raise their forks from the bowls to their mouths until the salads are completely gone. They each grab knives silently and cut the steaks that represent the main course and soon those are gone as well. 

Brain I says, My body needs alone time and needs to zone out into the computer for a while. The internet and all that resides there, everything single little thing that resides there and lives there and lives only there, is waiting for my body to join them, so I am taking my body to a silent room somewhere in the house, it does not matter, and I will come back out to our living area sometime in the near future, maybe tomorrow or the next day, whenever my body has satiated itself on what is most important, and then I will see to the main responsibilities of keeping the body alive. 

Brain II says, I will see you around. 

Brain I moves its body and walks off to somewhere else in the house. Brain II watches the body of its roommate leave and then moves its own body and sits in front of the TV on the couch in the living room. 

Time passes. Brain II zones out into a show. Brain II thinks, The limbs of my body are stiff. There’s only so much time the body is allowed to sit motionless before it begins to fight back. The body starts to plead for movement. 

Brain II wonders why that is. 

Brain I comes back out from the silent place it had retreated to and says, I’m back, and sits on the couch and then says, I have a roll of fat on my stomach that I hate. I can move the arms and hands of my body and grip the roll with both hands. I can get all of my fingers comfortably on the roll, and it’s big enough that I can squeeze it and move it up and down, and I look at myself in the mirror and think that I can’t believe this is the body I control and move around and have. I can’t believe this is the body that I am the brain for. 

Brain II considers this but doesn’t say anything. Brain I’s body is slim and doesn’t add weight very quickly. Brain II wonders what the other brain means by rolls of fat, by his disgust for his body, for the body it inhabits. What becomes of dissatisfaction, even when based outside of facts? 

Other brains have said with their bodies’ mouths and lips and voices that this is because some bodies have a fast metabolism, but it doesn’t matter either way. It’s a body, a vehicle, a means of getting from point A to point B and little else. It is a husk to be moved around in and to use, it is a tool. The effectiveness of how the tool is used can be measured however you like, Brain II thinks. 

Brain II says, Judge a different function of your body. 

Brain I says, What do you mean? 

Brain II says, What if you focused on your lack of skills? You can’t fix a broken-down car. You are unable to perform CPR or wrap a twisted ankle. You wouldn’t know what to do if someone was stung by a jellyfish or a wasp, you would be useless in a situation that required business know-how such as a last-minute rush order or a client that has cold feet, you’d be an unnecessary presence in a kitchen that required helping hands. 

Brain I says, How will this help me? 

Brain II says, The exterior of your body is the least of your concerns. 

Brain I thinks about this and then smiles and says, Yes you’re right. I feel better now. 

Brain II keeps its body on the couch the rest of the night before going to bed. Brain I walks around the house, feeding its body, and then also turns in for the night. 

Morning comes. Brain I wakes up and leaves and Brain II’s ears hear the noise of the door closing but doesn’t think anything of it. Brain II passes the day reading with its body’s eyes and itching itches that arise for no reason at all along its arms or legs, and its body’s hands are used to scratch the itches, and then Brain II comes back to rest, holding the book and flipping pages with fingers and skimming words with eyes, and the house is silent except for the occasional rustle of shorts or adjustment on the couch. 

Brain I comes home and its body opens the door and steps in and looks sweaty and beat down, red-faced maybe from running home on its long, skinny legs and stopping now and finally the heat is catching up with Brain I’s body so the sweat starts to pour and Brain I stands there with its body and heaves its lungs a couple of times, gulping in oxygen through its mouth, and then starts to speak. 

Brain I says with its chest and its body and its mouth, I’ve taken my body every which way today, I started at the mechanics place down the street a couple blocks, the auto shop, I went in and wrote the first guy I saw a check and said, Teach me to fix a car, and he said, Where do you want to start? And so we went over to the car he was working on right then, some SUV that needed everything and anything replaced, and we got to work and hours later I was covered in grease but we’d fixed up the engine and a couple other bits and I told the man with my lips and my body that I’d be back the next day and I left and without even washing up stopped in the Italian restaurant across the street and went up the head chef and laid my heart on the line and said while the face of my body was perspiring with sweat and the force of my pleas to him, that he needs to teach me how to make the basic dishes of the Italian cuisine, and after a while he tied an apron on me and we made an alfredo sauce and then cacio e pepe and then lasagna with layers and layers, and we served these dishes to customers and they loved them and the chef and I had a moment, in which he’d realized he’d taught another body, another human, another brain, something important, and then I told him I’d be back in a day or two and he said we’d work on gnocchi next. 

Brain II sits motionless and watches Brain I go on about all its body had done that day. 

Brain I continues, I next went to city hall and demanded that the heads of each department come together in one room with me and explain the ins and outs of their positions, the tensions and relationships that guide their decisions, the wants and needs of their constituents and where they felt like they were failing or succeeding, where they need more help and support, and where they’re looking for guidance on messaging and narrative with voters, and I listened to all this and knew then how city hall worked and was getting a much better understanding of the inner squabbles and pettiness and nuances of city government, and when I had my fill I left and said I might be back but I didn’t really see the point. 

Brain I takes a breath and keeps going, sweat dripping down off its body’s chin and coming through in patches on its shirt under the armpits, and says, Right before I got back here I went to the biggest PR firm I could find and I went up to the boss, the leader of the place, and said I was a malleable form, that I would do whatever it took to manipulate and create a story that could grip the masses and spread online and start campaigns both digitally and in real life, and all that effort to massage the truth takes alignment with the body. The body needs to be as malleable as the message, the body needs to be manipulated to the leader’s needs so that the message may be better broadcasted to the masses. And so I kneeled down before the boss and said all this and the boss sent me off and I used a microphone and a megaphone and my phone to tweet and post and called people and scribbled graffiti on subways and trains and used guerilla marketing strategies and created trends out of nothing, trends that people thought they had created themselves, and I don’t even remember what the goal was but I spread the message as far as I could and I learned as many skills as I could and told the boss I’d be back soon to send out the next wave of stories and narratives to the people. 

Brain II sits and nods and Brain I calms down and the sweat slows and their bodies now sit next to each other on the couch, zoning out into their phones and the TV and they don’t move their lips at all except to smile or grimace at something on one of the two screens. 

Next day, Brain I comes into the kitchen where Brain II is using its body’s right hand to stir a cup of coffee. Brain I says, I woke up to thirty missed calls and hundreds of emails and texts, some saying I needed to be in the shop because there was a line of cars and customers out onto the street waiting for this or that to be fixed and the mechanic was saying in voicemails and texts that I promised I’d be back for another full day of work the next day, and where the hell was I? And the mayor and the city manager and urban planners and parks department employees and city attorneys were calling and pleading, begging, then yelling at me to get to City Hall, that arguments had taken over and deals and bills were falling through, and the city could very well go bankrupt if I didn’t get there to smooth things over and add a vital set of helping hands into the mix. And then just when I thought I’d combed through all my unread everything, I start getting calls from the boss at the PR firm, saying there’s an event I need to staff and narratives to be crafted and scripts to be written and releases to be drafted and checked and vetted and clients were already calling with complaints about delays, and I can’t take any of this. This is all far too much. And the chef will surely be calling soon, saying there’s plates to be cleared and meals to be made and I can’t do that either, I can’t handle any of this. I’m unable to believe this body I operate was made for anything like this. 

Brain II stirs the coffee still, hand swirling while its body’s ears listen. 

Brain I continues, What was I thinking? Learning skills applicable and useful in the world, what was I thinking? I want to eat and rest and absorb sunlight and drink water and say hello and chat with friends and feel content at the end of each day. I can’t do what I have been doing, even for one more day. I need simplicity. 

Brain II stops its body’s hand from stirring and says, That’s what I’m working towards everyday.

by Teddy Burnette

Teddy Burnette is a writer living in Manhattan. His fiction has appeared in Apocalypse Confidential and Maudlin House. His novel ‘Heartfelt Anything’ is out now from Expat Press. He can be found on Twitter at @teddyburnette.